by Savanna Fox
They all laughed, and then George said, “That’s like those old Harlequin romances my mom read as a girl. Where the poor little nurse or secretary met the rich, powerful, handsome brain surgeon or CEO, and he rescued her from her mundane life. And all she had to do was be pretty and sweet and say yes to his every whim. Girls really still think that way?”
“Pool boy on your yacht,” Marielle teased.
George chuckled. “All right, there’s a certain appeal. But seriously, you’d never go for that. Right?”
“Nah,” the brunette said. “None of us would, would we?” She lifted her cocktail glass in a mock toast. “We’re a bunch of tough, independent broads.” At the moment, she looked the opposite of tough, with her melted chocolate eyes, wavy dark hair, pink and orange top, and creamy girly drink. Yet Lily knew Marielle prided herself on not needing any man.
While the other three laughed, Lily forced a smile. Oh yes, she was independent and trying hard to be tough. What choice did she have?
“But, hmm,” Marielle went on. “I haven’t read those old books, George, but there’s another interesting point in Bound by Desire, and it’s way more obvious in the other BDSM book I read. It makes me think of that old movie Pretty Woman. You’ve all seen it? With Julia Roberts and Richard Gere, when they were young?”
“Love that movie,” Kim said.
“I do too,” George put in.
“Haven’t seen it,” Lily said. If she had spare time, it generally went to reading.
“Okay, long story short,” Marielle said. “She’s a hooker with a heart of gold. He’s a rich businessman who does business takeovers, and has no heart at all. He says to her at the beginning that they both screw people for money.”
“Oh, charming,” Lily said.
“It is!” Kim protested. “You have to see it.”
“He buys her services,” Marielle went on, “and as they hang out together, they fall for each other. They break up, but he realizes how he really feels about her and comes to get her and—”
“In this big limo, and he even scales a fire escape to win her, when he’s afraid of heights,” Kim put in. “And it’s like this girlish fantasy she told him about once, the white knight rescuing the princess in the tower.”
“Let me guess,” Lily said. “She doesn’t have to be a ‘working girl’ anymore, and he’ll buy her houses and yachts with pool boys.”
“No,” George said. “She’ll go to school and get a good job, because him rescuing her isn’t about giving her some ritzy life, it’s about teaching her to value herself.”
“Exactly,” Marielle said. “He says, referring back to the fantasy, I think, ‘What happens after he rescues her?’ And she says, ‘She rescues him right back.’ And it’s true. Because he’d never known love, and thanks to her he’s discovered he has a heart.”
“Exactly,” Kim said. “He’s this super-big catch—rich and successful and, hello, he looks like Richard Gere when he was young—and our heroine’s the one woman in the world who wins his heart.”
That was how Lily had felt when Dax, every girl’s favorite sexy bad boy, had chosen her. “All right,” she said slowly, “I’m starting to understand. Two flawed people meet and, through knowing and caring for each other, they both become stronger in the area in which they were weakest.” And how interesting that Marielle, who steered clear of romantic relationships, would love a movie with that theme.
“Very analytical, Doc Lily,” Marielle teased.
“But,” Lily said, “I’m not convinced that’s what happened in Bound by Desire.”
“Maybe because it’s an erotic novel,” George said. “It’s about Cassandra’s sexual journey. I think that thing you just said, Lily, is more the theme of a romance.”
Kim nodded. “It’s what happened with me and Ty. We both helped each other find the strength to deal with our personal shit.”
Lily’d thought she and Dax had been starting to do that too. “You both became stronger, but that’s not what happened in the book. Cassandra discovered her sexual nature and found her perfect sex partner, but as a person she became weaker. She’s giving up her job, her independence.” She swallowed the last of martini number two. “A woman has to have a life of her own. Relationships end, so that’s what she’ll be left with.” She stabbed at the barely tasted samosa on her plate.
No one spoke for a long moment. Then George said cautiously, “Not all relationships end.”
