Attending Physician

by Vivienne Hartt Quinn

  Raven cocked an eyebrow.

  “Raven, you’re intuitive. You don’t normally apply it in this context, and I apply mine in these sorts of contexts every day.”

  “What?”

  “You can’t tell me you haven’t made a call in an operating room based solely on your gut, can you?”

  “Of course not. I absolutely have.”

  “Well, I use my gift around the human psyche every day. I know what happened to Lucy.”

  We had arrived at Chérie. Raven opened the door and handed me in distractedly.

  When she got in on the driver’s side, she said, “Never a dull moment, milady.”

  “No, darling,” I reached over to kiss her gently, “never.”

  She put the car in gear and we were off on the back roads to Newton, Raven muttered under her breath, “Thirty minutes? No way.”

  Chapter 40

  On the way to her house, and Gretchen’s, I got a brain dump of family history. Of the just-the-facts-ma’am variety. The gist:

  Raven’s parents were long dead.

  Gretchen’s husband, also.

  No, Gretchen had never considered dating anyone else.

  Raven was an only.

  Angie’d been an only.

  Gretchen and Raven had each other, and together they had Lucy.

  I was the first woman Raven had brought home since Angie died. It had been a couple years since she’d been serious with anyone.

  Can you say fraught?

  In addition to the family litany, I also told Raven what I thought had happened to Lucy whilst we were stuck for ten minutes or so due to an accident—hence the thirty minutes, although I could not have told you at the time that there’d be an accident. She’d taken a nap, had heard from her mama that her Raven had a lady who was hurt, and that Lucy needed to see with her own eyes that we were both alright. Gretchen had to deal with it whether she liked it or not.

  “That was succinct, milady,” Raven observed, driving skilfully past beautifully kept homes.

  “There’s probably more to it than that, but that’s what came,” I explained. “Enough to let me know what we had to do. Which is the most I usually get.”

  “You’re amazing, you know that?” Raven stole an admiring glance at me.

  “I’ll take your word for it, sir,” I said.

  “No, I mean it, babe. We have been all over the map since we met and you keep showing up in every place we’re needed. Fully present. Fully accounted for. Fully ready to go. I like that about you, Dr. Spencer.”

  “I like you, Dr. Lange,” I said. I squeezed her thigh when I said it. She cleared her throat. “I know,” I said. “Soon, milord. Very soon.”

  “I think I might have to hold you to that, milady,” she threatened.

  “As long as you’re holding me, darling, it’ll be fine,” I said, and I knew beyond doubt that I’d spoken the truth. Something shifted in me right then. Something about a marriage that failed not equaling that I had failed. It takes two ....

  We pulled into the driveway of an exquisitely-kept, small Victorian house, and I was enchanted.

  “Oh, Raven, your home is gorgeous!” I exclaimed. “My favorite, too, Queen Anne. Oh, I can’t wait to see the inside.”

  Well, I had to wait because at that split second, the huge, old oak front door swung inward and an absolutely precious little girl in baby pink, footed jammies flung herself through it, climbed one at a time down the front stairs backward as fast as she could go clinging to the railing, and launched herself at Raven who still sat in the driver’s seat.

  Raven reached out the window and pulled the little girl in through it, wedging her between her chest and the steering wheel. I sat completely still watching their shenanigans—and were they sweet.

  “Lady,” said Lucy. solemnly studying at me. Then she reached out her little hand and touched my bruised eye carefully. “Ow,” she said. “I told Nana, `Ow.’” she told Raven.

  “Yes,” I said. “Ow, Lucy. I cried like a baby, too.”

  “Cwying?” she repeated.

  I nodded.

  She reached her arms out and crawled over the gearshift and into my lap wrapping them around my neck. Then she very carefully leaned over and kissed my eye. “Better?” she asked.

  I nodded again, and only then discerned Gretchen standing by the driver’s side of the car staring at me.

  “What happened?” asked Lucy.

  I focused my attention on her. “A bad man hit me,” I said.

  “Ow. Bad man.” she repeated as a scold. “Raven get him?” she inquired.

  I thought I was going to cry, but Raven helped me out, “No, Unca Terry got him.”

