Matters of the Heart

by Catherine Maiorisi

  “Jogging might be better than letting your anger get the best of you. Try to control that so we can get your pressure down and avoid a visit to the emergency room.”

  “No fucking way am I going back to the hospital, understand?” The anger and the red face were back.

  Andrea touched her shoulder. “I understand, Ms. Silver—”

  “Hey, sweetie, you’re going to be wiping my ass so I think we can be on first name terms. Call me Darcy.” She smirked. “Please.”

  “I understand, Darcy, but do you understand? You need to control your anger. If you don’t, you could have a stroke or another heart attack. Either could leave you in much worse condition than you’re in now.” Green eyes held blue. “Do you hear me? You could die or be paralyzed or lose your ability to see, or hear, or speak or all of the above.”

  The blue eyes skittered over Andrea’s shoulder. “I hear you.” She sounded exhausted.

  “Good. Did anyone give you your medication this morning?”

  “I don’t remember. I don’t think so.”

  Andrea found the chart on the table behind Darcy’s bed. She posted the blood pressure reading and her observation of Darcy’s state, then scanned the previous entries. According to the chart, Darcy hadn’t been given any medication since eight p.m. last night. As she closed the chart she noticed Gerri’s contact number written on the cover and tapped it into her cell phone. “Hi, this is Dr. Trapani. Do you know if Darcy was given her medication this morning?” She listened, pocketed her phone, then made a note in the chart.

  “So what did the bitch say?”

  Darcy was calling the woman who went out of her way to arrange proper care for her a bitch. Who’s the real bitch here? “Apparently, you threw the aide out at one a.m. this morning so Gerri sat with you all night, but didn’t know what medication to give you.” Andrea checked the chart again and gathered the pills. “These are your morning meds. I’ll put them in your mouth one at a time followed by the straw so you can wash them down. Okay?”

  “Nice of you to ask. Usually, they toss them in and walk away.” Darcy opened her mouth.

  When they’d finished, Andrea patted Darcy’s lips dry. “Now, which bedroom can I use?”

  Darcy’s head popped up. “Why do you need a bedroom?”

  “I was hired as a live-in so I can be available twenty-four-seven.”

  Darcy’s eyes widened, her face reddened. “Who the—”

  Andrea put both hands on Darcy’s shoulders and stared into her eyes. “Take a deep breath, Darcy. I’ll be leaving tomorrow morning, remember?”

  Darcy held her eyes for a few seconds. “Any room on the second floor.”

  “No. I need to be near you.” She could see a bedroom through the open door opposite Darcy’s bed. “I’ll take the bedroom next door.”

  “That’s my bedroom.” The eyes were shooting fire now. “If you’re going to do whatever you want, why bother asking?”

  Andrea pulled a chair close to the bed and sat so she and Darcy were on the same level. “Listen, Darcy, I know you’re feeling helpless and out of control—”

  “You don’t know a goddamned thing about what I’m feeling.”

  “I’m here to take care of your physical well-being and to monitor your health. So I’ll make the decisions I think are needed to best do those two things. I want to be close to you, even when I’m not technically on duty, therefore, I will sleep in the room next to yours.” Andrea maintained eye contact. Her voice was gentle and firm, not confrontational. “Do you understand?”

  Darcy glared at her. “Why should you care when you’re off duty and not getting paid?”

  Andrea held her eyes. “I’m a doctor. Your health is precarious and it doesn’t get better just because I’m asleep.”

  Darcy blinked, then looked away. “Sorry.”

  Having won the first battle, Andrea stood. “I’ll get my things from downstairs—”

  “No.”

  Andrea frowned. “No?” This woman was the personification of the term rich bitch. If every little thing was going to require a battle, she would be happy to leave tomorrow morning.

  “Use the intercom on the table there to call down to the kitchen. Ask Maria to have Gregg bring your things up.”

  “You have servants?”

  “Not exactly. They’re here between eight and six Monday through Friday. Gregg comes in early to make breakfast and to prep for the day’s meals. Maria and Carlo come in a little later. Maria cooks, with Gregg assisting, and she oversees the people that come in to do the laundry and clean. Carlo serves and oversees the care of the grounds. Gregg does all the shopping and any heavy stuff needed. Maria will bring up my breakfast soon and she’ll discuss the week’s meals with us. If you need breakfast or coffee, let her know when you call down.”