“But they might.” Lily frowned at her. “I know you and Kim are in love with your guys and you think it’s going to last forever, but promise you won’t give up your own lives.”
George glanced at Kim. “Kim’s launching UmbrellaWings and I’ve been talking to a couple of colleagues about starting our own marketing firm. We’re not giving up our lives.”
“Girls,” Marielle said, “there’s more to life than work.”
“Sure,” Kim said. “Family, hobbies, friends. Book club. Neither of us is giving up any of that.” She turned to Lily. “We’re okay. You don’t have to play mother hen, all worried about your chicks.”
Mother hen? Would Lily ever have the opportunity to mother her own children? And what was wrong with Dax—or with her—that he didn’t want to do that with her?
“You really do live on a ranch, don’t you?” Marielle teased Kim. “Who’d have thought the confirmed city girl would use chicken analogies?”
Lily reached for her glass and realized it was empty. That was so unfair. She needed another drink. A funny little sound escaped her throat.
Marielle’s laughing brown eyes went solemn. “What’s up, Doc? Are you okay?”
“Of course.” Another sound escaped, like a hiccup. In horror, Lily realized it was a sob. Her eyes filled, and she pressed her hands to her cheeks in a vain attempt to hold back the tears.
Twenty-nine
Kim, sitting beside Lily, touched her shoulder tentatively. “Hey, don’t cry.”
“N-not crying,” Lily choked out. She couldn’t cry in public. That would be just too embarrassing.
“Okay,” George said soothingly. “You’re not crying. But something’s wrong. Can we help?”
Lily shook her head.
“Sometimes just sharing the problem makes you feel better,” Marielle said.
“Have to go.” Lily dropped her hands from her face and fumbled for her coat. She didn’t share problems; she handled them herself.
Kim’s grip on her shoulder tightened and George said, “We can’t let you go home on your own when you’re so upset. Tell us what’s wrong.”
Lily shook her head and rested her hands on the table in front of her, trying to summon the strength to push herself upright and leave.
“Is it about Dax?” Kim asked quietly.
Lily shuddered and gave another hiccupy sob. If she could sink through the floor, she’d do it. If her parents were here, they’d be mortified. Thank heavens she was sitting with her back to the room.
Marielle reached across the table and took one of Lily’s hands between hers. “What did the bastard do? I know people. If you want to take out a hit on him, I can connect you.”
The comment was so out there, it actually stopped Lily’s tears. “What?”
“I’m kidding. But seriously, what’s going on? Talk to us, Lily. At least let us think we’re helping.”
George reached across to take Lily’s other hand. “Please.”
She felt surrounded, imprisoned. Kim’s hand rubbed her shoulder while Marielle and George squeezed both her hands. She felt . . . anchored. Not as much by their hands as by their caring. How about that? These women she’d met less than a year ago had turned into friends who cared. “All right, I’ll tell you.” She sniffled. “But I need my hands back. Have to blow my nose.”
Once released, she found a tissue in her purse and wiped her cheeks and blew her nose. “Dax and I have been having problems. We talked over the holiday and, well, we’re getting a d-divorce.”
“Oh, Li
ly.” Petite Kim gave her a one-armed hug. “I’m so sorry.”
“How horrible,” George said, touching her hand again.
Marielle took her other hand and squeezed it firmly. “You don’t know how to talk to girlfriends, do you? We need more than that.”
The brunette was so blunt yet so warmhearted. Lily returned the squeeze. “I’ll try.” The last time she’d shared her deepest feelings with girlfriends was in high school. “That sense of belonging we were talking about? We don’t belong together anymore.”
“Why not?” Marielle asked.
“Marielle, maybe she doesn’t want to share all the details,” George said.
“Lance the infection and it heals quicker,” Marielle retorted. “Right, Doc Lily?”
“Or you spread the infection. But all right, here’s the bottom line. He loves the wilderness and his idea of the perfect marriage is for me to live there with him. Without kids. My life is here and I do want children. Badly.”
