Double Jeopardy

by Bobby Hutchinson

  He’s a love-’em-and-leave-’em sort of guy. The word is he deals in multiples, one after the other after the other.

  If he’d dated that many women, maybe twins represented a whole new challenge for Ben? Sera shuddered. Was he the type of man who considered the sexual conquest of twins a major notch on his belt? She didn’t think so, but how could she be sure? Vancouver and San Diego were a long ways apart, and she really hadn’t known him very long.

  Her mother was asking her to come home, saying that Sera needed to talk to Gemma herself, to get to the bottom of this. Sera forced herself to think about the set, and whether or not she could take the weekend off.

  “I’ll try, Mama. I’ll phone and let you know.” Sick to her very soul, she hung up.

  “I could start calling stores,” the young gofer suggested.

  Sera looked at her, totally unable to figure out what the girl was talking about. She felt icy cold and shaky, as shocked as if she’d been in a smashup.

  Maybe she had.

  If Ben had done what Gemma insisted, then Sera had just suffered a serious collision of the heart.

  The phone call from Earl Ryngard came just as Ben was preparing to leave the office.

  Ryngard was the chief of staff who headed up the Medical Advisory Committee at St. Joe’s. That he had rigorous standards for both dignity and morality among physicians was well known, and he’d made it apparent that he disapproved greatly of Ben’s and Greg’s high spirited antics before Greg’s accident and subsequent marriage to Lily. He’d never come out and said openly that he considered their behavior a disgrace to the hospital, but his attitude was clear. He was always formally polite to Ben, but Ben sensed an undercurrent of disdain and censure.

  Ben had often seen Ryngard having lunch with Roderick Miller, Vera’s uncle, and Ben was certain Miller had given Ryngard his version of Ben’s marriage to, mistreatment of, and divorce from his niece.

  The very fact that he was calling put Ben on guard. They exchanged pleasantries, but a certain note of triumph in the other man’s voice alarmed Ben, and he got to the point quickly. “What can I do for you, Earl?”

  “There’s been a complaint, Ben, and I wanted to speak to you about it before mentioning it to anyone else.”

  Ben’s heart sank. He thought he knew what it involved; he’d tried repeatedly to speak to Aldo Cardano, with no success. The other man had turned his cell phone off and only the answering machine responded at his home number. Ben had planned to visit the construction site in the hope of seeing Cardano.

  “It seems a female patient has suggested there may have been sexual misconduct during your treatment of her.” Ryngard could barely conceal his satisfaction. “Her father is a man I know and respect, and he came to me directly.” Ryngard’s voice had taken on an unctuous quality that set Ben’s teeth on edge. “Of course the board is under obligation to take any such suggestion very seriously indeed. As a fellow physician, I felt it only fair to ask you for your side of the story.”

  “We’re discussing Ms. Gemma Cardano—is that correct?”

  Ryngard confirmed that it was.

  Although Ben’s heart was hammering, he forced his voice to sound totally neutral as he summarized and repeated exactly what had happened between Gemma and him.

  “I assure you there was absolutely nothing inappropriate in my dealings with Ms. Cardano,” Ben concluded.

  “Her father mentioned the existence of, humph, certain poetry of a romantic nature,” Ryngard said. “He says his daughter is convinced you wrote it.”

  “Well, his daughter is wrong.” Ben’s control was slipping. “I don’t know anything about this poetry, and I can assure you that writing poetry and mailing it to my female patients is not one of my pastimes.”

  “Yes. Well, of course we’re left with the nasty reality that this is your word against hers, Ben. Perhaps it would help if you spoke to Mr. Cardano directly. The board prefers that complaints of this nature be handled immediately if possible. They can be most damaging to the hospital’s reputation.”

  Ben held on to his temper with the utmost difficulty.

  “I’ve been trying to do exactly that all day, with no success. Mr. Cardano has evidently decided not to speak to me,” he replied between clenched teeth.

  “Yes. Well. That’s most unfortunate, because Mr. Cardano said that he’s also considering going to the newspapers. And making a complaint to the College of Physicians and Surgeons.”

