by Anne Fraser
He was an extremely lucky man, he decided. For a man who’d married only to appease his family’s honor, who thought love was an overrated emotion, he was very fortunate to have married a woman he actually liked and enjoyed being with. Gina was beautiful, spirited, intelligent, and after three days of marriage, he couldn’t imagine anyone else as his wife.
When he contemplated how easily he might have ended up with a bride he could barely tolerate, he inwardly shuddered, then thanked the fates for the spouse who complemented him in so many ways and on so many levels. He couldn’t have chosen better, even if he’d tried.
“Prince Ruark,” Louise interrupted his thoughts. “Because your marriage is crucial to the alliance between Avelogne and Marestonia, do you have any plans to hold a more formal ceremony in either country, with both royal families in attendance?”
Although Gina smiled as she glanced at him, he felt her squeeze his hand and saw a flash of uncertainty in her eyes.
“Not at the moment,” Ruark answered smoothly.
“Would you consider a formal ceremony in Marestonia as a more visible show of unity?” Louise pressed. “As you know, we take pride in our royal family and it’s been several years since we’ve enjoyed the excitement of a royal wedding.”
Ruark knew he had to tread carefully. He exchanged a glance with Gina and knew she realized it, too. But while Gina didn’t know where Louise’s questions were headed, he did.
“Our work schedules are rather tight and we considered ourselves fortunate to marry in the manner we did.” He spoke with finality, hoping Louise would accept his answer and move on.
She didn’t.
“While the people of Avelogne and Marestonia understand your desire to marry here in the country where you both live and work, some might argue that sharing such a momentous occasion with your people is your duty,” Louise said slyly.
“Perhaps,” he conceded, “although, as a third son, I doubt if the people would expect the same pomp and ceremony required of my oldest brother.”
“Perhaps not the same,” she admitted, “but no matter what your place in the line of succession, you are a member of the royal family. More importantly, you are the one instrumental in resolving the current crisis. What better way to cement good relations with Avelogne than with a celebration to mark the occasion?”
What better way, indeed. Ruark exchanged another glance with Gina and saw both fear and dread in her eyes. He stroked her hand in reassurance.
“We’ll take your suggestion under advisement,” he said.
“Thank you, Your Highness.” She turned to Gina. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Your Highness. And best wishes for your marriage.”
“Thank you,” Gina murmured.
Hugh arrived at that moment to escort the two to the door. As soon as they were alone, Gina sank onto the sofa. “I do not want to do that again.”
“You were great. She was eating out of your hand.”
“Perhaps, but she was almost salivating at the prospect of a formal wedding. Frankly, if I hear the word ‘duty’one more time, I think I’ll scream.”
Ruark smiled as he sat beside her and drew her close. “It hasn’t been bad so far, has it?”
“No,” she admitted. “But you’re not seriously considering her suggestion, are you?”
“The possibility always existed,” he admitted, “and I’d hoped we could avoid it, but we’ve come too far to not see this to the end.”
Her shoulders slumped. “I know. But…” Her voice faded.
“But what?”
“I just want to be a doctor,” she said simply. “I want to go to work every morning and treat patients, not stand in the limelight and pretend to be something I’m not.”
He understood better than she knew. He’d found it was far easier to set aside his royal trappings and focus on his profession in a country where he wasn’t a household name.
“People should accept we’re married without us having to go through a dog and pony show!” she continued.
“They should,” he agreed. Unfortunately, as much as he wanted to tell her what she wanted to hear, he couldn’t. Comforting her didn’t mean giving her false hope and he respected her too much to do that. “However, Louise raised valid points. The royal family is part of the nation’s identity. Treating it as something common goes against the very grain of our existence.”
She fell silent. “We’re going to have to do this, too, aren’t we?”
“Perhaps,” he prevaricated, although he wrapped his other arm around her to comfort her as best he could. “It’s too soon to tell. Besides, Louise Amandine’s opinions may not reflect everyone else’s. Let’s wait and see what happens.”
Maybe there was a chance the highly visible ceremony wouldn’t be necessary, but if Louise had broached the subject, the odds had shrunk to almost nothing. In his heart, he knew a more formal ceremony was inevitable. He wouldn’t be surprised if his parents and a few trustworthy staff members had already planned the occasion from the guest list to the dinner menu.
Gina wouldn’t be thrilled about this development, and the prospect bothered him. They’d married strictly for practical reasons, but he didn’t want her to ever regret her decision. If making her happy served that purpose, then he would move mountains to do so.
Yet he wondered why Gina wasn’t eager to go through with a royal wedding. Weren’t the horse-drawn carriages, people lining the streets to wave and throw flowers, the sacredness of the cathedral, and the uniform marking his station all part of the fairy-tale ceremony that women dreamed about?
CHAPTER EIGHT
“HERE comes the happy couple!”
“Welcome back!”
Gina smiled at the staff members who greeted them as soon as she and Ruark strolled into the ER on Monday morning. Everything from the phones ringing to the familiar scent of disinfectant made her feel as if she’d finally returned to the familiar. The rest of her life had changed dramatically, but Belmont General remained her anchor.
