Ivey poured her another taste. “No, we’re definitely not back together. But we’re friends.”
“Bah! Friends? What kind of nonsense is that?”
Ivey blinked. Mrs. Pusini had had enough, and Ivey held back the bottle. That didn’t make her too happy, if one were to go by the sour expression on her face.
“We don’t all get our happy ending,” Ivey said.
“Baloney. Look at her, Al. Isn’t she pretty? What about your nephew?”
“What about him?” Al, bless his heart, asked.
“For Ivey. She needs someone. Isn’t he about her age?”
Al’s brow furrowed. “I think he’s nineteen.”
“Perfect!” Mrs. Pusini sang out.
Oh, for the love of Pete. “I’m twenty-five.”
“Even better. You’re a cougar.” She cackled. Still smoked a pack a day, Ivey would guess.
She didn’t like this new Mrs. Pusini. As Al pulled Mrs. Pusini along to the next tasting table, Ivey wondered if they still had a town spinster. Seemed like everyone was married or dating someone, if tonight was any indication. Except, of course, for her. She was the loneliest number.
Every town had a spinster. Could she be the town’s spinster in training? Ivey wracked her brain for the last time she’d had a date. Back in LA, she’d given up hope on men. Seemed like every single one of them was either gay or an actor. But it was time to get back in the game. She couldn’t take Mrs. Pusini’s place. Someone else would have to do that.
Ivey bent over the bar and waved. “Mrs. Pusini, wait! I’ll give you my number.”
She waved back and smiled. Possibly she couldn’t hear over all these talking, happy, disgusting couples. Who are you kidding? You’d give anything to be that disgusting.
When Ivey turned back to pouring, a gray-haired gentleman who had moved to the front of the bar startled her. He was also alone, Ivey noticed. Though maybe with good reason, as he had a stalker-slash-serial-killer vibe going on. It was in those dull, gray, empty eyes.
“Do you uh, want some of this?” Ivey offered.
He didn’t hold out his wine glass but continued to stare. “What is it?”
Ivey swallowed, then smiled. Just pour and look pretty, right? “Wine. Red.”
“That’s fascinating, considering we’re at a wine tasting event. Care to elaborate?”
“It’s a—” Ivey turned the bottle in her hands, hoping she could decipher the label and it would tell her something. Anything. But Mrs. Hughes’s second grade class came back to her in Technicolor. She’d never been any good at reading out loud or on the spot. Dyslexia forced her to take her time.
“Miss, do you know anything about wine?” The man looked at her as though he could see right through her and the charade.
Where was Brooke when Ivey needed her? And did Brooke realize the irony in this situation? She’d told Ivey to stop helping people and then set her up. Damn, and Ivey had fallen for it. When would she learn to say no? Hell no. Well it would not be tonight, because something about this man made Ivey want to run and hide, not suddenly grow a spine.
She glanced over at Eric who was busy schmoozing with ladies who appeared to have had more than enough wine already. “Of course I do, sir. This wine is, um, dry?”
He took a sip, swished, and spit in a paper cup he carried. Gross. No one else was spitting tonight. They were swirling and swishing. But this guy had to spit.
“You call this dry? Has this had any chance to breathe?”
Did wine breathe? News to her.
Brooke rejoined Ivey then, easing her slender body behind the table and taking the bottle swiftly from Ivey’s hands. “Mr. Dougherty, so good to see you. I have a case of the private label Merlot you wanted in the back. But this is our new Cabernet . . . ”
Ivey relaxed and watched Brooke do her thing. After Mr. Dougherty had been satisfied, Ivey grabbed Brooke’s arm and squeezed. Tight. “Where were you?”
But Brooke didn’t have to say another word as Ivey took a good long look at her friend—face somewhat flushed, hair messed up like she’d gotten out of bed—what the?
“Did you just—have sex?”
Brooke pulled Ivey aside and shushed her. “Okay, you got me. A little quickie in the back. Thanks for covering for me.”
