Double Jeopardy

by Bobby Hutchinson

  Ben kept up a steady stream of light conversation as he did his examination, bending over her, aware the whole time of Gemma’s huge brown eyes, so like Sera’s, watching his every move.

  Being with Gemma made him achingly lonely for Sera. The intensity of that loneliness was unsettling; he didn’t want to feel this strongly about anyone. He never had before.

  “You’re doing wonderfully well, Gemma,” he said when the examination was done. “You’re soon going to be as beautiful as—” He’d come very close to saying Sera. He quickly substituted “as you always were.”

  It touched him to see tears fill her eyes and trickle down her cheeks. He put a comforting hand on her shoulder, and to his shock and dismay, she instantly threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing her body against him in an overtly sexual way.

  Having a patient make a pass was a physician’s worst nightmare. It could so easily be mishandled, resulting in nasty allegations of sexual misconduct, and the appalling part here was this was Sera’s sister.

  As gently as possible, Ben unhooked her arms and moved away a discreet distance. He plucked a handful of tissues from the box on the table and handed them to her when she fumbled in her purse, but tissues weren’t what she was looking for.

  She pulled out a folded paper and thrust it at him. Ben unfolded it, and as he read quickly through it, horror and disbelief overwhelmed him. Certain phrases reverberated like bombshells in his brain.

  ...know how much you want to make your feelings for me clear, but 1 understand...

  ...I feel the same... Can’t wait until you’re no longer just my doctor...never loved anyone this much before...

  Ben stared down at the paper, feeling sick, racking his brain for something to say that wouldn’t hurt her, but would make his position absolutely clear in a way impossible for her to misconstrue.

  “Gemma, sit down, please. We have to talk about this.” Panicked, he considered calling Dana in to witness what he was about to say. In other circumstances, he would have, but Dana’s presence would embarrass Gemma even further, and for Sera’s sake he couldn’t bring himself to do so.

  What could he tell Gemma that would make her understand how preposterous all this was? The only thing he could think of was to tell her about him and Sera. There was no other way to handle this except with the absolute truth. He took a deep breath and prayed for inspiration, for some way of saying what he had to without humiliating Gemma more than necessary.

  “Somehow I’ve given you the wrong impression of me,” he began. This was awful, but he had no choice except to go on. “However it happened, I humbly apologize.”

  She was looking at him as if she were in a daze, as if she couldn’t take in his words, so he tried again, more forcefully this time.

  “Gemma, I never intended to mislead you in any way. I’m your doctor, nothing more. The fact is, I’ve been dating Sera. We’re— we’re—um, we’re somewhat romantically involved. I visited her in San Diego. Sera wanted to tell you herself, but I felt you needed to know now, so you understand completely that I had no intention whatsoever of misleading you.”

  He watched Gemma’s features register shock and disbelief and then, inevitably, embarrassment.

  He felt deep compassion for her. She couldn’t talk; could only react by scribbling a response on the pad he’d placed in front of her. That had to be impossibly difficult in a situation like this.

  She scribbled, scratched it out with a violent motion, wrote something else. Her cheeks were crimson, her breathing stertorous. Her hand was shaking visibly, and when she shoved the pad at him, her eyes were wild. He felt a stab of apprehension. His uneasiness grew as he read what she’d scrawled.

  “Poems?” He frowned and shook his head. “Sorry, Gemma, you’ve lost me here. I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. What poems?’ ’

  A terrible sound came from her. It would have been a scream had she been able to open her mouth. She lurched to her feet. Swung at him, her fist connecting hard with his jaw. She was still making that desperate, awful noise. He reeled back, caught unprepared. Now she bent to the table and grabbed a handful of magazines. Her aim was good; the magazines connected, hitting him in the chest.

  Only because of his quick reflexes was he able to dodge the potted plant she flung next. It crashed against the wall and sent dirt and fragments of broken pottery flying everywhere.

  She was looking around for something else to throw.

  Ben held his hands up and raised his voice.

