Return of the Rebel Surgeon

by Connie Cox

  “You’ll need surgery. The sooner the better. And physical therapy.”

  “I can’t afford all that.” Ernest took a deep, soulful breath. “Music is my bliss, Doc. But without my shoulder working, I can’t make music. And without my bliss, I have no life.”

  Cole flexed his own hand. “Let me see what I can do.”

  The sports clinic had picked up the tab for Heath. Lassiter Hand and Wrist Institute would do the same for Ernest if Dr. Lockhart would perform the operation. Two charity cases. Two opportunities to give back. It was a good way to begin a partnership.

  The alarm on Cole’s watch beeped, reminding him that he needed to pick up Adrian in fifteen minutes. Where had the morning gone?

  His admiration for Bella was growing by leaps and bounds, as was his determination that he would make life easier for her from here on out.

  How could he do that from New York?

  The merger was based on certain people being in certain places. How hard would it be to relocate to New Orleans?

  How often would he be in town even if he moved?

  And, in the end, would Bella even want him around all the time? She had made it very clear that she based all her decisions on him being a temporary part of her life. At this point she had good reason to.

  He swung by the cafeteria, picked up the supersize subway sandwich and two apples he hoped to share and went in search of Bella.

  He found her in the physical therapy department, jotting down notes between patients.

  “Cole—Dr. Lassiter,” she corrected herself. “I saw your fireman this morning, the one your office called my office about.”

  She sounded professional and distant, as if they hadn’t shared the weekend of a lifetime together. While Cole understood the division between home and hospital—he had dated plenty of medical professionals—he hadn’t been prepared for the formal attitude from Bella.

  “I know.”

  “As you know, I was out of the office most of last week and my policy is that I don’t take business calls when I’m out as I reserve my free time for my son. So I didn’t get the message personally delivered by the hospital director until I checked my business voicemail last night. That’s quite some weight you pull, Dr. Lassiter.”

  Usually Cole would take that as a compliment, but from Bella’s tone Cole knew that was not what Bella had intended.

  “Thank you, Isabella, for taking on Heath as a patient.”

  “All it took was rescheduling existing patients, making arrangements with David to get Adrian onto his bus on time this morning and coming in two hours early. Who needs sleep anyway?” The dark circles under Bella’s eyes underscored her legitimate complaint.

  Cole understood so much more about Bella than he had when he’d made that call. In this case he’d earned the cliché of arrogant doctor. He’d justified his high-handedness as being what was best for the patients but had never given a thought about the personal lives of those he ordered around. Bella was showing him a bigger world.

  “Point taken.”

  “Perhaps next time you could use some of your formidable influence to have the hospital staff add an additional CBT. But, then, after this week there won’t be a next time, will there?”

  He wanted to say, yes, he was here to stay. But the partnership merger wasn’t formalized yet. And he was about to make the details shaky—especially those pertaining to him and his base location—and he had no right to reveal confidences.

  Secrets. He was really beginning to hate them.

  * * *

  After Cole left, Isabella munched on the apple Cole had left her, making herself eat even when her nervous stomach protested. She had to keep her health up to be a good mother.

  Gloria, a physical therapist Isabella often worked with, walked into the break room, puzzlement in her eyes. “Was that Dr. Lassiter?”

  “Yes.” How much had Gloria overheard?

  Isabella hated the sharp tone she had used with Cole. She hadn’t meant to. Only all her fears had come to the surface as she’d realized she was trusting this man with her son.

  And she wanted to trust him with her heart.

  Gloria shuffled through the plastic containers in the refrigerator, coming up with her own bowl of salad. “You were really putting him in his place, weren’t you? You go, girl!”

  Apparently, Gloria had heard enough.

  “I guess I did.” Isabella gave her a sheepish

  smile as she unwrapped the sandwich Cole had brought her—the sandwich she hadn’t even thanked

  him for. She never did that, never had a lapse of manners. But, then, she’d never before let loose on a doctor like she’d just let loose on Cole. What was Cole doing to her?