  “Yay!” Lucy danced in my lap. Then she looked at me, a little uncertainly, “Yay?” she asked.

  “Yes, of course, yay,” I said, and we danced together.

  “Unca Terry good guy,” Lucy said.

  Gretchen’s disapproval was loudly silent.

  “Yes, very good,” I said. “Unca Terry got the bad man.”

  “Pow!” said Lucy.

  “Yep,” I agreed. “Lucy, is that your Nana?”

  She spun her face and her unbridled blonde curls brushed my lips. “Yes, Nana,” she confirmed. “Nana, I tol’ you. Lady.”

  Gretchen hmmed softly at Lucy. “I see,” she said. “Does the lady have a name?”

  Lucy nodded her head vigorously. “Lady!”

  I doubled her with, “Verity.”

  Raven said, “Dr. Verity Spencer, this is Gretchen Andrews, Lucy’s nana, and my dear friend.”

  “Gretchen,” I smiled, “it’s nice to meet you.”

  “How do you do?” she filled in the social blank, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Lucy’s taken to you.”

  “I think she had a reaction to her dream.”

  “Yes!” Lucy agreed. “Dweam. Mama came. Said Raven lady hurt. I cry. Vewy sad.”

  “I know,” I said, “but now you see I’m fine. Just a big ow.”

  “Ow,” she said, and kissed it better again.

  “Well, you’d better come in, you two,” said a resigned Gretchen.

  “I show you, Lady,” said Lucy, waiting for me to open my door.

  “Lucy, Lady wait for Raven,” I said.

  “Okay, Lucy wait for Raven.” She settled down into my lap and put her face against my breast. My arms went around her instantly.

  Raven cranked the window on her side and got out to hand her girls out of the car. First, she swung Lucy out and put her on the roof of the car. Then she gave me her hand to pull me out, holding me close briefly, and dropping a kiss on my temple.

  “You’re amazing with her,” she said near my ear.

  “She’s amazing,” I whispered.

  “Lucy, piggyback?” said Raven.

  “Yes!” Persons this age are the embodiment of enthusiasm. Raven offered Lucy her back which Lucy jumped on, and Raven took off toward the house, leaving me to close the door on Chérie.

  “Oh, you know how to do that, do you? A fancy lady like you?” The bitterness in Gretchen’s words was unmistakable.

  “Close my own car door?” I laughed. “Sure. I enjoy the manners Raven chooses to use with me, but I don’t take them for granted.”

  Gretchen made a sarcastic polite gesture for me to precede her as we approached the house. I decided that I would ignore her negativity.

  “Gretchen, your home is beautiful. I’ve always wanted to live in a Queen Anne Victorian.”

  “My husband and I bought this in the late fifties,” she said with pride.

  “Oh, my,” I said.

  “Raven’s parents owned that one,” she indicated the house next door, “but Raven uses it as a rental property.”

  Raven owned both houses? Wow. Oh wait, she’d probably inherited the one from her parents, and this one had to be Gretchen’s. “I didn’t know that,” I said. “I met Raven a little over a week ago. We delivered a baby together.”

  “Are you a docto
r?” she asked. “Oh, you are! Raven said Dr. ... um.”

  “I know, I have a weird name. It’s Verity. It means Truth,” I said. “Like one of those Puritan girl names: Faith, Hope, Charity, Verity.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, some cousin had it, a family name way back when, and my mother liked the sound of it. It’s fine now, but going through school with a weird name is hell, believe me.”

  Gretchen laughed, a trifle meanly. “I bet half the people couldn’t say it, and the other half couldn’t spell it.”

  “You got those numbers right, Gretchen!” I said. “I’m not Raven’s kind of doctor. I’m a psychologist.”

  We ascended the front steps where Lucy waited in the doorway. “Lady, come see my room first!”

  “Excuse me, Gretchen,” I said.

  “Of course, Verity,” the mannerly sarcasm was thick. “What Lucy says goes around here.”

  “Nuh-uh,” said Lucy putting her hands on her hips in a fair imitation of her grandmother. “What Nana says goes around here!” Then she laughed and laughed at some little girl joke only she understood. She grabbed my hand and pulled me up the stairs, “Come on!” she yelled.