  “That’s enough, Gemma. Just calm down.” But she ran at him, lashing out with her fists, pummeling his chest and trying to scratch his face.

  In desperation, Ben dodged and took hold of her from behind, pinning her arms and doing his best to keep her from doing any more harm. Kicking and thrashing, butting at him with her head, she went on keening. Ben felt incredible relief when the door burst open and Dana said, “Doctor, what on earth is going on— Oh, my gosh, I’ll call Security.”

  “No.” Ben was puffing. “No, we can handle this.” Gemma was very strong. For the next few moments, with Dana helping, Ben attempted to verbally calm Gemma. To no avail. She was sobbing now, still struggling fiercely as he held her. He was trying to prevent her from throwing anything else or attacking him again, but he was also concerned that she might choke. With her jaw wired, that could be very dangerous.

  He told her so repeatedly, adding, “If you don’t calm down, Gemma, I’m going to have to sedate you.”

  She ignored him and went on struggling. “Get me Ativan 4, IM,” he finally gasped to Dana.

  The nurse brought in the syringe and, with Ben holding Gemma as still as possible, injected the tranquilizer into Gemma’s arm. Within a few moments, Gemma quieted a little, still sobbing but not struggling anymore. Ben eased her into a chair, and Dana brought her a glass of water with a straw.

  Gemma knocked the glass aside and the water sprayed over Dana. The glass shattered against the wall.

  “There’s no need for this sort of behavior.” Dana was soaked and losing her patience. “We only want to help you, Ms. Cardano.”

  Ben was trying to figure out what to do next. Obviously, Gemma had to have someone to care for her. The sedative would put her to sleep shortly.

  “Did you drive yourself here, Gemma?” The drug was taking effect now. She nodded, motioning for a pencil and paper. Dana handed her both.

  I want my father she printed with an unsteady hand, adding a phone number.

  Ben made the call, and Aldo Cardano answered at once. The number had obviously been to his cell phone, because Ben could hear hammering and heavy equipment operating in the background.

  “Gemma’s here in my office, Aldo, and she’s very upset. I’ve given her a sedative and she needs to be driven home,” Ben said, grateful that Aldo didn’t ask questions.

  He arrived in minutes, wearing a hard hat and coveralls and a worried expression. He glanced around the room, at the broken pottery, the dirt spread across the carpet, the shattered glass.

  “What the hell’s going on here?” Without waiting for an answer, he held out his arms to his daughter. “Come here, bambina.”

  Gemma got up and wobbled toward him. He wrapped a protective arm around her shoulder. She was already very unsteady on her feet.

  “What’s this all about, Doctor? What’s happened to her? Is she hurt?” Aldo gave Ben an accusing look. “Seems to me there’s been one hell of a fight here.”

  “Physically she’s fine. And no fight, just a misunderstanding.” Ben felt this was not the time or place to go into details. “We were talking and she became hysterical. I’ve given her a strong sedative and she needs to go home and rest now. Perhaps you could call me later this afternoon, and I’ll explain.”

  “You bet I will. I don’t much like the looks of this.” He glared at Ben and then turned his attention to Gemma. “C’mon, cara. Don’t worry about your car. I’ll get one of the guys to bring it home a little
later.”

  He escorted her out of the office without another word.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Ben grabbed a garbage can and knelt on the rug to clean up the mess, shaken by what had occurred and hardly able to believe things could have gotten out of control so quickly and with so little warning.

  “What the heck happened, Doctor?” Dana brought in a broom and dustpan and began sweeping up debris from the rug.

  Ben shook his head. “I wish I knew. Somehow she got the wrong impression. She thought that I...that is, she figured I...”

  “She got it in her head that she was in love with you?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Well, it’s not the first time.” There had been a patient, several years before. Ben had recognized what was happening and had made certain Dana was in the room during every visit. The woman had been sad, but certainly not violent. And he hadn’t been involved with her sister.