  Ben could hardly believe what he was hearing. “In other words, he wants me tarred and feathered and run out of town.”

  Ryngard’s laugh was gloating. “He did say he doesn’t think you should be practicing. I don’t want to sound precipitate here, Ben, but it might be a good idea to contact a lawyer, just to clarify exactly where you stand on this matter.” Obviously Ryngard was thoroughly enjoying this.

  Ben ignored his suggestion. “To my knowledge, a complaint of this nature has to be more than insinuation and innuendo. What Ms. Cardano’s saying about me is simply not true.” Ben’s voice had risen, and the knuckles on the hand gripping the receiver were white. “She has absolutely not a shred of evidence to back up her accusations.”

  “Of course, of course. Seeing a lawyer was just a suggestion.” Ryngard mouthed a few more patently insincere platitudes and assurances and finally hung up.

  Ben was trembling. With extreme care, he set the phone down and it rang again almost instantly. Ben snatched it up, thinking it might be Aldo Cardano, but Greg’s voice greeted him, instead.

  “Lily’s feeling a bit under the weather today so I’m gonna make dinner. You wanna come over and keep her and Stanley company while I cook? We’re keen to hear all about the San Diego connection.”

  During the conversation with Ryngard, Ben had made up his mind to go straight to the Cardanos’ house and do his best to straighten out the entire mess. Now he hesitated. Maybe talking this whole thing out with friends first was a good idea.

  “I’d like to come, but I have to feed Grendel and make a phone call.” Whatever else happened, he had to speak to Sera, and right away.

  “Anytime. We’re having a swim before dinner. We’ll probably be down by the pool.”

  Ben thanked Greg and hung up, took a deep breath and then dialed Sera’s cell number.

  “Hello?” Her husky voice brought such a powerful visual image of having her in his arms that for a moment he couldn’t respond. He closed his eyes and tried to figure out what to say to her, how to make her believe him.

  “Hello?” Her voice was now impatient.

  “Sera, it’s me.”

  “Oh, Ben. Hello.” Her voice was cool and distant, and he knew instantly that someone had already spoken to her. Worse yet, he suspected Sera believed what she’d heard.

  A sense of utter desperation came over him, and suddenly the only thing that mattered was convincing her he was innocent of the ridiculous accusations her sister was making.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “Sera, there’s been a terrible misunderstanding here, and I wanted to talk to you about it.” Ben wished with all his heart that he didn’t have to do this by telephone.

  “My mother called. She told me what happened.” There was an accusatory note in Sera’s voice. “She said Gemma was so upset she had to be sedated.”

  “That’s true.” A desperate urgency came over Ben. That she listen, that she believe him, was enormously important. “But what Gemma’s saying is just not so, Sera. I did nothing whatsoever to make her believe I was attracted to her.”

  “She says you made a pass at her, that you held her in your arms, that you wrote her poetry.” Sera’s voice trembled.

  Ben’s hands clenched, and he tried to suppress the righteous anger he felt. He didn’t want to come right out and insist to Sera that her sister was lying. It would only make her defensive. And as Ryngard had gleefully pointed out, it really came down to Gemma’s word against his.

  “Sera, I didn’t do a single thing that c
ould have been misunderstood. Certainly I held Gemma in my arms to restrain her, she’d become violent in my office. As for the poetry, I honestly don’t know what she’s talking about.”

  A long silence. Ben waited, his emotions in turmoil. To have to defend himself in this fashion infuriated him. He wanted to roar at Sera that innocence was usually presumed until guilt was proven. He wanted to beg her to give him a chance. She was silent.

  “I’ve tried all day to contact your father,” he finally said as quietly as he could manage. “I’d like to explain myself to him, but I haven’t been able to reach him.” He didn’t add that Aldo had already made a complaint to Ryngard; that wasn’t Sera’s affair. It was an issue Ben planned to take up with Cardano.

  The other man should at least have given him the opportunity to defend himself before he’d gone to Ryngard, and Ben planned to tell him as much.

  Right now, however, the thing Ben most wanted was to somehow convince Sera he was telling the truth. He didn’t understand why that was imperative, why it meant so much to him that this woman believe him, that she trust him.

