The Doctor She Always Dreamed Of

by Wendy S. Marcus

  “Hey,” Derrick said, reaching over to lift her chin. “I liked it better when you were smiling.”

  “Sorry.” Kira forced out a smile. “Everything’s delicious.”

  “So you said already,” Mr. Limone pointed out.

  “Dad,” Derrick cautioned. “Stop it. You promised to be nice.”

  Even though he’d apologized and seemed to appreciate what she’d done for Daisy, he wasn’t near as warm to her as he’d been prior to finding out that Kira the nurse and Miss Peniglatt were the same person. Obviously he still thought she’d only done what she’d done because his son “the doctor” had called her.

  “It’s okay,” she told Derrick. “He’s right. I did already say that.” For sure she would not be saying it again. Kira focused in on eating. The sooner she was done the sooner she could leave the table and busy herself cleaning the kitchen. That’d been the deal. They’d cook while she sat with Daisy and after dinner she would clean up.

  An awkward silence fell over the table.

  Kira felt awful. Her presence was ruining Derrick’s time with his family.

  She should have insisted he take her to a motel.

  “Ouch!” Mr. Limone jerked back his right hand. “Damn it, woman. You know how I hate that.”

  Daisy simply stared at her plate.

  Derrick smiled. “Mom rarely yells,” he said.

  Mr. Limone added, “But she sure as heck lets you know when she’s not happy with you.”

  “One way she does it is with a quick, hard pinch,” Derrick explained.

  “Which it turns out she can do just as good with her left hand as with her right.” Mr. Limone rubbed his right forearm.

  Daisy gave Kira a droopy yet satisfied half-smile as she slid her left hand across the table, palm up. Kira took her hand and smiled back as Daisy gave her a tight squeeze. Kira wished she could have met this sweet woman before the stroke.

  Easy as that, the mood around the table changed.

  Derrick said, “She’s a sneaky pincher. You never saw it coming.”

  “Got the boys’ attention, that’s for sure,” Mr. Limone said. “Even when they was bigger and faster, they never ran from her.”

  “Because she’d only get us later on,” Derrick said. “At the dinner table or just as we were about to fall asleep.”

  Daisy said, “Nooooooo.”

  “Oh, yes, you did,” Derrick said, with love in his eyes. “But only when we deserved it.”

  Daisy nodded. “Deeeserrrrrrrr...”

  Turning to look at Kira, Mr. Limone asked, “So what’d your mama do to keep you in line?”

  “She’d said, ‘Family takes care of family.’” If Kira complained about having to watch Krissy instead of getting to play with her friends, her mother would say, “Family takes care of family.” If she tried to get out of helping Aunt Bernice—who was overweight and on oxygen and moved slower than a sloth—at the grocery store her mother would say, “Family takes care of family.” Mom said those words and lived by them until she no longer could. Then it was Kira’s turn.

  Daisy gave her hand another squeeze. Kira blinked back into the present, needing some distance from this happy family time. “I’m sorry,” she said, pushing back her chair. “Please excuse me.” She stood. “I, um.” She looked down and met each of the three pairs of eyes staring up at her. “I’m not feeling so well.” She put her hand over her stomach for effect.

  “Hope it wasn’t my steaks,” Mr. Limone said.

  “No. Of course not. Everything was delicious.” She stopped, realizing what she’d just said, unable to keep from smiling.

  “So you said already.” Mr. Limone smiled too.

  They’d come full circle.

  “I’m just going to,” she pointed to the stairs, “lie down for a few minutes. Call me when you’re done and I’ll clean up.” Without waiting for a response she turned and all but ran up the stairs.

  Kira had just sat down on the bed when there was a knock on the door. Derrick hadn’t waited long before coming after her. She didn’t answer, hoping he’d go away, embarrassed by her behavior. When had she become so inept at interacting with people face-to-face? At leaving the past where it belonged, in the past? At keeping her private life private?

  The door opened. “You okay?” Derrick asked.

