Thursday Afternoons

by Tracey Richardson

  “So tell us how the transition out of obstetrics has gone,” Ellis asks their hosts, because OB is definitely a service cut she’s considering recommending. Dozens of small hospitals in the last decade or two have dropped OB because of the declining birthrate, particularly in rural areas. And most of the government’s hospital funding is volume driven. Erie Shores is right on that threshold line for births.

  “As you know,” says the chief of staff, a good-looking forty-something woman named Margaret White, “our area was seeing a declining rate of births, since much of our population consists of either retired folks or transients from Toronto who have weekend homes here, and none of those folks are having babies here. Of course, it meant we lost our two OB-GYN docs.”

  To be expected, Ellis understands. Baby deliveries pay doctors more money than gynecological services, so most of those doctors will move to an area where they can practice both specialties.

  “How did the local folks feel about the change?” Amy asks with an edge to her voice.

  The CEO, a tall, rail-thin man with a stoop to his shoulders, concedes that there was some predictable resistance, “but our population has adjusted.”

  “So part of the adjustment,” Amy counters, affecting a neutral tone as though she’s only stating a fact, “is that the locals have a forty-minute drive now to a hospital with OB services, correct?”

  “Correct,” replies the CEO. “But of course, we have an emergency department if there’s not time to transport the patient. Nobody falls through the cracks.” His smile is aimed at Amy, but she’s looking anywhere now but at him. “We’ve also made changes to our surgical service, as you’re aware.” Amy’s eyes swing back to him.

  “Right,” she says. “You’ve moved out electives. Things like colonoscopies, tonsillectomies, cataract surgeries, mastectomies, inguinal hernias. How many surgeons did you lose?”

  Margaret White’s smile evaporates. “I’m afraid a couple of our surgeons have moved on. But the good news is we’ve bumped up our orthopedics load.”

  Amy nods. “Right. The ski hills.”

  Well, Ellis thinks, we don’t have ski hills anywhere near Erie Shores Hospital. She makes a mental note to compare the stats later for orthopedic surgeries at Erie Shores.

  “It’s rather flat where you are,” the CEO says with a slightly sardonic smile. “No crashes on ski hills.”

  “No,” Amy agrees. “But we do have a major freeway running through our catchment area. So lots of those kinds of crashes.”

  Ellis feels herself tense up. It’s clear Amy is going to have a counterpoint to every argument, every statement. And she seems to be enjoying her role as devil’s advocate.

  “Tell me something,” Amy directs to the CEO. “Do you have many migrant workers here? Farmers?”

  The CEO shakes his head. “Not really. Most of the migrant workers in the region work in apples about forty kilometers west of here. They fall into a different hospital catchment area, for the most part. May I ask why you’re interested?”

  “Just curious.”

  Just curious, my ass, Ellis thinks. Amy’s got something up her sleeve. Ellis has studied the demographics back home, and while it’s true that Essex County is heavily agricultural, particularly in the Erie Shores catchment area, the rate of farm accidents isn’t particularly worrisome. She’s unsure what Amy’s getting at.

  After lunch, there are more tours and more discussions with department heads and staff. As the day winds down, Margaret White glides over to Ellis. “Ms. Hall. Would you be so kind as to join me for dinner tonight? I’d really love to chat with you more. There’s a great little Italian restaurant not far from here.”

  “That sounds nice. And please, it’s Ellis.”

  “Ellis, then. As long as you call me Margaret.” The woman’s smile leaves no doubt that she’s hoping for more than a simple business dinner. “Oh!” she exclaims as Amy suddenly materializes, nearly stepping on the chief of staff’s foot. “And you too, Dr. Spencer. Please join us for dinner.”

  Amy’s scowl is unmistakable. She’s being incredibly rude. She doesn’t ask Margaret to call her by her first name. “Thank you, Dr. White, but I’m afraid I have other plans.”

  “All right, another time, then.”

  “Perhaps.” The frost from Amy is so thick it could be scraped off, and while Ellis is a little embarrassed by the behavior, she’s a little thrilled too, because it means Amy is, well, jealous. Huh. So Amy is human after all.