  Us. Andrea turned toward the intercom to hide her smile. The awful woman was accepting her. Andrea did not like her at all. Her first instinct had been to tell her to shove her job, but there was no way she would leave her alone. Darcy was a control freak, no doubt about that. An out of control, control freak microseconds away from a stroke or a heart attack. Andrea had seen the violent temper and the uncontrollable rage frequently in the emergency room, and unless it was triggered by drinking or drugs, its cause was almost always fear.

  She resolved to not let Darcy’s needling and attacks rile her, to be patient, and to give her full attention to Darcy so she felt seen and cared for. Julie was so right about her being a challenge medically and temperamentally. The bigger challenge, though, might be dealing with Darcy’s blatant sexuality and her own body’s response to it.

  Chapter Three

  She really was out of control. In the good doctor’s place, she’d tell her where to go. Besides being nasty and abusive, she’d practically raped the poor woman with her eyes. She regretted it, but Gerri’s leaving had panicked her and these days her eyes and her tongue were the only weapons she could wield when she felt threatened.

  But while it was true she felt threatened, it was also true she’d found the doctor irresistible. A little taller than her own five-foot-nine, with a long lean body, full breasts, collar-length honey-red hair, gorgeous green eyes, ivory skin and sensuous lips, she was lovely. And she smelled sexy—a touch of sweat, a little citrus, some musk, some rosemary and tinges of woodsy.

  A lot of good lusting and wanting would do her now stuck in this bed, helpless and in pain. Yet, she might not be as helpless as she felt. While the lovely doctor didn’t seem distressed by her foul mouth and unbridled aggression, her flush indicated she’d responded to the sexual appreciation. Of course, it’s possible she felt assaulted rather than flattered and it might have been an angry flush. But wouldn’t it be nice if she were a lesbian?

  But lust and sex aside, the doctor seemed to be kind, compassionate and caring. It might be nice to have Doctor Trapani taking care of her. A welcome relief from the brusque, all-business, slam-bam-don’t-bother-me-ma’am treatment she’d been receiving so far from aides.

  And what the doctor had said about having a heart attack or a stroke was scary. A massive heart attack had killed her dad without warning. She was unhappy and filled with anger and self-pity now but she didn’t want to die or worse, lose her ability to speak or walk or any of the things Dr. Trapani had warned could result from her raging temper.

  When had she become so angry? She didn’t think of herself that way, but maybe she was remembering the younger, happier Darcy, the one who was in love and had a bright future where anything was possible. If she was honest, her life was a disappointment. The challenging, interesting, meaningful work to which she’d aspired had eluded her as had a lasting, loving relationship. Her failures embarrassed her and she hid the bitterness she felt behind an affable, fun-loving façade.

  Since the accident, since none of her friends except Candace had even visited, forget offered to help, her rage had burned away the discipline and restraint that hid the real her. And where did this foul languag
e come from? Of course she knew the words, had used them occasionally, but this savaging stream of hate and coarse curses surprised even her. It seemed when her rage exploded it flowed out of her like lava from a volcano.

  She’d expected more from her friends, much more. And being abandoned by the inner circle she thought of as her family, being left in the care of a woman she’d been about to break up with when the accident occurred, had driven her to the edge. The beast had broken free. If her friends didn’t care, why should paid nurses and aides give a damn about Darcy Silver, especially when she treated them like shit? Or doctors? If she wanted this lovely doctor to stay, she’d have to collar the beast.

  She was hurt and lonely and scared, so she dumped all her anger and frustration on anyone who dared come close. She couldn’t blame Gerri for leaving. It was surprising she’d lasted as long as she had. She hoped she hadn’t become such a terrible person that if their roles were reversed she wouldn’t have left without hiring someone to take care of Gerri. Enough self-pity. Despite being friendless, despite being a failure, Darcy wanted to live. She was disciplined. She could control herself. Her life depended on it.

