Waiting for Lila

by Billie Green

  First there was Arnold Schlumburger, Booger to his friends. Even his name made her want to laugh. Booger, with his semi-psychotic sense of humor, was a genius. He was also the most loving person Delilah knew. He was a man who made secret sacrifices in order to boost the sagging ego of a friend in need. His brain and his humor had helped Delilah survive the ruthless years of medical training.

  With his intelligence Booger could have gone into any field of medicine he chose, and he chose to practice family medicine as his father and grandfather had before him. Somehow, for Booger, it seemed right. After his residency in Dallas, Booger had gone home to Kansas to accept a partnership in his father's practice.

  Next came Addie, a top-notch pediatrician. Addie was practical and prosaic and tough as an old boot on the outside. But on the inside she was as soft and vulnerable as a newborn kitten. Addie, the original California beach bunny, had surprised them all by joining Booger and Dr. Schlumburger in Kansas.

  And then there was Jack. Mr. Moto seemed always to be preening. It was an integral part of his personality. The first things a stranger noticed about Jack were his straight black hair and the sexy eyes that were a gift of his Oriental heritage. But after a few minutes in his presence everything was overlooked in favor of his most outstanding characteristic: his giant ego. Jack was totally and happily self-absorbed—until one of his friends needed help. Then he became D'Artagnan and truly believed it was all for one and one for all. Jack was now a surgeon on staff at a prestigious Chicago hospital.

  And last was Gloria Wainwright Spencer. Glory was more than Delilah's best friend. She was Delilah's heroine. Glory was what Delilah would give anything to be like. The younger woman had been loved and protected all her life, not only by her wealthy father, but by everyone who met her. However, that wasn't the part Delilah envied—at least not much. What Delilah envied most about Glory was her strength of character. She hadn't allowed her pampered background to weaken her. She fought for what she knew was right. Glory had great integrity and refused to compromise it. Glory and Delilah were internists and had both stayed in Dallas to practice medicine. Glory at a teaching hospital, Delilah in private practice.

  Delilah cared very much for each member of the group, but she would never tell them so. And she wouldn't let them know how desperately she had missed them in the years they had been apart. She had built an image for herself that didn't allow for sentimentality. The group expected her to be sophisticated, reserved, and fearless, and Delilah saw no reason to change that.

  "Okay," Jack said, grabbing Delilah's arm to pull her down to the bed. "Tell me why some man hasn't lassoed you by now."

  Delilah smiled carefully. "It's not all that difficult to understand," she said, keeping her voice casual. "I happen to have exacting standards, uncompromising standards. I want a man who is intelligent, personable, and who happens to be very, very wealthy. Is that too much to ask?"

  They all laughed just as she had intended them to. "I told you all a long time ago that I became a doctor only so I could make lots of money," she said matter-of-factly, "and because as a doctor I would be thrown into the company of wealthy men, which meant I would stand a good chance of marrying a man who also makes a lot of money."

  Glory gave an inelegant snort. "Yes, that's what you told us, and that may be why you got into medicine initially, but it's not why you stayed with it. I've seen you with patients, remember? I would give my eye teeth to be even half as good a diagnostician as you are."

  Delilah ignored her. "I've managed to stake a claim for myself in Dallas, but you all know what it's like for new doctors. Does anyone want to talk about the cost of malpractice insurance?" For a second every face looked grim. "A doctor's income simply isn't as secure as it used to be. Which is why I'm looking for someone who has a healthy practice already established. And to be perfectly frank, I can't afford to waste any more time."

  As Delilah glanced around at her friends, she realized they couldn't possibly understand what was driving her. They were too secure, too normal to comprehend the desperation behind her decision. They couldn't know that the reason she so much envied Glory's integrity was that Delilah couldn't afford that particular luxury.

  "It was when I saw that a nonmedical man wouldn't work that I changed my mind about coming to the conference several days early like the rest of you. It's time for me to get serious."