  Such a nice guy.

  “Sorry.” She turned to face the doorway. “It’s been a while since I’ve sat down to a family dinner. It brought back...” Emotion clogged her throat. She tried to clear it. “...memories.” She shook her head. “I don’t belong here. I think you should take me to a motel.”

  He walked in and sat down beside her. “I’m not taking you to a motel.”

  “Fine. I’ll call a taxi.” She hesitated. “You do have taxis in this town, right?” She couldn’t recall seeing any when she’d been on her jog earlier.

  He thought for a few seconds then his full, kissable lips turned into a slow, sexy smile. “Nope.” He shook his head. “No taxis in this town. You’re stuck here.”

  No she wasn’t. Even if he was telling the whole truth, which she didn’t believe he was, after all the time they’d spent together, she was ninety-eight percent certain if she insisted, he’d take her wherever she wanted to go. But even though she probably should leave and give Derrick uninterrupted time with his parents, she’d lied earlier. While a nice long hot bath would be lovely, Kira ate too many turkey sandwiches, drank too many chilled glasses of wine without being in the company of others, and spent too many anything but blissful hours alone...with Mom, which, most of the time, was pretty much the same as being all alone.

  He leaned over and bumped her playfully with his muscular shoulder. “We’ll have fun.”

  God Kira needed a night of fun.

  And tonight, if you offer, I promise I won’t turn you down.

  Oh, no. She jumped off of the bed, needing some distance between her and Derrick. “Fun doing what?” She turned on him. “I have no intention of having sex with you. Last night was a one-time offer.” Made to a stranger, a man she’d never see again. But one day later, Derrick knew too much about her and she knew too much about him and his family. She’d actually started to like him, damn it. Sex now would...complicate things. Emotions complicated things. And Kira’s life was complicated enough.

  Derrick stood, too. “We’ll have fun drinking and talking, drinking and roasting marshmallows for s’mores. Then we’ll play drunk horseshoes and drunk cornhole in the glow of a roaring bonfire.” He walked over to where she stood, looking out the window.

  “I’m sensing a theme here.”

  He positioned himself close behind her. “Long time ago I learned, the most boring activities turn fun when you’re under the influence of alcohol.”

  “Good to know.”

  “Drunk stargazing to find the constellations.”

  It all sounded fun.

  He stepped in even closer, pressing his front to her back, too close, and leaned down, placing his mouth close to her ear as he whispered, “Drunk sex.”

  She turned her head slightly, trying to see his face. “Are you saying sex with you is boring and I’ll need alcohol to make it fun?”

  “What?” He jerked back. “Hell no.”

  Such a male response. “Doesn’t matter, because it’s not going to happen.”

  He turned on the charm, leaning in close again. “I bet I can get you to offer again.”

  Kira wasn’t sure if it was his hot, moist breath hitting an over sensitive spot or the intent of his words, but a very pleasant tingle shot through her. Even so she countered, “I bet you can’t.”

  “If I can’t,” he stepped back, starring down at her, so serious, “we both lose.” Then, without giving her a chance to respond, he turned and walked toward the door
. “Come on. I’ll help you clean the kitchen.”

  * * *

  A few hours later, after Kira had helped Daisy with some physical therapy exercises, reviewed a pack of cue cards as part of her speech therapy, and helped her get ready for bed, she followed Derrick down the back steps into the backyard. “I don’t get it,” he said, carrying a heavy cooler filled with ice and booze like it was nothing. “You’re so good with my mother. You obviously enjoy hands-on patient care and you’re damn good at it. Watch this last step.”

  While the light up by the back door was on and the flames blazing in the fire pit lit up part of the large yard, there was about twenty feet of total darkness between the two.

  Derrick stopped and turned, waiting for her. “Take my arm.”

  How gentlemanly. Shifting the old comforter he’d given her to carry into her right hand, she held on to him with the left.

