THE FALL

by Marie Force

  "I feel so bad," she groaned. "I'm totally screwing up your day. The last place you want to be is in a hospital."

  "It's no problem. Let's get you fixed up and on something for the pain. Then we can party."

  "Yeah, right." She grimaced when she tried to move her swollen ankle. "Thanks for being so great. I can see why your patients love you."

  He looked over at her, wondering if he should read more into her statement, but found only friendship in her green eyes. He chastised himself for being so foolish. She wasn't interested in him. She's Smitty's girlfriend. The words echoed through his mind like a chant.

  Ted carried her into the deserted emergency room where he introduced himself as a doctor to the nurse at the triage desk.

  They took Caroline right away, and Ted pushed her wheelchair to the X-ray department. The films showed a fracture, so the E.R. doctor called in an orthopedic guy.

  Ted sat with her while they waited for the specialist to arrive.

  "I'm not usually such a crybaby." She wiped new tears off her face. "I just can't believe this happened right at the beginning of summer. What a drag."

  Without a thought about the implications, Ted reached for her hand. "Lucky for you, you're dating the green giant, and he can carry you anywhere you need to go until you heal."

  She laughed through her tears. "That's true."

  When an hour had passed with no word from the specialist, the nurse gave Caroline something for the pain, and she drifted off to sleep.

  Ted took advantage of the opportunity to study her, while wishing with all his heart that he had met her first. Her face had lost its lustrous color, but even pale from the shock of her injury she was gorgeous. She was petite but not tiny, athletic in an attractive way, and easy to talk to. His eyes wandered to the rise and fall of her chest, and he wondered if her full breasts were as spectacular as they appeared in the tank top she had worn to run in. Jesus Christ, Ted. That's enough. But he couldn't seem to look away.

  He was jolted out of his thoughts when he heard Smitty's loud voice in the hallway.

  "Where is she?"

  Ted got up to lean out of the cubicle doorway. "Pipe down, will you? She's in here sleeping."

  Smitty's eyes were big as he came into the room to find Caroline in the hospital bed. "What the hell happened?" he asked in what he considered a whisper.

  "She stepped in a hole on the path at Fort Adams. Broke her ankle."

  "Shit. Are they keeping her?"

  "Just until the orthopod gets here. After the swelling goes down, she'll probably be in a cast for six weeks, the first few on crutches."

  Smitty groaned. "She'll hate that." He squeezed Ted's shoulder. "Thanks a lot for getting her here, buddy. You don't have to stay."

  Ted glanced over at Caroline who was still sleeping. "I don't mind hanging out."

  "No need," Smitty insisted. "Go salvage your day. Parker's got your board at the beach."

  He wanted to wail. He wanted to tell Smitty there was nowhere else he'd rather be. "If you're sure…"

  "I'm positive. You're off duty, Dr. Duffy."

  "She's going to be in a lot of pain," Ted warned him.

  "No worries. I'll take good care of her."

  "Okay. I'll see you back at the house." Ted walked out of the emergency room with a heavy heart, wishing he could stay with her. He wondered why it was that when he finally found a woman who made his gut ache with desire she had to be dating his best friend.

  Chapter 4

  After a long afternoon at the beach and an even longer stint at a bar where Ted tried—unsuccessfully—to get drunk, he left Chip, Elise, Parker, and his car downtown and took a cab back to the house. He listened for Smitty and Caroline, but the house was quiet, so he went into the kitchen for a glass of water. Rooting around in one of the cabinets he found a bottle of painkillers and took two to address the headache he always got from drinking in the sun. He rested against the counter for a long time before he summoned the energy to go upstairs.

  On the second floor, he noticed the door open and the light on in Smitty's room. Telling himself he should just keep going up the stairs, Ted went to the doorway. Caroline was asleep, her broken ankle propped up on several pillows and an ice bag draped over it. Two prescription bottles and an empty glass were on the bedside table. Smitty was curled up to her with an arm looped possessively around her.

