by Donna Hill
She’d taken him up on his offer. Took a sabbatical from Saint Vincent, packed up and came across the country for a chance of a lifetime. She had it all figured out until she fell for the man whose job she was supposed to fill.
Dina frowned, stared off into space. There had to be a way out of this mess without making things worse. If she took over for Franklin during the inquiry at least she would be in a position to champion his return, maintain continuity with the patients and when this mess was all said and done, Franklin would have his job back, and hopefully she’d get the spot as an attending. Then she could stay in DC, and keep building the relationship with Franklin. It was possible. The murky part was, how would Franklin take it?
Her temples pounded. She leaned back, closed her eyes and massaged the sides of her head with the balls of her fingers while slowly rotating her neck. By degrees the thumping subsided.
Her eyes flew open at the sound of knocking. She straightened in her seat.
“Yes, come in.”
The door inched open. Anna stuck her head in. “Hey. I was looking for you on the floor. You okay?” She stepped inside, closed the door halfway.
“Yeah. Fine. Little headache.” She rolled her chair away from the desk. “What’s up?”
“You tell me. Heard you were up in Freeman’s office this morning.”
Dina inwardly flinched. “Word travels fast around here.”
Anna came around the side chair and sat down. “Soooo...what happened?”
“Why did anything have to happen?”
“Nobody gets called to Freeman’s office for giggles. What did he say? I’m sure it had to be about the incident.”
Dina weighed her response, uncertain of how much or how little she should say. “He basically said what you told me. That there will be an inquiry and that I should have no contact with Fra—Dr. Grant until a decision is made.” Dina watched Anna’s expression morph from piqued interest to skepticism.
“Really,” she intoned. “That’s it?”
“Pretty much.”
“He could have put that in an email,” she said snarkily.
“Hmm. Right about that.” She checked her watch. “I have a patient to see before rounds.” She stood, signaling the end of the impromptu visit.
“So he didn’t say anything about who is going to take over for Dr. Grant?”
Dina’s gaze skipped away. She picked up her iPad. “Nope.” She could feel Anna’s gaze boring into the top of her head. She looked up with a smile. “Off to work.”
Anna returned the smile. “Yep.” She shoved her hands in the pocket of her lab coat. “Guess I’ll see you later.” She headed for the door, stopped with her hand on the frame and turned. “Drink after work?”
“Hmm. I don’t think so. Not tonight. Gonna need a rain check.”
“Sure.” She closed the door behind her.
Dina slowly exhaled. She’d be glad when this was all over. In the meantime she had patients to see, rounds to conduct and a decision to make. She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and dialed Franklin’s number. Once again, it went to voice mail.
* * *
Franklin mentally ticked off what he’d accomplished for the day. He’d had breakfast and a man-to-man convo with his brother, spent two hours in the gym, took his car to the car wash and now was en route to see his parents before they heard about what happened from someone other than him.
He got in his car and looked at his phone before mounting it on the car charger. Three missed calls—all from Dina. He’d hesitated to listen to the voice mail; hearing her voice would only erode his resolve to see her, be with her again. As much as he wanted to see her, he knew it was a bad move. He couldn’t risk putting them both in jeopardy. Inquiries into surgical procedure and responsibility were difficult enough without adding any compromising issues to the mix.
He turned the key in the ignition and backed out of his driveway. When he reached the street, his phone rang. This time it was from a number he didn’t recognize. He pressed the button in the steering column and the phone call came through his speaker.
“Hello?”
“Franklin?”
His gut knotted. “Yes. Lindsay.”
“I wanted to set up a time for us to talk before the inquiry begins. I’m in the process of putting together a statement and I want your input. Would four o’clock today work for you?”
No time was a good time. “Sure. Where?”
“I can come to you, or we can meet at my office. I’d prefer not to do this at the hospital. Too many eyes and ears.” She laughed lightly.
The last place he wanted Lindsay was in his house, and she was right about the hospital, the looks and the questions asked and unasked. “I’ll come to your office.”
“Great. I’ll text you the address. See you at four.”
“Yeah. Four,” he grumbled. He pressed the button and disconnected the call. Whatever momentary mental calm he’d felt evaporated like water on a hot grill. He pulled out into traffic, his thoughts splintering off in different directions. He gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his fingers began to ache. He loosened his grip and flexed.
Since their breakup he’d only seen Lindsay sporadically as she came and went to board meetings or whatever it was she continued to do for the hospital. But they hadn’t interacted and had no reason to. The other day in the president’s office was the first time he’d spent that much time with Lindsay in over two years.
The dash’s dial read out 1:05. He still had time to visit the folks and get into downtown DC to meet up with Lindsay by four. This was going to be a long day.
* * *
Ellen Grant covered her son’s hand with her own. His father, reclining in his favorite chair, looked into his son’s eyes which reflected the same anger and sadness in his own.
