by Barbara Ebel
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Danny scrubbed while watching the attending anesthesiologist and resident say goodnight to, and intubate, his patient. The anesthesiologist probably didn’t bother to ask Mr. Thine to count backwards. When Danny walked through the double doors, the OR table had been turned ninety degrees from the ventilator, the anesthesia circuit had been carefully secured; and one arm of the patient with IV access was wrapped on an arm board and the other arm was tucked alongside his body. A blue warming blanket covered the patient and draped over the sides of the table.
A nurse unfolded Danny’s surgical gown allowing Danny to slide into it. The circulating nurse tied it from the back as he stepped to the patient’s head. The area around the nail had been prepped and shaved. Danny affixed a bolt-like contraption to hold the head and put a sterile drape with a hole to expose the surgical site.
The scrub nurse stood closest to him, her instruments laid out neatly on moveable tray tables. Danny incised a wide circular margin, cutting down to skull. “Drill. Suction,” he said. The nurse handed him both, and he started to drill, applying pressure to bone. Danny knew his chief resident had scrubbed and readied after him; he now looked closely over Danny’s right shoulder.
Vince dripped saline over Danny’s drill bit and surgical area. Danny continued drilling firmly, then eased up when he felt no resistance, which meant he was inside the skull and near the brain.
“Dr. Tilson, you scattering bone dust around here?” the anesthesiologist quipped.
“I’ll be sure to glue it all back together before we leave,” Danny said, smiling under his mask.
Danny suctioned. He slowly pulled out the incised skull bone. Perfect. The major venous sinuses weren’t anywhere close and the nail wasn’t too far in. Vince kept quiet; Danny had the situation under control. The small defect in the pulsating brain wasn’t bleeding, so Danny and Vince turned their attention to pushing the nail out of the bone from where it had entered.
“Fine job,” Vince said. He stepped back and took off his gown. The scrub nurse took the suction tip from Danny. He appreciated her methodical style and her respectful treatment of residents, who often weren’t assisted with the same professionalism as senior staff.
Minus the nail, Danny inserted Mr. Rhine’s skull piece back into the hole like a single cardboard piece into a puzzle, and stapled the scalp flap back onto the adjoining skin. He was grateful that the case had been straightforward and that a good senior resident had done the anesthesia. He’d get out at a reasonable time to spend the evening with Sara, Greg and the girls.
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Greg’s chef, Gianni, from Downtown Italy eyed his pesto sauce for color and texture. He sampled it and nodded his approval. He slid chopped onion and garlic to Greg from a butcher block, for Greg’s customary part in preparing the appetizer while Sara and Danny were on their way. Greg sautéed them, added browned eggplant, and stirred in tomatoes. He mixed capers, anchovy paste and olives in the pan drippings, spooned it over the eggplant and covered it. “Sara’s favorite,” Greg said.
Greg and Donna had foreseen Nashville’s potential for a fine, pricey Northern Italian restaurant. While entrepreneurs concentrated on pulled pork and ribs, Greg and Donna figured the country superstars and entertainment folks had extra cash, and there was only so much barbecue people could eat. So when downtown Nashville was in its infancy, springing more and more café’s, buffalo wing restaurants and sports bars, Greg and Donna bought a large, old bookstore and renovated it. Sending for Gianni from Italy sealed the deal. Later, when they opened a second and third restaurant, they sent for two more chefs, but remained attached to their original Downtown Italy.
Greg went to the dining area as Danny and Sara arrived. Melissa ran to him with outstretched arms, plowing into his legs and hugging tightly. Two fancy rubber bands held her fine hair in short ponytails off to the side of her head, and her long eyelashes swept almost to her eyebrows.
“Pop-Pop, guess what I did today?”
“What did you do today, sunshine?” Greg said, crouching down to her.
“I gave Annabel a carriage ride up and down Mrs. Emily’s driveway!”
“You are something else,” her grandfather said.
Greg greeted his son and daughter-in-law, then went to the kitchen and brought out his eggplant and toasted focaccia. “Chow down,” he said, placing the appetizers on the table. A waiter stepped over, bringing them ice water and a bottle of Pinot Grigio while Melissa handed Annabel a piece of Italian bread. Her baby sister sputtered with delight, legs wiggling from the highchair.
