Against Doctor's Orders

by Radclyffe

  “The doctors are here.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Drs. Edward, Harper, and Flannery Rivers are here to see you.”

  “I asked for Dr. Edward Rivers.”

  “Yes, I have that ready for you,” Carrie ad-libbed. “I’ll be right there.”

  Carrie let herself into Presley’s office and closed the door behind her.

  “What’s going on?” Presley asked.

  “Edward Rivers says that since Flannery is chief of surgery and Harper the assistant chief of staff, they should be here for anything pertaining to the hospital.”

  “And if I don’t agree, I’ll appear to be uncooperative at best, or hiding things at worst,” Presley said stiffly. “Why not. Send in the Rivers contingent, by all means.”

  She rose and pulled on her suit jacket, steeling herself to face Harper for the first time since she’d walked out of Harper’s bedroom. Edward entered first, with Harper and Flannery side by side behind him. Flannery, as usual, was in scrubs. Harper wore casual black pants, a gray shirt, and loafers. Her dark hair needed a trim, although Presley liked the roguish contrast to her otherwise conventional style. An inappropriate desire to ruffle the ends of hair drifting over her collar flickered through her mind, and she quickly quashed it.

  “Doctors,” Presley said, looking away from Harper with effort. Shadows deepened her eyes to nearly black, and for an instant, Presley’s throat tightened with longing. She lifted her chin, smiled. “Thank you for making time in your busy schedules. I’ll try not to take up too much of your time.”

  “That’s quite all right,” Edward said. “This is too important to rush.”

  “Please sit down.” Presley gestured to the small conference table that faced a screen on one wall. She smiled in the direction of Harper and Flannery. “And the other Drs. Rivers too, of course.”

  “Thanks,” Harper said, sitting across from Flann while her father sat at the head facing the screen. Harper had hoped the next time she saw Presley, the meeting would seem no different than any other professional encounter. She’d been fooling herself. She did that a lot where Presley was concerned. Just looking at Presley stirred her up. Presley appeared a little tired, a little thinner, but as totally cool and in control as ever. She stood facing them from the far end of the table, her hair held back with a burnished copper clasp, her pale green shirt the perfect complement to her beige suit jacket and pants. She was a beautiful woman. Harper knew just how beautiful. She didn’t have to close her eyes to see her again, naked and pliant and unrestrained—the image came to her at the most inconvenient times, igniting a rush of desire followed quickly by disappointment. The best times were when she woke in the morning and, for just an instant before her mind registered reality, she thrilled to the possibility of reaching out and touching her. But that was not going to happen. She forced herself to concentrate on Presley and see only the businesswoman and no one else.

  “Let me bring you all up to date,” Presley said, taking a small remote from her pocket and clicking on her computer.

  A slide appeared onscreen. A pie chart with a variety of colors and numbers. More charts and graphs followed. For the next fifteen minutes, Presley concisely and lethally explained to them why the hospital was failing and why the board had, for all intents and purposes, sold it out from under them. When she was done, she clicked off the projector and the screen went blank behind her. She leaned forward, the fingertips of each hand pressing lightly against the table. She made eye contact with each in turn and focused on Harper’s father at the end.

  “I’m sorry that it’s come to this, but the hospital is not viable. SunView has rehabilitated any number of institutions such as this, and in this case, I’m afraid it’s clear. Within the next six to ten weeks, we will close the hospital. You’ll need to inform the physicians to make arrangements to transfer inpatients who cannot be discharged in that period of time and to begin setting up new lines of referral for those who will need to be admitted in the near future for anything more than a day or two.”

  Edward said, “Are there no alternatives?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “May we have a few weeks to explore alternate possibilities before advising the staff?”

  Presley’s inclination was to decline. She understood the doctors’ need to resist; she’d seen it before. No one wanted to hear they were about to not only lose their own jobs but would have to advise hundreds of others of the same thing. However, delaying the inevitable rarely made a difference. “I don’t—”

  Harper spoke up. “You’ve had the opportunity to look at all the facts and figures. We’re just hearing this now.”

  “But surely you knew this was coming.” Presley had told Harper as much weeks before.

  “The three of us know more about the medical systems in this area than you could possibly have learned since you’ve arrived,” Harper said. “Let us talk about it. We might be able to present you with an alternative.”

  “Dr. Rivers,” Presley said with as much patience as she could muster, “I don’t presume to tell you how to treat patients. It’s my job to look at all of these issues from every side before reaching a decision. Believe me, we’ve done that. As things stand—”

  “Yes,” Harper said, “as things stand now. But perhaps we could make some changes that would make a difference.”