  “Coming!” I laughed as I followed her.

  I overheard Gretchen say to Raven, “This one’s serious, isn’t she?”

  Then I was swallowed by a room full of stuffed animals and pink ice cream parlor striped wallpaper with gorgeous fussy French Provincial furnishings lovingly painted with scenes of fairies and unicorns.

  Chapter 41

  “Who painted these, Lucy?”

  “Mama,” she said solemnly. “Mama art.”

  “They’re beautiful,” I said admiringly.

  “Uh-huh,” she agreed, “for me. Mama art for me.”

  “Your mama loves you very much, Lucy,” I said.

  I sensed Raven in the doorway.

  “Mama love,” said Lucy. “I love Mama, too.”

  “Of course you do!” I smiled at the girl.

  She shook her head at me sadly. “Not Nana.”

  “Not Nana?” I asked.

  “Nana mad,” she said. Then she added, “At Mama.”

  That explained a lot. Wise wee angel. “Sad mad,” I said.

  Lucy nodded her head at me with enthusiasm. “Fix it?” she asked me. I held my breath. “Lady fix it for Mama?”

  “I don’t know,” I told Lucy truthfully, “but Lady will try her best.”

  “Pwomise?” said Lucy in precious baby seriousness. She held out her little hand. “Pinky pwomise?”

  Where do little girls get these things? “Pinky promise,” I reached out with mine.

  We shook, and that was enough for Lucy. She began to show me her precious toys and treasures.

  Raven watched us together in complete silence.

  At one point, Lucy gazed at me across the twin bed with an evaluative eye. “Lady pretty,” she said. “Yummy soft sweater.” I had on baby pink cashmere with a few same-color sequins around the low neckline.

  “I match Lucy’s jammies,” I said.

  She looked down at herself. “Match jammies,” she repeated with satisfaction, as if it proved something.

  I’d marked Lucy’s Spartan speech pattern and wondered where it had come from. Usually, by three a child would be speaking in full sentences, simple, but full. Lucy wasn’t.

  Worry was coming from Raven so I sat on the end of the bed and scrutinized her handsome face. “Lucy’s jammies match my sweater, Raven,” I said.

  “They do, milady.”

  “See?” said Lucy, looking at Raven. “Lady.” Then she pointed to Raven and leaned over to whisper loudly in the way of children who don’t yet know how to whisper, “Papa.”

  Raven’s eyebrows shot toward her hairline. “What did you say, Luce?”

  She stuck her bottom lip out, and spoke very firmly, “Papa.”

  Raven took a big stride into the room and got on her knees in front of me to be at eye level with her daughter. “Who told you that, Lucy?”

  “Mama,” she said tilting her head and pulling on one of her blonde curls.

  I had a very hard time not laughing. This miniature girl had the lay of the land in this household completely, and Raven was the last to know. I’d bet my two black eyes that she was seeing and communicating with her mother’s spirit every day. For real.

  “Do you want me to be your papa?” Vulnerability underscored Raven’s voice even if Lucy didn’t know it.

  “You are my papa,” she said distinctly. Then she stuck out her tongue and said, “So there.”

  Raven exploded into startled laughter.

  She finally said, “Okay, Luce. You gonna call me Raven or you gonna call me Papa?”

  “Yep,” said Lucy as though that settled it. Then she jumped up and down on the bed and hollered, “Yay!,” indicating she’d won some mighty victory. She raced to the top of the stairs yelling, “Tell Nana,” and went haring down them backward as she’d done the front steps.

  I took a big breath.

  “Milady, you know what’s going on here, don’t you?”

  “I think so,” I stood to put my arms around Raven’s waist. “That’s a beautiful little girl, Papa,” I whispered against her throat, making her shiver. “You must be very proud.”

  “I was,” she said musingly, “but I’m beginning to think there’s more to it than I’d thought.”

  “You’re aware that you get to step up, right? Soon.”

  “Does that work for you, milady?”

  “Of course, milord. The future depends on poppets such as yours. What if she’s meant to be president?” I asked.

  “Oh, Jesus,” Raven’s arms tightened around me. “This week? I hope not. There’s enough going on this week.”

