The Doctor Takes a Detour

by Bren Christopher

  Reid flicked his gaze over Josh. “I’ve heard all about you. I wondered if you were going to bother visiting.” He carried a tablet in one manicured hand, wore an immaculate white coat over his designer suit, and moved with the arrogance of most surgeons Josh had met.

  “I stopped by over the weekend,” Josh answered mildly. “He was asleep, but I was told the surgery went well, and that he couldn’t have asked for a better surgeon.”

  “He should have been in sooner.” Reid eyed him accusingly.

  Well, Josh couldn’t argue with that and wasn’t about to blame anyone else, particularly his bleary-eyed patient. “He should have, yes.”

  Reid snorted and pushed past Josh to the bed. Josh hovered, peering over his shoulder. Reid cast him an annoyed look but didn’t say anything.

  God, he reminded Josh of Marcus, and that was not a point in his favor. Marcus was no doctor, but the attitude? Oh yes. Josh had once found that kind of arrogance attractive . . . When he’d been younger, and hadn’t known the difference between self-confidence and conceit.

  Say what Josh would about Reid’s attitude, the surgeon seemed competent enough. The assessment was fast but thorough, the notes recorded with efficient jabs on the tablet, and then he was gone with a curt nod.

  “Well,” Josh said. “He seems to know what he’s doing anyway.”

  “He’s a dick,” Shaw announced loudly.

  Josh stifled his laughter. “Is that your professional opinion, Dr. Shaw?”

  “Yep.”

  Still chuckling, Josh promised to check in again before Shaw was discharged and then headed out toward the elevator.

  Once on the bottom floor, he paused in the lobby, strangely reluctant to leave. He had no reason to linger. However, so far he’d been impressed with the modern facilities and the quiet efficiency of the staff, and he wouldn’t mind seeing more. After all, even if he continued working as a concierge doctor, he would eventually be admitting to this hospital, so . . . Wait. Even if? Where had that come from?

  He blamed that wide-eyed Gabriel. No, not Gabriel. Ian. Definitely Ian’s fault. Josh resisted the urge to go hunt him down and give him hell for planting all these doubts.

  “Now that is a very unhappy face.”

  Josh jumped. “Oh my God.” Dr. Aguto was standing right in front of him, hands tucked casually into the pockets of her white coat, eyeing him quizzically. “How long have you been there?”

  “Long enough to see that something is bothering you. Can I help?”

  “I’m fine. Thinking about getting a coffee before I go.”

  “In the cafeteria?” She looked horrified. “No wonder you had such a frown. Come.” She pulled her hands out of her pockets and gestured for him to follow. “The break room in the ER wing is much better.”

  “No, that’s okay.” But she was already leading the way. Giving up, he followed her.

  Of course, to get to the break room, they had to go right past the open doors to the ER. Somehow, he suspected there was a more direct route, but here they were. He peeked in, then slowed as a young woman on a cot, half hidden behind a curtain, caught his attention. She was bending forward, holding her stomach. Was she pregnant? Or having a GI problem? Had they run a panel— His view was cut off by a woman in scrubs.

  Without the distraction, anxiety seized his stomach, and he sucked in a breath, glancing around at the other patients. He couldn’t see much from the doorway, but nothing threatening appeared to be going on. At least, he heard no raised voices. Nothing but the ordinary day-to-day activities to which he’d become so accustomed over the years. He forced his hunched shoulders to relax, releasing the tension and feeling self-conscious at his defensive reaction.

  He glanced over at Aguto, who stood waiting patiently, a sympathetic look on her face. He expected her to repeat her offer of a tour of the ER, but she turned without a word and continued. With a final glance inside, he followed her down the corridor to an entrance marked Employees Only.

  This ambivalence was going to give him an ulcer. Maybe he did need to talk to someone again. Someone who didn’t mouth platitudes about how time heals all wounds.