  She paused, letting her gaze pass over each of them in turn, letting the suspense build until they were all looking at her expectantly.

  "At this conference I'm hunting," she said slowly, then smiled. "At this conference, my friends, I'm going to bag me a man."

  The silence in the room became electrified, and looking at her friends' stunned faces, Delilah had trouble maintaining her usual Madonna smile.

  After a few moments Booger cleared his throat noisily and rose to his feet. "For a friend, I'm prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice." He took Delilah's hand, then dropped to one knee. "Marry me, Delilah. Come with me to Kansas. Be the mother of my warped little children—twelve or thirteen would be nice. I'm not rich yet, but I'm my father's only heir. Dad will love you ... we can swear he's senile, stick him in a nursing home, and—"

  "Booger!"

  "Okay, okay. We'll kill him. Then we can live the good life until they catch us. What do you say?"

  Arching one brow, Delilah stared down at him for a long moment. "It sounds interesting, not to mention macabre, but in a word, no."

  "Okay," he said agreeably. "On to Plan Two. Someone help me up." When he was on his feet again, he glanced around at the others. "I propose—"

  Addie snorted loudly. "You propose too damn much. You propose to waitresses who refill your coffee cup and to women who buy chocolate-covered doughnuts and to anyone, no matter what their gender, who is wearing jogging shorts."

  "As I was saying," Booger continued, pointedly ignoring the interruption, "I propose that we help Dee find a husband by having a scavenger hunt."

  Now, as she heard the echoes of that conversation, Delilah was doubly glad she hadn't let Bill know what she and her friends were involved in, hadn't let him know that she was on a cold-blooded husband-hunt. She didn't want Bill in her life, not her real life. It wasn't the place for a man like him.

  She had made her plan and she would stick to it, come hell or high water. She would marry a man who could give her the security she so desperately craved; a man who wanted an intelligent, personable wife; a man who didn't expect or want the impossible from her; a man who didn't need her love. Because that was something she would never give away again.

  Straightening her back in determination, she walked into the bedroom she was sharing with Addie and stood for a moment to allow her eyes to adjust to the darkness.

  "Delilah?" The light between the beds snapped on. Addie, squinting from the bright light and looking vulnerable without her thick glasses, moved her head, trying to locate her roommate. "I wondered if you were coming back tonight," she said to the cheval mirror.

  "I guess I lost track of time. Is it late?" Delilah glanced at her watch and whistled in surprise. It was after three. "Where did the night go?"

  Addie, guided by Delilah's voice, was now able to locate her general position. "Yeah, where?" she grumbled. "We expected to see you at dinner."

  "Bill took me to a little restaurant down the beach. Then, as you know, we stayed on the beach . . . talking. I hope no one missed me."

  "Booger did." Addie sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees. Her sleeping attire consisted solely of a T-shirt with i don't do mornings printed on the front. "That's why he insisted on tracking you down so you could check out the man we found."

  Delilah paused in taking off her clothes and glanced up. There was a strange tone in Addie's voice. "What's up?"

  Addie leaned back against the padded headboard. "Dee, I need to talk to you."

  Delilah took off her skirt and walked to the closet. "So talk."

  "It's just—" Addie broke off and hit th
e mattress with both fists. "Dammit, you have men falling all over you . . . like that adorable Bill you were with tonight. You don't have to do anything, you don't even have to say a word. You simply walk into a room and they all start drooling. How can I do that? Short of plastic surgery, I mean."

  "Don't be silly. You're very attractive."

  Addie grimaced. "You're a friend. You have to say things like that."

  "Bill said you were adorable, remember?"

  Addie smiled. "He did, didn't he? But Bill's different. I think he would make any woman feel attractive."

  Delilah frowned. Maybe Addie was right. Maybe she had run into one of those men who had a natural talent for making any woman he came in contact with feel special, feel as though she were the only woman in the world. That would explain what Delilah had felt tonight. What she still felt, she corrected herself silently.

