“A walking multiple orgasm?”
“Pauline!” Violet checked to see if anyone was listening. Hospitals were breeding grounds for in-house gossip. For once, they appeared to be without an audience.
“Well?” Pauline demanded, giving Violet a friendly nudge. “I looked him up. Holy hotness, Batman. Blond hair and green eyes? That man looks fine in a tux—and even better out of it.”
“Are there nude pictures floating around that I’m not aware of?”
“I wish,” Pauline snickered. “Gaige did an ad last year for Calvin Klein. Those briefs. Left little to the imagination. By the way? Congratulations.”
“I hear they Photoshop the package,” Beverly Turner said. The student nurse was only twenty-one and prone to giggles. As she demonstrated when she said package.
Violet sighed. It was her own fault. She knew better than to stand around discussing private business. Pauline didn’t help matters by bringing the pictures up on her phone.
“I ask you.” She said to the gathering group of orderlies and nurses. “Faux or fantastic?”
“Oh for…” Violet rolled her eyes. It was time to drop her friend persona and become Dr. Reed. “You are here to look after patients, not drool over men in underwear.”
Her admonishment worked, but as they went back to work, she heard, “If that bulge is real, I’ll eat Mrs. Bronson’s orthopedic insoles.”
Violet knew it was childish, but she wanted to call out. That is one hundred percent Gaige Benson—no Photoshopping necessary. But, like Gaige’s beautiful bulge, she kept her thoughts to herself.
“Sorry about that,” Pauline laughed, Violet joining her.
“The sincerity of your words touches me right here.” Violet pointed to her butt.
“Dr. Reed?”
Violet turned her head. A nurse from the trauma ward waved at her.
“What is it, Amy?”
“Dr. Fisher asked for a consult. A woman was just brought in with a laceration near her right eye. The swelling is significant, and he would like you to take a look.”
“ER?”
Amy nodded. “Exam room three.”
“Tell him I’ll be right there.”
Violet scribbled some instructions on the chart and handed it back to Pauline.
“You didn’t answer my question. Faux or fabulous?”
“Use your imagination,” Violet called over her shoulder.
“Don’t worry, I will.”
Violet was still smiling when she pulled back the curtain to exam room three. What she saw wiped away any desire to laugh. A woman lay on the table, her face caked with dried blood. The right side of her face was bruised and swollen, most of the damage around the eye area. She was distraught, but from what Violet could hear, it wasn’t because she was in pain or worried about her injuries.
“I need to get home. It’s almost dinner time.”
“Relax. We need to take care of you.”
“I’m fine. Just a stupid accident.” The woman thrashed around, causing Dr. Fisher, who was in the process of examining her eye, to pull back before the light in his hand did more damage than good.
“We can’t help you unless you stay still.” He whispered for the nurse to prepare a sedative. “Dinner will have to wait, Mrs. Benson.”
Violet froze. Benson? It was a common enough name. But this was Brooklyn. Gaige’s parents still lived here. Taking a deep breath, Violet picked up the chart. Wynona Benson, age fifty-six. No doubt about it. This was Gaige’s mother.
“What are you doing?” Wynona screamed when Dr. Fisher administered the sedative. She jerked her arm away from the needle, but it was too late. The drug hit her bloodstream, and her limbs grew heavy. However, it couldn’t quiet her mouth. Her words were slurred, but they kept on coming. “I’ll sue. You can’t do that without my permission. Just wait. My husband won’t like you keeping me here. He needs his dinner right at six.”
Dr. Perry Fisher caught sight of Violet, his relief visible. “Thank God,” he said. “I’ve tried to look at her eye for the last half hour. I’m about to up the dosage and knock her out.”
“Let me try.”
“Be my guest. But watch her right cross,” Dr. Fisher rubbed his upper arm. “She’s stronger than she looks.”
Wynona Benson looked like a woman who had missed too many meals and suffered the wrath of her husband way too often. Up close, it was apparent that the damage wasn’t as bad as she first thought.