“It’s nice to know we were missed,” she said.
“Of course you were,” Lucy chided. “It wasn’t the same without you.”
“Why, thank you.” Gina beamed. “It’s great to be here.” After being pampered like a prize poodle, she was ready for normalcy where she could fill her own coffee mug, zap her own bag of microwave popcorn, and look up a phone number without someone hovering over her.
“How was the honeymoon?” someone asked.
She glanced at Ruark, who appeared as interested in her response as everyone else, and smiled at him. “Wonderful.” And it had been. Ruark had provided the one bright spot in her days.
The only bad moment had been when she’d realized their life was still not their own. After surviving an interview, the prospect of facing the fanfare associated with a royal wedding was daunting. It had been sweet of Ruark to hint that it might not be necessary, in order to spare her the worry, but her instincts told her an ostentatious ceremony couldn’t be avoided. Especially after Ms Amandine had said the “D” word.
Duty.
Her father truly had bucked tradition by marrying Lizbet in a private ceremony. No doubt the people had felt robbed, and those feelings had resurfaced with a vengeance once Margret’s diary had been made public.
Still, nothing was set in stone. And worrying over a possibility was a waste of energy.
“But as wonderful as it was,” she continued, “I’m obviously not cut out for a life of leisure.”
“Then you’re in the right place,” Lucy declared, “because we’re expecting a trauma any minute. Car accident on the freeway.” The distant sound of a siren was cut short, signaling the ambulance’s approach.
“I’d say it’s here,” Gina remarked, already heading for the cart stacked with protective gowns and gloves as she mentally prepared for the patients who would roll through those doors.
It was definitely great to be back where she was needed.
But her sense of p
urpose was shaken several days later when Ruark called her into his office.
“I wanted you to be the first to know,” he said as he perched on the edge of his desk. “Administration has approved my request to hire additional physicians.”
“However did you manage that?” she asked, amazed. “Bill had asked for extra staff to expand our clinic services for a long time. Now we can.” Seeing his sober expression, her excitement dimmed. “Can’t we?”
“The extra positions aren’t for the clinic. They’re for the ER itself.”
She studied him in puzzlement. “But we don’t need more staff in the ER. I’ve handled—”
“Once I saw how many hours you’re on duty every week—usually no less than seventy-five—the CEO agreed we had to make a few changes. So I have.”
Intuition warned her she wouldn’t like the rest of this conversation. “Do I still have a job?” she asked evenly, bracing herself for his answer.
He seemed astonished by her question. “Of course. I’m simply scheduling you for a more acceptable number of hours. You can choose to work three twelve-hour or four ten-hour shifts.”
She should have been relieved, even happy, by the news but she wasn’t. She’d willingly worked the number of hours she had because it gave her a sense of purpose. Now he was taking it from her without warning. He may be the department’s head, but he should have informed her of his plans beforehand. After all, physician coverage wasn’t a topic requiring secrecy and they were married. That alone had to count for something, didn’t it?
Frustration and pain simmered together. “When will this take effect?” she asked evenly, unable to meet his gaze because he’d surely see the hurt there.
“Next week. Until we recruit two more permanent people, we’ll be using locums and they’ll start on Monday. So which hours would you prefer?”
He certainly wasn’t giving her any time to mentally adjust. He’d simply snapped his fingers and it was done, but if he thought she’d thank him for his highhandedness, he could think again.
“Do I really have a choice?” This time she met his gaze, certain she’d masked her inner turmoil well enough. “Or are you going to decide for me?”
His expression was inscrutable. “I certainly could, but I’d rather not.”
Gina rubbed her temple, feeling as if she was losing control of the one part of her life that she could control.
“This was for the good of the department, Gina,” he said, as if he sensed how difficult this was for her. “On my first day here, I mentioned there would be some changes and improvements. Requiring you to cover the number of hours you did isn’t in the hospital’s or the patients’ best interests.”
Logically, she knew that, but at the moment, even though he was giving her the courtesy of a choice, she only saw the loss of the most important thing in her life.
The problem was that if she chose the three-day schedule, she’d rattle around his house, bored to tears, for four days instead of three. On the other hand, if she did choose the three day schedule, she could work elsewhere. The free clinic down the street always needed physicians.
“I might mention that your contract doesn’t allow you to moonlight,” he said offhandedly, as if he’d read her thoughts.
“I can donate my time,” she defended.
“True, and if you choose to do that, I won’t stop you.”
He’d surprised her. “You won’t?”
“No, but if you’d rather work round the clock instead of spend time with me, then I must be doing something wrong,” he said lightly.
Now he pulled out the husband card, she thought, feeling uncharitable.
Her gut warned she was overreacting to what some might say was a thoughtful gesture on his part. Most people, especially newlyweds,would be glad to stop working sixty or more hours a week, but she wasn’t “most people” or a traditional newlywed. Her career meant everything to her and had governed her life for too many years for her to lose part of it cold turkey without anything to take its place.