  Glancing up, she cleared her throat. There was no need to tell Addie her conclusions. "Bill wasn't pretending. He really thought you were cute. Everyone does."

  "Cute," Addie repeated in disgust. "Cartoons are cute. Dogs are cute. Even some bugs are cute. I don't want to be cute. I want to be sexy as all get-out. I want men to lust after me, Dee."

  "Cute was obviously a poor choice of words," Delilah said dryly.

  "How about sexy?"

  "Sexy is a subjective thing, Addie. I'm not qualified to judge that. Attractive certainly. Everyone thinks you're attractive."

  "Not Booger."

  Delilah was stunned. All the yearning in the world seemed to be in those two words. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "You're in love with Booger?"

  "I thought you knew. Glory does."

  "Glory is extremely perceptive, especially when it comes to affairs of the heart. I think that was left out of my original equipment," Delilah added with a shrug.

  "I've been in love with him forever. Why do you think I gave up California? I mean, do I really look like a Kansas sort of person? People wear socks in Kansas. I traded beaches and 'anything goes' for tornadoes and 'quaint.' I don't fit in, but I can fake it if it means being with Booger. I had to do some really wild manipulating to persuade Dr. Schlumburger to take me into his practice along with his son."

  "Hasn't working together brought you closer?"

  "Sure." Addie's voice was heavy with dejection. "We're as close as any two buddies can be. He simply refuses to see me as a woman." Her lips trembled as she met Delilah's gaze. "What am I going to do, Dee?"

  Delilah glanced away from the desperation in Addie's myopic eyes. "This is Glory's territory, not mine," she said gruffly. "She's the one who gives aid and comfort to people with problems."

  "I can't talk to Glory. She's distracted and moody. I can't hit her with my trouble if she has trouble of her own."

  Delilah was instantly alert. Had Glory been different lately, she wondered.

  Almost four years ago, when Glory first met her husband, Delilah had seen then how much her friend loved Alan. Only a blind fool could have missed it. The evidence was in Glory's face, in her every look. And from the beginning Delilah had been afraid for her friend. It was risky to love at all, but it was insane and self-destructive to love that much.

  Although both she and Glory lived in Dallas, Delilah didn't see Glory often. Being around a couple so obviously devoted to each other made Delilah more than a little uncomfortable. It wasn't that they made her feel like a fifth wheel; the problem was that Delilah knew love for what it was. She had always known. Love was a chain-wrapped specter from her past. It was her own private hell.

  For most of the people Delilah had known, love was a meshing of weaknesses, a do-it-yourself kit with no instructions included. If you asked ten people to define love, you would get ten different answers. But no matter what definition they put on it, there was always a qualifying statement added—sooner or later, love hurts.

  That was the truth as Delilah knew it, but when she saw Glory and Alan together the truth sometimes became confused. If they were right, then Delilah had to be wrong. And if Delilah were wrong about love, her entire life had been built on that error.

  No, she told herself, she wasn't wrong. She couldn't be. Glory and Alan were the exception that proved the rule. They were unique.

  Delilah would never allow herself to depend on another human being for happiness the way Glory did. That was the way to suicide row.

  "Couldn't you give me a few tips?"

  Addie's voice pulled Delilah abruptly out of her dark introspection.

  "Please, Delilah, I'm really desperate," Addie begged.

  Delilah did not want to do this. She felt extremely uncomfortable with the idea of being an emotional—or sexual—counselor to anyone. For heaven's sake, she was the last person in the world to give advice on love.

  "I don't know what to tell you, Addie," she said, her voice hesitant. "This really isn't my kind of—"

  Delilah broke off when she saw the sheen of tears in her friend's eyes. "Oh, hell," she said in exasperation. "All right ... all right. I'll try to think of something. But don't blame me if it's all wrong."

  Addie scrambled to her knees, her expression brightening. "I knew you'd come through for me. Thank you, Dee. Thank you, thank you, thank—"

  "If you hug me, you can forget the whole thing," Delilah said, watching her warily.