  She gave Gloria a wink. “I hope I didn’t bruise his ego.”

  “Don’t worry. There are plenty of women on staff who’ll be more than glad to kiss him and make him feel better.” Gloria shook the almost empty bottle of salad dressing, trying to squeeze out the last little bit.

  Isabella couldn’t keep herself from asking, “Which ones?”

  That stopped Gloria in midmotion. “You’re interested in him, aren’t you?”

  She wanted to deny it, but now that she had acknowledged him, at least to her family, as Adrian’s

  father, denial felt too much like hypocrisy. Besides, her blush gave her away without a word. “We’ve got past history together.”

  Saying it aloud felt so freeing.

  “Oh?” Obviously, Gloria wanted to hear more but Isabella took an extra-large bite of her sandwich to keep from talking.

  And Gloria was intuitive enough to change the subject. “You’re sticking around for lunch today? Is Adrian okay?”

  Gloria always took a passing interest in Adrian. Many times Isabella sensed that she and Gloria could become good friends—if only she had the time.

  “I’ve made other arrangements.” She was so used to being independent. But she could really use a reassuring platitude or two right now. “I’m letting someone else take Adrian to speech therapy today and I’m worried about how he’ll react to the change in his routine.”

  “Probably like we all react to change. We’re uncomfortable at first then we decide it’s not nearly as bad as we thought it would be.” Gloria gave her a sympathetic smile. “My daughter had her first sleepover at a friend’s house the other night. I have to confess, I cried after I dropped her off, then cruised around the block for at least fifteen minutes in case she called, wanting me to pick her up and bring her home.”

  “At least you didn’t hide in the bushes and peek in the windows. That’s what I would have done.”

  Gloria gave her a grin. “Who says I didn’t?”

  “Thanks. It helps to know I’m not alone in this overprotective motherhood thing.”

  Gloria nodded. “My husband had a hard time sympathizing with me. I think that’s where men balance us out. While it might bother them just as much to let our children spread their wings, they see it as inevitable and just do it.”

  “With Adrian’s autism, I worry more.”

  “Maybe it just feels that way. All our kids are special in their own ways. We all worry.” Impulsively, Gloria have her a little hug. “I’ve gotta run, but call me sometime. We’ll get together and commiserate—or laugh at ourselves, whichever fits at that moment.”

  “I will. Thanks.” Yes, Isabella needed to make time for friends. She needed to make a life for herself.

  She had Cole to thank for giving her the opportunity to realize that about herself.

  As Isabella munched the half sandwich Cole had brought her, she wished she could have that conversation all over again.

  Her nerves were frayed, and Cole was the cause, but that was no reason to take out her frustrations on him.

  She grinned to herself, thinking of how well he had satisfied her frustrations in bed—which made her wish they could have another night together—which made her frustrated all over again.

  Thankfully, she
had her work to lose herself in, although she had to take extra care to keep her unsettled attitude out of the patients’ sessions.

  A few days. She could be flexible for a few days while Cole and Adrian bonded.

  In fact, if she tried really hard, she might even enjoy herself.

  Before she changed her mind, she made a phone call to the manicurist on the corner to schedule the basics. She wasn’t sure what she would trim from the budget, but she would make the money stretch.

  Would Cole come through with the financial support he had promised? Yes, she was sure he would. She had no reason to trust him, but she did. Then again, throwing money at a problem when there was plenty to throw was fairly easy and required little commitment—or so she remembered from days gone by.

  “Hello, Suzette? I would like to make an appointment, please. Let’s go with a manicure, okay?”

  A sense of well-being flooded through her. For once she was following her own advice and taking care of herself.

  And she knew, deep down, she didn’t need to worry about Adrian while she was being pampered. Cole would take good care of their son.

  Sure, she left Adrian in David’s care, but she always felt beholden, knowing David was doing her a favor despite his protests that he didn’t mind at all.

