“No, you're not,” he said bluntly. He sat down on her bed carefully and looked at her, checking her eyes and her color without ever touching her, and he was puzzled. “You're not feverish, but you look like shit.” She looked terribly upset more than anything, and then he had a thought, and he decided to ask her. “Could you be pregnant?” She smiled in answer, would that it were that simple, or that happy.
“I'm afraid not,” she said sadly, “but it's a sweet thought. I almost wish I were.”
“I'd be happy to help out if that would cheer you up.” She laughed and he reached out and took her hand. “Zoe, I know this sounds like I'm looking for work, but I'm not.” She smiled at him, knowing how busy he was already doing locum tenens for other doctors. There were a lot of doctors who asked him to cover for them, he didn't need her business. “Kiddo, you need a break. I don't know what's bothering you,” he was beginning to think it was emotional rather than physical, but it was obvious to him she needed some time off, “but I think you need some time away from work. You can't give four hundred percent of yourself all the time, and not have it take a toil eventually. Why don't you try and get away?” She thought of Dick Franklin's invitation to Stinson the night before, but that was inappropriate now, and besides, she didn't want to. But she also understood what Sam was saying. She needed to do something for herself. And if she was going to have to fight for her life, she was also going to have to try and prolong it. And maybe now that meant taking some time off and building her strength up.
“I'll think about it.”
“No, you won't. I know you. You'll be back doing rounds at seven o'clock tomorrow morning. Why don't you at least let me do that for you for a few days, and you can arrive at the office like a civilized person at nine o'clock.” The offer was very tempting, and she wasn't sure what to say to him. If nothing else, she would have been grateful for just one night off to sleep and think and get her bearings.
“Would you cover for me tonight and tomorrow morning?” she asked, feeling exhausted again. She wasn't sure if it was due to the disease she was carrying, or if she was just emotionally drained by the confirmation that she had it.
“I'll do anything you want,” he said kindly, as Zoe's heart went out to him, and she was tempted to tell him what she had just found out. But she didn't want to tell anyone at this point, not even Sam. Later, she would need him. Eventually, she would have to cut down her practice, maybe he would even come in with her for a while, but it was still too soon to ask him, and it depressed her to have to think about it.
“I really appreciate this,” she said softly as he stood up.
“Just shut up and get some sleep. I'll call the service for you. You'll probably feel great when you wake up tomorrow, but I don't want to see you at the hospital. And come to think of it, why don't you come in around ten?”
“You're going to make me lazy, Sam,” she said, lying back against her pillows, as he stopped in the doorway.
“I don't think anyone could do that.” He smiled across the room at her. There was a lot he would have liked to say to her, about respect and friendship, and the kind of working relationship they shared, but he never seemed to find the opportunities to tell her. He had wanted to ask her out ever since he came back to San Francisco, but she always kept her distance. And he'd seen her out once or twice with the illustrious Dick Franklin. He didn't think it was serious between them, but he also didn't think it was appropriate to ask. Despite the longevity of their friendship, she was extremely private about her life. Yet it was hard for him not to respond to her warmth and compassion. He admired her more than he could ever tell her, and he would have done anything for her.
“Thanks, Sam,” she said, and he waved and closed the door behind him. She lay in bed, lost in her own thoughts after that, for a long time. There was so much to think about, her practice, her daughter, her health, their future. It was all racing through her head, and as she closed her eyes again, it all seemed like a blur. And then suddenly, as she lay there, she thought of Tanya. It was exactly the kind of thing she would have recommended for one of her patients, and as she thought about it again, she decided to take her own good advice and call her.
She looked in her address book and dialed the number. She knew it was a private line, somewhere in Tanya's house. For a minute, Zoe thought she wasn't there, and then she answered on the fourth ring. She sounded out of breath and there was music in the background. She was alone at that hour, and she had been outside doing exercises by the pool.
“Hello?” She sounded exactly the way she had in college, it was odd how some things about them had never changed, and others had far too much.
“Tanny?” Zoe's voice was soft and tired and vulnerable as she reached out to her, and for a moment she wanted to melt into her arms and dissolve in tears. But she forced herself to be strong as she spoke to her, and Tanya never suspected how distressed Zoe was, or that she had a problem.
“I didn't think I'd hear from you so soon.” Tanya sounded surprised but pleased to hear her. They had talked to each other only the day before, after two long years, and it surprised her to get another call so soon from Zoe. “What's up?”
“Something crazy happened today.” Something very crazy, in fact, but she didn't say that. “There's a doctor who does relief for me sometimes. He's kicking me out of my office for a few days. He says he needs the work.”
“Are you serious?” Tanya still sounded startled, she still didn't understand why Zoe had called her.
“I am… and I was thinking… the trip you talked about… Wyoming… I don't suppose… I wouldn't want to intrude or anything… are you going with anyone? I just thought…” Tanya understood the reason for her call then, and it was the perfect opportunity for them to be together. But she knew that if Zoe knew Mary Stuart was joining them, she probably wouldn't come. There was plenty of time to explain it to them once they got there, and Tanya was sure that if they made it that far, everything would be all right at long last between them.