  Ted stared at the two of them for an endless moment, until he realized his jaw ached from clenching his teeth so hard. He flipped the light switch to darken the room.

  Upstairs, the shower pounded the tension from his neck and shoulders. Tilting his head from side to side to loosen his muscles, he stood there for a long time staring at the wall before he turned off the water and wrapped a towel around his waist.

  Tugging on a pair of boxer briefs, he fell onto his bed and turned so he could see the harbor lights in the distance. The beer he'd consumed earlier swished around, making his stomach surge with nausea. Thinking of Caroline and how pale she had been after her injury, his heart ached. When he imagined her wrapped up with Smitty in bed, he wanted to punch something. Or someone. This weekend would surely go down as two of the most disastrous days and nights of his life. What should have been such a joyous event—finally meeting the woman his grandmother had sworn for years was out there waiting for him—was instead a mess of epic proportions.

  He must have dozed off because he awoke just after four and couldn't go back to sleep. He lay there wishing he had brought the glass of water with him until he decided to get up and get another one.

  For the second time in as many nights he found Caroline sitting alone in the dark when he turned on the light in the kitchen.

  She winced from the sudden blast of light, so Ted turned it off.

  "Sorry. Are you feeling okay?"

  "The pain pill wore off about thirty minutes ago, and I just took another one. I'm sitting here praying it'll kick in soon."

  In the faint glow of a streetlight coming in through the window, he could see how pale she was. Pain made her eyes appear even bigger than usual.

  "Can I do anything for you?"

  She shook her head. "No, but thanks for your help earlier."

  "It was no problem." Realizing all at once that he was wearing nothing more than form-fitting underwear, he reached for a glass, filled it with ice and water, and downed it in three long gulps.

  "Thirsty?"

  "Mmm." He refilled the glass. "Want some?"

  "No, I'm good."

  He eyed the boot on her foot. "How did you get down here?"

  Flashing him a sheepish grin, she said, "Slid down the stairs on my bum because I had to eat something with the pill."

  He chuckled. "So what's the plan for getting back up?"

  "I was just pondering that very question when you showed up."

  He finished the water and put down the glass. "Can I give you a lift? For old times sake?"

  She giggled, which he took as a sign the meds were beginning to work. "Why not?" Taking his outstretched hand, she let him help her up.

  With her hand wrapped around his, Ted was staggered by the glow of the streetlight illuminating her beautiful face. Powerless to resist the magnetic draw for another second, he ran a finger over her cheek.

  She gasped as her hand landed on his bare chest.

  They stared at each other, the silence charged with awareness.

  He was thankful the lights were off so she couldn't see the effect her nearness had on him. Never in his life had he wanted so badly to kiss another human being. Before he could give in to the need pounding through him, he tore his eyes off her and lifted her into his arms to carry her upstairs. At the door to Smitty's room, he reluctantly eased her onto her good foot.

  "Ted," she whispered.

  He shook his head. "Don't. Don't say something that will change everything."

  She stared at him for the longest time before she turned away. In that brief moment he saw in her the same sense of aw
e, wonder and fear that had overtaken him. That she seemed equally effected by him didn't do much to ease his guilt over feelings he had no right to.

  Ted watched her hobble the short distance to the bed where his best friend slept. Panic stricken by the encounter with Caroline, Ted continued up the stairs. In his room, he fell face down on his bed and moaned into the pillow as desire continued to thrum through his heated body. This is insanity, he thought, even as he suspected it was probably something much, much worse.

  * * *

  In the morning Ted awoke full of guilt and regret. Smitty was the best friend he'd ever had. This is so wrong. I can't think about her anymore. If it came down to her or Smitty, I'd choose him in a second. Of course I'd choose him. Wouldn't I?

  Tormented, Ted went downstairs to find Parker at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and the morning paper.

  "Where is everyone?" Ted asked.

  "Chip and Elise went out to breakfast, and Smitty and Caroline are still sleeping. Elise drove your car home last night." Parker pointed to the keys on the counter.