  “Ms. Cardano’s a very pretty lady, probably used to getting what she wants," Dana commented. “She sure has a foul temper. Lucky she didn’t hit you with that plant. I’ll have to get the janitor in here with the vacuum. Good thing she was the last patient this morning. Nobody but me out there when the noise started.”

  She dumped the contents of the dustpan into the wastebasket. “You look pretty shaken up, Doctor. Why don’t you go out and have some lunch. I’ll get this cleaned up before the afternoon appointments.”

  “Thanks, Dana.” He did need to get out, although the thought of food wasn’t at all appealing. He’d walk down to the beach, he decided. The ocean always calmed him.

  A feeling of foreboding followed Ben like a dark shadow as he hurried out of the office. Aldo Cardano was protective of his daughters, understandably. How much of what Gemma said would he believe?

  Ben very much wanted to call Sera and tell her what had occurred, but he decided it was wiser to wait until he spoke to Aldo again. That way, the thing would have some resolution.

  But as he strode along the boardwalk beside the water, the sense of impending danger increased.

  Gemma had fallen asleep on the drive home, drugged by the sedative Ben had injected. She vaguely remembered her father carrying her into the house, her mother settling her on the couch in the living room.

  She awoke now to the muted sound of their voices in the kitchen.

  “Halsey wouldn’t say what had happened, and Gemma couldn’t tell me....”

  “...Sera called yesterday. She told me she was with him last weekend, asked me not to say anything....”

  Instantly, Gemma remembered what had happened, the terrible sense of betrayal she’d felt when Ben told her it was Sera he cared about. He’d even gone to San Diego to see her, while all the time he’d been sending the poetry here, to Gemma. He’d been deceiving both of them.

  Papa had to be told. Papa would know what to do.

  The pain of betrayal and the fury she’d felt came back full force, and she struggled up. She steadied herself on a table and then on the hallway doorjamb, as she headed for her bedroom and the box containing the poetry.

  Although she was dizzy and disoriented, she made it back to the kitchen, where she flopped down in a chair, put the box with the poems in front of Maria and pulled off the lid.

  Tears started again, tears of frustration and anger. She gestured to her mother for a pen and paper.

  She had to show her parents how dishonest Ben had been.

  Her mother read first one poem, then the next, her brow furrowed.

  “Where did these come from, Gemma?”

  Halsey, Gemma wrote with violent strokes. He wrote these, sent them to me....

  Maria studied Gemma’s face for a long moment. Then she handed the sheets of paper to Aldo, and he read them, his mouth tight, slapping each down on the table as he finished it.

  Gemma wrote, You see why I thought...and he said things, too, that made me believe...

  “How do you know it was the doctor, Gemma?” Maria’s tone was neutral.

  Gemma glared at her mother. Why didn’t Maria ever just believe her? Why did she always have to question everything? Papa never did; he took her word for it.

  I don’t know anybody else who’d write this stuff, she scrawled. They started coming right after the accident, and he’s been making out with Sera, too. He’s been lying to both of us...he’s one of these weirdo’s who want to make it with twins. Sera and I’ve met some before.

  Aldo’s face went grim. His jaw tensed as he read Gemma’s words. “He can’t get away with this. He’s a doctor.” Aldo’s tone and the expression on his face made it clear how furious he was. “Ryngard, he’s on the hospital board. He was the one I dealt with when they hired Cardano’s for the construction.”

  “Aldo, wait. Don’t do anything too fast.” Maria’s face was troubled. “What if someone else wrote these. What if—” she picked up a poem and held it out to her husband “—what if maybe, say, it was Jack?”

  Gemma threw herself back in her chair and rolled her eyes. That was so ridiculous. Jack was a machine operator; he had no education. There was no way he could write poetry like this.

  “Kilgallin?” Aldo’s face mirrored Gemma’s feelings. “No, Maria. That’s crazy talk. Jack’s on my crew. He’d never write...” He pointed at the poems and swore in Italian.

  It was a relief for Gemma to hear that her father thought exactly the same way she did.

