The Maker

by Chris Taylor

  Bryce frowned in concern. “How’s that new antibiotic cream working out? The one your doctor prescribed last week. Is the ulcer getting any better?”

  “Well, sometimes I think it looks like it’s shrinking and other times I’m not so sure. It was okay last night, but now it feels like my foot’s on fire. Like I told you, it’s my own silly fault. I shouldn’t have overdone it.”

  Bryce closed the distance between them and turned her gently to face him. “You need to take care of yourself, Grandma. You know what your doctor told you. You’re not as young as you used to be and diabetes takes its toll. It’s affecting your circulation, which means it will take longer for that ulcer to heal. You need to take it easy and let your body put its energies into getting better.”

  “Doctor Baker told me exercise was good for me. He told me it would help stimulate my sluggish circulation,” she said, her mouth set into a stubborn line.

  Bryce stifled the urge to swear and gritted his teeth. “He wasn’t talking about tackling a five-hundred-yard hill climb, Grandma.”

  Her face softened and she patted his arm. “You worry too much, Bryce. I’m a diabetic. I have a few issues with my circulation, an ulcer here and there. That’s nothing and it’s far from terminal. Don’t worry; I’ve got a few years left in me yet.”

  Bryce’s shoulders slumped on a sigh and he pulled his grandmother in close for another hug. She was so tiny, the top of her head barely came up to his ribcage, but he’d learned she was tougher than most people credited.

  “I know you have, Grandma, but I love you and that means I worry about you. I’m sure you worry about me, too, right?” He winked and offered her a smile.

  “Of course I worry about you, you dolt. You head out of here every day, ready to do battle with the world and whatever drug-crazed, armed-and-dangerous idiot you come across and I’m expected to wave you off with a smile and a fare thee well. You’re my only grandchild.” Her voice roughened with emotion and tears glittered in her pale blue eyes. “I love you, Bryce. I’m not sure what I’d do without you.”

  Bryce swallowed hard against the lump in his throat and tightened his arms about her. He knew exactly how she felt. He’d been eight when his parents were killed in a car crash. His grandmother had taken him in with open arms and had raised him with patience, good humor and love. She was all he had in the world and he dreaded the day he’d lose her.

  * * *

  It was late when Bryce switched off the light in the kitchen and walked down the corridor toward his bed. He’d finished the last of the statements taken from witnesses to the armed robbery earlier in the day and was more than ready to call it quits. A light shone beneath the door to his grandmother’s bedroom. He tapped gently on the closed panel.

  “I’m going to call it a night, Grandma.”

  “Come and tell me good night,” came the soft reply.

  Turning the knob, Bryce eased open the door. His grandmother was propped up on a mountain of pillows, her white hair loose and flowing around her shoulders. A book lay open in her lap.

  “What are you reading?”

  “Forever in My Heart,” she responded with enough melodrama to make him smile. Her eyes sparkled. “A romance novel of the highest order,” she added.

  He snorted his disbelief and leaned over to kiss her on the forehead. “Well, I hope it brings you the sweetest of dreams.”

  “Oh, it will, grandson. It will. You ought to read one now and then. It might give you some…let’s say, inspiration.”

  Heat rushed up his neck and with it, a trace of anger. “You of all people know my situation. How can I—?”

  The smile faded from her face. “Bryce, honey, I’m sorry. I was teasing, but it’s been three years. Don’t you think it’s time—?”

  “Time for what, Grandma? She’s still alive. Or have you forgotten?”

  The old woman shook her head slowly back and forth and her eyes filled with sadness. Unable to bear it another moment, Bryce turned on his heel and left.

  With his heart thumping, he dragged in a quick breath and headed to the shower. Leaving his clothes piled in a heap on the bathroom floor, he turned the spray to the hottest temperature he could bear and stood under the torrent of water. He picked up the soap and lathered his skin, scrubbing away the effects of the day.

  At least he could be thankful Wales hadn’t gotten away with his attempt to rob a city bank and no innocent bystanders had been injured. The bank staff had acted quickly and Bryce and his team had managed to arrest the offender before he’d cleared the building. The whole incident had been over almost as quickly as it began.

