by Ward, Kira
“I don’t know. I suppose if this was a face to face date, I’d ask you things like, ‘Where did you go to school?’ ‘Are you close to your family?’ ‘What kinds of movies do you watch?’”
“You already know. Sort of. And…it depends on who’s in it.”
Another smiling emoticon filled the screen. “Very efficient….which actors send you running to the local theater?”
“Robert Downey Jr., Julianne Moore, and especially lately Shailene Woodward.”
“Yeah? You’re in to those teen, dystopian type movies?”
“Some of them. I have a—“
“Patient” is what she was about to write, but she suddenly realized she didn’t want to tell him that she was a doctor. After some of her past experiences, she thought that it might be better to wait on that disclosure. Instead, she wrote:
“—friend who loves the books and she made me go see the movies.”
“They aren’t that bad.”
“You’ve seen them?”
“Yes. I could make up an excuse as to why, but the truth is…I have a niece who is a huge fan.”
“That’s a good excuse.”
“Tell my poker buddies.”
Melanie laughed. She could almost picture him, even though she had no idea what he looked like, a cigar hanging from his lips as he tried to explain to a roomful of beer-swilling, poker-playing guys why he went to see a teen movie.
What a scene!
“You’re laughing at me,” he said before she had a chance to type in a response. “I can feel it.”
Melanie laughed again even as she wrote a denial.
He was so easy to talk to. She quickly found herself debating who would most like win in a one-on-one fight, Iron Man with his lack of supernatural powers, or Thor and his magic hammer. Nash was quite knowledgeable about a great many things, from pop culture to classical music to literature, keeping her on her toes with every topic they covered in their hour’s long conversation. She didn’t even realize how much time had passed until her computer flashed a warning about her quickly diminishing battery power.
“My computer is about to die,” she told him regretfully.
“Is it really that late? I guess I should go home and get an hour or two of sleep before it all starts again in the morning.”
“Sorry to keep you up so late.”
“Didn’t even notice the passing time.”
Melanie smiled, glad he felt the same way she did. “Should we meet again tomorrow night? Maybe I’ll even remember to pack my power cord.”
“I’d like that. Same time?”
“Same time, same place.”
“I’ll see you then. Have a good night, Melanie.”
She closed her computer, unable to wipe away the smile that was glued to her lips. What were the chances of finding a perfect match the first time out? She wouldn’t have believed it if it had happened to someone else. And maybe she shouldn’t believe it for herself.
But she desperately wanted to.
***
“How was the honeymoon?”
“Oh, darling, it was everything a girl could have asked for,” Melanie’s mother crooned in her ear. “We stayed in all these beautiful places, and the yacht? Just sublime! I never could have imagined anything better.”
“Yeah, the pictures were pretty amazing.”
“They were, weren’t they?”
No humility. No embarrassment. Who was this woman and what had she done with Melanie’s mother? Funny how a little money could change a person.
“I should go, Mom. I’m on call today.”
“But you’re at home. You can talk for a little while, can’t you?”
There was a touch of disappointment in her mother’s voice. Melanie could never stand to disappoint her mother.
“Yes, of course.”
“Good.” Clearly relieved now. “So, Burton’s birthday is in a few months. I want you and Burt and Alyssa and her family to all make an appearance.”
“Burt? Have you even met him yet?”
“No. But Burton assures me that his stubborn son will show up for the party, even if he has to make certain threats against him to get him there.”
“Sounds like a tightknit family.”
“Yes, well, Burt blames his father for a few things that went wrong in the past. But, I’m hoping that if we can get the family together in one room, we can convince him that his father is not the monster he thinks he is.”
Melanie remembered what Alyssa had said about her brother—how he blames his father for their mother’s death—and how it worried her a little about her mother. If Burton drove his first wife to drink—at least, in the opinion of his youngest child—what might he do to Melanie’s mother?
“Do you know what he accuses his father of?”
“Yes. And I realize why he feels that way, but Burton did the best he could by his wife. He put her in rehab fourteen times…did you know that?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“It was a bad situation, Melanie. And Burton handled it the best way he knew how at the time.”
Melanie sat on the edge of the couch, her eyes falling to her open laptop where it sat on the coffee table. She had been up most of the night talking to Nash. It was the second time in a week they talked all night, the ninth time they’d talked since the first exchange of emails nearly two weeks ago. She found herself wondering what he would think if she told him about her new, dysfunctional family. So far they had managed to keep their conversations away from parents and siblings…She wondered how much longer that would last.
“I’m sure Burton’s a saint.”
“Don’t be sarcastic.”
“I’m not.” Melanie stood up again, turning to her galley kitchen and a cold glass of orange juice she had poured just as her phone rang. “If you love him, he can’t be all that bad.”
“Thank you.” Her mother sighed. “I really want everyone to get along, Melanie. You and Burton, you and Alyssa and Burt…I want to be a proper family.”
“You’re a psychologist. You should know there is no such thing as a proper family.”