  “Why would you want to spend your days in an office setting,” he asked. “Making difficult decisions about patients you never see, being front and center in the ongoing battle between patients and their insurance carriers?”

  The answer was easy enough. “I needed something with regular hours, Monday through Friday. It’s too hard to schedule aides for Mom around a changing twelve hour shift schedule or on call responsibilities where I’d have to go out and see patients. WCHC pays me good money, which I need to cover all the stuff Mom’s insurance doesn’t pay for.” But lately she’d begun to wonder if her large salary was worth all the aggravation. “Plus I like the business side of health care.”

  As they got closer to the fire, when Kira could see the grass under her feet again, she let go of Derrick’s arm. “Nurse case managers get a bad rap.” When he stopped, she dropped the blanket next to where he’d set the cooler. Then she picked up the cloth bag holding one of the collapsible chairs Derrick must have carried out earlier when he’d made the fire, dumped it out and opened it up. “Yes, we’re fiscally responsible to our employer, but we’re nurses first. Our priority is seeing that our patients get the quality care they need but in a cost effective manner.”

  “Your company makes money by limiting the care your patients receive,” Derrick said, setting up the other chair.

  A common misperception, Kira sat down, reached into the cooler and took out a beer. “My company makes money when our patients remain healthy. About half of my case managers are assigned to health maintenance only, reminding patients to get their physical exams and take their medications, have their blood pressure and blood sugar levels checked on a regular basis.”

  She twisted off the top and handed the beer to Derrick.

  He took it and sat down beside her. “Thank you.”

  “We want our patients to be well cared for and maintained safely in their homes. Decubiti cost money. Falls resulting in fractured hips or other injuries cost money. Injury or worsening health in the primary caregiver, whether or not that primary caregiver is our client, costs money, because if they’re not able to care for the patient it usually means admission to an inpatient facility which is almost always more expensive than maintaining someone in their home.” Facts she’d presented to Mr. Jeffries over and over again yet he remained focused only on the cost of care.

  Derrick handed her a single serve bottle of chardonnay and a wineglass. “My mom and dad were left on their own for three days, Kira. Three days.”

  She felt terrible about that. “We’re not perfect. We’ve got new management focused on cost containment above all else. I’m doing my best to correct the problems as they’re brought to my attention while also trying to get my boss to understand...” She twisted the top off of the bottle and poured it into her glass. “You know what? I don’t want to talk about it. You promised me a night of fun, and talking about my work is not fun.”

  “You’re right.” He held up his beer. “To a night of fun.”

  She tapped it with her wineglass. “To a night of fun.” And tonight, if you offer, I promise I won’t turn you down. Lord help her, she needed to stop thinking about that. Kira stared into the dancing flames. “This is my first bonfire.”

  “What do you think so far?”

  “It’s beautiful.” Peaceful. Relaxing. She took a sip of wine.

  “So tell me more about you,” Derrick said.

  “Like what? You already know about my work and my family. What else is there?”

  He took a swig of beer. “First kiss.”

  Kira had to think. “Mattie Furlander, tenth grade, during gym class, beneath the bleachers.”

  “Missy Kerjohnson,” Derrick said. “Sixth grade, down by the water tower.”

  “Sixth grade?” Kira laughed. “You sure got an early start.”

  Derrick smiled. “I’d started chasing after her in the fifth grade. She didn’t let me catch her until the sixth.”

  He was so handsome in the firelight, so confident and comfortable with himself, probably never felt the need to put on airs or suck up to people, like Kira had to do on a pretty regular basis these days.

  “Age when you lost your V-card?” he asked, leaning back in his chair, balancing on two legs.

  “My what?”

  “Your virginity.”

  “That’s a little personal, don’t you think?”

  “Come on. Play along. I was fifteen. She was seventeen with a pretty easy reputation, if you know what I mean.” He winked. “It happened in the backseat of her car and a guy I didn’t know she’d been seeing at the time beat the crap out of me afterwards.” He took another swig of beer then smiled. “But damn, it’d been worth it.”