  With the man in surgery, there hadn’t been much to do at the hospital but sit around and wait—and think about his encounter with the beautiful, blond doctor. Even now, the memory of her stirred a barrage of mixed emotions.

  He’d had enough to do with hospitals and doctors to last him a lifetime, not the least his recent battle over what to do with his wife. Still, the kindness and warmth in the blond doctor’s eyes pricked at his conscience. It wasn’t her fault he’d been scarred by members of the medical profession. Then again, he hadn’t asked to be the husband of a patient who clung to life only by the grace and expediency of a machine.

  It had been three years since the accident and he was under increasing pressure to make a decision. There had been a message on his voicemail only the day before from Angela’s doctor. He wanted Bryce to call. It was the second message the doctor had left that week.

  Bryce squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block everything out. He was tired of thinking about what needed to be done. He was tired. Period. Sometimes it felt like he hadn’t had a restful night since the morning of the accident. In fact, he was sure he hadn’t. As much as he resisted the thought, he wondered if perhaps his grandmother was right. Perhaps it was time to let Angela go…?

  Sadness flooded through him at the thought. It seemed like only yesterday when he’d asked her to be his wife. He’d spied her from across the room of his best mate’s kitchen. He didn’t even know what she was doing there. It was like something out of a gooey chick-flick movie. The world had stopped.

  He was nineteen and until that moment, had never been in love. One look at her dark glossy hair and smiling brown eyes and he was a goner. All these years later, he could still remember the way she’d made him feel.

  His body hardened at the memory of his wife in their early years. She’d been everything he’d ever dreamed. They’d been happier than he’d thought possible. And talk about beautiful. She’d been the most beautiful girl in the world.

  His cock stirred and he wished for the hundredth time he had a better way to assuage his need. It had been more than three years since he’d made love to a woman and the enforced abstinence was taking its toll. Like tonight, when he had an erection so thick and hard it was painful and all he wanted to do was bury himself into the wet warmth of a woman.

  He leaned his head against the coolness of the tiles and sighed heavily. Pulling off in the shower had long since lost its appeal. Still, if he didn’t want to spend half the night with a hard-on and an ache low in his balls, he had no choice but to deal with it. With images of his wife in the forefront of his mind, he stroked his cock and did what needed to be done.

  The water began to cool and Bryce realized he’d probably emptied the hot water tank. Rinsing the last of the soap from his body, he turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. He reached for a towel and scrubbed himself dry. Refreshed but still feeling restless, he slung the towel around his hips and headed for bed.

  * * *

  Chanel tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and hurried into the hospital. She’d been assigned the day shift and didn’t want to be late. Reaching the bank of elevators, she pressed the up button and waited for it to arrive.

  “Chanel! Hey, how are you? Are you on this morning, too?”

  Chanel turned to see Tanya hurrying toward her, carrying a hefty briefcase. “Yes, I am.”
She nodded toward the bulging briefcase. “What could you possibly have in there? It’s only our fourth day.”

  Tanya grinned. “My notes. I wrote out intensive case studies on every one of Doctor Baker’s thirty-nine patients we’ve seen on rounds this week—so if he happens to call on me, I’ll be prepared. I don’t know how you manage to think so quickly.”

  Chanel shrugged. “Instinct, I guess. I did a few stints in the emergency room during my first year of residency. It taught me how to think on my feet. There’s no time for prolonged examinations and debates about treatment there. Time’s often of the essence.”

  “Well, I’m going to be a blithering idiot when he asks me, I just know it. I can’t afford to take any chances. I need to make a good impression. Dad would be devastated if I was taken off Doctor Baker’s team. He hasn’t stopped talking on Facebook about my acceptance.”

  Chanel laughed in surprise. “Your dad’s on Facebook?”

  Tanya grinned. “Oh, yeah. He told me it’s the best way ever to keep in touch with everyone. He knows who’s going where, who’s unwell, who bought a new pair of shoes, even what they ate for dinner. He doesn’t need to telephone to stay in touch. Facebook does it for him.”