Ivey felt the red color of indignity spread straight down to her unpainted toenails. “You drag me into doing your job so you can get a little action? I thought you were working.”
“I’m sorry. My brain said no, but the rest of my body doesn’t understand English when I’m around the man. Look, Ivey, I owe you an apology.”
“You’re damn right you do.” She’d never leave a patient alone for a quickie. Although, okay, her patients did have a way of reminding her that a few hours of bliss often amounted to five times the amount of pain.
“Okay, here goes. When you and Jeff—let’s just say now I understand why you ditched me.”
“I didn’t—” Ivey stammered, but her face flushed because they both knew it was a lie. She’d ditched Brooke on more than one occasion for Jeff.
“Back then I didn’t know what I was missing. I was an eighteen-year-old virgin, and I didn’t get why you and Jeff couldn’t stay away from each other. Well believe me, now I do. You should have told me how—and then when the guy—how great it is when you both—Well, if I’d known how much fun you were having, I would have understood.”
“Well, I—” She’d been in love, desperately and completely as only a sixteen-year-old could be.
Brooke laughed. “Okay, quit stammering. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
Eric called out again. “Brooke! If you’re not here in two minutes I’ll be handing in my notice. And this time I’m not kidding.”
“Sorry, got to go. He quits once a week, and even if he is a pain in the ass, he’s good at what he does.”
Ivey didn’t know why, but it felt like everything and everyone around her had changed while she’d stood still. Sure the hills were in the same place. The ambling country road into town peppered with vineyards every hundred feet: the same. But Mr. Peterson was gone (good riddance), Mrs. Pusini was married, Jeff no longer had his nose stuck in a medical textbook, and Brooke was behaving like she’d discovered butter.
Meanwhile, Ivey still felt like the twenty-year old who’d left town with big hopes, only to come back empty handed. She still had the nagging, pressed-down feeling that she’d done something wrong, something unforgivable, even with the best of intentions.
She stood for a few more minutes watching Brooke pour and laugh with the customers. A few minutes ago Brooke had been with her boss somewhere in the back having sweaty sex while everyone else sampled wine, clueless.
That single thought served as a segue for sudden thoughts of Jeff and sex. Sex with Jeff. The type of thoughts she didn’t want to have in her head right now.
Stupid wine. She didn’t even have to drink it for it to mess with her head.
*****
“Mommy says you don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Nope. What about you? Boyfriend?”
“No!”
“Ah. You’re married, then.”
“I’m not married, you silly.”
“Don’t tell me you’re divorced.”
“No!”
“Don’t worry, someone will come along.”
“Ew! I’m never getting married.”
“That’s what you say now. Your mother used to say that too, and now look at her.”
“Becky! Jeff! Dinner’s ready.”
“C’mon, squirt. It’s time to make conversation with the grown-ups and make believe we’re interested.” Jeff caught four-year-old Becky as she leapt off the jungle gym and into his waiting arms.
“I can fly!”
“Yeah, yeah.” He plopped his niece on the lawn and watched her skip up to the back porch and through the sliding glass door.
Seemed like she’d grown three inches and several IQ points since he’d seen
her last month. He didn’t see his family often enough, so it was probably for the best that he didn’t have one of his own. Who had time? Unless he wanted to blame the five-foot-nothing fireball that had come back into his life. They’d had a plan. Marriage, kids, the house, dogs. Maybe even a cat if he was feeling generous.
Medicine was now his life. He had to keep reminding himself that some choices required sacrifice. Even if he felt he’d already sacrificed enough.
Ali, as usual, was worried about him. She’d already seen Ivey back in town and probably understood the effect that would have on him. Ali said it was because they’d never had real “closure,” which sounded like the psychobabble word du jour.
After dinner, he helped his sister clear the dishes while Bob the Saint put the kids to bed.
“I’ve wanted to talk to you about someone,” Ali said.
“You mean something.” Jeff handed her a plate.
“No, someone. I met her at the park last week.”