Amy appeared at her side. The nurse held out a pair of latex gloves, efficiently slipping them onto Violet’s hands. Taking the penlight from her pocket, she moved into the spot vacated by Dr. Fisher.
Some people might consider treating Gaige’s mother to be ethically wrong. At best, borderline—a gray area she should have excused herself from. But Violet didn’t see it that way. She had never met the woman. Besides, this was a preliminary examination. If Wynona Benson needed surgery, she would worry about ethics then.
“Mrs. Benson?” Violet laid her hand on the woman’s shoulder. “My name is Dr. Reed. I would like to look at your eye. Is that all right with you?”
At this point, the sedative had completely taken effect. Wynona waved her hand, which Violet decided to take as a yes.
“We need to get her x-rayed, but there isn’t any major damage to the eye socket. Get this cut sutured and start a series of compresses to reduce the swelling. I will examine her again in a few hours.”
Violet wrote down her instructions.
“Home,” Wynona mumbled.
“Is there anyone you would like us to call, Mrs. Benson? A family member?”
“Husband. No one else.”
Violet frowned. She would blame the drugs for Wynona’s lapse. The woman was upset and loopy from the shot Dr. Fisher had administered. That had to be the reason she hadn’t mentioned Gaige.
Violet had planned on calling Gaige as soon as she was done examining his mother. She had thought Wynona might have a message she wanted to be passed along. For whatever reason, Violet had been wrong.
“Don’t worry about it.” Violet patted her hand. “We are going to get that cut stitched up.”
Closing her eyes, Wynona nodded. Violet left the room, running through her mind what she would say to Gaige.
“It’s obvious she didn’t fall and hit her face.” Dr. Fisher was just outside the room, sipping a cup of what the hospital passed off as coffee.
“No,” Violet agreed. “Did you fill out the forms?”
The law required them to report suspected abuse. There was a standard form a doctor filled out. They had all done it. Most of the time it ended in frustration—knowing the victim would be back. Or worse. More than once, instead of the ER, they ended up in the morgue.
Unless Wynona, and women like her, decided to press charges, the papers were filed and forgotten. Even when the abuser had a record as long as Don Benson’s.
“I can’t understand it. What makes a woman stay with a man who uses her as a punching bag? Did you see the scar by her mouth? I would bet my Yankees’ season tickets that it wasn’t caused because of an accident.”
“There are plenty of theories floating around.”
Violet had minored in psychology with an emphasis on women’s self-esteem. At one time she had dreams of healing the eyes and the mind. She found out it was too frustrating. The human psyche was a fluctuating proposition with no clear path to understanding. She preferred an exact science—not speculation.
Violet had no idea why Wynona put up with her husband’s abuse. Other than to call it love—twisted and rotten—she doubted that Wynona did either.
“We do what we can, eh?” Perry rolled his head from side to side. Opening one eye, he asked, “Feel like catching some dinner?”
From the day they met, Perry Fisher let Violet know he was interested in more than a professional relationship. In return, Violet let him know that she wasn’t. For three years, it was the same routine. He asked. She said no. End of discussion—
until the next time.
Violet found Perry attractive. He was smart. A good doctor with just enough empathy for his patients. But she didn’t want a workplace romance. Brief or otherwise.
“My father is expecting me.”
“It’s a good excuse—I suppose.” Perry fell in step with her, escorting her to the elevator. “You’ve used it for as long as I’ve known you. Dinner with your parents. Or your father.”
“It isn’t an excuse.” It was, but it was also the truth.
“If you say so.”
Perry leaned against the wall, a slight smirk on his face. That was another reason Violet continually turned him down. That smirk. There was something about it. Something… unkind.
“I do say so.”
“Mmm.” Perry took another sip of coffee, watching her over the rim of the cup. “I hear you’re dating Gaige Benson.”
“In this place, you’re bound to hear all kinds of things. Gossip thrives.”