  “What time shall we meet for dinner?” Ellis asks, eager to twist the knife a little, because it’s the most emotion Amy’s directed her way since their identities were revealed.

  “I’ll pick you up at your hotel,” Margaret says, beaming like the victor, as Amy turns and walks away with a huff. “Let’s say six o’clock?”

  * * *

  Amy’s been kicking herself for not joining Ellis and Dr. White for their cozy little dinner. It was stupid, petulant, to turn down the offer. It doesn’t take a genius to see that Dr. White has the hots for Ellis. And dammit, she’s jealous. She shouldn’t be, because Ellis is free as a bird, but it hurts. The thought that dinner might lead to sex is too much, makes Amy want to climb the walls of her room, so she heads outside to walk things off. She doesn’t actually know if Ellis is the type to have sex on a first date, but with their own history of jumping into bed together so casually, she can only guess that Ellis is exactly the type. She kicks a stone along the path she’s walking, sending it arcing five meters or so before it drops into Nottawasaga Bay with a dull splash.

  Two figures are meandering ahead of her. It’s nearly dark, so she can’t identify them until she’s pretty much on their heels. It’s Ellis and the doctor, deep in conversation, but not, Amy is relieved to see, touching in any way. Her jealous side conjures up all kinds of ideas on how she might ruin their little date, but in her head, she can’t help hearing her mother say “You were raised better than that, Amy Spencer.” So she begins to turn around, intending to head back to the hotel before they notice her, but her competitive spirit races through her blood, numbing her brain and ripping her mother’s voice to shreds. She turns back in their direction.

  “Good evening,” she announces to the backs of the two women.

  They both turn around at the same time. Ellis smiles right away, while her companion looks a little paralyzed. She recovers quickly though.

  “Dr. Spencer, hello. I was about to ask Ellis here, and yourself of course, if you would care to join me for a sunset boat ride on the bay tomorrow evening.”

  “Thank you, but are you sure? I wouldn’t want to get in the way of anything.” She wants to put them both on notice that she’s fully cognizant of what’s developing here.

  Ellis shoots a couple of well-aimed invisible daggers right through Amy’s forehead, her smile resembling something more sinister.

  Margaret White tilts her head in confusion. “It’ll be very informal. A handful of us from the hospital, mostly department heads, but I promise it’ll be very laid-back. A chance for all of us to get to know each other a little better.”

  I’ll bet, Amy thinks. “Well, in that case I’d be happy to join the crowd.”

  “Good. Great.” Margaret shuffles in place, looks from Amy to Ellis like she’s waiting for a signal that isn’t coming. Finally she begins to back away. “Well, I’ll call it a night then. I’ll see you both at six tomorrow night down at the marina.”

  When she’s gone, Ellis’s fury is like a powerful gust of wind ready to mow Amy down. “You can take your jealousy, or whatever this is, and stick it where the sun don’t shine. Understand?”

  “Whoa. Who said I was jealous? And of her? Please. She probably went to medical school in Grenada or something.”

  Ellis’s withering look is enough to make Amy dial things down a notch. “All right, all right. But don’t pretend that Dr. White isn’t all hot and bothered over you. Couldn’t be more obvious.”

  “So what if she is? I mean, what�
�s it to you? Seriously. You don’t even want to be friends with me, so I don’t understand what business of yours it could possibly be.”

  They begin walking back toward the hotel, their strides infused with anger. Amy doesn’t have an answer for Ellis. And Ellis is entirely right. What business is it of hers if she wants to sleep with Margaret White or anybody else? The problem is she can’t bring herself to admit that she still wants Ellis, that she cares for her…plus there’s any number of other unnamed, complicated feelings gumming up her emotions. It’s a mistake, but she decides to go on the offensive anyway.

  “She’s trying to soften you up, you know, charm the crap out of you, and not only because she’s attracted to you. She wants you to think everything at her hospital is perfect and wonderful.”