  Someone he was already comfortable with . . . Oh. Did Shaw take private clients? If he did, Josh would have to give him up as a patient. Not to Langdon, but Burke would do okay. And if Shaw didn’t have time for a private practice, he probably knew every counselor in town. He’d know who would be a good fit for Josh.

  Somehow Josh found himself sitting at the table in the empty break room with a cup of coffee in front of him. How long had he been lost in thought? Aguto sat quietly across from him, her dark, elegant fingers wrapped around a white cup with the hospital’s logo.

  Josh took a shaky breath. “You know?”

  “I remember when it happened, but I wasn’t sure it was you, so I googled your name.” She gave a self-conscious shrug. “None of my business, but I was curious.”

  “Not like it’s a secret.”

  “It was very upsetting to anyone who works in a hospital and certainly in emergency rooms.”

  Josh hadn’t considered that. He hadn’t thought about the effect of the attack on other medical workers; how it might make them feel less secure. He didn’t care for that at all.

  “So I understand why you needed to take a break from the ER.” She took a sip, and then cocked her head, considering him. “And why, when I offer you a tour, you long to say yes, if you don’t pass out first.”

  He flushed. “I’m not that bad.”

  “I may be exaggerating,” she acknowledged with a smile. “And I won’t lie. I wouldn’t mind giving you some shifts. But I’m not going to rush you. I only want you to know that you have a place here when you are ready.”

  “I may never be ready.” But to his shock, the words felt untrue as soon as they came out of his mouth. He didn’t take them back.

  “But others are more pushy than me, eh?”

  “God yes, but I think Ian finally got the message that I’m not working in his clinic.”

  “No? I heard you treated a girl there.”

  Ian or Gabriel—who had told her? And did it matter? “That was a one-time thing.”

  “It always is.”

  “Anyway, what about you? Why on earth would the head of the ER at a major hospital consent to be medical director of a free clinic? You can’t possibly have time.”

  She waved her hands helplessly.

  He couldn’t help his snort of laughter. “Of course. Ian.”

  “It was supposed to be temporary—just until he could find a permanent director.”

  “And how’s that working out for you?”

  “Almost two years,” she admitted.

  “Wow.” He blew out a breath. “Not so temporary.”

  “No. I waited a year, and then I proposed we go in front of the hospital’s board of directors and request a sponsorship.”

  He blinked at her. “A . . . what now?”

  She stared gloomily down at her cup. “A hospital sponsorship. I proposed it to him after the first year was so difficult. If the board approved, the hospital would help fundraise, and give other assistance as needed.”

  Josh hadn’t known Ian long, but even he could figure out what Ian would have had to say about that. Still, the benefits would surely outweigh the drawbacks. “Did he agree?”

  “No. He understands how it would help, but he is not enthusiastic.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Why do you think?”

  “Control.”

  “Control,” she agreed. “It’s his baby. Hospital sponsorship means hospital rules.”

  “But if it’s that or be forced to shut down?” Josh stared absently into space. “It is about control, but not only that. The type of people who go in there—the clinic’s target population. Would they be comfortable in a shiny new building with a big official-looking hospital sign on it?”

  She thought for a second, and then shook her head. “Some might. But the junkies?
The hookers? No.”

  “And that’s who Ian is trying to reach, isn’t it? Sure, others come in, but he wants to provide help for the people on the fringes of the city—the fringes of society.”

  “And the fringes are most comfortable staying on the fringes. But a sponsorship means having the hospital name plastered all over everything. It means a building and a staff that the hospital can promote and use for big flashy marketing ads.”

  “And if you’re a teenage gangbanger who got beaten up by another gangbanger, are you going to go to that kind of clinic?”

  “Ian knows what he’s trying to do.”

  Damn. He really does.

  It was a fine line to walk. Ian had a high tolerance for risk but seemed to have trouble realizing that the definition of acceptable risk varied from person to person. He wasn’t stupid or thoughtless. Just overzealous. All he needed was someone to rein him in. He would listen if he had someone to make him slow down, make him stop and think when he got carried away . . .

