To Dr Cartwright, A Daughter

by Meredith Webber

  She nodded her agreement and turned her attention back to the work that was still clogging the surface of her desk.

  Fire report first, she reminded herself, and got up to find the correct form in the filing cabinet. Helen would fill in a similar form, as would the fire officer. Katy smiled to herself. One of her recurring nightmares was of Lake Shore North disappearing under a snowstorm of official forms and duplicated paperwork.

  'I'm going down to Cas; there's a pregnant woman who's been involved in a minor traffic accident and the resident on duty is concerned about her. If I don't get back before you're ready to leave, I'll see you upstairs—top floor, first door on the left.'

  He touched her shoulder as he walked past and she felt her skin burn where his fingers had brushed it.

  You can't still love him, she told herself, despair weighing down her heart. He treated you like some worn-out belonging, to be thrust aside as soon as he was finished with it. Where's your pride, girl? Or your instinct for self-preservation?

  By six o'clock she knew she could put off their next meeting no longer. She'd been on the phone to Admin over a hitch in a ward orderly's holiday pay when Jake had come back into the office, picked up the file, and pointed his finger upwards to indicate he was on his way to his temporary abode.

  More reluctant than she'd ever felt, she hesitated a moment longer, then rang Nan and spoke to Julia, needing to shore up her defences against Jake Cartwright.

  'Been busy?' he asked when she finally pushed open the first door on the left and stepped tentatively into a pleasantly furnished sitting room.

  'Always.' She crossed to the window, diverted and delighted by the spectacular view. 'I had no idea the hospital had accommodation up here.'

  The wind had dropped and the sun was setting. The flaring colours in the western sky had turned the lake to a gleaming sheet of red, gold, pink and amber.

  'Remember rowing into the sunset, Katy?' he asked, and she felt her shoulders curl, instinctively forward, as if to protect the soft, vulnerable parts of her body. She'd been thinking of that evening herself, of the soft splash of sound as they'd rowed, and the way the colour had seemed to flow below the surface, following the cuts they'd made as they dug the oars into the water.

  'It was like a different world—the hot colours—fire and blood—claimed as ours—as symbols of our passion and our work.'

  His voice was husky, tempting her to fall in with this nostalgic journey to the past. Her stomach tightened.

  It was one thing to take that walk alone—to remember the good times occasionally. But to do it with Jake? To indulge in an orgy of 'remembers' with him? No way!

  'They don't last long, the colours of sunset,' she pointed out, seeing the rose give way to violet, the orange to a burst of red before fading to darkness. Nor does love, she could have added, but instead she said, 'I think I prefer the lake in daytime.' Her voice was far calmer than her intestines. 'Cool colours—blue and green, muted greys and wind-flecked white. That's when the lake looks most beautiful to me.'

  'What about silvered by the moonlight, Katy?' he tempted, but she refused to play the game. She closed her eyes against this next intruding memory, then opened them to pick out landmarks in the business district of the city at the southern end of the lake.

  'That new tall building is an insurance office,' she said, to make sure he'd got the message that 'let's remember' wouldn't work with her, although her skin and bones belied this thought.

  He muttered a reply, but she refused to speculate what it might have been. Instead, she concentrated on standing upright, keeping calm and studying the city lights, which seemed brighter now the sun had gone.

  Somewhere beyond the stacked lights of the office towers was Lake Shore General, where she had trained and Jake had worked, and beyond that again the arid suburb where she'd grown up—the rented house surrounded by a straggle of grass she'd once tried to turn into a lawn.

  'Do you ever see your father?'

  Damn the man. He'd followed her thoughts as easily as if she'd drawn a map.

  'No,' she said. 'I tried to once, but he made it very clear he still considers me the cause of all the misery in his life.'

  'Still hasn't occurred to him he had something to do with your mother becoming pregnant?'