  Kira threw her little wine bottle at him. Too bad it was plastic...and empty.

  He caught it mid-air. Impressive reflexes. “Your turn.”

  Fine. “Unlike you, I waited until college. Freshman year.” She took a sip of wine. “There were candles and soft music.” It’d been perfect. But Danny had been looking for a fun-loving college girlfriend, not one responsible for her angry and rebellious fourteen-year-old sister and her brain-injured mother, which didn’t leave much time left over for fun. So he’d dumped her, same as every other boyfriend she’d had. Same as her dad had dumped her mom. For being responsible. For taking care of her family. Lesson learned. Now Kira made it a point not to get emotionally attached to men, she glanced over at Derrick, which was easier said than done sometimes.

  “Ice cream,” he said. “Favorite flavor. Mine’s coffee. Preferably with nuts.”

  Happy to move on, Kira answered, “I’m not all that particular as long as it’s covered in hot fudge.”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere.” Derrick finished off his beer. “Drink up, slow poke.” He pointed to her almost full glass. “We can’t start the fun stuff until we’ve got at least one drink in us or it won’t be fun.”

  Kira sucked down two big swallows.

  “Atta girl. Favorite type of music.”

  “Anything that isn’t rap.”

  “I like some country and rock. I used to play drums in a band.”

  Of course he did. “I used to play the cello.” A loud POP came from the fire pit. Kira jumped.

  “Relax, City Girl. Nothing out here’s gonna hurt you. And the fire should keep the skunks away.”

  “The what?” Kira finished off her wine for fortification then looked around. “Skunks? For real?”

  Derrick didn’t address her concern for skunks. Instead he laughed and said, “Sports,” as he reached into the cooler.

  “I think we should talk more about skunks.” Kira lifted her feet onto the chair like an idiot, as if a bite to the lower extremities was the worst a skunk could do.

  “Don’t worry.” He leaned in and patted her knee. “I’ll protect you.” Then he sat back. “I played baseball throughout high school.”

  Based on all the trophie
s in his bedroom, he must have been pretty good at it.

  “Debate team,” Kira said, reaching into the cooler for another mini bottle of wine. “Science club. Interact.” Her hand settled on a large glass bottle, not the right shape to be one of Derrick’s beers. She pulled it out and held it up to the fire. “Southern Comfort?”

  “There’s some cut up limes in a baggie in there too.” He motioned to the cooler with his beer.

  “Boy, while I was working with your mom you were pretty busy.”

  “While I wasn’t in the science club, like you, because in my school, guys got beat up for stuff like being in the science club, I like science.”

  Which explained the periodic table on the back of his bedroom door.

  “And tonight,” he continued. “I’d like to conduct an experiment.”

  “With Southern Comfort.”

  He nodded. “Last night it took two glasses of wine and three shots of Southern Comfort with lime, in under two hours, to get you to come on to me.”

  Wow. He’d been watching her more closely than she’d thought.

  “Based on that,” he said. “I’ve created a hypothesis.”

  “Oh, you have, have you?” This she had to hear.

  “Yes I have. If Kira drinks two glasses of wine and three shots of Southern Comfort in under two hours, she’ll come on to me again tonight.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” To be honest, if circumstances were different, she’d like it too.

  “Yes, I would,” he said sincerely. “But only to prove my hypothesis.”

  Right. “Have you considered all the possible variables? Like tonight I have a nice big dinner in my belly while last night I’d only eaten some peanuts and pretzels. That may negatively affect the outcome of your experiment.”

  “But tonight,” he countered, “I’ve got a nice romantic atmosphere on my side.” He motioned to the fire pit with one hand and up to the starry sky with the other. He had a point. “Plus, you like me.”

  So sure of himself. “You think so?”

  He smiled. “I know so.”

  “Well you’re wrong.” No he wasn’t. “I can barely tolerate you,” she lied, liking him a little too much.