“Ouch,” Marielle said. “That’s big stuff.”
Lily nodded vigorously.
Kim said hesitantly, “Ty was, like, rooted at Ronan Ranch. And I was sure I belonged in Hong Kong. But we worked that out. I just wonder . . . do you totally hate the wilderness? Does he totally hate the city? Or could you maybe find an in-between place that worked for both of you?”
An in-between place. The idea teased at Lily’s brain, but then she realized it didn’t matter anyhow. “I don’t know. We didn’t talk about that. Because the kids thing is what really counts.”
“Why doesn’t he want children?” George asked.
“He’s kind of a loner, wilderness sort of guy. And his parents and grandparents were pretty bad. My parents are”—she struggled for words, not wanting to be disloyal—“not the most supportive. In his book, the word family doesn’t have positive connotations.”
“But you and Dax could do better,” Kim said. “Doesn’t he see that?”
“He doesn’t want to,” she said bitterly.
“Doesn’t he think you’d be a good mom?” Marielle asked.
“Hah. No, he thinks I’d work all the time.” She pressed her fingers against the ache in her temples. “Which isn’t true. Things are really busy right now, but if I had a child, I’d reorganize my work.” How, she had no clear idea. “My baby would come first.”
George nodded. “Good. My mom was always focused on the guy in her life.”
“Dax’s parents were focused on each other, not him.” Her own parents had at least paid attention to her and Anthony, though she’d have preferred more support and fewer demands.
George’s brow wrinkled. “Lily, didn’t you two talk about whether you wanted children before you got married?”
“Yes, when we first got together, but after that, not really. We were both building careers. I always assumed we’d have children when the time was right. Turns out, he was deciding he didn’t want to have any, and he assumed I felt the same way.”
Marielle shook her head. “That’s sad, but people do change. It’s so much easier when you just have casual short-term relationships.”
“Beg to differ,” Kim said.
George nodded. “Me too. I want something deeper. I want a partner I trust to share the good and the bad, to plan and build a life with. Yes, Woody and I will both change but if we pay attention and talk, we can grow together rather than apart.”
“You’re smarter than I was,” Lily said.
George’s amber eyes softened with sympathy. “It’s really too late? You’re positive you and Dax can never agree on the important things?”
“Here’s another question,” Kim said quietly. “What about love? If two people love each other, they can find amazing solutions for their problems. If they don’t, there’s no point trying.”
“We do love each other.” She reflected on Kim’s comment. Had she and Dax given up too easily? Had the years of not paying attention, not communicating, handicapped them? If they tried harder, was there any hope they could find an amazing solution?
“You need to compromise in a relationship,” George said. “And be flexible, be willing to look at alternatives and—”
“Without becoming a doormat,” Marielle broke in.
Kim nodded. “You both have to do it. It has to balance out.”
“Right,” George said. “Lily, you know I support you and care about you, so please don’t be offended. But it seems to me maybe you and Dax are very alike in—”
“No, we’re totally different.”
“Let me finish. Alike in being strong-minded and independent. You’re both used to running your own lives and not so used to sharing them. With my Woody having a job that takes him out of town, I see how that can happen. We do our best to Skype or at least phone every day, so we keep connected. I wonder if you and Dax have forgotten how to share, compromise, make decisions together?”
Compromise, share. Be flexible, look at alternatives. “Perhaps we have,” Lily said slowly.
“Then maybe there’s hope,” George said. “Maybe you can both learn.”
Hope. A tiny word with such huge import. “Thanks, all of you. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”
“Phone or text this week,” George said. “Let us know how things are going and if there’s anything we can do.” Kim and Marielle both nodded vigorously.
They settled the bill, pulled on coats and scarves, and headed outside, where they scattered in different directions. Walking past a Thai restaurant, the delicious aroma drew Lily in. She had an appetite after all, and got takeout tom kha gai soup.