  Josh let out a strangled noise as he felt himself once again being sucked into the irresistible gravitational pull surrounding the black hole that was Ian Manolas. And the man wasn’t even here. How did he do that?

  “Then I don’t know the solution,” Aguto said. “But I’m afraid I’m done. I will have to withdraw as medical director tomorrow.”

  Josh’s head snapped up. “What? Why? I mean, why now?”

  “I had a phone call today. Questions from the State Medical Board about the paperwork for the clinic. About the operating budget, the staffing levels. We all know the staffing is not where it should be for that type of clinic and for the hours they say they’re open.” She shifted. “I do sign some paperwork, but I sign whatever Ian brings me. Maybe it’s everything, maybe it isn’t, but there are questions being asked about how much I’m involved, how many hours I devote to clinic business and so on.”

  Josh’s belly tightened. Langdon. Damn him. Then he winced. Possibly—just possibly—his own confession to Langdon and Burke about his stint in the clinic had instigated this whole mess.

  “I can no longer risk it,” she said regretfully.

  The guilt vanished as quickly as it had come. He had nothing to hide and no one else should either. If an investigation was warranted, then it should be done. But what would it do to Ian, when he’d already poured so much of his heart and soul into the clinic? “Have you told Ian yet?”

  “I left a message for him to call me, but he has not returned my call. I would like to talk to him in person. Perhaps tomorrow, although I have a long shift, so it may be the next day.” She was clearly not looking forward to that conversation.

  “So Ian doesn’t know you’ve been questioned.” A day had already passed, and if the State Medical Board was fielding a complaint about the clinic, Ian was sure to be questioned soon.

  “No.” Her brows knit. “I worry that he will keep trying to run the clinic with no official sanction at all. If Ian is smart, he’ll close the doors right away.”

  This could be worse than just closing the clinic, though. If Ian had been signing papers in Aguto’s name or fudging at all on the paperwork, he could be in serious trouble. Why would Ian risk this?

  The road to hell and all that. God, the man really was an idiot.

  The hospital lobby was once again the scene of Josh’s latest phone call, and he didn’t care who might overhear him yelling at Ian. He had every intention of warning Ian about Aguto leaving and about the State Board inquiry, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to break the news gently. No, sir. Ian the Idiot was going to hear about his stupidity in great detail.

  The call going to voice mail threw the proverbial monkey wrench into that plan. This wasn’t the kind of message he wanted to leave on the phone. Not as satisfying, for one thing. Also, it could possibly be misinterpreted by anyone who got ahold of Ian’s phone records as being more sinister than it was. Josh calling to warn Ian about a board inquiry made it look like they both had something to hide.

  So where was Ian? At work or at the clinic? What were the other options for five o’clock in the afternoon? An NA meeting, maybe. He’d said he still went.

  One person might know, and he was right upstairs. With any luck, Gabriel would be done with his appointments and getting ready to leave, so Josh wouldn’t be interrupting anything.

  He took the stairs rather than waiting for the elevator, then hurried down the east corridor. Pushing through the double glass doors labeled Bayside Behavioral Health Center, he came to an abrupt stop. He’d expected the waiting room to be deserted at this time of day. Instead, there had to be a dozen men and woman sitting, standing, and talking with their coffee cups clutched in their hands. Most seemed to know each other well, but a few stayed off to the side, anxiety clear in every line of their bodies.

  He’d landed in the middle of a support group, although it seemed the meeting hadn’t started yet. He touched his side—a quick movement he seemed unable to control—and then forced himself to drop his hand. Eyeing them warily, he started to edge around the small crowd toward the reception window.

  Stopping abruptly, he leaned an unsteady hand against the wall, and looked at their faces . . . some nervous, even frightened. Some playing up the false bravado. A few with genuine kindness in their eyes. Those were probably the ones who had been clean and sober longest. The sponsors. Like Ian.

  There was no threat here. He took a deep breath, letting it out in a shuddering sigh. Just as a smiling gray-haired man approached him, Gabriel walked out of the hall beside the reception desk.

