Heart's Desire

by Lanigan, Catherine

  But since Sarah’s engagement to Luke Bosworth, she had come back to life, and her effervescent spirit was bubbling over with enthusiasm.

  “This time my drawings are nearly perfect,” Sarah reassured her. “I’m totally confident about this presentation.”

  Maddie beamed. “That’s great to hear, Sarah.” This was her friend’s first project since her boss, interior designer Charmaine Chalmers, had laid her off a year ago.

  “I’m in such a different place than I was last year at this time. When I look back at the work I did then, I don’t blame Charmaine for kicking me to the curb. Thank goodness it was only temporary.”

  Maddie followed Sarah to the door. “You had lost both your parents in a very short period of time. You left Indianapolis and that great architecture job. It was a lot of change. Too much change in a couple short years. Then taking care of your mother before she died. That’s heartbreaking and physically exhausting. But you’re an inspiration to us all. Like the ‘comeback kid,’ Sarah. I’m so happy for you.”

  The two women walked over to Maddie’s black Yukon, which served as her delivery van. Maddie had emblazoned both sides of her SUV with her phone number, website, email, Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter accounts in gold lettering. Sarah put the boxes in the back end of the SUV. “Speaking of mothers,” she said. “How is your mom?”

  “We don’t speak. You know that. She lives her life with her cigarettes and television reruns and I push for my dreams. Two different universes.” Maddie shrugged her shoulders flippantly. “Doesn’t matter.”

  “It’s just sad, is all,” Sarah said.

  “Not really. Your mother was more of a real mother to me than Babs, whose biggest regret is that she gave birth to me. Babs will be bitter till the day she dies because my father had already picked out a new girlfriend before she even told him she was pregnant. She blames him and me for the fact that she never finished high school. She should have stuck to cheerleading and she knows it.”

  Sarah squinted accusingly at Maddie. “The real truth is that your mother has been jealous of you since you were in a training bra.”

  “Check.” Maddie nodded. “She thinks I’m too entrepreneurial, not that she could spell or define it. And the she hates the fact that I’m perfectly happy without a rich husband who would pay her bills so she could sit around and smoke more cigarettes and watch more innocuous television.”

  “I guess it really is best you don’t see her much.”

  “It took me a long time to face the fact that my mother just doesn’t like me. Enlightenment is knowing when to let go. I let go of her a long time ago, Sarah.” Maddie hugged Sarah quickly. “Beat it, or you’ll be late.”

  “Deal,” Sarah said and rushed off to her car. “Don’t forget, we’re meeting at four-thirty at Bride’s Corner to choose my wedding dress!”

  “It’s burned into my brain!” Maddie waved as Sarah got into her Envoy and drove off. Maddie turned her attention to the red sandstone of the clock tower on the county courthouse as the dawn rays struck the beveled-glass windows.

  “Valentine’s Day,” Maddie whispered. “A moneymaker day.” She smiled, then felt her smile drop off her face like icing off a cake when it’s been sitting in the sun too long. For the first time in over a decade, Maddie remembered that Valentine’s Day was a day for love.

  She’d received beautiful flowers a few days ago, which was a first for her. Alex had even called her last night to make certain they’d arrived.

  “Hey, beautiful. Happy Valentine’s Day tomorrow,” he’d said, his voice filled with anticipation. He spoke in a sultry baritone she’d never heard during their office meetings. Their conversations had always been about profits, projected earnings and potentials.

  “They’re just gorgeous,” she’d gushed. “So exotic. Especially for this time of year.”

  “I like unusual and unexpected things. Were you surprised?”

  “Very. I couldn’t figure out who would be sending me flowers.”

  “Ah. That’s good,” he said. “I wanted you to have something special while I was away...” His voice trailed off as if there was something else he was going to say before he thought better of it.

  So I don’t forget you? Is that what you were going to say, Alex?

  “You’re going away?”

  “To Dubai. For three weeks,” he’d said, as if in apology.