  “Goddamn it,” he burst out when the silence lengthened again. “I despise telephones at a time like this.” He needed to be with her, to see the expression on her face, watch her luminous eyes; Sera had eyes that reflected her every emotion. He remembered making love with her, looking down into those eyes, meeting her somewhere beyond sensation.

  If only he had a chance to hold her right now, he had the feeling everything would be all right. She’d know he was telling the truth if she was face- to-face with him. “You do believe me, Sera?”

  He heard her sigh.

  “I think so.” But she sounded tentative. “I’m just not sure, Ben. It’s really hard to know what to believe when I’m this far away. I’m flying home Saturday afternoon. Maybe we could talk when I’m in Vancouver.”

  To know that at least she wanted to talk, that she was coming to Vancouver, that he’d see her in just a couple days time, was a huge relief. His spirits lifted a little. “Tell me what flight you’re on. I’ll meet you at the airport.”

  “Thanks, but I can’t do that, Ben. I’m only coming because my mother insisted. She’s very upset about all this. My family will be picking me up.”

  “Okay. I’ll phone you. We can arrange to meet. Where will you be staying?” He longed to suggest she stay with him, but he knew it wasn’t possible.

  “At my parents’ house. I have to go, Ben. We’re still working. They’re calling for me. Bye.”

  He heard the connection sever, and she was gone before he could say anything further.

  “Ben, old buddy, you need a good lawyer. And you need one right away.” Greg turned to Lily. “Who’s that woman who was representing Philips on the malpractice charge?”

  “Faye Weaver.” Lily watched placidly as Greg patiently sponged up the glass of milk Stanley had just dumped all over the table.

  “It was an assident, Mommy. I didn’t mean to spill.” Stanley gave his mother a repentant look from under his long lashes. “I ’pologize.”

  “I know, sweetheart. It’s okay. Daddy will get you more.”

  Greg righted the glass and Ben absently filled it with milk. “It’s too late to get hold of her at her office. I’m gonna call Philips and see if he’s got her home number.” Greg dialed and a few moments later handed Ben both the portable phone and a scribbled number.

  Ben took it reluctantly. He didn’t want this thing to escalate, he didn’t want to make it bigger than it already was, and he was afraid that hiring a lawyer would do exactly that.

  “Call,” Greg insisted. “If it turns out to be nothing, fine. But with Ryngard involved already, I’d cover my back. He’s Miller’s friend, and you know as well as I do that Miller will do whatever he can to sink you.”

  Ben hesitated, detesting the idea of having to repeat the entire sordid story to a lawyer. In some warped fashion, it felt disloyal to Sera.

  “What do you think, Lily?” Maybe a woman would see things differently.

  She’d been exceptionally quiet during Ben’s recital of the facts. In fact, she’d been quiet all afternoon.

  “I agree with Greg. Something like this can mushroom. It wouldn’t hurt to have a lawyer involved right away. And Faye Weaver’s probably familiar with the politics at St. Joe’s. Her sister’s married to Banfield.” Conrad Banfield was head of the psychiatric unit.

  “Okay, I’ll call her.” He did, and got a machine. He left his cell number and reluctantly added that the matter was urgent.

  “What means urgent, Uncle Ben?” Stanley had a milk ring around his mouth. He was wearing only a pair of blue swimming trunks, with a red Superman cape around his neck. It kept getting in the way, which accounted for the food around his chair and the spilled milk. Lily had suggested he take it off, but she hadn’t pressed the matter when he refused.

  “Urgent means you want something right now,” Ben explained.

  “I need to go for ice cream. It’s urgent.” Stanley beamed, delighted with himself.

  “Maybe we’ll all go for ice cream,” Greg suggested. “You up to it, Lil?”

  “Why don’t you guys go,” Lily suggested. “I’d like to lie down for a little while, maybe have a nap.”

  Greg frowned at his wife. “You feeling okay, sweetheart?”

  “Absolutely. Just very pregnant is all.” She reached out a hand and patted his arm, smiling at him, and Ben’s heart twisted in his chest. What would it be like to have a woman you loved smile that way at you? To have your woman big with the baby you’d made together?