“No, I'm going alone,” she lied. She quickly gave her all the details and suggested she fly directly to Jackson Hole. If Zoe came to L.A. to drive to Wyoming with them, Tanya didn't want to take a chance on Mary Stuart's refusing to get on the bus with them. She was sure that once they were at the ranch, it would be a wonderful reunion. But before they got there, she didn't want to give either of them a chance to back out.
“I can only come for a week though,” Zoe said firmly. She was already panicking at the thought of leaving her practice. But it was the kind of thing she was going to have to do now, if she wanted to maintain her health. But in any case, a week was long enough.
“That's fine. Maybe we'll talk you into the second week once you get there,” Tanya said happily. She couldn't think of anything nicer than a vacation with her two oldest friends from college.
“You're not bringing a date, are you?” Zoe asked, having heard the first person plural, but when Tanya said she wasn't, she figured the we was just a figure of speech. It never even occurred to her that Tanya had invited Mary Stuart.
“What about your baby?” Tanya asked her candidly. She would have made adjustments either way. And Zoe thought about it for a long moment and then shook her head slowly.
“I don't think so, Tan. She's really too little. She won't enjoy it at her age, and it might do me good to really get away for a change.” Although in some ways, Zoe hated to do it. She was reluctant to leave the baby and her patients,
“You're all right though, right?” There was something in Zoe's voice that worried Tanya, but it was nothing she could put her finger on, and Zoe kept insisting that there was no problem. But there was something in the way she sounded that Tanya vaguely remembered, something about her voice that was reminiscent of when Zoe was in trouble or distraught over something years before, like Ellie. But it had been so long since they'd seen each other that Tanya didn't dare press her, or accuse her of lying.
“I'm fine,” Zoe reassured her.
“And I can't wait to see you.” She was a good rider, a good friend, and with any luck at all, Tanya thought, by the first night, Zoe and Mary Stuart would have made peace with each other, and they'd all be together again, just like old times.
“See you at the ranch,” Tanya said as she signed off. She was so happy that Zoe had called her.
“See you then.” Zoe smiled, and rolled over on her side in bed and hung up. It was so unlike her to drop everything and leave her practice, and yet she knew she had to do it. She was going to do everything she could now to prolong her life. It had been precious to her before, but with little Jade to think about, it was even more precious now. And knowing what she'd have to fight eventually, the trip to Wyoming became suddenly very important.
Chapter 9
Sam worked with Zoe for several hours the following week, to acquaint himself with her current patients. There were a number of them he knew from covering for her on the odd night, here and there. But when he read all the current files of her most acutely ill patients, he was stunned by how many she handled. She had roughly fifty terminally ill patients, and there were more arriving on her doorstep every day, and sometimes every night.
They were brought in by friends, or relatives, or just simply people who had heard about what she was doing. They were all very sick, some who had AIDS, and others who didn't. She took care of all of them, and Sam was particularly touched by the children. There were so many little ones with AIDS. It made you grateful for every healthy child you'd ever seen. Sam knew why Zoe was particularly appreciative of Jade. She was a truly remarkable baby, and wonderfully healthy.
“I can't believe the number of patients you see every day,” Sam commented late one afternoon, “it's inhuman. No wonder you're tired all the time.” It would have been so easy then to just tell him she had AIDS. But it wasn't his problem, or his business. She had already decided she wasn't going to make it anyone's burden but her own, for as long as she could do it. She was planning to save money for herself to put aside for medical care and treatment, for nursing care if it ever came to that. The only real problem she had was Jade, and what to do with her when she died. It seemed awful to be thinking like that, but Zoe knew she had to. Part of her was still resisting it, but another part had already accepted her fate. It seemed an incredible end to a bright career, and if she let herself, she could dwell on her bad luck and ill fate, but she really didn't want to do that. She just wanted to enjoy whatever time she had. And she knew she might have years, even a decade, it didn't happen often, but it happened to some that way, and she was going to do everything she could to ensure that it happened to her. The trip to Wyoming was part of that, the rest, the scenery, the altitude, the air, along with the comfort of seeing her old friend Tanya.
“What about this one?” Sam interrupted her reverie to hold out a file to her. It belonged to an extremely sick young man. He had already entered the last stages of AIDS dementia, and Zoe doubted that he would last much longer. He had put up a valiant fight for months, and there wasn't much she could do now, except make him comfortable, and console his lover. She visited him every day. She explained it all to Sam and he shook his head. Hers was the most unorthodox of all the practices he worked for, but it was also the most creative in terms of treatment, and he was deeply moved by her compassion. She seemed to leave no stone unturned in seeking out new antibiotics, medications, ways of treating infection and pain, and even unusual holistic treatments. She did anything she could to beat the disease, right till the bitter end, and to comfort the patient.
“One of these days we'll get lucky,” she said sadly. But not soon enough for all of them. Or even for herself now.
“I think they got lucky when they found you,” he said, looking at her with ever increasing admiration. He had always liked her so much, and he liked her even more now. She was everything a physician should be, and most weren't accessible personally but she was. He wondered if it had anything to do with the lover who had died of AIDS years before. He wondered if she had loved anyone since then, and guessed that she hadn't. Surely not Dick Franklin. Sam would have liked to be closer to her. She had always been very open with him, and very friendly, but he never felt there was any interest on her part in being more than friends and business associates and collaborating physicians.