  “United Arab Emirates,” she’d whispered as her mind flitted halfway across the globe. “That’s a long way.”

  “It is. Listen, I scheduled a meeting for us when I get back. We’ll need to catch up. And I’m hoping to have an investor for you by then.”

  Maddie’s heart had actually tripped a beat. “Investor?”

  “I don’t want to get your hopes up quite yet. But I have someone on the line. I’ll tell you about it when I get back. You take care, Maddie. I’ll try to text you while I’m gone. I hope their cell coverage isn’t as bad as the last time I was there.”

  “You’ve been to Dubai before?”

  “Several times. I’m working on something....” He had a way of leaving valuable information hanging in space like tiny crumbs leading to hidden treasure.

  Remembering their phone conversation, Maddie’s head was filled with thoughts of Alex. He was like a dream to her. He was tall, blond and wide-shouldered, and had a very strong jaw that looked as if it was chiseled from granite and a dimple in his chin. His blue eyes were the color of cornflowers in summer. His smile revealed sparkling white even teeth, and his full lips completed a face so handsome she finally understood why the Greeks invented a god of male beauty. Alex could have been a dead ringer for Adonis.

  The first time she’d met him in his office, she was impressed with his confidence, sincerity and assuredness. He was the kind of man people trusted with their entire life’s savings. He was the kind of executive people turned to when their world was crashing down around them. Maddie’s first impression was that this man was smart enough, savvy enough, to turn around even the worst-case scenarios.

  Now, he’d sent her flowers, and he’d been especially sweet to her on the phone, making her think about things romantic.

  It had been a long, long time since Maddie had had time or room in her thoughts for anything other than her passion for her career.

  Romance was something she’d discarded when she was seventeen, when Nate Barzonni had asked her to marry him and then left town the next day. He’d never called or written. She’d never received an explanation. He’d simply disappeared.

  For over a decade, she’d been heartbroken and very, very angry.

  No, Maddie thought. Romance was something that existed only in her past.

  CHAPTER TWO

  NATE BARZONNI WAS early for his seven o’clock meeting with Dr. Roger Caldwell, chief surgeon and head of the new cardiology wing at Indian Lake Hospital. Nate had been sitting in his car in the foggy cold since six thirty-five, his hands wrapped around a large, double-shot latte from the drive-through window at Book Shop and Java Stop.

  As he entered the hospital and took the elevator up to Dr. Caldwell’s office, Nate realized he was nervous as a cat about this interview. It wasn’t that he didn’t think he’d get the job. He knew the position was his for the taking. He was the only applicant who had any experience with the new cold beam laser surgeries that every hospital in the nation wanted. Though catheter ablation surgery, the process of “burning” away misfiring nerves inside the heart to treat arrythmia, had become as common as bypass surgery, the cold beam laser was truly cutting-edge technology. Cold beam created a clean, open channel to the heart by drilling several holes from a dying heart muscle to the left ventricle. Once the holes healed, they triggered a growth of new muscle, so oxygenated blood could flow into the heart, which hadn’t been receiving proper oxygen and nutrients. Findin
g the surgeons to perform the procedure was difficult. Nate was keenly aware that he could have gone to Los Angeles or San Francisco, and he’d been offered a position in Scottsdale, but most hospitals wanted him to sign a three-year contract. Indian Lake demanded only a single year. One year was more to his liking because Nate wanted to prove himself—fast. With a year under his belt as a top cardiac surgeon at the Indian Lake Hospital and working in their Ablation Department, he could go wherever he wished and he would get the kind of financial backing he would need. For years, Nate had dreamed of one day landing a department chief position at a major hospital. But last year, that all changed.