“Is it true?” Violet didn’t answer. However, that didn’t deter Perry. “I’ll give you props. Gaige Benson is a big fish. One of the biggest. I was—” Perry’s eyes widened. “Wait a second. Benson?”
Violet cursed the slow elevator—and Perry’s quick mind.
“He’s from Brooklyn, isn’t he? Is Wynona Benson a relative.”
“It’s none of your business, Perry.” With a sigh of relief, Violet watched the elevator doors open. She entered, turning to pin Perry with her gaze. “Just remember. Wynona Benson is your patient—not a source of gossip. Whatever you think you know, keep it to yourself.”
Would he? It was a crap shoot. Perry Fisher wasn’t known for having loose lips, but something this juicy? Violet couldn’t count on anyone’s discretion. She needed to call Gaige—right away. Finding a private place to do it was another matter. She looked around, her gaze stopping on a medical supply closet. Not great, but any port in a storm.
The time difference worked against her. Seattle was three hours behind New York. It was just after three o’clock and Gaige would still be at practice. If she were lucky, she might catch him between drills or on his way to a meeting. Violet dialed her phone, hoping for the best.
Violet breathed a sigh of relief when Gaige picked up on the second ring.
“Hello. I was a very good boy today and look at my reward. I get to hear your voice. It’s a major step up from Harry’s bellowing.”
Gaige sounded happy. There was a sweet, teasing quality in his voice that she didn’t want to ruin. Crap. She hated delivering bad news. This was worse. He was three thousand miles away. Too far for her to wrap him in her arms and help him forget what a nightmare his family was.
“Gaige.”
“What’s wrong?” No more teasing—his voice was deadly serious. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. It’s your mother. She was brought into the hospital this afternoon. I wouldn’t have known, but her injury was to her eye. I was called in for a consultation.”
“How is she?” Violet didn’t like the lifelessness she heard in his voice.
“She should make a full recovery. Other than the swelling, her sight wasn’t impaired. There might be a slight scar. There’s a deep gash. Luckily no bones were broken.”
“My father hit her?”
“She says not, but…”
“No one believes her. Smart. She’s been covering for that bastard for over forty years. That isn’t going to change at this late date.”
There was a long silence. Violet didn’t break it. She understood that Gaige was processing her news.
“Will they keep her overnight?”
“That depends. If your mother makes a fuss, they’ll discharge her. It would be best if she stayed for observation, but they can’t force her.”
“She’ll go home. She always does.”
Violet hesitated to mention the next thing, but she didn’t know how to get around it.
“They called her apartment, but no one answered.”
“He won’t. He’s either passed out drunk or well on the way. If you’re expecting him to show up acting the concerned husband—don’t. He knocks her around. When he breaks a bone, or she loses too much blood, my mother gets herself to the hospital. Sometimes, if it’s the right time of day, a neighbor will help. But Don Benson never stirs his ass out of that apartment. As far as he’s concerned, she made him hit her. She can clean up the mess.”
“Oh, Gaige. I don’t know what to say.” Violet wanted to cry. “No. I do know what to say.”
“Make it fast. I hate long goodbyes.”
“I’m not—” Violet sighed. Idiot. Normally, Gaige was logical and clear-thinking. Instead of waiting for her to speak, he decided she’s breaking up with him? Where had that come from?
Fine, Violet thought. If he wanted it that way, she had no problem turning it back on him. “Are you breaking up with me?”
“What?” Gaige barked. “Why would I do that?”
“That’s how it sounded. I don’t want to say goodbye, Gaige. I want to say that I’m in awe of you.”
“Violet—”
“If this makes you uncomfortable, that’s tough. You will listen. Understood?”
“Understood.”
“Are you laughing at me?”
“Yes, sweetheart. Thank you. A few seconds ago, I wouldn’t have thought it possible.”
Violet smiled. It hadn’t been her intention, but if it lightened his burden, she would let him laugh at her all he wanted.
“I’m about to get gooey, so brace yourself.”
“I’m braced.”
“You amaze me, Gaige Benson. You hear all the time about self-made men. You, my friend, are the walking, breathing, embodiment of it. You didn’t rise above those monsters. You flourished.”