  Truthfully, while David couldn’t be a better friend, he had never felt like Adrian’s surrogate father.

  Leaving Adrian in Cole’s care felt different—like he was doing his share instead of a favor. She felt no guilt, only the slightest apprehension. Cole might not handle parenting the way she would, but Adrian would be safe and nurtured.

  She redialed the number for Suzette. “This is Isabella Allante again. Could we add a pedicure, too, with a hand and foot massage?”

  Smiling with satisfaction, Isabella hung up the phone.

  Thanks to Cole, her bad mood was now completely gone.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ON THE drive home, Isabella couldn’t stop looking at her fresh pearl-pink nail polish. She felt guilty yet exhilarated for the hour she had stolen from her busy day to be pampered. When had the last time been she had done something solely to delight herself instead of for someone else? She couldn’t remember. Having her nails done made her feel like her own person again, instead of a mother, or a therapist, or a volunteer.

  Through the open windows of her home Isabella inhaled the scent of shrimp and butter and garlic balanced by the tangy odor of tomatoes and okra with a sweet sidenote of banana pudding. She breathed in, savoring the aroma.

  But why was it so quiet? Her house was never quiet at this time of day. Adrian always had televisions blaring in at least three different rooms.

  But she heard no noise from those open windows, no blasting of a video on the television, just a calm that she had never associated with her home before.

  A thousand scenarios rolled through her mind, all of them involving ambulances. She swung open the door, expecting to see vestiges of chaos.

  Instead, sitting on the couch, side by side, were the two main men in her life, Cole and Adrian. Cole was reading aloud from the book in his lap while Adrian held his own book and a new oversize stuffed animal, a snarling wolf.

  Cole glanced up over his glasses—since when had he worn glasses?—and winked. “Almost done here. There’s a bottle of wine chilling in the kitchen. Pour us both a glass, okay? And there’s grape juice in the fridge for Adrian.”

  Stunned, Isabella did as she was told, bringing the drinks in on a tray.

  Cole raised his glass to her. “Truce?”

  She clinked glass on glass. “Truce.”

  By the time they had drunk to their armistice, Adrian was rocking and flapping, upset with the interruption of his story.

  “Please, continue,” she told Cole, before Adrian went into meltdown mode.

  She settled into her favorite chair and watched in amazement as Cole read the manga version of Call of the Wild to her son, who sat still enough to listen.

  Adrian had his own copy of the book. He studied the pictures, flipping pages when Cole did. Every time Cole said the word “wolf”, Adrian would pat the toy wolf tucked under his arm.

  As Cole finished up the last few pages of the book, Isabella leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, letting the baritone of his voice roll through her.

  Would this be her life if she and Cole were married? Evenings of contentment followed by nights of...

  She took a sip of wine as she allowed her imagination to flow. Nights of lovemaking so wild she and Cole would end up totally relaxed, totally spent and thoroughly connected so far beyond the physical they could read each other’s thoughts and feelings.

  She wanted that dream so badly it made her ache inside to know it could never be. Cole would be going back to New York by the end of the week. She’d heard it all over the hospital today even though he hadn’t told her yet.

  “‘The End.’” He closed the book with a snap. “Now let’s eat.”

  “That was...” Words failed Bella.

  “That was our third time through tonight. I think we’ve outgrown Thomas the Train.” Cole smiled, quite pleased with himself, then stood and headed toward the kitchen.

  Isabella had never gotten Adrian to sit still long enough for even one reading of Thomas the Train, and now her baby was listening to Jack London.

  She felt...inadequate. It wasn’t a pretty feeling.

  Books for Adrian were few and far between in her house, except for picture books specially designed to aid his communication skills. She hadn’t upgraded Adrian’s reading material since those early toddler books because she’d seen no need. He had no interest in books—at least, he never had before now—and he’d never sat still enough to listen, no matter how hard she’d tried.