  “Honestly, why would she care if I think things at Soldiers are wonderful and perfect? It’s not like she’s trying to sell me something.”

  Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, Amy thinks, because Margaret White is trying to sell you on her. But she can’t exactly say that to Ellis, not without igniting a war. She’s fully backed herself into a corner, and she predictably flails around. “I don’t know. Maybe she thinks you have some sort of pull with the Ministry or something. She’s obviously trying to impress you. I mean, dinner? A boat ride? Really?”

  “I think a boat ride would be amazing. Do you know how infrequently I get to enjoy something like that?”

  Amy opens the door to the hotel for Ellis without thinking. “Please try to be objective, all right? That’s all I’m saying.”

  “Oh, I think you’re saying a lot more than that.”

  They don’t speak in the elevator because two other people have joined them. But in the hallway in front of their rooms, where they’re alone, Ellis lets her have it with both barrels.

  “Dammit, Amy, what do you want from me? I’m trying to do my best here, with my job and with you, all right? Stop putting your foot out to trip me up every damned time I walk by. Jesus.” Her face is as tight as an elastic band, and all Amy wants to do is hold her, soothe her, make her smile again. She hates all this anger between them, and yet she has no idea how to fix things.

  “I…” What can she say? What should she say? That she misses Ellis? That she wants her more than ever? That she might be falling in love with her? Her throat tightens and she clears it roughly. Falling in love? Is that what this is really about? The jealousy, the constant thoughts of Ellis, the little ache in her chest every time she tries to breathe when she’s around her, when she looks at her? No, she reasons, she can’t be falling in love. They had spectacular sex, they had a great time together those few weeks, but love? Amy refuses to accept she’s falling in love with Ellis, and all the complications such a ridiculous thing would mean. “I’m sorry, Ellis,” she finally says. “I don’t…mean to be such an ass. Well, mostly I don’t.”

  Ellis shakes her head lightly, steps closer. “What am I going to do with you, Dr. Spencer?”

  Amy’s heart is a jackhammer in her chest. Oh, she knows what she wants Ellis to do with her, all right. That part has never changed. “Kiss me,” she says without thinking, because she’s desperate for Ellis to kiss her.

  Ellis does. Without hesitation. The touch of her lips heats Amy from the inside, spreading through her limbs, leaving her numb and liquefied and wanting more. She melts into Ellis, kisses her back with a singular focus. Ellis’s mouth is so perfect at expressing her desire for Amy, and Amy knows it wouldn’t take much at all to move this little show into one of their rooms.

  Breathless and unsure of what comes next, Amy manages to pull away, stares at Ellis, and is stunned by the soulfulness in her eyes. God, how she wants to take this woman to bed. It would be so easy to go with it, but then she remembers why they’re here, and it’s like cold water on her libido.

  “I…think I better get some sleep,” she says lamely. “I’ve set us up for a breakfast meeting tomorrow morning. Meet me in the lobby at eight?”

  Ellis’s mouth opens in confusion, but she nods shortly and gives Amy a smirk to show she knows perfectly well that this is about cowardice and not about having an early morning. “All right, Amy. We’ll do it your way.”

  “Huh?”

  Ellis fishes her room key from her pocket. “See you in the morning.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The more the conversation around her intensifies, the more Ellis feels like Amy has ambushed her. The breakfast meeting also includes the mayor of the town, the general practitioner in charge of the local family health team, and the head of a patient advocacy group that fought the changes to the hospital. For thirty minutes, their three guests have been making it clear that it’s not been as smooth a ride as Ellis and Amy have been led to believe and that many in the community continue to be unhappy about the changes.

  Amy has shown no signs of regret or excitement about their surprise kiss last night. She greeted Ellis earlier this morning with a nonchalance bordering on rudeness, and now she’s single-mindedly throwing herself into the conversation, raining questions on their guests, stopping occasionally to write something down in a little leather notebook. Ellis could have easily slapped her last night instead of kissed her for all the reaction Amy has shown since. It was Amy who asked to be kissed. It’s Amy who keeps changing the damned rules.