Sara took the vase with a sprig of flowers and placed it on the floor against the wall behind them, then put a napkin on Annabel’s T-shirt. She dipped into the herbed vegetable in the middle of the table. “Thanks, Dad,” she said.
“Come on, Dad, join us,” Danny said. Greg poured wine and sat.
Since Gianni made fresh pasta from scratch every day, Danny and Sara ordered shrimp scampi. “And ravioli with fresh mozzarella on top for the girls,” Danny said to Angelo, the waiter.
“Angelo, my usual,” Greg said.
“Yes, sir,” Angelo said. He winked at Melissa and left.
“Danny,” Greg said, “that internist put me on a diuretic today and gave me my lab results. My good cholesterol’s high and my triglycerides aren’t elevated. Since I’m not diabetic and don’t have cardiac risk factors, we can’t figure out why my blood pressure is high.”
Sara leaned in closer to her father-in-law. “Dad, you certainly aren’t obese, either,” she said.
“No one in the family had premature heart disease from bad genes, did they?” Danny asked.
“Not that I’m aware of. Your grandfather died young, but as you know, he died swerving off the road in an automobile accident.”
Danny pondered that a moment while two small speakers piped in Pavarotti. His parents had a flare for atmosphere and interior decorating; a mural of a Mediterranean piazza and vineyards plastered one wall.
“Dad, maybe granddad had a heart attack.”
Angelo slid Greg’s pasta in front of him. “That would explain it,” Greg said, frowning.
“Dad, did you talk to that man again who is interested in your restaurants?” Sara leaned back as Angelo served her and then she cut ravioli for Annabel.
“He’s offered me a mint for the two other restaurants. He asks only that I give him the first opportunity to buy Downtown Italy when I’m ready to sell.” Greg twirled some angel hair pasta with his fork. “Managing all three has gotten to be too much, especially without your mom.”
Melissa squirmed out of her chair and headed for her baby sister. Annabel quickly reached for her sister’s ponytail and Melissa jumped back and giggled.
“Well, I think slowing down is a good idea, Dad,” Danny said. “Although managing Downtown Italy is hardly slowing down.”
“Okay, I’ll make the deal. Let’s all toast to it.”
Sara raised her glass, pretending to clink it towards Melissa and Annabel.
“And let’s toast to only three more years of residency,” Danny said. “And to a great teacher and magnificent wife.”
Angelo placed a linen napkin over his arm and smiled at them. “More wine?” he asked.
“No,” Sara said, waving her hand. “But we’ll take Gianni’s prized sacripantini.”
“You know, Miss Sara,” Angelo said, tilting his head, “sponge cake made with rum is a Luciano Pavarotti favorite. But, of course, Gianni’s is the best.”
“Yes, we know,” Danny said. “And please, Angelo, a shot of espresso with a shot of liquor. Brandy will do. I can be festive today.”
“Something you’re going to tell us?” Sara asked, patting his shoulder.
“Before and after surgery pictures of my patient today made their way into the department’s photographic archive. Projectors will be showing those slides in lectures all over the country.”
Sara beamed and they kissed. When their lips pressed, they lingered for
the moment.
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Sara held Annabel snuggly in her arms for a few minutes before leaving the porch and going inside. Annabel had fallen asleep on the drive across Murfreesboro Road and the winding gravel roads into the subdivision. Two motionless deer stood on the outskirts of the woods. They had lost their white spots, but weren’t fully grown either. The deer stared at Sara and Danny and realized they weren’t a threat, so started eating at the brush. A nearby whip-poor-will called loudly, listened, then emphatically spoke again after a distant response from a fellow bird.
Danny and Sara headed inside. Sara changed Annabel and placed her in her crib. She kissed her baby girl on the cheek and pressed her small fingers into her own. While Sara peeled away to take a shower, Danny helped Melissa wash and change. Melissa wrapped her arms around Danny’s neck as she stood on her pink bedspread.
