by Aiden Bates
He thought about going down to obstetrics. He considered explaining his position to Carter. He decided against it. He still blamed Carter for the miscarriage, and if he couldn't accept that he'd caused it then they weren't going to find common ground to rebuild their relationship. It would be better to focus on the things that he could fix.
The next day, he went to the auditors for an update. They were all friendly enough toward him. They didn't lash out on Carter's behalf or anything, so he hadn't badmouthed Finn to them. That was good. "We've made a little bit of progress," Johnston told him. "We've narrowed down the list of possible suspects to someone with general ledger access."
Finn raised an eyebrow. "Why is that?"
The two women auditors exchanged glances, and Wyszniewski put her hand on Freeman's shoulder. "It's because of the way that the culprit tried to hide the thefts, sir. Only someone with access to the GL would have been able to try to sneak the entries into the amortization tables, for examples. We found a series of discrepancies that were all so small that they fell beneath anything that would have triggered a red flag, but they did add up."
"That's right. The balancing entries hit equity accounts that don't get much attention, and again, they were small enough that they wouldn't have tripped any red flags on a routine month-end close. The person who did this was very smart." Wyszniewski folded her lips together.
"So we're looking for an accountant." Finn bit the insides of his cheeks. "Fantastic." Not only was he suddenly without a baby to look forward to, but someone had been skimming from the till ever since he'd taken over at Silver Oak and he'd never even seen it coming. He'd been too distracted by Carter to realize what was going on.
"We're looking for an arrogant accountant." Johnston cracked his knuckles. "We're looking for someone who thinks he's such hot stuff that he can get away with stealing from the company. Can you think of anyone off the top of your head who fits that description?"
Finn ripped his mind away from thoughts of Carter and where everything had gone wrong to focus on the auditor. "All of the accountants are pretty smug. I try to avoid them when I can. I'll be honest, I use their reports, but I try not to get bogged down in there if I can avoid it. If one more of them tries to explain the difference between a debit and a credit to me I think I'm going to deck them."
"They're used to it." Freeman gave him a quick little smile. "They're so used to having to explain it that it just comes pouring out of their mouths sometimes. Anyway, we'll focus the search on the accounting and finance department."
"And of course we'll have to keep up with the regular audit as well." Johnston rubbed at the back of his neck. "We're still trying not to tip the bad guys off, and of course we shouldn't miss the chance to find some economies in an operation as large as this. Yesterday I stopped by your marketing department. You're already the best known and best reputed hospital in the region. Why are you pouring so much into your marketing efforts? Reducing that budget by, say, thirty percent, would go a long way toward making up that shortfall from that lawsuit."
Finn scratched at his beard. "You've got a point," he told Johnston. "I'm just wondering how much I'll have to shell out in special circumstances beyond the budget, for community events the hospital has 'always' covered. I have no idea how they'd be affected by cuts. But hey—just because we've always done them doesn't mean that we can't cut them or find sponsors. Thanks for the recommendation."
"It's like I told you the last time, sir. A place like this, that's been around for such a long time, it's going to have traditions, and processes, that made sense a century and a half ago that don't make a lick of sense now. Did you know that you still have a TB program?"
"Are you kidding me? What is this, 1917?" Finn shook his head. "Where did they bury that one?" He really had stuck his head in the sand while he'd been mooning around over Carter, hadn't he? God, he was an idiot. "We're cutting that."
Freeman cast a concerned glance at her more senior colleagues. "Don't you want to dig a little deeper and figure out why your hospital still has a TB program?"
Finn curled his lip. "As a matter of fact, no. No, I don't. We're not in business to keep an entire department open to look at historical diseases. That kind of work belongs at a research facility, not in a place like Silver Oak. Let the eggheads figure out how people used to get TB back in the days when people still got TB. It's the twenty-first century. We have plenty of other things to worry about beyond bugs that you can prevent with a little bit of antibacterial soap." He threw his hands up in the air and retreated to his office.
Tuberculosis. What else were they going to expect him to pay for, leprosy? The Black Plague? The Plague of Justinian?
He buried himself in work for the rest of the day and only frowned a little bit when he got the notification from the obstetrics chair that Carter had been invited to give the keynote address at some kind of conference in a couple of months. Finn's instinct was to say no, and demand that Dr. Yamashita rescind his approval of the trip, but he forced himself to think rationally.
Carter might be acting like a child over the dissolution of their relationship, but Finn was a grownup. Sending Carter to wherever this thing might be, San Antonio, would be good publicity for the hospital. It would probably be good continuing education for Carter, too. Maybe he'd learn to take some responsibility for his actions and maybe next time some guy wouldn't lose his chance at fatherhood because Carter insisted on risky behavior.
And, of course, it would get Carter away from the hospital.
Finn headed back to his house, where his parents continued to take up more space than they ought. He took them out to dinner at a local Italian restaurant at which Sheila turned up her nose "because you know all of that garlic is bad for your father's heart." Sheila continued to complain while her menfolk sat in silence for a while, until finally Brian interrupted his wife.