“No.” Among all of her sisterly duties, Ali had become his dating service.
“She’s a single mother of one adorable little boy. And a professional. She’s a lawyer.”
“Hate to repeat myself, but no.”
“But why?”
“I don’t do blind dates.”
“But this woman is perfect for you.”
Ivey was perfect for him, and look how well that had worked out. “Even worse.”
“You’re not making any sense. It’s because of Ivey, isn’t it?”
When it came to Ivey, it was true that nothing made sense. “I haven’t let you fix me up for a year, and now you want to blame it on Ivey?”
“I thought I was wearing you down.”
“You weren’t.”
“I hate that you’re alone.”
“I’m not alone. I have you guys. Scott, my roommate, even if he is gone half the time. And the hospital. Don’t know if you heard, but we’re engaged. Very happy together too. I’ll make sure to send you a save the date.”
“This isn’t funny. You’re a great guy, a real catch. And even if you are my brother, the word is that you’re hot. I know, gross.”
“Disgusting. It’s not like I haven’t dated. I don’t have time for a relationship, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“I noticed. But sooner or later you’ll have time. And then what? Are you going to settle down with someone because the timing is right? It doesn’t work that way.”
She wasn’t saying anything he hadn’t thought of at one time or another, when he had time to think about personal shit. Which was about ten minutes out of every twenty-four hours. Yeah he was alone, and he hadn’t planned it that way. He’d wanted to marry Ivey right after medical school. He figured his wife would put up with the long resident hours and near poverty like no girlfriend ever would. He’d taken a lot for granted.
“What about one of those computer matchmaking services?”
Jeff couldn’t help the tick that formed in his jaw or the way his hands tightened around the glass he held. “You mean like the one where Ivey found her perfect match?”
His sister had the decency to look shamed. “Obviously she didn’t, or she wouldn’t be back in town, single again. That’s what worries me. You two are going to gravitate back toward each other like magnets.”
While that had a nice ring to it, he had his doubts. “Don’t worry about that. She hates me. The way she sees it, I broke up with her.”
Ali froze and stopped rinsing the plate midair. “That’s because she doesn’t know, does she?”
“And she never will.”
One month after their fight, he’d made it through exams and headed home to Ivey. To spend the entire weekend in her arms and never leave the bedroom. He’d been too abrupt with her in their last conversation. One week later he’d regretted it, but instead of calling, he’d waited and hatched a scheme to surprise her. Gone by his parent’s house to pick up his grandmother’s ring. His idea of a compromise. Ivey would understand how he felt about her. There was no else for him, but he needed more time to put his career in order. He would propose, and they’d have a long engagement. Ivey would get the surprise of her life.
Yeah. Surprise!
“It’s for the best that she never knows, believe me. You two together were too intense. Young love. Bound to burn itself out in time.”
If that were true, why did he still feel like he was waiting for that flame to die out?
Chapter 6
“You can’t be serious.” Marissa Hartsell fixed Ivey with a look equal parts badass and college professor. Ivey was pretty sure that not a single one of Marissa’s patients thought twice when she ordered them to push.
Even though her A Little Miracle office waiting room was filled with clouds of pink, blue, and white, Marissa didn’t give off the same calming vibe. Ivey hadn’t known what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t this.
Marissa had managed to fit Ivey into her schedule two weeks after Ivey had phoned to ask for some time to talk about her midwifery practice. They were sitting on two chairs in the empty waiting room of the office converted from an old Victorian in the middle of town, and Marissa, from the looks of it, was not one bit thrilled by the idea of a staff of midwives at St. Vincent’s Hospital’s new women’s center.
Ivey had explained the dilemma and her appointment to the subcommittee. She’d explained the doctors’ objections to the idea. This was where Marissa should get on her soapbox and have a tirade about the unfairness of it all.
“Why on earth would you want to work in a hospital?” Marissa asked.
“Because I want women to have the choice of a completely natural labor without any medical interference.”
“In a hospital?” Marissa nearly squeaked out the last word.