“Tonight you can dream about those graceful deer visiting you in your own backyard,” Danny said, returning the hug. “Their eyes were as bright as yours.”
Danny turned off her light. He went into the master bedroom, closed the fauxwood blinds facing the woods, and then took off his shoes. Sara’s gray tee and cotton briefs she wore to sleep were crumpled in the middle of the bed, and the quilt with a popcorn texture looked like they had just crawled out from underneath it that morning. Danny liked Sara’s taste in decorating, a cross between country style and modern. He moved brown throws and gold shams toward the headboard, thought about lying down, but heard the shower water and imagined his wife sponging her curves.
Danny unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off as he walked into the steamy bathroom. “Would two be a crowd in there?” He opened the shower door and narrowed his eyes, taking in the view from top to bottom.
“No. It needs to be steamier,” she replied.
“I can fix that.” Danny finished undressing and stepped in. He inhaled the aroma in the shower stall … orange ginger. The sight of water hastening down his wife’s silky hair and smooth skin aroused him.
Sara leaned into her husband, who was a good six inches taller. She pressed her hands into his back muscles. Her breasts sunk into his chest as she felt him embrace her with firm arms. She explored his lower back, then brought her hand back around. She squeezed while their lips and tongues explored, all wet and moist from each other, and the streaming water.
Danny inched his hand behind Sara and between her thighs. He pressed closer while Sara raised her leg onto the soap dish ledge.
Chapter 4
The salon was wedged between two posh women boutiques. The chatter inside diminished as personnel snapped down bulky dryers and stashed away plastic bottles with hair dyes. The last hairdresser with a client combed and snipped the parched hair of a customer, the wife of a prestigious partner of a major law firm in Elvis’s hometown.
“You have the longest legs,” the hairdresser said. “My drape isn’t long enough to fully cover your silk pants.” She placed another cloth over the woman’s knees. “Here, this should be better.”
“Thank you, darlin. I’ll be shedding them soon enough. I’m donning my most recent holiday splurge for tonight. And if my husband asks me about the gown’s price, I’ll just tell him it’s one of his Christmas presents to me.” She laughed over her shoulder. “That works for everything this time of year.”
The younger woman combed her client’s hair forward around her face, scrutinizing for any unevenly cut areas. “Mrs. Rose, in retrospect, what would you do differently? Regarding men, that is?”
“First off, you’ve used the correct term. Never stop with one.”
The hairdresser squirted a creamy product in her palms and massaged it into the woman’s hair, creating a silky sheen.
The older married woman didn’t offer any more advice. “Are you still taking that course you told me about?” She spied the study guide on the hairdresser’s busy counter.
“I am. I take it online. It’s so easy and it’s only for twelve months. I sit for the certified surgical technician test in a few months.”
“Wow. There’s good money in medicine.”
“Not as a tech.”
“You’re not after lawyers, then, are you?”
The young hairdresser smiled.
“Smart girl. You strap on one of those masks they wear and you’ll knock them male surgeons dead with those eyes.”
“Thank you for the kind words, Mrs. Rose. And enjoy your holidays.”
Mrs. Rose squeezed a twenty-dollar tip into the woman’s hand, paid the bill at the front register, and left. The beautician swept all around her space. The salon was quiet and almost empty.
At the register, the co-owner left the cash drawer open and pulled the window blinds closed.
Rachel, the pretty, twenty-four-year-old hairdresser, picked up her study guide and gathered her purse from the bottom drawer of the front desk. With her eyes fixed on the inattentive co-owner, her hand smoothly slid a fifty-dollar bill from the cash register into her blouse pocket.
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Casey tugged at Danny’s sleeve, a canvas jacket that Sara had bought him last year. “Good thing you’re not this slow in surgery,” Casey said. He depended on the crisp, early December air to perk up his friend after his grueling day. They walked west of Vanderbilt so Casey could share his refined bachelor taste with Danny, to pick out Christmas gifts for Sara and the girls. Like Sara, Casey had observed and encouraged Danny in his senior year of residency.
Danny had more responsibility than ever before, running the spine service for six months, coordinating the residents below him, and trying to figure out where he’d work in another six months. In addition, Danny had his hands full at the house. Sara and Danny had another baby girl, the “last one,” Danny had said.
