Finding Dr. Right (Contemporary Medical Romance)

by Lisa B. Kamps

  The last bite of food hit Catherine’s stomach like a slab of concrete and settled there. She wrapped her hands around the mug of coffee, seeking warmth to thaw the chill creeping through her veins. Dangerous thoughts. Thoughts that could only lead to trouble. She didn’t want to think of their interplay, didn’t want to recognize the bond growing between them.

  It was too late. The two of them were already like a family. Maybe the three of them were. Looking back, there were times when they all certainly acted like it.

  Catherine gulped the hot coffee, hoping the heat would burn away the ridiculous thoughts swirling through her mind. It was too early in the morning for wishful thinking. Dreams were only supposed to happen at night, during the safety of sleep.

  Nathan sat on the exam table, afraid to breathe as Brian Porter looked at his knee. He flinched when the doctor manipulated the kneecap from side to side, then cursed himself for the telltale movement when Brian looked at him curiously. The exam ended and then the only sound in the room was the scratching of pen on paper as Brian scribbled notes in his file. Nathan’s nerves stretched tight in proportion to the growing silence until he couldn’t take it anymore.

  “Well?”

  Brian placed the clipboard on a small table and sat on the wheeled stool, studying Nathan in silence. “There’s swelling and tenderness with lateral movement. Your range of motion is good considering the condition of the kneecap. Your muscular strength is excellent, which will only help.”

  “But?”

  “But your kneecap is deteriorating.” Brian flipped through the oversize file in front of him, searching. He pulled out a set of X-ray films, glanced at them in the overhead light and chose two. He placed them on the lightboard, turned it on and motioned for Nathan to stand next to him. He pointed at the first one with a stylus he removed from his coat pocket. “This was the X-ray we took before your surgery. You can see some irregularities on the underside, small patches of roughness. The front was nearly smooth.” He tapped at the second film.

  “This is from today. You can see the underside shows quite a bit of roughness. That shouldn’t be there — I smoothed it during your surgery. And if you look here, the front is beginning to show the same roughness. Not as much as the underside, but it’s there.”

  Nathan squinted at the films in front of him, trying to pick out the patches Brian was pointing at. He had no idea what he was looking at. “So what’s that mean? You need to operate again, to go in and smooth them out? That’s something that could wait until the end of the season. Give me enough time to go through rehab…” Nathan’s voice trailed off, a funny feeling in his gut when Brian let out a weary sigh.

  “Nathan, you have arthritis in your knee.”

  “Arthritis? How can I have arthritis? I just turned thirty for chrissakes. Arthritis is something you get when you’re old!”

  “It’s not just for old people. And it sometimes happens after surgery. You’ve had two so far. But that isn’t the only thing that’s causing the deterioration. The amount of trauma your knee is exposed to, the amount of wear and tear…” Brian removed the glasses from his face, cleaned them almost absently before putting them back on and leveling a serious gaze at Nathan. “Your knee needs to be replaced.”

  “Replaced?” Nathan repeated mechanically. His breath left him suddenly and he slumped against the exam table. “Replaced? So what does that mean? I mean, you replace it and then what?”

  “Nathan, I don’t think you understand. The damage isn’t substantive enough to warrant a replacement right now. Even if it did, I’d be hesitant to do it. With a replacement, you could expect to go ten, maybe fifteen years before needing another. With moderate activity.”

  Nathan stared at Brian, stunned. He couldn’t have heard right. There was no way he could have heard right. “You mean to tell me with all the technology today, you can’t fix a knee?”

  “Unfortunately, no. I could go back in, smooth it out again, but each time would just weaken the knee more.”

  “But what about…I mean, what…” Nathan couldn’t finish the sentence, could barely make himself complete the thought.

  “Playing?” Brian sighed and took a seat again. “Finishing this year shouldn’t be a problem. Next year, I don’t know. Maybe, maybe not. The rate of deterioration, the amount of wear and tear your knee is subjected to — it’s hard to say.”