  Nate had spent a year on an Indian reservation in Arizona, ostensibly to whittle his medical school loans down by half. He’d learned about the government plan that enticed newly-licensed doctors and dentists from a shipmate of his in the Navy. Within a few days of treating patients on the reservation, Nate saw a desperate need for doctors with his skill level. He’d never considered himself a humanitarian, but something happened to him during that year that changed his view of life. These people could not afford highly specialized ablation surgery. And there were very few surgeons in his field willing to sacrifice money and possibly fame to help them. Nate realized he could make a real difference in the world.

  By the end of his stint at the reservation hospital, Nate had come face to face with his life’s passion.

  Indian Lake was exactly the place Nate needed to be for the short term. And afterward...he’d ratchet himself up another several notches toward his dream.

  * * *

  “DR. BARZONNI?” A MAN’S voice asked in a clear, clipped tone.

  “Yes, sir.” Nate snapped to his feet from the uncomfortable metal-and-plastic chair he’d been seated in. Nate presented his hand to the tall, slender man with an angular face. Dr. Roger Caldwell was in his late forties and looked fit, in a long-distance-runner way. He wore black slacks and a long white lab coat over a cheap maroon oxford-cloth shirt and blue-and-red-striped polyester tie. This was the third interview Nate had been on, and at every hospital, every major clinic, the administrator responsible for choosing the hospital uniforms and outlining the dress codes apparently won the job based on their obvious lack of fashion sense and color blindness. “Dr. Caldwell. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, sir.”

  They began walking down a carpeted hallway.

  “You can drop the ‘sir.’ We aren’t all that formal around here.” Dr. Caldwell flipped through some papers in a manila folder marked with Nate’s name. “And you haven’t been in the navy for quite some time.”

  “Sorry, sir. I mean Doctor. It’s my upbringing as much as the navy.” Nate smiled.

  “I know your parents quite well, so I understand completely.”

  “They’re still old-world Italian, I’m afraid. In fact, they’re insisting I live at home with them once I move back to Indian Lake.”

  “Nothing wrong with that,” Dr. Caldwell replied, scratching his temple. “Frankly, I’d like to see a bit more of it myself.” He took a couple steps back and then waved his right arm in front of an open door. “Let’s step into my office, shall we?”

  “Thank you very much, sir. Doctor.” Nate laughed good-naturedly.

  For as austere and sparse as the waiting area was, Dr. Caldwell’s office was quite the opposite. Colorful Persian rugs covered the laminate floors. The furniture was modern and sleek, made of glass, chrome and wood. A butter-yellow leather sofa sat against the back wall with two massive, off-white leather Barcelona chairs flanking it. A squatty black vase of tropical flowers sat in the middle of a kidney-shaped coffee table. The room was lit by dozens of tiny halogen ceiling fixtures, and natural light flowed in from skylights and a very large window that looked out on Main Street where the morning traffic was building to a bustling crescendo. The sun skirted around and through huge snow clouds, which had come to perform their own kind of magic and alter the scene below. Slowly, a very light snow started to fall. From the fifth floor, the view was captivating, and as Nate gazed out across the commercial-building rooftops and toward the housetops of Maple Avenue and Lily Avenue, he realized he was eye level to the many church spires that dotted nearly every block of Indian Lake. From this height, it didn’t take much imagination to see the fantasy aspect of the town. As the snowflakes grew in size and number, they fell delicately on the grand shoulders of the Presbyterian church, creating white, lacy epaulettes. Nate had always loved all the churches of his hometown and how they stood for hundreds of years, never swerving, never capitulating or seeming to decay. Unlike many other cities or towns, the people of Indian Lake renovated, renewed and shored up their treasures. They put new foundations on their buildings, installed new roofs on their banks and fixed storefront windows. They adapted and perfected, modernized and improved, but they never destroyed the original structure, the soul of their buildings, which was part of the soul of the town. He’d forgotten how little things like that mattered to him.

  “Nice view, isn’t it?” Dr. Caldwell asked.

  “Spellbinding.”

  “Interesting you say that. I thought the same thing when I moved here. I came from New Jersey. The unpretty part of New Jersey. I was a class-A nerd in a street-gang-infested world. I couldn’t wait to get out of there.”