  “Jack’s a good man,” Aldo went on. “A good, hard worker, but all this romance stuff?’’ Contemptuously he waved a hand again at the poetry.

  “Jack’s no sweet-talking phony. Gemma’s right. This comes from that goddamned Halsey. He thinks he can make a fool of my girls.” He shoved his chair back and got to his feet, sending it crashing to the floor. He cursed, a long stream of Italian. “He’s not getting away with this.”

  Maria tried to stop him, but Aldo stormed out.

  Gemma’s head was aching. She needed to go back to bed and sleep off the medication. She stood up, but her mother caught her hand and held it, staring up into Gemma’s eyes.

  “Cara, I know you’ve been through a lot, but this is serious, what you’re saying about the doctor. Did he kiss you or touch you? Did he do anything to make you think he cared? Besides these.” She gestured at the poetry. ‘‘Because your sister really likes this man. I know from her voice on the telephone.”

  Sera. For Mama, it was always about Sera. The wound was an old one, and it tore open as Gemma jerked her hand away. Hysterically, she nodded over and over, yes, yes, yes, Ben had led her to believe he cared.

  He held me in his arms, she wrote. It was the truth; he had held her today. She remembered the strength of those arms, restraining her. As she hurried to her bedroom, sobs tearing through her body, she was unable to admit even to herself how wrong her assumptions had been.

  Sera tried to subdue the irritation she felt. “Pasquale’s decided the scene in the living room will take place in the kitchen, instead,” she told her crew. Her boss’s sudden changes of venue were making her nuts. She’d just get all the details of a scene mapped out and he’d change his mind about where it should be shot.

  “Now we need to locate a wood burning kitchen stove, kettles, pots, maybe one of those irons they used to heat up on the stove, and a wooden table. For starters. Damn, there goes my cell.”

  Impatiently, she pulled it out of her handbag.

  “Hi, Mama.” Apprehension rippled through her. Maria never called her on her cell, always overly conscious that it would cost Sera money.” Mama, what’s wrong?”

  Sera listened, frowned, shook her head at the barrage of words. “Mama, please, slow down and start from the beginning. Gemma says what?”

  She moved away from the crew, turning her back for privacy. As she listened again, her fingers tightened on the phone. Shock rippled through her.

  “Let’s see if I got this right, Mama. Gemma’s been getting love poems, and she thinks Ben wrote them? What makes her think
that? Did you read them? Did you talk to Gemma about this, Mama?”

  Aldo always took Gemma’s word for things, but Mama didn’t. Maria looked deeper, questioned more.

  Beginning to feel sick, Sera heard her mother explain that whoever had written the poems was definitely pretending to be in love with Gemma.

  At Sera’s insistence, Maria read several of them over the phone.

  Sera tried to imagine Ben writing them. She didn’t know if he wrote poetry; it wasn’t something she’d thought to ask. Would these be the sort he’d write? They weren’t great, but they weren’t the work of a rank amateur, either.

  With a knot in her stomach, she remembered that he’d had volumes of poetry in his condo, on the makeshift shelves beside his bed. Every muscle in her body tensed when her mother told her that Gemma truly believed Ben had come on to her. Of course, Maria didn’t phrase it that way; she said that the doctor had ‘made a pass’ at Gemma, taken her in his arms. Whatever the language, the meaning was the same.

  Maria went on to say that Aldo was in a rage, that he’d gone to one of the hospital administrators to complain about Ben’s actions.

  Sera was stunned at how quickly everything was falling apart. She burst out, “But shouldn’t Papa have talked to Ben first?”

  Sera couldn’t help but think of the ugly ramifications of this whole mess for Ben. Part of her just couldn’t believe that he’d done what Gemma was accusing him of. But in the back of her mind was the memory of how visibly relieved he’d been when she’d insisted she was a career woman, not interested in a long-term relationship.

  Some demon had kept wondering if that meant he was dating other women as well as her. She’d never dared to ask; he’d seemed so honest with her, so--infatuated.