  "Oh, good. Want to grab something to eat?" Ted asked, anxious to get out of the house.

  Parker looked up at him with surprise. "Not running today?"

  "I'll run when I get home this afternoon."

  "Sure. Let me grab my wallet."

  "It's on me. Let's go."

  In Ted's car, Parker turned to study him. "What's wrong?"

  Startled, Ted glanced at his friend. "Nothing. Why?"

  "You look funny."

  "Define funny."

  Parker laughed. "Let me try another word. Off. You look off."

  Pole axed. That might be a better way to put it. "I'm fine. I'm not funny or off, but thanks for asking."

  "Hmm, if you say so." Parker continued to size up Ted. "Are you hanging out today? We've got the boat if we want it." The "boat" was a ninety-foot, ocean-going sailing vessel with a crew of six to dote on their boss—or in this case, their boss's son and his friends.

  "I'm going to head home," Ted said, even though he would normally love to spend the day being pampered on the boat. Today, however, he thought it best to leave before the situation got any worse. "I've got some stuff to take care of before tomorrow. I'm on call for forty-eight hours."

  Parker shook his head. "I don't know how you can keep up that schedule."

  "You get used to it," Ted said with a shrug. "Being on call will give me time to work on a grant proposal that's due this week. I need funding for some research I want to do into the genetics of this one type of brain tumor I've been seeing a lot of lately. It's exciting stuff."

  "Sounds like it," Parker said dryly.

  Ted laughed. "I know it's not Kramer vs. Kramer, but it's interesting to me."

  "Hey, not all of us can be curing cancer, so we have to get our thrills where we can."

  "Is your father still after you to move to the Big Apple and onto the family payroll?"

  "All the time," Parker said. "He never gives up."

  "And he never will. He knows you're a great lawyer, and he wants you looking out for him."

  "What he really wants is to get me under his thumb where he can control my whole life. No thanks. Been there, done that."

  They ate at one of their favorite diners and lingered over a second cup of coffee.

  "So what happened to that girl you were seeing?" Ted asked. "What was her name? Julie?"

  "Julia," Parker corrected.

  "That's right." Ted had only met her once.

  "No spark, you know what I mean?" Parker spun his spoon around in his coffee cup.

  Forty-eight hours earlier Ted would have said no, but now he knew exactly what Parker meant. "Yes, I think I do."

  "Yeah, you had it with Marcy."

  Startled by the reminder of his college girlfriend, Ted stared at Parker. In that moment, Ted realized what he'd felt for his girlfriend of three years was insignificant compared to what he already felt for Caroline. Despair, the likes of which he had never known before, settled over him.

  "What's wrong with you, man?" Parker asked with concern. "You look like you just saw a ghost."

  "Nothing," Ted said softly. "Nothing's wrong. I need to go."

  "Back to the house?"

  "No, I need to go home."

  Ted appreciated that Parker didn't ask any questions as he followed him out of the restaurant.

  Chapter 5

  Ted's abrupt departure resulted in a flurry of phone calls from all three of his friends, who wanted to know if something was wrong. Ted told each of them the same thing: Everything's fine, something came up, and I'll see you in two weeks since he was on call the following weekend.

  As he ran through the marina near his condo late that afternoon, he tried to put the emotionally draining weekend behind him by making a plan to get over his infatuation with Caroline. What I need is a girlfriend of my own. That will set things straight.

  Contrary to the gossip in the hospital, he was aware of the appreciative looks he got from the women he worked with and the whispering that went on behind his back as they speculated on his personal life—or lack thereof.

  He knew they wondered if he was gay or afflicted with some sort of social disorder that kept what they considered a highly eligible bachelor out of the hospital's dating frenzy. Since the doctors, nurses, residents, and fellows worked so many hours together, the inevitable romances developed, but Ted had never indulged. Maybe it was time he did. Maybe if he hadn't been living like a monk he wouldn't have had such a strong reaction to Caroline.