  Chanel chuckled again and shook her head. “I need to meet your father. He sounds like he’d be great fun.”

  “Yes, he is and you can meet him, if you want to. I talked to him about moving out and I mentioned your offer. He was mostly enthusiastic. He said it was time both of us took charge of our lives.”

  “That’s great. When do you want to move in?”

  Tanya grimaced. “He wants to meet you first, to make sure you’re suitable to share a house with his beloved and only daughter.”

  “I’d love to meet him. When should we do it?”

  “The sooner the better. How about after work today? You could come home with me and stay for dinner.”

  “Sounds great. With a bit of luck, we’ll finish at the same time. How about I meet you out in front of the hospital?”

  “Excellent. We can go in my car. I’ll drop you off at the train station afterwards. I’ll text Dad and let him know you’ll be coming. He’ll want to put together some kind of feast, for sure.”

  “Oh, please tell him not to go to any trouble,” Chanel protested.

  “Of course he’ll go to a lot of trouble. He’s very traditional in many ways and you’re to be our honored guest.” Tanya gave her a wink. “I hope you like curry.”

  * * *

  “Doctor Munro, may I speak with you a minute?”

  Chanel slowed to a stop inside Doctor Baker’s office and turned back to face him. A few minutes earlier, he’d handed out a list of his patients and had divided them up among his students. They were now filing out of the room. Chanel had been pleased to see that she and Tanya had several patients in common. They would be able to share their notes and compare diagnoses, as well as discuss treatment options. It would make life easier all round to have a study buddy. One as well prepared as Tanya would be an added bonus.

  “Yes, Doctor Baker?”

  The man held her gaze, his bright blue eyes commanding attention. “Just so you know, I have high expectations of you, Doctor Munro. You came very well recommended by two staff specialists I happen to know at the Brisbane Hospital and after your performance with Amelia Arncliffe three days ago, I’m quietly confident I might have discovered a star.”

  Heat crept up Chanel’s neck and she was grateful for the high collar on her blouse. She did her best to keep the blush of pleasure from spreading to her cheeks.

  “Thank you, Doctor Baker. Your praise means a good deal to me.”

  His eyes narrowed on her face. “Does it?”

  “O-of course it does. You’ve reached the pinnacle in your field. A year under your tutelage would mean incredible things for me—the very least is what I’ll learn from you over that time. I’m pleased and excited to be here.”

  He moved closer and Chanel’s nerves hitched. The cerulean blue of his eyes deepened and his voice lowered to a growl.

  “Good. I like that you’re excited. It makes it all the more…exciting for me.”

  His gaze dipped to the rapid rise and fall of her chest and it was all she could do not to raise her arms and cover herself. With an effort, she kept her hands by her sides.

  “You can’t imagine how boring it is to choose students who look brilliant on paper, but who, in reality, fall far short of my expectations,” he continued in a voice pitched for conversation.

  “Take Doctor Singh, for example. She graduated with honors, was lauded from one end of Sydney to the other by members of the medical profession, but I can already tell she’s not a star. She needs hours, days, weeks to prepare. She can’t think on her feet. A doctor needs to be able to assess a situation and come up with a plan of action in a matter of minutes. Most of the time, we don’t have the luxury of taking notes and spending time analyzing, comparing, discussing.”

  He threw out his arms to emphasize his point and his hand brushed up against her lab coat. She ignored the heat left in its wake and concentrated on his monologue.

  “More often than not, we’re forced to provide an on-the-spot diagnosis and offer treatment in the very same breath.” He paused and moved closer, until they were almost touching.

  “Don’t you agree, Doctor Munro?”

  Chanel licked her dry lips and forced her mouth to work. “Yes, Doctor Baker. A lot of the time, you’re right, but I think you’re being a little harsh on Doctor Singh. There’s always a place to confer with colleagues and double check opinions on optimum treatment.”