“I wanted you both to hear it from me before...”
“You listen to me, son, those board people and the inquiry folks are gonna see that this is not your fault.”
“Just like before,” his mother added.
Franklin’s chest tightened at the memory. It was a decade ago, but he’d never forgotten. Although it was totally not his fault and he’d been cleared, the cloud hovered around him. It was like being convicted and then it was discovered that you didn’t do it. The retraction isn’t what people remember. It was the offense. That loss had pushed him to surpass perfection in himself and everyone around him. And he was pretty sure that when his future was being considered, his past would play a factor.
Franklin pressed his lips tightly together. “I’m sure everything will be fine.”
“When will you know?” his father asked.
“It’ll be a few weeks at least.”
Louis made a noise in his throat.
Ellen offered a smile. “Now that you have some free time you can visit more often,” she teased, lightening the moment.
“She just wants you running her around town to her nine hundred club meetings,” Louis said, with a shake of his head.
“Well, I wouldn’t have to even think about it if you would go.”
Louis held his hand up and waved it back and forth. “Oh no!” He leaned forward in his recliner, until he was almost bent in half. “Son, I went to a couple of those meetings, and thought I would lose my natural mind.” He laughed. “Never again. No sir.”
Ellen rolled her eyes and pursed her lips.
Franklin held back a laugh. This was what he always loved about his parents, the way they bantered and teased each other, understood each other’s faults and weaknesses and it didn’t matter. They still laughed and smiled like they just realized how much they loved each other. That’s what he wanted one day.
“How’s that pretty doctor that you brought to the party?” Ellen asked.
“She’s...good.”
“I r
eally liked her. Hope you’ll bring her around sometime,” she added with a note of hint and hope in her voice.
“Thought I heard her say she was only going to be here for another month or so,” his father said.
“That’s true. Her fellowship will be over and if she doesn’t get a position at Jameson she’ll probably go back to California.” As he said the words out loud the chance that she would actually leave became a real possibility. A sweeping sensation of emptiness spread through his gut.
“How do you feel about that?” his mother asked.
He looked at her, blinked. “I hope it won’t come to that.”
“Well,” she said on a breath, “things don’t just happen. We make them happen.” She pushed up from her seat at the table, walked by him and patted his shoulder. “Staying for dinner?”
“No. Thanks. Next time. Promise.”
She leaned down and kissed his cheek. “I get the remote tonight,” she called out as she left the room. “Greenleaf comes on at ten.”
“Your mother...” He let the sentiment lovingly hang in the air, and a wistful look fluttered around his lips.
“What’s the secret?” Franklin asked.
“Secret of what?”
“Knowing that you have the right person.”
Louis’s right shoulder raised a bit, then lowered. “I have no idea. Guess that’s why it’s a secret.” He chuckled. “You just know when you know. When you realize in that spot deep inside—” he pressed a finger to his chest “—that your days and nights aren’t worth a damn without her in them—then you know.” He tipped his head toward his son and winked. “I’m gonna step outside and smoke my last cigarette for the day.”
“Dad. You gotta stop smoking.”
“I know. I will. When I’m ready.”
Franklin blew out a breath of frustration. “Try the patch or the gum.”
“Nothing fun about that. But I’ll think about it.” He stood and Franklin followed suit.
“I have to get going anyway.”
They walked together outside and stood for a moment on the front porch.
“No matter what happens with this inquiry, son, I want you to know how proud I am of you.” He tightly gripped his shoulders. “Proud for all that you’ve accomplished, but more important, for the man that you are.” He looked him straight in the eye. “You’ve always defined yourself by what you’ve achieved, ever since you were a little boy—had to be the best, the smartest, a role model for your brothers. But our work is not who we are, son. It never is. Don’t forget that.” He patted his shoulder, then pulled out his box of Newports from his shirt pocket. “Never is,” he repeated and lit up.
Chapter 30
Franklin circled the block three times before finding a parking spot at a meter. He walked back to the building that housed Lindsay’s office. It was located in the heart of the downtown financial district. Real estate in the area was through the roof. Lindsay had clearly done well to wind up in these digs.
He pushed through the revolving door and into the gleaming black-and-white marble lobby and over to the security desk.
“Who are you here to see, sir?”
“Lindsay Gray.”
The guard turned to his computer screen, hit a few keys and stared. “Tenth floor. ID, please.”
Franklin dug in his pocket for his wallet, pulled out his driver’s license.
The guard scanned the card, then told Franklin to face the camera. He took a quick picture and returned the license. His picture along with his license appeared on the screen. “Sign please.”
He took the electronic pen and signed his name on the screen.
The guard turned the screen back to face him. “Thank you. Go right on up.”