  “Raven, is there something you need to tell me?”

  Her head nodded against mine, and leaned away from her body to see her.

  “Gretchen has a doctor’s appointment this week.” I said nothing, but fear was present. She added, “For a biopsy.” I still said nothing. “It’s probably breast cancer,” Raven added.

  “Oh, Goddess,” I said, “I hope not.”

  “Me, too,” said Raven, “but the indicators are there. I’m hoping we caught it early enough so that the treatments are easy on her.”

  We held the silence prayerfully. At least, I prayed.

  “Verity?”

  “Yes?”

  “How do you feel about stepping up with me?” Raven’s risk was enormous.

  I considered my answer for an n-sec before I said lightly, “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Raven’s mouth descended on mine in a fiery, demanding kiss. Hot, sweet, wet, promising, requesting, seeking my passion and my agreement at the same time. I gave as good as I had at the time, which, if I have to say it myself, was damn good. Damn good, blessed hot, blessed sweet, blessed wet, and deep until she threaded her hands into my hair and made it deeper. I thanked the Cosmic Her that Raven knew how to kiss and gave every bit of what she was giving me back to her mouth, plastering my body against hers, and hoping with every cell that she heard me.

  Finally a singsong little girl voice rebounded us to everyday mortality. We heard, “K-i-s-s-i-n-g,” from the doorway, and Raven lifted her mouth from mine and quirked a half-smile at me before facing her daughter.

  “Yep,” she said. “You want one, minx?”

  Lucy jumped and yelled, “Kisses for Lucy! Kisses for Lucy!” It sounded like a campaign slogan.

  Raven scooped her up with one arm and placed her between us. Then she reached down to Lucy’s cheek and indicated I should do the same with the other one. We both kissed Lucy’s still baby soft skin at the same time as she squealed.

  “Yes,” I whispered in her ear, “lots of kisses for Lucy,” through a surprisingly thick-with-tears throat. I was aware at that precise moment in a holistic way that this little angel had captured my heart effortlessly in less than an hour.

  Raven heard the tears in my
voice. “Milady?”

  Lucy echoed her, “Lady?”

  “I’m fine,” I assured them, “moved.”

  Lucy explained, clear as day, “Happy tears, Papa.”

  Raven almost dropped her.

  “I’ll explain later, sir,” I murmured. Then I focused on the little girl, “Smart Lucy,” I said.

  “Yep,” she agreed with me and squirmed to get down kicking me in the ribs.

  “Ow,” I said.

  Lucy stopped instantly. “Ow?” she asked.

  I held her foot. “Your foot kicked me,” I explained and touched my waist. “Ow.”

  Raven watched this, and let Lucy down. Then she got down on the floor with her, and said to Lucy, “Gentle lady, Luce. You can’t roughhouse with a lady like you can with Papa and Unca Terry.”

  Lucy’s bottom lip started to tremble. “Lucy sorry.”

  I was down at her level in a trice. “Kiss it better, Lucy?” She brightened immediately and bent down to kiss my waist. “Better,” I said.

  Chapter 42

  “Gentle lady,” said Lucy reaching for my hand to bring me downstairs with her. “Nana needs you.” Then she demanded, “Papa, come.” Her papa, you should pardon the expression, came. I hoped my face was less flushed by the time we got to the kitchen where Gretchen waited to give Lucy her supper.

  Raven murmured behind me, “Milady, Gretchen can be ... difficult.”

  “You think?”

  Raven chuckled.

  I already knew that. Even if Lucy hadn’t told me in so many words, I couldn’t miss that Gretchen was bitterly angry at her daughter for dying, in the line of duty or not. I didn’t think she resented raising Lucy; that I think she was delighted to do. But that kind of ongoing bitterness, unhealed, was a spot-on prescription for cancer.

  Our small parade of three passed a beautiful traditional crucifix in the entryway that hadn’t caught my attention on our advent into the house. That confirmed what I’d already suspected. This was a Catholic household. Well, my practice was getting more spiritual. Here was a perfect opportunity. Gretchen had taken an instant dislike to me so I had to be very cautious as I helped Lucy heal her grandmother.