Once home, she opted for jasmine tea rather than another martini, and sat down with her meal. The spicy chicken, mushroom, and coconut milk soup heated her and somehow felt cleansing, like it was driving the numbness and sorrow out of her. The flowery fragrance of the tea soothed her. By the time she’d finished, her headache had gone and the ache in her heart wasn’t so bitter.
She had to make changes in her life. For the past year, her strategy for dealing with pressures at the clinic had been to put in more of her own hours. Not only hadn’t she solved the problems, but if she kept working horrendous hours and stressing out, it might have a negative impact on the thing she valued most: patient care.
Dax had suggested she hire a manager. Admit she needed help. Well, damn it, she did. She wasn’t a superwoman. If her parents considered her a failure, so be it. When they disapproved, it hurt, but she was tired of twisting herself out of shape to win a pat on the head. Yes, Dax was right; they disappointed her too. She wished they were more like her book club friends, willing to comfort and support rather than judge.
She found a notepad in the kitchen drawer, choosing paper and pen over technology. On the pad, she wrote: What do I want?
Words flowed: Children—and the time to spend with them. I want to be a good mother. A loving, supportive one who encouraged her children rather than pressured them.
On the next line, she wrote: To heal people. Was there anything she wanted to add to that? She studied the three simple words. They were the reason she’d chosen family medicine. Yet now she was as much an administrator as a practitioner. As Dax had pointed out.
Without allowing herself second thoughts, she wrote on the third line: Dax.
Tapping the pen against the pad, she studied the three lines. At thirty-two years old, these were the things she wanted from her life. To date, she’d messed up on achieving any of them. Obviously, she was nowhere near as smart as she’d thought she was.
But tonight she’d come this far—and it wasn’t because of her own brilliance, it was because she’d listened to someone other than her parents. She’d listened to Dax, even if she hadn’t been ready to hear at the time. Then she’d listened to her friends, and she had let herself hear. They had no vested interest; they only wanted to help. When she opened herself to that, she’d discovered it wasn’t so horrible to admit that she wasn’t perfect, she was only human and she needed help.
/> An idea struck her and she examined it from all sides. It was scary, but it felt right.
She took her notebook computer from her bag, but rather than set up in her home office, she went into the living room and flicked on the gas fire. Though it was a pale imitation of the real wood fire Dax had tended in Whistler, the dancing flames gave a touch of coziness.
Notebook on her lap, feet up on the coffee table, she started an e-mail to the distribution list that included everyone who worked at the Well Family Clinic.
As you all know, the practice is expanding, Dr. Brown is moving to half-time, and our resources are stretched. I want to cut back my own hours, particularly when it comes to administration. Others of you have asked about the possibility of flex time and job sharing. It’s time that I—
She backspaced over the “I” and carried on:
—we develop a different model for the clinic. Perhaps we need an office manager or a management committee. Let’s brainstorm. I want to hear all your ideas as to how to make the Well Family Clinic a place that not only provides top-notch service to our patients but is a healthy, happy place to work.
Let’s meet at 8:00 a.m. on Wednesday, for an hour. (Yes, there will be muffins and Danishes!) All patient appointments during that time period will need to be rescheduled. I’ll gladly come in earlier or later any day this week in order to accommodate those patients.
She pondered how to finish then typed:
Together, we’ve built something to be proud of. I thank all of you for your hard work, your enthusiasm, and your patience. We are a team and if I’ve been slow to recognize that and to thank you for it, I apologize. Well Family Clinic is not my practice, it’s ours. And from now on, that’s how it will be run.
Lily read back over the message. It was a little stiff and clumsy, but so was she when it came to reaching out to others. The message wasn’t perfect and neither was she. There was something amazingly liberating about admitting that she’d never be perfect enough to satisfy her parents.
From now on, it was about satisfying herself, about being the kind of person she wanted to be. About being a woman who might possibly find a way to rebuild her marriage with the man she loved.