  The words were spoken lightly, but Katy could remember Jake's disbelief when she'd told him of the life she'd lived, caught between two bitter, warring, unforgiving parents and held responsible for their misery.

  'It doesn't bother me,' she told him.

  'Much!' he teased, and she knew he was probably right. She might have put her childhood behind her, but the experiences of her early years intruded into the choices she'd made as an adult. Especially in regard to bringing Julia up in a single-parent household. Two loving parents might be better than one, but without love...

  She shrugged off his intimated doubt.

  'I rarely think about it,' she told him—and that was the truth. She rarely thought of anything prior to Jake's advent into her life, and she'd already moved out of that depressing suburb by the time she met him, moving north towards the lake—like going up a kind of domiciliary ladder.

  'I live down there now,' she said, and peered downward and to the right. She could almost see the semidetached cottage where she and Julia lived. It was further north again. Not that upward social mobility had persuaded her to buy where she had; she'd chosen the area because it was within walking distance of the hospital and the lake. Paying for it was difficult, but it was the perfect house for her and Julia.

  'Can you see your house?' he asked, moving closer:

  She stepped casually away from him, pretending she was moving to have a better view. Actually, she'd have needed to be an ostrich to see her place from here, but it seemed a reasonable excuse to edge away.

  'No, but I know it's down there.'

  She saw him smile and knew he was remembering how possessive she'd always been over having her own living space.

  'Shift in with me,' he'd said so often in the past. 'This place of yours is smaller than my bathroom.'

  'But it's mine,' she'd argued fiercely. 'My home!'

  More of a home than the houses she'd lived in as a child was what she'd meant. And, back then, he'd come to understand.

  She turned from the window and walked across to sit in one of the easy chairs.

  'Well, tell me what you think of my temporary abode?' Jake waved his hand around his domain. 'They keep the suites for visiting bigwigs—or temporary employees like me.'

  He must have walked up behind her while she was reliving flashes of her life, for his words rustled over her shoulder and her skin tingled again with its acute awareness of his presence. But he'd also switched the conversational tone back to purely business, and for that she was grateful.

  'Must save Old Forbes a fortune in hotel accommodation,' she replied as lightly as she could manage, shrugging off the potency of his body's closeness.

  'Mr Forbes not your favourite administrator?' Jake teased, and she smiled at the question.

  'Actually, I quite enjoy our battles, and I think he feels the same way. If the administration in a hospital this size isn't tight, then money that could be providing better patient service is frittered away. And of course there are the factional fights as well!'

  She could be as businesslike as he.

  'It's the same as any huge organisation,' she explained. 'Every department wants a bigger slice of the pie. Neurology has a top-rate director's assistant. It's a man, and, though I hate to admit it, he's the best in the hospital at wheedling money out of—'

  'Old Forbes?' Jake interrupted, and Katy realised she'd been talking too much—probably to hide her nervousness. Surely he couldn't still affect her like this?

  Couldn't he what!

  'Did you have time to read the file?' she asked abruptly.

  He pointed to the pile of papers on a small table beside one of the room's three easy chairs.

  'I've read the su
mmary of what you want, but haven't had time to read all the supporting documents. What if we order dinner, then go through the summary and you can tell me why each point is important? That way, if I have to discuss it before I finish the documentation, I'll have some basis for argument.'

  He sounded so composed Katy wondered if she'd imagined a different texture in their conversation earlier—a tension fired by one round of 'do you remember?'.

  Or was she keyed up because of that unexpected kiss this morning?

  Or some hidden hope still lingering in her wishful, foolish heart?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The meal arrived as Katy was explaining the concept of 'hot' and 'cold' foods.

  'So "hot" doesn't mean cooked or heated in this context; it means spicy or salty.' Jake poked at his steak as he spoke and grimaced slightly.

  'That's right,' Katy agreed, smiling at the expression on his face. 'And in the context of the canteen kitchen, "medium rare'' means however it comes off the griller. That's why I always have the sausages. There's not much can go wrong with sausages.'