  Chapter Four

  Gregg had not only brought up Andrea’s suitcase, but he and Carlo had also changed the sheets on the bed, put clean towels in the bathroom and opened a window to freshen the room. She was all set. The room was huge, with large windows overlooking the garden, a king-sized bed, an easy chair with a hassock, a lovely chest of drawers with a large mirror over it, a desk and a walk-in closet. A wall unit facing the bed held a TV, a sound system, tons of books and many framed photographs. She was happy to see that in addition to the door connecting her room with Darcy’s, another led out into the hall so she could come and go in privacy.

  She’d only brought one small suitcase so she decided to unpack even though she’d probably be leaving in the morning. Standing in front of the dresser she noticed the mirror gave her a perfect view of Darcy’s bed and she appeared to be sleeping. While touching her clothing might enrage Darcy, what she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her, so Andrea quickly combined several of Darcy’s drawers to free up space for her underwear, shorts, running clothes, tank tops, T-shirts, scrubs and lab coats.

  She entered the walk-in closet and was surprised to find it neat and organized, clothing clustered by type—pantsuits, jackets, slacks, jeans, shirts and gowns. Shelves held sweaters, shoes, boots and bags. Andrea sniffed, trying to identify the spicy, sexy fragrance in the closet, but couldn’t. She shook her head. What the hell was she doing standing around getting turned on by the perfume of someone she found offensive?

  She grabbed hangers, hung her jeans and shirts, put her sandals and running shoes on the floor, then closed the closet door. Despite herself, she checked the bottles of perfume on the dresser to find the name of the scent but some had handwritten labels and she didn’t want to take the time to figure out which it was. She put her phone, her iPod, her laptop, her books, crossword puzzle books and travel clock on the bedside table, then shoved her suitcase under the bed.

  Remembering the feeling of Darcy’s eyes on her, she closed the door and changed into loose-fitting scrubs and a lab coat. Slipping into work shoes, she dropped her phone into her pocket, ran her fingers through her hair, and opened the door. A small, thin elderly woman was leaning over Darcy, talking intently in what sounded like Italian. Of course. With her dark hair and olive skin, it was likely that Darcy’s mother was Italian. The woman tenderly tucked Darcy’s hair behind her ears, held her face between her hands and kissed her several times. Perhaps her grandmother?

  “Ah, Doctor. Sorry, I don’t remember your name, but this is Maria.”

  Maria? Wasn’t that the cook’s name? She started to say, “Call me Andrea,” but realized Darcy would probably respect her more if she had to call her doctor. She responded in Italian. “I’m Dr. Trapani. Nice to meet you, Maria. What menus have you discussed so far?”

  Darcy scowled. “Speak English please, Maria, she understands us so we can’t have any privacy.”

  Maria patted Darcy’s face. “Be nice.” She put her glasses on and read from her notes. “Dinners: linguine Alfredo, steak, fried pork chops, steak, veal chop; lunches: cheeseburger, pulled pork, chicken parmigiana, grilled ham and cheese—”

  “No.” The two women stared at Andrea. “Darcy needs a low fat, low salt diet.”

  “Who died and made you queen? I will eat what I want, when I want it. Got it, Doctor?”

  Christ, the woman had perfected the art of the sarcastic shoot-down. Just the tone of voice could wither you on the spot. If you were vulnerable that is. And Andrea wasn’t. In fact, she reacted exactly as she had the day the medicine man held a spear to her throat and insisted he would deal with the pregnant woman and babies. No way.

  “Darcy.” Maria’s voice conveyed a warning.

  Darcy Silver was a nasty bitch, but she was a patient, a patient who was in big trouble and either didn’t know, didn’t understand, or worse, didn’t care. “Has anybody explained your condition?”

  “You mean my heart? They said I passed out while driving because I have a clogged artery. They put a stent in to open the artery. It’s fixed. Why shouldn’t I eat what I want?”

  Andrea was sure Julie would have discussed this with Darcy after putting in the stent, but maybe with the stress of the surgeries on her limbs, she hadn’t taken it in. Or maybe, like many people, Darcy thought if she didn’t feel pain, she was healthy. Or more likely, it wasn’t what she wanted to hear so she ignored it. “That was the only totally blocked artery, but others are dangerously close to being blocked. What you eat is extremely important. I can’t believe nobody discussed diet with you.”