“Casey, we could have gone to the Mall near Opryland, where we could’ve bought something from the Bass Pro Shop. Sara likes things in there as much as I.”
“You can do that, too,” Casey said.
“Not before this Christmas,” Danny said, “unless someone donates me more shopping time.”
Casey stopped short and pointed across the street to a boutique with a red cobblestone sidewalk. They sauntered across, passing a black lamppost and wooden bench out front. When they walked into Grace’s, a hanging doorbell rung and they smelled mulling spices. Fine stationery, leather items, frames and gifts lay on shelves and tables, and artificial trees stood with festive splendor. Casey walked to an oak table and thumbed through an album of font choices for personalized stationery.
“Danny, I’m ordering my girlfriend note paper with matching lined envelopes, her name embossed on both. That might also be a good idea for you, too, for Sara.”
“No jewelry for your girl?”
“No. Too early for that.”
“Maybe for you,” Danny replied.
“We’ll probably fizzle out. She says she likes my clean, military haircut, but it’s really my biceps she wants.” Casey laughed while pointing to the rose lined envelope. “I’ll order this and buy her some CD’s and poinsettias.”
“I’ll get Sara the pale blue paper with the script font for her name.” Danny felt the paper, almost like linen, which gave him another idea. He spotted small satin pillows and walked over to the hardwood shelf. Neatly stacked beside them was an assortment of baby-blue linen cases.
A saleslady walked over, noticing Danny’s interest. “Besides personalizing the stationery, you can get a lovely monogrammed pillowcase for the pillow as well.”
“Nice idea,” Casey said.
Danny decided on personalized pillows for each of the girls and Sara. He continued looking and picked up a soft, burgundy case, the length and width of letter paper. He looked questioningly at the woman, who took two steps to answer his forthcoming question.
“Can you monogram this?”
“Yes. And it can be ready for Christmas.”
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Sara opened the oven door to peek at the sixteen-pound turkey, th
e thick aroma and heat escaping into the kitchen. Its skin crackled as it browned and its juices ran into the black roasting pan. Danny snapped in the kitchen table leaf, then spread a gold tablecloth and put four candlesticks with green holly on top.
“Daddy, is this okay?” Melissa stood in front of him with the windows to the backyard behind her, light catching the silver ribbons in her hair. She wore a red satin dress with pale leotards.
Danny couldn’t count how many times he’d hugged and kissed Melissa since they’d opened Christmas presents that morning. He picked up the milk bottle and shook a few drops onto his wrist. “That’s wonderful,” he said to her, “just like you.”
With twinkling eyes, Melissa smiled widely, willing to please. She lifted her baby sister, Nancy, from the playpen, sat on her rocking chair and Danny handed her the bottle. Annabel skipped over, holding a stuffed reindeer and flew it around her sisters.
Sara lowered the stove heat while Danny started setting the table. “I’m almost ready but some surgeon needs to do the carving,” she said, pointing to Danny.
Greg walked through the kitchen door. Bundled in a thick coat and a warm hat, the wool almost met his eyebrows. “Merry Christmas everyone! It smells like turkey in here.” He placed a large aluminum pan on the counter. “Keep it warm,” he said, giving Sara an embrace. He bent over and squeezed Annabel, who turned around, displaying her velvet green pants and top. “Come on, you help me,” he said, dashing to the car for another tray and a shopping bag of presents.
Casey and his date walked up the back porch steps and entered the family room. He handed Danny a heavy bag with eggnog and apple cider. “This is Carolyn,” he said. “Carolyn’s a physical therapist at the hospital.”
“Glad you could make it” Danny said, while she handed him a bottle of wine. She rubbed her hands and asked them how she could help with last minute preparations.
Casey put two small packages under the tree for Annabel and Nancy and walked to Melissa as she placed Nancy back in the playpen. “This is for a very pretty angel I know,” Casey said, waving for Melissa to follow him. He sat on the stone hearth, the crackling fire behind him, while Melissa put her hand on his cotton trousers, eyeing the gift box wrapped in gold foil.