  His face lit up on seeing Josh. “Hola, Dr. Parker. Did you come for that tour? I’m helping with the group in a few minutes, but I’ll be happy to show you around first.”

  “Thanks, but not now. Can we talk?”

  “Come on back.” He nodded at the gray-haired man and then turned to lead the way down the hall to a small cubbyhole of an office. “Have a seat.”

  “No, thanks. I came by to see if you knew where Ian is this evening. I’ve tried to call him, but he’s not picking up. Is he at the clinic?”

  “Not tonight. He had to cut back on evening hours. He’s good about answering his phone unless he’s on shift, although he could be at the church.”

  Josh couldn’t help his reaction. “Seriously? Ian goes to church?”

  Gabriel smiled wryly. “Sometimes. But you’re right, he’s not very religious. The NA meetings are at the Greek Orthodox Church on Orange Street. Ian grew up in that church and sometimes goes with his mother when she twists his arm.” He scanned his phone. “At this time of day, I think he’s more likely to be at work.”

  “Damn. I hate to interrupt him there.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I found out from Dr. Aguto that there’s a State Medical Board inquiry into the clinic.”

  Gabriel let out a little gasp.

  “It may be nothing,” Josh added hastily, trying to reassure Gabriel. “But I thought he should know, and he’s not answering his phone.”

  “Yes, you should tell him. Perhaps he will have a dinner break soon.”

  “And what about your break?” Josh frowned at him. “You work late hours here, and then you’re at the clinic when you’re not here?”

  Gabriel spread his hands. “So much to do, and never enough time.”

  Josh shook his head. “You and Ian.” He couldn’t keep the exasperation from his voice, but Gabriel only grinned. “We’ll talk about your obsession with work another time. Where is Ian stationed?”

  Gabriel gave him directions to Ian’s EMS station and then walked him back out through the crowd in the lobby to the stairs. “Tell Ian I hope all turns out well.”

  “I will. Thanks.”

  Josh headed out to his car and then sat for a minute, beginning to feel faintly silly for this urgency to track down Ian. This was probably nothing that couldn’t wait until Ian had time to return his call during an evening break. Would Ian think he was overreacting?

>   No. Not where his precious clinic was concerned. Besides—Josh forced himself to admit—this was as good an excuse as any to see Ian again, and maybe give him a chance to tell his side of the story. “He’d better make it damn good,” Josh muttered as he pulled out of the parking lot.

  Even though he’d never been a man who relied on religion to give him strength, the peace of this particular church hall permeated Ian’s soul. Seeing the expressions on the faces in the meeting, he thought most of them felt it too. This was a place of renewal. Renewal of faith, renewal of hope. Renewal of strength.

  He’d had a lot of setbacks to his goal of making his clinic a welcoming haven for all the disenfranchised of Southwest Florida, but as he sat there, certainty settled in his core once again. He’d find a way. He had to find a way, for many good and valid reasons.

  But he’d never taken the time to explain those reasons to Josh; never told him about his addiction or why the clinic was so important to him. At first, he’d doubted he’d meet up with Josh again, even though he’d felt the attraction from the first moment he’d seen him. And then . . . He grimaced. And then he’d had the chance to get Josh into bed, and he’d taken it without considering all that had remained unsaid between them.

  Leaping before he looked. He’d been accused of it on more than one occasion.

  He needed to talk to Josh. Somehow, he’d persuade him to listen. Whether he and Josh had any kind of future together, he didn’t know. He did know that Josh had been on his mind constantly and that he owed Josh an apology and an explanation.

  When the meeting ended, he hopped on his bike and headed toward the clinic in the deepening gloom. Although he’d had to stop offering evening hours, there was still plenty of work to do, and he had a couple of days free in this rotation. If he could get a list of needed supplies ready for the pharmacy and bring it to them first thing in the morning, they’d have his donation ready for him to stock before he had to go back to work.

  His spirits lifted a little. As long as the community still cared about the clinic, he’d make it work.