  “Is that why you joined the navy as well, sir?”

  “It is. Best move I ever made. I fell in love with Chicago the minute I walked off the bus. But once I got married and left the navy, we started looking around for a small town. You know, to raise kids and all. We came here on a winter vacation, actually, and stayed four days. Everyone was so friendly and we loved all the little shops and cafés. My wife and I were hooked. I’ve always wanted to live in a small town.”

  “Funny. When I was growing up here, I couldn’t wait to leave. See the world. Have an adventure.”

  Dr. Caldwell laughed and sat in his black leather desk chair. He leaned back in the chair and watched the falling snow. “I had plenty of adventure. Persian Gulf. I was fortunate enough to be part of the launch of the Sullivan to the Mediterranean Sea on August 12, 1995. I’ll never forget it. This was the second ship, Nate, to be named for the Sullivan family, who’d suffered the greatest loss of any one American family in the Second World War.”

  “I remember the story well.”

  Dr. Caldwell smiled to himself. “I was lucky. I sailed over half my naval career. How about you?”

  “Not so much. I spent most of my navy years in and around the Great Lakes. I signed up as a corpsman and worked at the Great Lakes Naval Hospital while I received my training. I didn’t mind it so much, though. I used my time wisely. I took advantage of the extracurricular college classes. I took every class that was a requirement for premed. By the time I finished my service, I had three years of credits piled up. I went to Northwestern on the GI Bill and finished up my undergrad. Then I got more loans for medical school and stayed on at Northwestern. I rejoined the navy as a doctor after med school and completed my internship and surgical residency. I finished my cardiology residency at Northwestern as well. As you know, I’m finishing up my year-long contract at an Indian reservation in Arizona, which pays off the bulk of my loans. I’ll still have a bit of debt, but it’ll be manageable.”

  “No family?”

  “No, sir. I have a single-track mind and I wanted to get myself set up in medicine before I took on that kind of responsibility. Frankly, taking care of me was just about all I could handle.”

  “Smart man,” Dr. Caldwell replied.

  Nate glanced outside at the spires that poked through the frosty cotton quilt that nature was spreading across the town and wondered why the scene tugged at him. Nostalgia, probably. “Thanks.”

  “These letters of recommendation from Northwestern, from your commanding officers, the other naval doctors you’ve worked with and the head of the Hopi and Na
vajo tribes attest to the fact that you’re quite a gifted heart surgeon, Dr. Barzonni. Imagine what you could do here with all our new equipment.”

  “I’m very excited about working with the cold beam laser. I got my initiation at Northwestern when I was doing ablations with Dr. Henry Klein. Do you know him?”

  “Haven’t had the pleasure.”

  “He’s been my mentor for years,” Nate replied, his words laced with respect.

  Nate was extremely grateful for the guidance and friendship Dr. Klein had given him. Nate was also aware that the man looked upon him almost as family.

  Nate continued. “Dr. Klein is the one who talked me into doing work on the reservation. Not only was the program government run and would pay a good chunk of my student loans, but he said I needed to get my hands away from the luxuries of big-city methods and equipment. He wanted me to learn how to use my instincts. Listen to my gut when dealing with patients. He wanted me to treat the patient not just the disease. My entire perspective on life changed. Thanks to him and my time on the reservation, I believe I found my calling.”

  “Interesting. Is that what he did? Work on a reservation?”

  “No. He spent five years in Kenya.”

  Dr. Caldwell whistled. “When was this?”

  “It was back in the eighties, when the AIDS epidemic was rampant. Not that it isn’t now.”

  “Sounds like a good man. I’d like to meet him.” Dr. Caldwell steepled his fingers, placed his lips against them and considered Nate. “Do you mind my asking why you aren’t going back to Chicago and working with Dr. Klein? I’m sure he wants you.”

  “He does. Desperately, in fact.