  Something akin to admiration glinted in his eyes. “I applaud your loyalty, Doctor Munro, even if it is a little misplaced. Loyalty is a much-admired trait and one that’s close to my heart. Unfortunately, sometimes it’s in short supply. When it comes down to it, there are those among us who’ll opt to save their own skin over that of a colleague.”

  Chanel forced herself to hold his gaze. “I hope never to have my loyalty tested in that way, Doctor.”

  His bark of laughter was harsh and bitterness twisted his mouth. “Don’t we all, Doctor Munro, don’t we all.” He reached out and brushed the back of his hand against her cheek.

  “You, on the other hand, Doctor Munro, are a star. I could tell from the moment I saw you. There’s something about you, something indefinable. It sets you apart from everyone. When I demanded you examine Amelia Arncliffe, you rose to the challenge. No ifs, no buts, no stumbling. You gave me exactly what I wanted.” His hand moved to cup her cheek and Chanel swallowed hard against her rising panic.

  What the hell was going on? Was the Sydney Harbour Hospital’s most highly respected doctor caressing her cheek? What was she going to do?

  As tactfully as she could manage, Chanel stepped away and out from beneath his touch. Flustered and more than a little unnerved, she fished around for something to say.

  “I-I appreciate your vote of confidence, Doctor Baker. I hope I continue to live up to your expectations.”

  His gaze traveled over her, lingering once again on her heaving chest. “I hope you do, too, Doctor Munro. If you let me down, I’ll be gravely disappointed.”

  “H-how is Mrs Arncliffe?” she asked, latching onto the first thing that came into her mind. “I’ve seen her for the past couple of days, but she’s not on my patient list this morning. When’s the debridement?”

  Doctor Baker’s expression darkened and he took a step back. In silence, he turned away. Chanel frowned, at a loss to figure out his sudden change in demeanor.

  “Unfortunately, we lost Amelia Arncliffe last night.”

  Chanel’s hand flew to her mouth in an effort to contain her gasp. “You mean, she died?”

  “Yes, Doctor Munro. That’s exactly what I mean.”

  Chanel shook her head in confusion, trying desperately to get a hold of her jumbled thoughts. “But… But how? She seemed fine when I last saw her. I mean, not fine. She was suffering fr
om that terrible abscess and she must have been in excruciating pain, but it was hardly life threatening. What… What happened?”

  Doctor Baker swung slowly around to face her. He drew in a deep breath and let it out on a sigh.

  “We don’t know exactly, yet. Later the same day, after you’d been to see her, she began complaining of stomach cramps and nausea. By midnight, we couldn’t stop the vomiting. It was terrible to see her in so much pain, particularly after all she’d been through.” His voice lowered to a husky whisper. “I hated watching her suffering. She begged me to help her, but there was nothing I could do.”

  Chanel shook her head, still in shock. “Will there be an autopsy?”

  “Perhaps, although she was far from well. Apart from the appalling abscess on her sacrum, she was malnourished and extremely low in iron and a number of other essential elements.” He looked up at her and shook his head sadly. “I’m afraid the neglect had been going on for some time.”

  Hot anger surged through Chanel and she clenched her fists, feeling the need to hit something. Hard. The thought of how the woman had been treated in the nursing home left her breathless.

  “What will happen? Will there be an investigation? Will the family sue?”

  “Such righteous indignation! Such passion for justice! We need more people like you in our world, Doctor Munro. Unfortunately, I can’t see much justice for Amelia Arncliffe. There might be some members of the medical profession who don’t know anything about loyalty, but like I said, the majority of us tend to stick together, no matter what. Misguided or not, you don’t rat out a mate. On any given day, it could be you or me in the firing line—there but for the grace of God and all that… None of us are infallible. We’re all capable of fucking up. We need to know we have the support of our colleagues if and when we do.”

  Chanel stared at him, aghast. “But what about Mrs Arncliffe’s needs? Who was seeing to them? Surely, she had a right to good and proper health care, especially in a health facility? How are we going to bring an end to the injustices leveled upon some of the most vulnerable members of our community if we don’t take a stand against them?”