  The majority of his love and attention went to the kids he cared for, but at the end of the day he was left with an empty home and an even emptier bed. Suddenly, the life he had been so content with just a few short days ago wasn't enough anymore. Meeting Caroline had shown him exactly what he had been missing, and now he yearned for more.

  Determined to jump start his love life, Ted decided to pay closer attention to the women at work over the next week and to find one he could ask out to dinner by the following weekend. He needed to start somewhere. Having drawn up a plan for his love life the way he would compile a treatment plan for a patient, Ted jogged the last mile back to his condo with a newfound sense of relief, if not satisfaction.

  The late-afternoon sun hung like a ball of fire over the busy marina. As he watched a boat come in under sail, he found that despite his good intentions his thoughts had already wandered back to Caroline. He wondered how her ankle was, if she was in pain, and if she too was thinking about him and the instantaneous connection they'd shared. She had felt it, too. He had no doubt about that.

  Ted groaned, realizing that not thinking about her was going to be a project in and of itself. He needed to get a life, not to mention a sex life. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had sex. No wonder why she'd rocked his world. But even as he told himself it had been far too long since he'd been truly attracted to a woman, he had to acknowledge there had never been another attraction quite like the one he felt for her.

  He used the key he kept under a flower pot on his front porch to let himself into his house. The sleek condo, like the Mercedes, had been a gift from his grandparents, who took such tremendous joy in doting on their only grandson that he had long ago given up on trying to put a stop to their boundless generosity. While Ted had used the trust fund they had set up for him to pay for his education, his younger sister Tish had blown through hers to fuel a ferocious addiction to heroin that had preoccupied the entire family for almost a decade. Only when she had run out of money and options had Tish entered rehab. Now, six years later, she was married to a nice guy and had a baby on the way. Her years of drug addiction seemed like a bad dream since she had gotten her life together, and no one was more proud of her than Ted.

  He checked his messages and found one from Roger Newsome, the colleague who covered for him on summer weekends. "Hey, Ted. Pretty quiet weekend, so no need to check in with me before tomorrow. I admitted Matthew Janik because his fe
ver hit 103, and he was dehydrated after the last round of chemo. I'll check on him tonight. Also, Hannah Ohrstrom's mother called. Hannah had a fever, too, but it broke after two doses of Tylenol. That's about it. Call me if you have any questions."

  The next message was from his mother.

  "Hello, darling," she said in that breathless, Main Line Philadelphia voice of hers. "Just a reminder about the party on the twenty-first. Do feel free to bring someone with you and remember it's formal. Also, remind the boys they're invited as well. We'd love to see you out here before then if you can tear yourself away from Newport one of these weekends. Hope you're not working too hard. Give me a call this week. Love you bunches."

  Ted mimicked the kisses that Matilda "Mitzi" Dunbar Duffy predictably tacked on to the end of the message. The party she referred to was Ted's parents' fortieth anniversary and his grandparents' sixty-fifth anniversary, which would be held under a tent at his parents' summer home on Block Island. The two couples celebrated their common anniversary with a fancy soiree every five years.

  Another weekend in Newport down the tubes, Ted sighed, as he thought of the social event of the season his mother and grandmother were no doubt planning. He had grown up attending their little parties for two hundred of their closest friends and knew exactly what to expect. But despite their love of all things social, his mother and grandmother were the two best women he knew: loving, faithful, protective, and fun. All his life, Ted had considered them the ideal, and the women he dated had the misfortune of being measured against them and often found lacking.

  Mitzi, who'd had a stiff and difficult relationship with her own mother, had found the mother of her heart when she married Dr. Edward Theodore Duffy Jr. She and Lillian hit it off from their first meeting and had been fast friends ever since, bonding over their love of a good party, a rousing tennis match, a frozen margarita at the end of a long summer day, and the blessings and burdens that came with marriage to pediatric oncologists.

  Their grandparents had been such a big part of their lives that Ted and Tish had grown up feeling like they had two mothers and two fathers. Even in their late eighties, Lillian and Theo kept up an active, busy life that still included at least eighteen holes of golf each week.