  When had been the last time she’d tried? Between her work and Adrian’s school and therapy sessions and her father’s care at the nursing home, she barely had time to keep their clothes clean and their bellies full. The phrase “bad mother” came to mind.

  In her small kitchen with her small dining table, she dodged and swerved, trying to avoid brushing against Cole. Still, whether they touched or not, she felt too much awareness, too much remembrance of being touched, stroked, loved.

  No, not loved. Cole had given her no indication that he loved her. Forgiveness was not love. But it was a start.

  Isabella sighed as she grabbed a handful of silverware from the drawer. There was no starting with Cole. Only ending. And the sooner they ended this unidentifiable thing between them, the better. Cole was here to get acquainted with his son. That was all he’d asked for. That was all she’d allowed for.

  Robotically, Isabella set out plates, forks and knives while Adrian stuffed napkins into napkin rings, her monogrammed linen and sterling reminders of days gone by. From the corner of her eye she watched as he processed three place settings instead of two.

  He moved the napkin and ring at his plate to Cole’s and then back to his before going to the linen drawer and retrieving another napkin ring and napkin.

  With a triumphant grin he looked at her for approval. Normally, she would have made a big deal of this new breakthrough in flexibility, but today she just gave him a discreet nod, sensing Adrian wouldn’t want his father to think he didn’t always make these kinds of adjustments.

  Yes, she hated to admit it, but Cole had been right. She had fallen into a rut with Adrian, not stretching his boundaries or pushing his comfort zone.

  What would happen when Cole went away? She knew she wouldn’t be able to fill in the holes he would leave. Would Adrian regress? Would she?

  Bella took another sip of wine. She would survive like she always did, one day at a time—one second at a time if need be.

  And she would do what she could for her son.

  Somehow, tonight, she didn’t feel as responsible for Adrian’s emotional state as usual. That felt both selfish and exhilarating—and right. A mother shouldn’t always identify with her son’s emotions, even if
that son had emotional as well as developmental issues.

  Bella stood on tiptoe to grab a serving dish from a top shelf. Cole reached over her, his body pressed against hers, to snag the plate for her.

  As he handed it to her, their hands touched and she pulled back, dropping the dish.

  She flinched as it hit the floor, but it stayed intact. Cole gallantly scooped it up, this time holding on to it himself, and dished up the gumbo from the pot on the stove.

  Once he put it on the table, he turned to her.

  “Something wrong?” Cole rubbed his neck, looking askance.

  She realized she’d been staring at him. “No. Everything’s fine. More than fine. Everything looks wonderful.” She was babbling. Taking a breath, she asked, “Does your neck ache?”

  “A bit.” The way his eyes darted away from hers, she could tell he hurt more than just a bit. Ironic how father and son communicated in the same way, even though they’d never met until now.

  She should have tried harder—or at least kept trying through the years. But looking back did none of them any good.

  Cole held her chair as she took her seat, a nicety that made her feel even more awkward in her own kitchen.

  As she picked up her spoon to eat, she said, “I took advantage of you being with Adrian and I stopped on my way home and got my nails done.”

  “I noticed.”

  “Really?”

  “I’m a hand doctor. I notice hands.” He picked up his own spoon. “Yours fascinate me.”

  “Why?”

  He leaned in close, his voice deep and his eyes black and intense. “Because I know what they can do.”

  “Don’t.” She pulled back, taking a deep sip of wine. “We’re not a couple. We can’t be a couple. You’ll be leaving soon and—”

  “And?” He studied her until she squirmed. “What if I weren’t leaving?”

  “And what if pigs flew?” She dragged her spoon through her gumbo. “I thought we called a truce.”

  “But we weren’t fighting.”

  “We soon will be if I get any hungrier.” She forced her tone to sound like playful banter then dropped the pretense. “I’m on too much of an emotional roller coaster to play games with you, Cole. And we’ve got Adrian to consider.”