  It’s not that Ellis disagrees with meeting folks who hold an unflattering view of the changes at the hospital. What rankles is that Amy refuses to trust that she might come to her own conclusions in a fair and thorough way, that she’s incapable of considering all the angles. She thought they’d reached a certain level of trust with one another. Apparently, it didn’t go further than the bedroom.

  “How much of a hardship,” Amy says to the family physician, “has removing the birthing suite and delivery services been for local women?”

  Dr. Jennifer Glassman purses her lips before she speaks, making it obvious which side she’s on. “As you probably know from our demographics, most of our population consists of seniors and people from the Greater Toronto Area who own vacation properties here. So those folks aren’t having babies in our town. And that’s what drove the decision to remove OB from the hospital. But for local women who are having babies, it is indeed a hardship to have to drive forty minutes away, especially with the winters we get.”

  “The demographics for our area are quite different,” Amy replies, glancing at Ellis to drive home her point. “We have a much younger population. We have a massive amount of agriculture, which means we have migrant workers who spend months at a time with us. Many of those people don’t have the means to drive to a distant hospital, and paying ambulance fees would be a hardship for them. Many of them deliver their babies at home, but if we lose OB, we won’t have obstetricians to help them out.”

  Ah, Ellis thinks, so that’s where Amy’s going with the agricultural theme.

  “The medical community around here isn’t happy with losing OB,” Glassman continues. “The two obstetricians we had moved away, of course, so now family docs are having to pick up the slack with pregnant women who can’t always travel the distance for their checkups and follow-ups. And with gynecology too, so I more than get your point. There’s no one here at the moment who practices gynecology or OB. It’s a real gap in medical services.”

  The mayor, a woman who’s mostly been sitting back observing, says, “This is the kind of thing that really hurts us from attracting young people and young families to our town. Don’t get me wrong, it’s fine to have the transient folks from the city, because they do spend a lot of their money here. But we also need permanent members of the community. The people who work at the ski hills and the restaurants and the stores that all the weekenders and seniors frequent—those are the people who keep things running in this town, and we can’t forget about them. These changes have been hard on those people, there’s no doubt.”

  “What’s tough too,” says the patient advocate, an impeccably dressed middle-aged man, “
is that our citizens now have to travel that same forty minutes away for their elective surgeries. A lot of seniors aren’t capable of driving that distance for their cataract surgeries, their colonoscopies.” He shakes his head, sneaking a recriminating glance at Ellis. “I wish we could go back to the way things were, but they tell us it wasn’t efficient. Like that’s all anyone cares about these days.” He raises his eyebrows at Ellis as if to challenge her. “It’s not working to model rural hospitals after urban hospitals. Our needs are completely different than, say, Toronto’s.”

  Ellis wants to scream out that she’s not the enemy here, wants to remind them that she had nothing to do with implementing the changes in Collinsworth. This afternoon she’s going to meet with the hospital’s chief financial officer to take a look at the books. She has no doubt that all the changes are keeping the hospital in the black. Which is something these folks don’t seem to want to acknowledge, because without remaining in the black, they’re at risk of losing their hospital altogether. If that happens, everyone loses.

  Ellis snaps to attention. “Tell me how things were working at the hospital, from your perspective, of course, before the changes.”

  The mayor smiles. “It was a great little hospital. People could give birth here, have their broken bone set here, or their gall bladder taken out, and they could die here too. A hospital is one of the most important pillars of a community. Now…we have to tell people that we can’t do everything here.”

  “Tell me if I’m wrong,” Ellis points out, “but you never could do everything here, right? There’s no MRI, no oncology department, things like heart surgery or brain surgery have always been done elsewhere.”

  “True,” the mayor says. “But for more common things, like babies and elective surgery—things that affect more people than those who need brain or heart surgery—it hurts that you can’t do that here anymore.”

  The patient advocate pulls a sour face. “It’s like they decided to cater to the ski hills and the wealthy people who come here to play on weekends, and screw the actual people who live here.”