“True,” her mother said, laughing softly. But then she grew a little more somber. “I never imagined I would get married. After your father died, I was so wrapped up in surviving that by the time I lifted my head, I thought that part of my life—the part where I had a chance to find love and settle down with a good man—had passed me by. Now…I just want this to work.”
“I know, Mom. And I want you to be happy, so if there is anything I can do…”
“Thank you, baby.”
Her mother hung up a few minutes later, but not before promising to send an email with a list of things Melanie could do from a distance to help with the party. Just what she needed, more stuff to do.
Melanie tossed the phone onto the soft couch cushions and proceeded to straighten up the kitchen from her rare meal preparations the night before. She had just finished putting the last dish in the dishwasher when her computer beeped at her. She wandered over, still drying her hands with a dishtowel, and felt her heart skip a beat as she realized it was an email from Nash.
“I’m going out of town for a few days and will have limited access to a computer—all day meetings and that sort of thing. I didn’t want you to wonder why I wasn’t responding to your messages or anything.”
“Thanks for letting me know,” Melanie answered. “I’ll miss our superhero debates.”
Nash didn’t answer right away. Melanie assumed he had signed off, so she went back into the kitchen to finish up. Just as she hung the dishtowel over the oven handle, her computer beeped again.
“This might be a little forward,” Nash’s message said, “but I don’t suppose it would be possible to get your cellphone number? Maybe we could exchange a few texts or something.”
Melanie’s heart jumped into her chest. She liked the idea of having his number, of texting him whenever a thought crossed her mind. There were half a dozen t
imes in just the past four hours when she thought of things—comebacks, mostly—she wanted to say to him in response to something they had discussed the night before. But the act of turning on her computer and composing an email or messenger comment just seemed to take the spontaneity out of the moment. But to have the quick, easy access of a text message…she would seriously have to work on her filtering skills.
“Not forward,” she wrote back. “Just the next step.”
“Are we ready for the next step?”
Melanie bit her lip, taking his words more seriously than he probably meant them. She didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how he would take her enthusiasm for the idea, didn’t even know if she should be enthusiastic for it. What if he started calling? What if she didn’t like the sound of his voice? What if he didn’t like the sound of her voice? What if she couldn’t keep herself from saying something that would frighten him off? What if he somehow used her number to find where she lived, to steal her identity? What if this had all been some sort of scam to earn her trust so he could hurt her in some, here-to-for undefined way?
There were so many what-ifs.
Before she could decide how to answer, he came back with nothing more than his ten digit cellphone number.
What was done was done.
***
Melanie spent her one, truly free, day off shopping for little plastic sailboats her mother could use as party favors for Burton’s birthday bash. She wasn’t sure why her mother couldn’t find sailboats in San Diego—or Los Angeles, since apparently, she and Burton had been spending quite a bit of time there—but she promised she would help, and this was what her mother wanted.
She was walking out of the third craft store she had visited that day, with her purchases in hand, when she stumbled into Jack. More than two weeks she’d avoided going down to radiology so that she wouldn’t have to see him, and here he was, walking into a craft store on her day off.
“Dr. Spence,” he said, clearly as surprised as she. “How are you?”
Melanie nodded, trying to think of something clever to say when a pretty blond woman, clearly not much older than twenty, came up behind Jack. She slipped her hand through his arm even as she balanced a baby against her shoulder with the other hand.
“Jack?” she asked, the lack of trust in her voice like a punch in the stomach. At least, to Melanie.
“Tess, this is Dr. Spence, the one I was telling you about.”
A sense of dread washed over Melanie at those words. But the woman’s face lit up like he’d just told her Christmas had come early.
“Dr. Spence, it’s wonderful to meet you,” the girl said, stepping around her husband and thrusting a hand at Melanie. “When Jack told me he talked to you about Eli’s condition, I can’t begin to tell you how relieved I was.”
“Eli?”
Jack’s face twisted into something like anger—or maybe annoyance—as he gestured with a nod of his head toward the baby.
Melanie, who was always drawn to babies, slid her hand up the infant’s back before cradling his little head. “How old is he?”
She was expecting to hear something like five or six weeks by the child’s size, but was surprised when Tess said, “Six months.”
Melanie glanced at Jack. He rolled back on his heels, anger flashing in his eyes. “Down Syndrome,” he mouthed above his wife’s head.
A whole list of complications ran their way through Melanie’s mind. She immediately knew why Jack had told his wife that he spoke to Melanie specifically. Babies with Down Syndrome tend to have problems with their cardiovascular system, usually some deficit in the formation of the heart that causes what is essentially a hole in the center that allows blood to flow improperly. Melanie lifted the infants hand and could see that his fingers had a blue tint to them. He was a very sick baby.
“Can I hold him?” she asked with a soft smile.
Tess’ eyes lit up. “Of course.”
Melanie took the child gingerly into her arms, her eyes moving over the purse of his little lips and the quick, rough movement of his chest. He had the telltale markings of a child with Down Syndrome—the flat nose, upturned eyes, and slightly protruding tongue—but he also had his father’s strong jawline and his mother’s pale hair. Beautiful. Melanie again ran her hand over the child’s head, wondering what kind of future he had with an overly-protective mother and an apathetic father.