  Hard to say. The words floated around him like a bad nightmare as he stood against the exam table, too stunned to move. There was no guarantee he could play next year.

  There was no way he would accept that.

  He didn’t know anything except hockey. It wasn’t just how he made his living, it was how he lived his life. And Brian Porter just told him it was hard to say if he’d play next year.

  Nathan rubbed at the bridge of his nose, hard, as if the pressure could relieve the sudden splitting inside his head at the simple words. Hard to say. Like it wasn’t a major deal. Nathan felt like he had just been cross-checked from behind and was reeling across the ice, out of control, shooting straight for the boards.

  Porter was wrong. He had to be wrong. He’d get a second opinion. Go see another specialist. There had to be someone out there who knew something Porter didn’t. He’d just find somebody else, get that second opinion, pretend this whole visit never happened…

  “Nathan? Are you listening to me?”

  “What? No, I…no.” He faced Dr. Porter, saw the concern in the eyes behind the glasses. Saw the pity. Nathan pushed away from the table, shaking his head. He didn’t need pity.

  “This isn’t the end of the world. You’re still young, healthy. And in a few years, who knows? Maybe we’ll know more by then, be able to do more. In the meantime, there’s nothing stopping you from doing what you normally do now.”

  “Except play.”

  “Except play.” Brian stood, studying Nathan with a quiet intensity. “I don’t think planning to continue next year would be a wise thing to do. Your knee won’t be able to handle the continued stress. In the end, it would only make things worse.”

  “You don’t think? So what are you saying here? That I shouldn’t play next year, or that I can’t play next year?”

  “I’m strongly advising against it.”

  “Advising? Not ordering?”

  “Nathan, I think you should take a day or two to think about what I said. I know it’s nothing you want to hear, but it’s something you do need to come to terms with.” Brian rummaged through a plastic tray containing assorted leaflets, pulling two from the pile. Nathan ignored the doctor’s outstretched hand and instead he shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his sweat shorts. “Sure, I’ll think about it.”

  “I think you should take these, look them over.”

  “No, that’s okay. I’ll pass.”

  “Nathan…” Brian’s voice trailed off, filling the room with a stubborn silence that was broken by a short rap at the door. Nathan continued to stare at Brian, his chin tilted defiantly.

  Catherine stepped into the small room, her attention focused on a chart in front of her. “Brian, I’m sorry to interrupt but…” She looked up, her surprise plain on her face. “Nathan. What are you doing here?”

  Nathan stiffened, suddenly wishing he was somewhere else, realizing he should have made the appointment with Brian when Catherine wouldn’t be in the office. How could he have been so stupid? He should have known he’d end up running into her.

  “Just thought I’d have Brian look at my knee.” The words escaped in a rush, sounding hollow and false. Why, he didn’t know — it was the truth. Maybe not all of it, but close enough. Catherine looked at Nathan, then at Brian, before her eyes drifted down and settled on the leaflets in Brian’s hand. Nathan reached over, snatched the papers and shoved them in his pocket.

  Catherine stared at him, the clipboard in her arms held protectively against her like a shield. He noticed the distancing in her eyes when she spoke. “What’s going on?”

  “No
thing. Brian was just looking at my knee. Like I said.”

  “Nathan…”

  He closed the distance between them, almost knocking Brian over in the process. He placed a quick kiss on Catherine’s lips then stepped into the hall. “It’s nothing, Catherine. I have to go. See you tonight.”

  Nathan scurried down the hall, the leaflets burning a hole in his pocket as surely as Catherine’s stare burned a hole in his back.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Catherine tightened her hands on the steering wheel and looked around at the crowded parking lot, reconsidering. She didn’t have to do this now. She didn’t have to do this at all.

  She didn’t want to do this at all.