Franklin walked over to the bank of elevators. He glanced behind him and watched the slow flow of human traffic navigate their way through security. Many were employees who’d swiped ID cards and pushed through a turnstile. Others were like him who needed to be verified and photographed. Gone were the days when freedom of movement and access were the norm. DC, being the capital of the nation, was always more prone to stricter security measures going into and out of office buildings. The elevator door pinged open. He stepped on. This was the new reality.
When the doors opened on the tenth floor, Franklin followed the signs down the carpeted corridor to the suite of offices at the end of the hall. The words Media Corp., LLC were embossed on the glass door in gold leaf.
Franklin drew in a breath of resolve, pulled the door open and strode to the horseshoe-shaped reception desk.
“Good afternoon. You must be Dr. Grant.”
“Yes... I am,” he said with a slow smile.
“You’re Ms. Gray’s last appointment for today,” the young woman said, answering the question that he didn’t ask.
“I see.”
She picked up the phone. “Dr. Grant is here... Sure.” She got up from her seat. “Follow me.”
They walked down a short hallway. She stopped in front of a closed door, knocked, opened the door and stepped aside. “Go right in.”
“Thank you.”
Franklin stepped into the room as the door shut behind him. Lindsay rose from behind her desk.
“Franklin,” she said on a breath and walked around the desk, a full smile lifting her polished lips. She stepped in front of him, leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Thanks for coming. Please let’s sit.” She indicated the two chairs positioned on either side of a circular glass table.
Overall, the room was definitely Lindsay, sleek, cool colors, expensive furnishings and a view. He wondered how often she stood at her window and surveyed all that could be hers.
“So.” She crossed her legs. Her black-and-white pencil skirt eased up above her knees. “How are you, first of all?”
Franklin focused on her face. “As well as can be expected. I’m dealing with it.”
“Good.” She shifted in her seat and the skirt inched some more.
“You’ve done well for yourself,” he said, taking in the room from the artwork on the off-white walls to the desk that probably cost more than someone’s yearly salary. The area rug—definitely imported.
“Took a lot of work.” She paused. “But you know that.”
His right brow rose briefly. He wasn’t going for the bait. She wasn’t going to lure him into a conversation about them. “What exactly do you want to talk about, Lindsay?”
She lifted her chin, pursed her lips for a moment. “The board wants to implement damage control. As you know, any time there is a loss of life during surgery there will be some group somewhere that will be up in arms. Not to mention, the lawyers that will invariably whisper into the family’s ear about suing you and the hospital.”
He rocked his jaw.
“I’ll be crafting a press release and some standard sound bites to address any phone calls the hospital or you may receive. Of course, I want you to take a look at the release and if there is anything that needs clarity we can address it.” She got up and went back to her desk, leaned over offering a hint of cleavage from the formfitting white blouse, while she typed something on the keyboard. Moments later the printer buzzed to life and spit out several sheets of paper. She came back to her seat and handed one of the pages to Franklin.
“That’s the press release. We plan to have it ready to be approved by the board tomorrow.”
Franklin took the paper with the name of Lindsay’s firm emblazoned across the top, and read the three paragraphs which pretty much said a lot of nothing: the hospital will fully investigate, the hospital takes patient care seriously, if there is any wrongdoing the person or persons will be dealt with, etc., etc. He’d seen it all before. He’d been here before, but this time felt different and he wasn’t quite sure why.
He handed it back to her. “I’m sure it’s fine.”
“There’s something you need to know and I shouldn’t even be telling you this.”
She linked her slender, well-manicured fingers together. Hands so different from Dina’s he thought out of the clear blue. He blinked the image away.
“Whatever it is, Lindsay, just spit it out.”
“They want you out, Franklin.”
He blinked in disbelief. “What?”
She nodded solemnly. “They feel that you may be a liability.”
“How in the hell am I a liability?” he thundered and jumped to his feet. The chair rocked backward, then settled.
Lindsay grabbed his hand. “Please, just listen.”
He glared at her, as if the root of his current dilemma was all her doing. He pulled away and paced. He ran his hand across his closely cut hair.
“This is the deal. The hospital is under enormous financial stress, especially with all the changes in the health insurance policies. In another six months to a year, at this pace, the hospital will be operating at a loss. The last thing they need or want is a lawsuit or any kind of scandal to hamper any grants or major donor gifts.”
He was listening and not listening. Jameson was one of the most renowned hospitals in the country. Part of the reason for that was because of him and the innovations and technology that he’d implemented in the cardiac unit. But apparently none of that meant squat when it came down to him or dollars.
He pushed out a long breath of disgust. “So what’s the bottom line here, Lindsay—they want me out and then what? What happens to the department that I built?”
“You don’t play politics. You never have. So...you have no real allies in high places, I’m sorry to say.” She paused a beat. “The board is already tossing a name around to replace you.”