  “Not that I remember.”

  Maria cleared her throat. “Gerri did say you need to be careful about what you eat. But you made her throw the papers away.”

  Darcy grimaced. “I thought Gerri was just being a pain in the ass.”

  Andrea steeled herself for an argument. “Remember what I said about making the decisions I feel are best for you.”

  Darcy lifted her head, her face red, and glared at Andrea. “Don’t infantilize me, Dr. Trapani. It’s my—”

  “If you expect me to stay until tomorrow, you will allow me to order lunch and dinner for today and breakfast for tomorrow. When I’m gone it’s up to you.” It might mean an abrupt departure, but she had to draw a line or Darcy would walk all over her as she’d been doing with the aides and everyone else.

  Darcy rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe you’re blackmailing me.”

  Andrea shrugged. “It’s for your own good.”

  “Yeah, right.” Darcy managed to convey a ton of nastiness in just those two words. Then she blew out a breath. “All right, Doctor, why don’t you take Maria into the hall and tell her what we want while I nap. You can feed me breakfast when you’re done.” She closed her eyes.

  Maria shook her head.

  “See you later, cara.” Maria kissed Darcy’s forehead, then followed Andrea out. She smiled at Andrea. “Sorry Doctor, Darcy hasn’t been herself since the accident. She’s usually calm and happy and nice to be around.” She glanced back into the room. “I’m worried about her.” She turned to Andrea. “We can cook whatever you think is best. Tell me what you want?”

  Andrea explained the basic diet she had in mind, then ordered lunch and dinner and breakfast. “Grilled chicken breast, steamed broccoli, half a cup of brown rice, and salad with a low fat dressing for lunch; for dinner broiled salmon, grilled vegetables, half a cup of quinoa, a salad and a peach or other fruit; and, for breakfast unsweetened, high-fiber cereal, one percent milk and a banana and berries, or poached eggs on a dry whole wheat English muffin and fresh fruit salad. And, Maria, no snacks.”

  Maria’s eyes went to the woman in the bed. “Darcy likes cookies and muffins and chips. You tell her no snacks?”

  “I’ll tell her.”

  “Good luck to you.” Maria smiled. “What ab
out tomorrow?”

  “If I’m here, we’ll have grilled shrimp over a salad with a light dressing for lunch, and grilled pork tenderloin with steamed asparagus, half cup of quinoa, a salad and cup of strawberries for dinner. And, for breakfast the next morning, cold cereal or poached eggs, your choice. I’ll have some menus and recipes for you tomorrow. Even if I’m not staying, maybe you can sneak in some healthy meals.”

  Maria grinned. “I think you be here tomorrow.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Darcy is una capa dost, a hard-head. She never listens to nobody before.”

  Chapter Five

  Darcy’s eyes were closed when Andrea went back into the room. Such a striking woman. Such a vile temper. Too bad. Andrea sighed. She wouldn’t be an easy patient, but dealing with Darcy had already pulled her out of herself and she was feeling more alive than she had for months. Julie had been right.

  Darcy’s eyes popped open and she immediately slipped into attack mode. “What are you staring at?”

  “You. I was thinking that all that anger must be exhausting.”

  Darcy glared at her but didn’t respond.

  Andrea washed her hands, then moved the coffee and croissants Maria had brought for them to the bed tray. Some healthy breakfast. She raised the bed, wheeled the bed tray over and sat to feed Darcy. “How do you like your coffee, Darcy?”

  “Lots of steamed milk, no sugar.”

  Andrea fixed Darcy’s coffee, then put the straw in and held the cup so she could sip.

  “Even through a straw, the first sip is wonderful.”

  Andrea attempted to cut Darcy’s croissant with her knife and fork, but it was flaky and tough. Darcy snorted. “Use your fingers, Doctor.”

  Andrea hesitated, then tore off a piece of croissant with her fingers and fed it to Darcy. Much easier. She added milk to her own coffee and sipped. It was deep and rich and the steamed milk made it even better. Maria certainly knew how to brew a great cup. She smiled.