“I’m not unique, Violet. There are people who survived much worse.”
Now, Violet really did want to cry. “That may be the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“I’m one of the lucky ones.”
“Lucky?” Violet let the tears run down her cheeks unchecked. “That would be me. My luck started the day you walked into my hospital room.”
For a while, she had lost it. But it was back. Bigger and better than ever.
GAIGE LOOKED AT the scoreboard. Thirty-six to ten. As the seconds ticked off the clock, it was all he could do not to pump his fist into the air. Son of a bitch. They were headed to the playoffs as the number one seed. It meant they didn’t have to play until the second week—and they had home field advantage. That wasn’t big. It was huge.
The Super Bowl wasn’t a given. But they had put themselves in the driver’s seat. And the view was pretty damn sweet.
“Crack a smile, old man.” Sean slapped him on the back. “We’ve jumped the first hurdle. Let yourself enjoy it.”
The gun went off, and somehow the crowd became louder. Gaige grinned, congratulating his teammates. He scaled back the celebration long enough to jog across the field, shaking the opposing quarterback’s hand. It was a tradition that was sometimes hard to swallow. Grace in the face of defeat never came easily. However, it was part of the game. As was the flip side. He didn’t rub victory in the other man’s face. A brief shake and a few words were all that was necessary.
“Good game,” he said to Derrick Long. And he meant it. Derrick was a good, young QB. Barring injuries, he had a long career ahead of him.
“You too.”
Long made it look good for the cameras, giving his hand one short pump, but there wasn’t an ounce of sincerity in his voice. Gaige knew exactly how the younger man felt. He’d done the obligatory after the game greeting often enough. It felt like shit. Good game actually meant, fuck you.
However, Gaige didn’t spend much time worrying about his opponent’s feelings. This was football. Somebody had to win. Somebody had to lose. He grinned. It felt a hell of a lot better to be the victor.
“Playoffs, here we come.” Logan gave Gaige a sweaty hug, pounding him on the back. �
��If it weren’t for you, I would be watching this while serving beers in Oklahoma.”
“If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t be here. I gave you a boost. You pulled yourself up.”
“Bullshit. It was you. I won’t ever forget that. “ Logan laughed as an overzealous lineman picked him up and ran through the sea of bodies. Just before he disappeared from view, he yelled, “It was you.”
“Crazy bastard.” Sean shook his head, slinging an arm over Gaige’s shoulders. “The press is waiting for your words of wisdom, old man. I already graced channel four with my handsome mug.”
“You’re a tough act to follow,” Gaige said as they walked to the sidelines.
“Don’t I know it. Think you can handle the pressure?”
“I’ll try to muddle through.”
“You do that,” Sean grinned. “Beers at Extra Point?”
“First round’s on me.”
Gaige was turning to greet the reporter when Sean called out, “Logan is right. None of us would be here without you.”
Before he could respond, Sean jogged off the field.
“That’s quite a statement. What’s your response, Gaige?”
Gaige realized the camera was rolling. It wasn’t necessary for him to reach into his repertoire of pat answers—he said what was in his heart.
“We made it here as a team, Calvin.”
“But you are the leader,” the reporter pointed out. “You’ve been here, through good and bad. Your teammates look up to you. You are the face of the franchise.”
“I’m proud to wear this uniform.” Gaige looked into the camera. “What I am is a Seattle Knight.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“WHAT DO YOU think?” Gaige asked, his lips nuzzling her ear.
Eyes closed, Violet swayed to the music’s rhythm. They weren’t dancing as much as holding each other while moving side to side. She had flown in that day just in time for the game, and this was the first time they had the chance for more than a kiss and a quick hello.
“About? The weather? The economy? The teachers’ salaries.” She pretended to ponder the subjects. “Wet. Sad. Pathetic.”
“I can’t argue. But I meant, what do think of the bar?”
After The Fire (One Pass Away Book 3) Page 14