  She thought she'd raise a smile, but he studied her across the table, then frowned instead.

  'I should have taken you out for dinner,' he said, surprising her with the vehemence in the words.

  'Hey, it's a business meal, that's all.' She spoke casually, to hide the flutter of unacceptable excitement in her chest. 'It's more important to get through the work than to have a gourmet dinner.'

  She tackled the sausages and they ate in silence for a while.

  'I'm not so sure,' he said grouchily, still prodding at the steak.

  'I am,' Katy told him firmly, and continued with her explanations. He didn't interrupt, eating absentmindedly while she talked about the adjustments Lake Shore North had already made.

  'The food business has been sorted out. We have so many Asian patients in other parts of the hospital it made sense to employ some Asian cooks. We have menus printed in Chinese and Vietnamese and patients can make their own choices.'

  Katy cut into a sausage. This eating with Jake had a peculiar intimacy, and she had to struggle to keep her mind on the discussion.

  'Menus are easier to sort out than fires under the beds,' he suggested.

  'Why?' she demanded, pushing her fork into the cheesy top of the scalloped potatoes. 'I realise we can't have actual fires, but there are air-conditioning controls in all the rooms and all wards. It's impossible to heat a particular room when the rest of the building is being cooled, but the air-conditioning could be turned right down in the new unit. If we can provide the proper counselling during pregnancy, and make certain the staff allow the women to wear their layers of clothing, there'd be no need for fires.'

  Her meal was plain but good, and she paused to take another mouthful.

  "That's a point.' He finished his steak and pushed his plate away. 'And an argument in favour of keeping these women together in one ward. What else?'

  'Showers!' Katy groaned as she remembered some of the battles she'd fought over the showers.

  'Showers?' Jake echoed.

  She nodded and grinned, her dinner forgotten.

  'You've worked in enough hospitals to know how important the. daily routines are to nursing staff— particularly the cleanliness routine. Can you imagine the nurses' horror when I suggested something as depraved as not forcing these patients to shower?'

  Jake chuckled at her expression of mock-horror. 'Okay, do tell!'

  'It's the hot-cold thing again—or it may, be to do with body humours—but these women believe water—and especially cold water—is to be avoided during the period after the baby's birth. They think showering or bathing too soon after childbirth will bring on arthritic pains in later life, while hair-washing will lead to hair loss. In some cultures the restriction on bathing and hair-washing only lasts a few days, but in others it is for the whole month. The women keep themselves clean by sitting in steam and wiping the perspiration from their bodies. They use aromatic herbs and spices which they believe helps this purification process, but they don't leap out of bed and have a shower every morning.'

  'That must horrify the nurses!'

  'And most other patients,' Katy pointed out. 'Some of the women leave hospital days before they should be discharged because they are either intimidated into showering or because the other patients make them feel dirty. It's a difficult position for staff and patients, but, again, if these women could use a particular ward we could set up a portable sauna or steam bath for them.'

  Jake shook his head, as if bemused by the extent of her knowledge.

  'I can't believe you've gone into it all so thoroughly. What started you on it?'

  'When—' She stopped abruptly, aware she'd almost said, When Julia was born. 'I have a Chinese friend who taught me the language. We used to sit and talk in a mixture of English and Chinese, mostly about the hospital and her experiences having her first baby in Malaysia and her second baby here. I was interested in the differences—'

  'And began to study them? You've done an enormous amount of work to prepare this file.'

  He spoke admiringly but she couldn't take the praise.

  'Most of it was organising other people to write papers,' she told him. 'For example, one of the papers is by a woman doctor. She belongs to the Hmong people, a race of Chinese origin spread throughout South-East Asia.'

  'She was a doctor in this hospital?' Jake asked, and Katy shook her head.