  “My cell will be on,” Greg assured her. “If you need anything, call.”

  “You’re not exactly going on safari,” Lily laughed. “Although maybe you should put on shorts and a shirt with that cape, Super Stanley.”

  “Is it urgent?”

  Everyone chorused that yes, it was urgent. Stanley reluctantly struggled into clothing as the men cleared up the dishes and tithed the kitchen.

  A short while later Ben and Greg were sitting in an ice-cream parlor watching Stanley devour a bowl of chocolate ice cream when Greg’s cell phone buzzed.

  He answered it, listened, and his face paled. He barked out several questions, and Ben could see his hand trembling as he ended the call.

  “Lily’s water broke. The pains are coming one on top of the other. She’s phoned for an ambulance. It’s on its way. I’m calling the ER to tell them I’ll be there right away.”

  He did and then Greg scooped up his son and made a dash for the van. Ben thought to grab Stanley’s ice cream before he followed them.

  “I’ll drive,” Ben offered. Greg was visibly upset, face pale, jaw set. “I’ll drop you at Emerg and then take Stanley home.”

  “Judith should be home soon. She’s at her night- school class.”

  “I’ll stay with him. I can spend the night if you want.”

  Greg shook his head. “You’ve got Grendel. Judith’s fine on her own with Stanley.” His jaw clenched. “I only hope Lily’s okay. I should never have left her alone. I should have guessed something was wrong. The baby’s coming too soon. Lil’s only thirty-three weeks.”

  Thirty-seven was considered full term.

  “Who’s her OB-GYN?”

  “Morgan Gilbert. Lily called her. Morgan’s waiting at Emerg. Trust Lil to have everything under control, even when she’s the patient.”

  “Morgan’s the best there is.”

  Greg nodded, but Ben could tell he wasn’t really listening. His friend was undoubtedly imagining all the dreadful complications that Lily and his child might develop.

  Ben knew from personal experience that the horrific part of being a doctor when someone you cared about was a patient was knowing exactly how many things could go wrong. He’d driven himself nuts worrying about spinal injury and brain damage when Greg had been hurt in the skiing accident.

  “Please can I have my ice cream when we get home?” Stanley’s voice was plai
ntive from his car seat in the back of the van. “It’s urgent.”

  “You sure can, sport.” Greg explained to his son that Mommy had to go to the hospital because the baby was coming, and that, yes, it was urgent that Daddy get there right away.

  Ben pulled up beside St. Joe’s Emergency entrance and Greg leaped out and ran into the building.

  Ben had just pulled back into traffic when his cell phone rang. It was the lawyer, Faye Weaver. He turned into a side street and parked, then outlined exactly what had happened with Gemma Cardano, and also related his conversation with Earl Ryngard. Weaver asked perceptive questions, particularly what action, if any, Ben had taken thus far.

  “None. I’ve been trying to contact Mr. Cardano and tell him what actually happened, but he’s obviously decided not to speak to me. My first inclination has been to confront the Cardano family and somehow force Gemma to tell the truth.”

  “No.” Her voice was firm. “You absolutely must not do that. Mr. Cardano sounds to me as though he could be very confrontational. We don’t want this matter to escalate any more than it already has. Let me contact Mr. Cardano for you and find out exactly what it is he’s after.”

  That wasn’t hard to figure out, Ben thought bitterly. Cardano was after his hide. He wanted him to give up practicing medicine.

  “Uncle Ben, I gotta pee. It’s urgent.”

  “Okay, Stanley. Look, Ms. Weaver, I’m gonna have to go.”

  “Do you or do you not wish for me to represent you in this matter?”

  “Uncle Ben, I really really urgent need to pee.”

  “Yes, Stanley, we’re going home right now. Hold on, okay, sport?” What should he do? What decision should he make about this incredible debacle?

  “Yes, Ms. Weaver, I do. I do want you to represent me.” With a sinking sensation in his gut, Ben disconnected the call and started the van.

  It was past nine that evening by the time Judith got home. Ben, with immense gratitude and relief, turned over Stanley’s care to her.