  Addie shook her head vehemently. "No, I won't. I promise."

  Delilah sat on the bed beside her friend and stared into space as she considered what Addie had told her. After a moment she said, "Why don't you simply tell him how you feel? I admit I don't usually advocate honesty between the sexes, but in your case, it seems to fit."

  Addie shook her head. "I couldn't do that. If I can't have his love, I want at least to keep his friendship. If I tell Booger I love him, he might feel uncomfortable around me. Or pity me." She shuddered violently. "I don't think I could stand that."

  Delilah understood. She had never been able to handle pity either. "Okay, I'll think of something else." She paused and chewed thoughtfully on her lip. "Maybe you should make use of this buddy thing."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I haven't got it all worked out yet, but the first thing you're going to do is buy some new clothes. Trash all your Valley Girl stuff and buy things that are feminine. Not frilly, you're not a frilly sort of person. Look for things that are subtly seductive. If you don't know what you're looking for, ask a salesclerk who looks sexy herself."

  "I couldn't do that," Addie said, her voice shocked. "Booger would notice immediately. He'd make fun of me."

  "We want him to notice," Delilah said. "And if he makes jokes, you simply laugh and throw in jokes of your own. Then tell him an edited version of the truth. Tell him that you've decided I have the right idea about finding a husband at this conference. Tell him you're in your sexual prime. You want babies and a home life. Throw in all the stuff about your biological clock."

  Addie frowned. "What good will all that do?"

  "Booger's sharp, Addie." Delilah smiled confidently. "He's going to start giving some thought to what it will be like when the attention you usually give to him goes to your husband instead. That's enough for the first step."

  For a long time Addie sat staring at the ceiling. She didn't say anything, but several times she nodded, as though she were holding a silent dialogue with herself, and Delilah could almost see the gears in her friend's brain clicking.

  Later, when the room was dark and Delilah lay in bed, it suddenly hit her that she, Delilah Jones, the woman who never meddled in other people's affairs, had done just exactly that. Big time, she thought wryly.

  Without warning, another piece of her world had shifted beneath her feet.

  Chapter 5

  "I wish yourd hurry up and choose someone. Dee," Jack grumbled. "I've approached so many men, people are beginning to look at me funny."

  Jack, Booger, Glory, Alan, and Delilah were having breakfast on the terrace of the hotel. For the last ten minutes they had all b
een discussing the hazards involved in finding Delilah a husband. Delilah knew she should be paying closer attention —it was her future, after all—but she couldn't seem to work up any interest.

  It was Bill's fault, she thought grumpily. He of the lost-puppy cuteness and patchwork-quilt eyes.

  She had told herself everything would be back to normal this morning. She had told herself that passing fancy was a concept she had finally discovered. She had told herself a lot of things, but the fact was that every time she thought of Bill— which was much too often for comfort—the floaty, moonwalking sensation returned.

  It was no wonder Delilah was now in an extremely irritable mood.

  The night before, she hadn't been able to take in the fact that Bill was a doctor. But it was the first thought that had come to her when she had opened her eyes in the morning. And the thought had been tinged with a moment of deep regret that had surprised her.

  Bill was a doctor. She was looking for a doctor. But Bill wasn't the kind of doctor she needed. He didn't have the attitude or wardrobe that were the unmistakable signatures of a successful doctor.

  When Delilah first decided to study medicine, she had assumed that all doctors were extremely wealthy. It hadn't taken her long to realize how wrong she had been. The truly successful doctors were the ones who specialized and cultivated important patients. They worked to build a name In the world as well as in the medical community. They considered medicine a business just like any other business.

  And that was the kind of doctor Delilah had to find.

  Until a few years before she had fallen in with the group, Delilah had spent most of her time fighting to survive, wondering where her next meal was coming from, wondering if she would have a place to sleep for the night. She had been fighting and wondering and worrying since she was fourteen years old. She knew only too well what life could be like without money, and she wouldn't be secure until there was no possibility of that happening again.