  She took a deep breath and stepped into the mild March weather, squinting against the glare of sunlight. She had to do it now, to get it over with before she lost her nerve. Things had gone too far, especially after Matty’s stunt last night.

  The chill of the ice rink hit her as soon as she opened the doors, seeping into her bones. Close to a hundred fans were seated on the bleachers, cheering on the players during the practice. Catherine almost lost her resolve at the sight of so many people but she firmly ignored the urge to turn and run.

  She glanced at her watch. The practice should be over in a few minutes. Catherine took another deep breath and walked over to the stanchions that blocked the access to the ice and locker room. She chose a spot off to the side next to a set of machines that sold soda and juice and waited.

  The knot in her stomach tightened and grew, and again she wondered if she was doing the right thing. She squelched her doubts, knowing that Matty had to come first. And being with Nathan had suddenly put Matty in danger.

  The image of Matty careening down the driveway on a skateboard was still crystal clear, and enough to nearly make her lose what little food she had eaten. The skateboard was a gift from Nathan — a gift that sent the wrong message.

  Someone jostled her from behind, pushing her up against the soda machine, and she looked up. It was a pair of younger girls, maybe in their late teens, pushing through the crowd to get closer as the players made their way to the table. Catherine noticed the jerseys and calendars in their hands, saw the predatory gleam in their eyes as a few players stepped forward.

  She tried to rein in what remained of her patience as more eager fans pressed closer, forcing her to the back of the crowd. Catherine gritted her teeth and tried stepping closer, only to stop when Nathan finally made his way to the roped-off area. A few young girls rushed forward, smiles on their faces as Nathan greeted them with that boyish grin of his.

  What am I doing?

  Catherine took a step backward, suddenly unsure of herself. She didn’t want to do this. She had to do this. She had to. Matty’s health was at stake. She had already made her decision; why was she suddenly second-guessing herself?

  Taking a deep breath, she skirted the edge of the crowd, slowly making her way to the front. She reached her destination just as Nathan posed for a picture with a fan, his arm draped casually around the girl’s shoulder. A flicker of surprised amusement crossed his face when the girl turned to kiss him. He gently shrugged away from her with a good-hearted chuckle that left the girl sighing dreamily.

  Catherine folded her arms tightly around herself, surprised at the small glimmer of jealousy — and remorse — she felt. Nathan turned to greet someone else, his eyes scanning over her, just someone in the crowd. Catherine knew exactly when he realized it was her, saw it in the slight widening of his eyes.

  He did a double take, a blush turning his face crimson as he met her stare. His mouth opened briefly then snapped shut. The fans scattered about him didn’t seem to notice and kept calling out to get his attention. Nathan waved at them absently, pushing his way through until he stood directly in front of her.

  “Catherine, what are you doing here?”

  “We need to talk, Nathan.”

  He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his height exaggerated by the addition of the skates. Catherine tilted her head up to watch him, noticed how uncomfortable he seemed as he gestured back to the young girl who had kissed him. “That wasn’t what it looked like. I mean, I didn’t even know —”

  “Not about that.”

  “Oh.” His relief was obvious. He shifted again, his look turning from discomfort to confusion. “Then about what?”

  “About Matty. And the skateboard you got for him.”

  A frown crossed Nathan’s face, then he reached out and closed his hand gently around her arm, leading her away from the crowd that was closing in on them. He turned her so his back shielded them from the curious onlookers and leaned closer. “I’m not sure I follow you, Catherine. Why are you so upset?”

  “A skateboard, Nathan? What were you thinking?” She forced the words through clenched teeth, knowing they weren’t the words she had come here to say. Her insides knotted painfully and she opened her mouth to get it over with but she couldn’t, not with Nathan looking at her like that.

  “Listen, this isn’t a good place to talk. Too many people.” Nathan glanced behind him, motioning to the growing crowd. “How about if you wait here until I’m finished cleaning up and then we can go get something to eat?”

  “No.”