  'I met her when she came to Lake Shore North to have her first baby. She had been educated here, and with her medical training she didn't believe in the old ways. Naturally she didn't "do the month", didn't stay quietly at home with her baby as custom dictates, or avoid water, or keep warm. The baby slept in its own room instead of with her, and she actually hired a nanny and returned to work part-time—'

  'And her hair fell out?'

  It was a gentle tease, not meant to scoff at her explanation, and she smiled at him.

  'No, but she wasn't well. Nothing specific—coughs and colds, aches and pains, general debility—'

  'Which could be the natural result of trying to handle a new baby and a career at the same time,' Jake broke in.

  'Exactly,' Katy pointed out. 'Most customs develop from actual experience. These ancient rules didn't come about by accident. By insisting the woman takes it easy for a month, for whatever reason, it gives her time to recover her strength, establish the baby on the breast and get used to having this little human being dependent on her. Even the bathing restrictions possibly stemmed from a time when the only water in the village could have been contaminated. By avoiding water for a month, the woman lessened the risk of infection for either herself or the baby.'

  'So what happened to your friend?'

  He was leaning forward now, his elbows on the table and his chin propped in his hands. She could see his fingers—long and slim, laced together—and if she lifted her gaze just a little higher she'd meet his eyes.

  She looked towards the window instead, afraid of a growing warmth in the room that had nothing to do with the temperature or the discussion.

  'She had another child almost immediately, but this time she "did the month".' She turned back to him and, seeing the glint of laughter in his eyes, she smiled.

  'No, she didn't roast herself,' she told him, 'but she did stay at home, she did keep warm and she did eat the recommended foods. She's a woman brought up and educated in our Western system, yet she admitted to me that she hoped by doing it properly the second time she might undo any long-term harmful effects caused by her first confinement.'

  He shook his head—disbelieving of the theory yet accepting these concepts he didn't fully understand.

  'I'll fight for your unit, Katy,' he said, in such a gentle voice she was suddenly afraid.

  'Thanks!' she muttered, rising abruptly to her feet. 'Well, I'll get going now and leave you to read through the rest of the stuff.'

  She grabbed her handbag from the coffee table and headed
towards the door.

  'I'll see you tomorrow!'

  'Hey, what's the rush? I was going to offer you coffee—I have a very fancy machine supplied in what they call the "kitchenette".'

  'I'd better go,' she said, barely hesitating in her forward rush.

  'Then I'll see you to your car,' he protested, and she knew she must be imagining the disappointment in his voice.

  'I don't have a car—I w-walk!' she stuttered. He was far too close, the room too small—he was taking all her air again!

  'Then I'll walk with you,' he said firmly, and his hand closed around her arm as he ushered her towards the door.

  They rode down in the lift in silence, but when they crossed the main entrance lobby on the ground floor Katy knew she had to break it. It was constricting her, drawing her closer to Jake, making her feel too familiarly comfortable with him.

  As they stepped out through the front door an ambulance siren ripped through the night. Although it was a common enough sound around her work-place, she never heard one without remembering their background chorus, screaming in and out of the A and E entrance, the night she had sat with Jake while they'd fought to stabilise him.

  'Do you remember much about being brought here after the accident?' She asked the question unthinkingly —a kind of word-association response. And then wished she hadn't!

  'Enough of it, Katy,' he said gravely.

  He took her arm again as they crossed the road and made their way towards the path that led through the park to the lake's edge. It was the path she took when walking to and from work, but he didn't know that. He was steering her that way because they'd walked there in the past and because he had more to say to her than, 'Enough of it, Katy'.

  Something in his voice, or the tension straining from his body, gave her the warning, but she had no idea how she might deflect him from talking of that time. They reached the lake and he drew her towards a seat that faced the moon-silvered waters.

  'You were right, all those years ago, when you accused me of being wild and reckless—of always having to go that one step too far, having to prove something to myself,' he began quietly. 'The wild and reckless bit was tamed, somewhat, but for the rest...'