It explained a lot about Jack…but didn’t excuse anything.
“Bring him to the hospital Monday morning,” Melanie told Tess as she carefully handed the infant back to his mother. “We’ll run a few tests and see where we stand.”
“Thank you,” Tess said, tears filling her eyes.
Melanie glanced at Jack. It was the least she could do.
***
“Sometimes I wonder about people,” Melanie texted to Nash a few minutes later as she sat in her car. “How a guy can cheat on his wife when she has so much on her plate.”
“Sounds like the guy is a real winner.”
Yeah.
Melanie glanced back at the store. Instead of seeing Jack, her eyes fell to his car, parked harmlessly at the front of the store. She could see a car seat in the back now, one that had definitely not been there the night she climbed back there with him. She tried again not to think about what might have happened if he hadn’t taken that call from Tess.
Oh, what she might have done.
She couldn’t believe she’d told Nash what happened between her and Jack. She hadn’t told anyone, except what little she told Tanya, because she was embarrassed. She didn’t tell him everything. Just about the make-out session, the wife, the infant with Down Syndrome. She didn’t tell him that she was going to fix the hole in the baby’s heart. She still hadn’t told him she was a doctor.
She could tell him she made out with a married man, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell him she was a doctor. Was there something wrong with that?
But, again, he hadn’t told her what he did for a living, either.
“Where are you?” she suddenly asked.
She wasn’t sure he would answer. But he came back almost immediately.
“New York.”
She’d been to New York a few times herself. It was a unique place, one people either loved or hated on sight. Melanie loved to visit…wasn’t sure she would ever want to live there.
But she could picture him there.
In her mind, Nash was a tall, blond man who looked best in well-tailored suits. And that man was more comfortable in an urban setting than anywhere else—despite his deep respect for nature. She wasn’t sure why she pictured him that way, she just did. She had never asked him what he looked like—never even mentioned his lack of a photograph on the dating site. She wondered, sometimes, what he thought of her. She had posted a picture, but it was an older one from a time when her brown hair was cut short. The photo highlighted her blue eyes, which is why she chose it, but it wasn’t really representative of who she was now.
But he had never asked if it was accurate, if that was still how she looked, or if it was even her. Was he that trusting or that uninterested? No matter what she did, or what Nash said, Melanie’s doubts kept creeping in.
And then her phone beeped, alerting her to a new message.
“Have you ever been to New York?”
“A few times.”
“There’s a romantic little restaurant in Soho…I’d like to take you there someday.”
Melanie bit her lip, her heart suddenly pumping faster than it should. “Are you suggesting we meet in the real world?” she typed, her finger hesitating briefly over the send button.
“I guess I am,” came his quick response.
Melanie glanced over at Jack’s car again, remembering the feel of his lips on hers, his hands on her back. She missed physical contact. But she was enjoying the conversation, the forced communication. The what-ifs that had been plaguing her since the beginning came into play again when she thought about
meeting him in real life. It all boiled down to essentially one question: What if he didn’t like her in the real world?
“It’s been weeks,” his next text said. “Meeting in the real world is inevitable, isn’t it?”
She knew that. But it didn’t mean she wasn’t still nervous about the idea.
She hadn’t told anyone about Nash, not even her mother. Not Tanya, her college roommate, Rebecca, or any of her other friends. She kind of liked keeping him to herself, keeping him her secret. If they met in the real world, she would have to tell the world about him.
Was she ready for that?
“Yes,” she reluctantly typed, afraid if she didn’t answer he would think she didn’t want to meet him. “Maybe we could have dinner sometime, but here in Dallas. Soho is a bit of a commute for me, at the moment.”
“Sounds good.”
Melanie smiled, more pleased by his response then she had expected to be.
Chapter 4
Melanie cradled Eli to her breast as she waited for the sedative she had administrated to take effect. Tess and Eli had arrived at the hospital before Melanie, and she was concerned what their prior doctors had said. However, a quick perusal of his chart made it pretty clear that there hadn’t been that many doctors before Melanie. There was a financial aspect that Melanie had seen before—parents often failed to take their children to routine doctor visits when they didn’t have insurance or the money required for the copay, assuming that a child who seemed to be developing at a normal rate couldn’t possibly have any problems, only to end up in the emergency room when a congenital defect began to take its toll. It was obvious Eli’s pediatrician hadn’t seen him often enough to fully assess his heart condition. Most of the notes in his chart came from the staff pediatrician who saw him at birth.
Melanie ran her hand gently over the baby’s arched back, listening to his slow breathing. A sleeping baby was more relaxing than petting a purring cat or watching an aquarium full of fish swim. At least to her. Melanie was the most popular babysitter on his block when she was a teen because she had a magic touch when it came to getting even the fussiest baby to sleep. It was a no-brainer that she would go into some sort of pediatric medicine. When she did her surgery rotation and met he first patient, an eighteen month old boy with a congenital defect, she knew what her calling was.