  “Oh. Um, okay. Then how about we meet later? I can bring pizza for dinner or something.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine? Catherine, is there something else I should know?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  No, I’m not sure. About anything. But she didn’t say the words out loud, just nodded, afraid to say anything else. He had already broken through her defenses once before she realized it and made her trust him. My God, she had been having ridiculous thoughts of them actually becoming a family!

  Only to find out that he wasn’t as dependable and responsible as she thought. She should have stuck with her first instincts and stayed away from him, before it was too late.

  Before she had fallen in love with him.

  Oh, God, how could she have let such a thing even happen? She knew better, but she had let it happen anyway. She had grown to depend on Nathan, to let go of her own misgivings and trust, when she knew better than to depend on anyone but herself.

  Catherine looked down at the hand on her shoulder, realized Nathan was speaking to her in quiet tones. She tilted her chin up with a carelessness she didn’t feel and leveled a blank look at him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

  “I asked you what time I should bring the pizza over.” Nathan paused, fixed her with a steady stare that made her feel like he was reading the very depths of her soul. His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied her, seeing too much. A flicker of something unreadable flashed in his gaze and he shifted subtly closer to her. She suppressed the urge to cower and hide from that penetrating gaze.

  “Six will be fine.”

  “Okay, then. I’ll be there around six.” He shifted on his skates and motioned absently behind him. “I need to get going. If you need me to bring anything else, just give me a call.”

  “Fine.” Catherine backed up when she realized Nathan was stepping closer for a quick kiss. A sharp stab of pain pierced her chest at the look of confusion in his eyes, and she turned away before she could do something stupid, like change her mind.

  He might have called her name but she couldn’t be sure, since any sound was drowned out by the loud crashing of the panic bar as she hit it before rushing out the front door.

  Nathan sat in the car and stared at the neat rancher in front of him. His stomach churned suddenly and he blamed it on the combination of smells of pepperoni pizza and fresh flowers. Nothing was wrong, even though every nerve in his body screamed out that something bad was about to happen.

  So the skateboard had been stupid. He knew that even before he got it for Matty. He’d apologize and everything would be fine. But Catherine seemed upset about something more, had looked like she had been about to break into tears
right before she bolted out of the practice rink. He didn’t know what was going on, and part of him was afraid to find out.

  The same part that was afraid to admit how deeply he cared for her. He wouldn’t yet say it was that damned L word, but he was afraid it was close.

  Liar.

  He mentally flinched as his conscience hurled the accusation at him, but he didn’t deny it. Didn’t agree with it, either, but he’d sort that out later. Instead, he took a deep breath, grabbed the pizza and flowers and got out of the car.

  Nathan smiled a little when he imagined the wide grin that would spread across Matty’s face when the kid noticed the pizza box. He rang the doorbell, realizing he was enjoying these little moments with them more and more. It was a time he looked forward to, almost as much as the time he spent on the ice.

  God, what a thought.

  He shifted the box on his arm and waited, wondering what was taking them so long to open the door. Nathan reached out to push the buzzer again then stepped back, startled, when the door was pulled open by a somber-faced Catherine. His smile of greeting died at her expression.

  “I, uh, brought the pizza.” It was an asinine thing to say, so obvious that a blind man would have noticed, but the look of anxiety and determination on Catherine’s pale face had caught him so off guard he was almost speechless. She stepped back and barely motioned for him to come in. His stomach churned again. The house was too quiet. “Where’s Matty?”

  “At a friend’s.”

  “Oh.” He followed Catherine into the large kitchen and placed the pizza box on the table. The flowers were still clenched in one hand and he turned to give them to her only to realize she wasn’t looking at him. He cleared his throat and waved them absently, hoping to get her attention, to bring a smile to her face. “I brought these, too.”

  She finally turned toward him, her face completely blank as her gaze darted from his to the flowers he was waving like an idiot. His hand dropped to his side as Catherine folded her arms across her chest and stared at a spot somewhere behind him.