"We want you to give us grandchildren. I know you're worried about the money, and that's understandable."
Finn pushed his plate away. "I make four hundred and sixty thousand dollars a year in salary alone, Dad."
Brian scoffed. "Come on, Finn, come on! Who's going to pay you that kind of money? Don't lie to your parents. Come on!" He waved an imperious hand. "I'm trying to have a serious discussion with you! Now, I have worked hard my entire life so that you don't need to worry about money. Your mother and I have decided to take out an advertisement and find you an omega of your own."
Sheila nodded. "We'll make you a generous financial settlement once the wedding takes place, but we want to see that ring on his finger. And once you give us our first grandchild, we'll make you another payment."
Finn fought down bile. "You're not going to put an ad up for me."
"You think you can stop us?" Sheila chuckled and put her hands on her stomach. "Have I got news for you, boyo."
"I think that law enforcement will stop you, Mom. It's illegal to try to pimp someone out like that. Imagine what your priest will say when you get sent up for pandering." He gave his mother his nastiest grin. "You have no idea what I even like in an omega, do you?"
"What does that matter?" Sheila leaned over the table, her eyes wild. "They're just there to make babies. There isn't much difference between them, at the end of the day."
Visions of Paul Geary, surrounded by children and perpetually exhausted, danced before Finn's eyes. "You couldn't be more wrong." Finn snarled. He could feel the eyes of the other patrons on him now. Stares were bad for business, comments were bad for business, but he couldn't stop himself any more than he could stop himself when he'd been fighting with Carter. He did lower his voice, though. "First of all, omegas are actual human beings, not baby-making pets to be used and thrown away when you're done with them. Or when your parents have what they want, whichever."
"Oh good Lord, Finn, you make it sound so vulgar." Sheila recoiled. "Where have you been getting these ideas? You should never have left home."
"Second, I'll have you know that there alm
ost was a baby." Finn bowed his head. "There was an omega—an adult, thank you very much, not some barely-legal kid that you'd dredge up and lure with a payout to his parents—and he was pregnant. It was an accident, but we were trying to make it work."
"Oh really?" Sheila sneered and snatched up her water glass. "Why haven't you brought him over to meet us, then?"
"Because the last thing that I wanted was you poking and prodding at an educated professional, telling him that he was just a baby-making pet, and because there's no point now. He lost the baby." Finn didn't slump in his chair. He didn't even let his face show his pain, even though he could have shown plenty.
"Oh." Sheila, on the other hand, put her glass down. She covered her face with both hands for a moment. "The poor man. He must be a wreck. Why are you here with us instead of out with him, supporting him and showing him that you love and believe in him?"
Finn scoffed. "Believe me. He doesn't need my support. He doesn't even want my support." He sighed. "I did go over there the day after it happened, and I tried to walk him through what happened to see if we couldn't figure out what he'd done wrong. He wasn't willing to take responsibility."
Both Brian and Sheila fixed him with steely glares. "Good God, were you raised by hyenas?" Sheila asked him.
"Just one," Finn shot back. He picked up his wine and sipped it.
Brian growled, just a little bit. "You should be careful what you speak of. You don't know what anyone else has gone through."
Sheila held up a hand. "I had three miscarriages before I had you. I had two after. These things just happen, Finn. They're not anyone's fault, unless the carrier gets hit by a car or something like that. Each one is misery. The poor boy shouldn't have had to go through anything like that alone. I don't know him, but I do know that no one deserves to have blame heaped on him in such a way. I'm ashamed of you, Finn. I'll go to the church and I'll pray for your soul, but I don't know that even the Almighty would have anything to say to you right now."
Brian gave his son a measuring look and turned his head away. "We'll leave in the morning."
Finn scowled. Obviously his parents had their own baggage. His parents were an entire train full of baggage. That didn't make them right. "Fine," he said and signaled to the waitress.
Chapter Twelve
Carter's first week back at work after the miscarriage was routine, or at least as routine as things got in the obstetrics ward. He presided over seven births in that week, with one going to an emergency C-section and two that he urged in the same direction to no avail. Those mothers both experienced severe tearing, but Carter was able to address that with stitches and he expected them to make more-or-less full recoveries.
He presided over his regular round of appointments as though nothing had ever happened. It was easier to do with people who didn't know what had happened. His patients didn't look at him with pity. They just wanted their own fears soothed and their anxieties eased. They wanted to know that their babies were healthy, and for the most part Carter could give them what they asked for. It had been denied to him, but none of this was about him.
He got calls back from the journals he'd reached out to within days. That was unusual for most authors, but the publishers were all personal connections of Carter's. Editing the documents to get them ready for submission gave him something to focus on and took the edge off of his grief. He knew that he would mourn for months if not years, but he wouldn't obsess. He couldn't afford to.
He recovered his strength quickly, and he was sparring again by the middle of his second week after he went back to work. It wasn't always comfortable. He made sure he wore a protective cup, because even when the birth canal closed up again that area still ached, but he couldn't sit around and eat bon bons or whatever. He needed to be physical, to take out his anger on something. Even if that something was himself.