And particularly lately she felt she couldn't allow herself to be close to anyone. She was very careful to put a safe distance between herself and the rest of the world, even Sam, whom she had known since med school. She didn't want to mislead him or anyone, to lead them on, or provide a come-on. She wanted to make it clear to everyone that she was not available as a woman, only as a doctor. It seemed the only fair way to handle her situation. She had even thought about buying herself a cheap wedding band, and she forced herself not to think of the lonely path she was taking.
But as they worked on the last of the files, Sam glanced at her again and wondered if he could ask her out to dinner. There was still plenty to talk about, and he was in no hurry to go home. “Can I talk you into something to eat while we finish up? I thought we could go out for pasta in the neighborhood or something. Any interest?” he asked, nearly holding his breath and feeling stupid for it. She made him feel like a kid sometimes, and he liked that. He liked everything about her. He always had. And over the years, he had come to admire her more, and like her better.
“That sounds fine,” she said with no clue at all that he found her even remotely attractive. She had wanted to take him out anyway, to thank him for giving her the opportunity to leave town and have a real vacation. She felt a little guilty leaving Jade, but he had promised he'd keep an eye on her too, and stop in and see her and the au pair when he left the office.
“You're really a full-service on-call doctor,” she teased as she slid into the booth in a little Italian restaurant in the Upper Haight. She had come here for years, and she liked it. It was quiet, and the food was good, and it was the first time she and Sam had sat down and talked to each other over dinner since med school. They laughed about how long it had been. Although their paths had crossed regularly over the past eighteen years, they'd never really had time alone together, they were always working.
They both ordered ravioli, and he offered her wine but she refused, and then they settled down to talk about work again. They were halfway through dinner when he looked at her with his boyish grin, and something warm and friendly in his eyes that made her feel surprisingly easy with him, more than ever.
“Don't you do anything but work?” he asked gently. He admired her, but he felt sorry for her too. She did so much for so many people, and he knew firsthand how draining it was. But there didn't seem to be anyone to do anything for her. And he couldn't imagine her deriving any real comfort from her relationship with Dick Franklin, or anyone like him.
“Not lately,” she answered him, “except for Jade.” And then he wondered about something.
“Have you ever been married?” He didn't think so, and he realized he'd been right when she shook her head.
“Never.” She didn't seem in the least bothered about it. She was comfortable with her life, and happy with her daughter. Her life seemed enormously fulfilling.
But Sam was curious about it. “Why not? If you don't mind my asking.”
She smiled. She didn't mind at all. Except for her illness, she had no secrets from him. “I never really wanted to, when I was young. And the only man I probably should have married died over ten years ago. He contracted AIDS from a transfusion. Thanks to him, I started the clinic. He was in research and he was brilliant. He had bypass surgery at forty-two, and eventually it killed him. He didn't live a year after the transfusion. I thought about going into research with him. I'd always been intrigued with unsolved mysteries, and remote diseases. And then AIDS came along, and I got caught up in the physical-care end of it and not the research.”
“It would have been a real loss to a lot of people if you'd done something different,” he said gently, and he meant
it. She was a fantastic physician. He knew about the doctor who'd died too, but he'd heard about him from other people. And he watched her as she told him. She looked sad, but not devastated, and he sensed that she'd recovered, although she'd obviously never found anyone who meant as much to her. “Before AIDS, I was fairly involved in juvenile diabetes. In its own way, that's another scourge like this one, although it gets a lot less attention.”
“I've always been interested in it too. And I guess I'm a scavenger of sorts, I love visiting other people'd practices, picking up little bits and pieces of information, and solving problems, doing what I can, and then moving on. It probably sounds irresponsible, but I've never wanted my own practice. That just seems like a lot of paperwork and red tape, and issues that have nothing to do with medicine or patients. I like doing hands-on work, I don't want to waste time with contracts and insurance and worrying about property, and all the politics established doctors get involved with. Maybe I just haven't grown up yet. I keep waiting for it to happen, I keep thinking that one of these days I'll want to associate with a group of docs and join their office, but I never do. What I see of most of them turns me off completely, except on a rotating basis, the way I do it with you. This way, I get to do all the good stuff.”
She smiled at what he said. It was a little bit like the philosophy of emergency room doctors. They wanted to deal with the patients and not the paper or the overhead or the problems. But in her case she would have missed the long-term relationships she developed. “You remind me a little of the Lone Ranger,” she said, smiling,“… who was that masked man, Tonto?… My patients love you. You do a great job. And I can't really blame you for avoiding all the crap that goes with an ordinary practice. I've really missed not having partners, it's so much more work like this. But I also like not having the headaches, the arguments, the petty jealousies, and all the problems. When Adam died, he made it possible to set up the kind of clinic I wanted, and do it exactly the way I thought it should be. But it's still awfully hard not having adequate help, except on occasion.” She smiled at him again, and he found himself wondering again how involved she was with Dick Franklin, but he was afraid to ask her.
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