“I realize it doesn’t sound like the best place to avoid medical intervention, but—”
“It doesn’t sound like it, because it isn’t. That why we’re here, Ivey.” She waved around her waiting room. “Women do have a choice. We’re part of one of the oldest professions, working with the most natural event in nature. Well maybe the second most natural event, not coincidentally arising from the first.”
“But women don’t even think about midwives any more. They’re trained to go to doctors, and the option isn’t really ever presented to them. Not often enough.”
“We’ve done a good job of getting the word out around here. But some women are always going to feel safer within the confines of a hospital.” Marissa lifted a shoulder. “I can’t help those women.”
“Don’t you think it would be best if we could all work together? Doctors refer low-risk cases to midwives, and midwives refer high risk to doctors?”
Marissa leaned back in her seat. “Ah, so you’re a dreamer. You didn’t tell me that.”
Ivey sighed. This wasn’t going well. She was supposed to meet Jeff in an hour so she could report on the results of the meeting. Only so far it didn’t look like she’d have anything good to say. “Wouldn’t this give new opportunities to midwives?”
“New opportunities to be subservient to doctors. Let’s face it, the hospital is their turf. They’ve earned it through hundreds of years of the establishment’s rules. We’ve always worked in homes and places where women feel most comfortable. Let the doctors keep the hospitals. As long as they’re in the same building, they’ll never stop interfering.”
Ivey hadn’t expected to have this fight with a midwife. She hadn’t been too surprised by the doctors’ attitudes, but why couldn’t Marissa see this as a new frontier?
“This is already being done in some hospitals in LA and other large cities.”
“I’ve heard, and it’s not working well, in my opinion. Too much medical intervention. Lots of fighting between midwives and doctors. Anyone who has ever been through labor knows that it’s tough to get through it naturally. When the option is available for drugs and comfort, it’s too tempting. Being at home removes that option.”
Sounded like Marissa didn’t have a whole lot of faith in women in labor.
“But what about complications?” Surely Marissa could see the need to be in a hospital for that.
“Ah, yes, for the five percent of low-risk women in labor who wind up having complications? Well that’s when we transport to the hospital. But believe me when I tell you that I’ve never once had to take a patient to the hospital. That’s because being at home reduces the risk of complications. Whenever pain relief is introduced, for instance, complications arise.”
A half hour later, Ivey hadn’t managed to make Marissa budge. When Marissa’s next patient waddled in precisely at noon, Ivey felt as tired as the pregnant woman looked.
After introductions, Ivey prepared to leave, but Marissa quickly pulled her aside for one last parting shot.
“I wouldn’t want to see you lose sight of what’s important. A completely natural, non-medical experience for our patients. Anything less than that and we’ve robbed them of that joyful experience.”
“Thanks for your time.”
“Of course, dear. Anything for a friend of Babs. Why don’t you think about coming to work for me here? I could always use an extra helping hand.”
Ivey nodded. “I’ll give it some thought.”
She hopped in her SUV and it came alive with a pathetic effort, meaning she should have taken Aunt Lucy up on her offer to buy her a new car. The engine light had been flashing on and off for a while. That probably wasn’t good. Next week she’d get it into the shop for a tune-up. Or a major overhaul.
For now, she needed to rethink everything. How was she ever going to convince the board to go along with hiring a staff of midwives? If Marissa’s sentiment was the norm, she’d not only have a bunch of doctors angry for encroaching on their territory, but she’d also have midwives in a tizzy. And you didn’t want to get a midwife in a tizzy.
Maybe she was going about this the wrong way.
Her SUV seemed to agree, as it made a screeching flappetty clackety sound. Ivey coasted off to the side of Merlot Highway. Perfect. Stranded on a sweltering August day. Wearing a white halter dress—obviously the perfect outfit for car trouble. She made the useless effort of pulling up her hood, always more of call for help than anything else. Like waving a flag of distress. Nothing under the hood made sense to her anyway.
All of Me Page 5