You have something to take its place.
Only in a technical sense, she argued. Once she left the hospital, she had staff to handle every other detail of her life. Her career had been the one thing she’d still felt she could call her own. Now, apparently, she didn’t even have that.
While she perversely wanted to take the three twelve-hour days schedule and donate her services to a clinic for the rest of the week, she enjoyed working at Belmont where the staff were like family. She refused to let Ruark take that from her, too.
“I’ll take the four ten-hour shifts,” she said stiffly.
The tiniest wrinkle of puzzlement appeared on his brow. “Gina, this isn’t—”
“Is that all you needed?” She was proud of the cool tone in her voice. “I have patients waiting.”
He clearly heard her retreat behind the defined lines of superior-subordinate. He hesitated for a fraction of second before he nodded. “There is one other thing. I heard an interesting tidbit about your former boss today.”
“Bill Nevins? What’s he done now?”
“He’s landed a job as administrator of a fifty-bed hospital in Iowa.”
“Administrator?” She was incredulous. “He’s certainly moved up in the world.”
“Just goes to show how some people are like cats—no matter how they fall, they always land on their feet.”
“Who would have guessed?” she mused aloud. “There truly isn’t any justice in the world, is there?” Without waiting for his reply, she left.
Ruark watched her close the door before he leaned back in his chair, perplexed. Their conversation hadn’t gone quite as he’d expected. She was supposed to be thrilled for the extra free time and the additional staff to lighten the workload, but instead she’d reacted as if he’d cold-bloodedly taken away her most prized possession.
Her comment, I just want to be a doctor, whispered in his head. Before its echo disappeared, he understood…
Although she still was and always would work in her profession if she wanted to, losing a third of her working hours clearly had made her feel as if he’d chipped away part of her career along with the rest of her life.
Yet while he regretted not preparing her for the eventuality, he had to make decisions for the good of the department. True, this particular decision would be to his personal benefit as well, but he was confident Gina would see the change as a departmental improvement rather than a personal attack. Given time, she’d see she’d gained more than she’d lost.
Gina forced herself not to fume during odd moments, but by the end of an hour she’d slowly grown to accept what she couldn’t change. However, accepting the situation didn’t mean she liked it.
Lucy thrust a chart into her hands. “You need to see this woman right away.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Severe vaginal bleeding. I’ve seen corpses with more color,” Lucy warned.
“Did you call Stella?” Stella Fairchild was the resident house OB-GYN.
“Not yet.”
“Go ahead. Meanwhile, I’ll see her.”
“Before you do, you should also know she’s a single mom with three kids in the waiting room.”
Gina went inside and found Doreen Roy lying on the bed, her color as pale as the white sheet covering her. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Dr Sutton. I understand you’re having a few problems.”
Doreen nodded. Her light brown hair hung limply around her thin face. Lines bracketed her eyes and mouth and stretched across her forehead. The woman had clearly suffered hard times during her forty-three years.
“My periods have been getting heavier and heavier. The last few months it hasn’t stopped at all. I was going to go to the doctor, but…” she picked at the hem of the sheet “…I just didn’t find the time.”
Money, rather than time, was probably the issue. Gina had seen cases like Doreen’s more often than she cared to count. For whatever reason, the woman had chosen not to use her mone
y on herself. After glancing at her clean but shabby clothes, and knowing three children depended on her, Gina could easily imagine where her money went.
Doreen drew a bracing breath. “I noticed my heart seems to be pounding hard and at times I can’t catch my breath, but I’ve been managing. Then I passed out this morning while I was making breakfast for my kids. Tim, my oldest, insisted I come here. He only knows I fainted—he doesn’t know about the bleeding. Some things you just don’t talk about to your teenage son.”
“I understand. How old is he?” Gina asked as she listened to her heart.
“Thirteen. Molly is seven and Cara is five.”
“Any other symptoms you think we need to know about?” Gina asked as she studied Doreen’s chart.
“Not really. I’m always cold and I sometimes have a hard time concentrating. Is that important?”
“Possibly,” Gina answered. “While we’re waiting for our gynecologist to perform a vaginal exam, I’m going to order a few lab tests. Then we’ll decide what to do.”
“Will the tests take long?”
“About an hour. Two at the most.” Sensing the woman’s agitation, she said kindly, “It seems like a long time, but it truly isn’t.”
“No, it’s just that, well…I hate to leave my kids alone. I know they’re worried.”
“After Dr Fairchild examines you, they can wait here instead of in the waiting room. But if we need to admit you, they’ll need a place to go.”
“My parents are out of town until tomorrow. My neighbor would probably look after them if I asked her.” Doreen closed her eyes.
Gina found Lucy in the hallway. “I want a stat CBC and tell them to call the hemoglobin ASAP, basic chemistries, coag studies, with a blood type and antibody screen. Dr Fairchild will want those results so the sooner we draw the blood samples, the better. Oh, and notify Radiology that we’ll need an ultrasound.”