The Monday after he started sparring again, he got to work as always and got himself a cup of coffee. He marched down the hall and settled into his chair when Allen sauntered into the room. "Have you seen the latest?"
Carter lifted his eyebrows and gestured to his laptop, still closed upon his desk. "I'm savoring the moment. It looks like such a little angel when it's sleeping. Besides, we wouldn't want it to overheat in the August sun."
Allen rolled his eyes and opened Carter's laptop. "Finn Riley cut the TB unit."
Carter logged into the network and grabbed his coffee. "He did what?"
"He cut the TB unit. I mean I thought it was bad enough when they raised the AC by five degrees. I mean I'm sweating through a set of scrubs every five hours." Allen pulled at the neck of his scrubs for emphasis and grimaced.
"I know, it sucks, but they're trying to save money for our Imperial Overlords in Cleveland." Carter sipped from his coffee. "I mean, yeah, sometimes it's like an oven in here, but at least they've left the patient rooms alone. They've got to get our blood money from somewhere, I guess."
Allen's lip curled. "Do you have any idea how much I wish that they would just go away? We don't need to turn a profit. A hospital that turns a profit is screwing someone over somewhere. Probably several someones. Anyway, they axed the TB unit."
Carter shook his head. "I can't think of a reason to do that. Sure, that's not a unit that's going to bring in a lot of money, but that's one of those things that's a basic matter of public health, right?"
"I delivered a baby from a woman with TB last night!" Allen grabbed onto his hair and tugged. "Okay, say that this is a cost saving measure. That baby's on the NICU, right now. The mother's on the TB ward, I assume she's being transferred to University. That doesn't change the fact that Silver Oak is still on the hook for that poor baby, who needs to be kept away from the other babies until she tests negative. At four months! I mean honestly, this is going to wind up costing Silver Oak more than keeping the TB ward open."
Carter chuckled into his coffee cup. He didn't care if the chuckle was bitter. "Yeah, well, Riley never did care to hear medical advice. Maybe we'll all get lucky and the obstetrics ward will be transferred wholesale to another hospital."
Allen tilted his head and gave Carter a knowing look. "You don't want that. You love Silver Oak."
"I do." Carter shrugged. "I'd give my right foot to never have to see that man again." Carter was only half lying. He'd have welcomed that leather scent right back into his life if it meant feeling safe and protected like he had once before, but he knew it hadn't been real.
Allen hesitated. "Did he come and give you grief about the time off? Because if he did, I will go to HR. I will go to the EEOC. I will go to the state Attorney General. I'll go to the Supreme Court if I have to, but I'm not going to have you treated this way."
Carter closed his eyes. He couldn't tell the truth. He wanted to tear at Finn. He wanted to see him broken beneath his feet for blaming him for this mess, but he didn't want to do it like this. He wanted Finn to acknowledge that he'd been wrong, not to get him in trouble for violating a rule when Carter had been a willing participant. "We had some words, but they were just words. I think it's a compulsion for him, some kind of verbal tic. It wasn't any kind of big deal." He snorted. That, at least, wasn't a lie. "He just had to assert his dominance."
"I'm sure that got him far with you." Allen smirked. "Seriously, though. He cut the TB unit." He shook his head. "Does he not get how TB works?" He walked out of the office, shaking his head.
Carter ran into Paul Geary on Wednesday, there for an appointment with Allen. He didn't want to see Paul. He didn't want to see this man, who had everything Carter had ever wanted but could never, not in a million years, actually have. Nevertheless, here he was. "Carter!" Paul walked up to him, making sure that Carter couldn't sneak off and pretend he hadn't seen Paul. His smile was fake, and had more than a hint of viciousness to it. "Isn't it amazing? I'm showing already!" He rubbed his hand over his barely-there baby bump.
"That's fantastic, Paul." Carter gave his erstwhile rival a thin little smile. "Everything going o
kay? No problems, no complications?"
"Oh! No, you know me. I'm always healthy as a horse when it comes to pregnancy." Paul gave an affected little titter. For a second, Carter wondered if Paul had somehow found out about his miscarriage, but how? How would he have heard? "You haven't been by the house in a while. The kids miss you."
Guilt warred with resentment in Carter's soul. Sure the kids missed him, and he felt guilty for avoiding anything to do with kids. That didn't mean that Paul didn't have a view toward child-free nights with his comment. After all, Paul hated the fact that his kids loved Carter. He'd never made any secret of that fact. "I do miss them. It's a shame that the job keeps me so busy."
"Is it just the job?" Paul sniffed and stood closer to Carter. "I could have sworn that you had a new guy waiting in the wings."
"Paul, that's not an appropriate discussion for the workplace." Or anyplace else, Carter added silently.
"Of course." Paul smirked. "How silly of me. Who'd want a used up old thing like you anyway? My mistake. Take care now." Paul waved and strutted out of the office, leaving Carter seething and several nurses gaping behind him.