  Presley shook her head. “You can’t put more money in the pockets of your patients. You can’t force insurance companies to pay more for your services. You might be able to influence your fellow practitioners to some degree, but the system remains the system.”

  Flannery said, “There must be somewhere we can find a new revenue source.”

  “There isn’t,” Presley said. “You may not believe this, but I’ve looked. There are basically three sources of revenue for an institution like this—government funding, insurance reimbursement, and patient self-pay. You have precious little of any of those.”

  “What if we could get more government subsidy,” Harper said.

  “How?” Presley said.

  “I’m not sure yet. Give us a little time—”

  “Ten days,” Presley said, knowing they would be more willing to do what needed to be done when they failed to find an alternate solution. She could give them ten days. “Then we will make an announcement to the staff that the hospital is closing.”

  “We’ll do our best to see that doesn’t happen,” Edward said flatly.

  She nodded and the three Rivers doctors rose. Edward and Flannery started toward the door, but Harper hesitated. “Thank you.”

  Presley nodded, the tightness in her throat making it hard for her to speak for a moment. When Harper turned to leave, she said, “Harper.”

  Harper paused, letting the door close, leaving them alone.

  “How’s Jimmy?” Presley asked. How are you? Do you know I wish we’d met somewhere else? Sometime else?

  “Holding his own. He’s not responding as quickly as we hoped, but he’s stable.”

  “Good. That’s good, then.”

  Harper studied her for a long moment, then nodded silently and left.

  Presley waited a few minutes until she was sure they were gone before packing her laptop. It was only midafternoon, hours before she usually left the hospital, but she couldn’t stand the confines of the office any longer.

  “I’m going to spend the rest of the day working at home,” she told Carrie.

  “There’s a game tonight,” Carrie said cautiously. “Why don’t you come? You’ve been spending eighteen hours a day on this. Take a break.”

  “No. But thanks.”

  It was bad enough she couldn’t get Harper out of her head. The last thing she wanted was to see her again. Phoenix couldn’t happen soon enough.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  A crack like a rifle shot punctured the warm afternoon air. A white projectile rocketed straight toward Harper and jerked her to attention. She extended her glove and dove to her
right. The missile impacted earth, altered its trajectory, and caromed upward, its speed barely diminished by the ricochet. The ball sailed over her glove and hit squarely on the left side of her jaw. Pain lanced through her head, and for an instant, the world disappeared.

  “Lie still,” a faraway voice ordered.

  Harper opened her eyes, blinked, and watched strands of cotton candy drift and tumble overhead. Calliope music tinkled faintly and she was a kid again, back on the fairground, holding on to the huge plaster horses as they glided up and down the poles, screaming with joy as the platform went round and round, so fast it felt as if she would fly off if she let go. Her father stood beside her, his arm gripping the pole above her head, his body a shield ensuring she would not fall.

  She lay on her back, trying to understand how she had fallen off this time.

  Flannery’s face came into view, the set of her mouth uncharacteristically serious.

  “I’m fine,” Harper said. The words seem garbled. She swallowed, tasted blood. The sky stopped spinning and the clouds slowed their movement to a lazy glide across her field of vision. She checked her upper and lower teeth with the tip of her tongue. All intact, none broken. A sore spot on the inside of her left cheek seeped blood. She must’ve bitten it. She tried the words again. “I’m fine.”

  “Somebody get me some ice,” Flann yelled, one hand pressing Harper’s shoulder to the ground. “Just lie there for a minute, hotshot.”

  “Help me over to the bench.” She sounded a little more understandable now, but every little bit of movement triggered a bolt of pain from in front of her ear straight into her brain. She touched her jaw and Flann caught her wrist.

  “What part of be still isn’t getting through to you?”

  “Just want to see if it’s broken.”

  “Why don’t you let me do that?”

  Harper closed her eyes and got ready for more pain. Flann’s fingers traced gently along the bone and Harper was reminded again what a good surgeon she was. How quick and deft her hands were when she worked. “Ouch.”

  “Ouch for real, or ouch ’cause you’re being a pussy?”

  “Ouch like I need some ice, but I don’t think it’s broken.”

  “Ought to be X-rayed.”

  “Hell, no.”

  “How are your teeth?”

  “All there, none loose. Bite’s okay.”

  “I suppose we can ice it tonight and see about an X-ray in the morning, then.” Flann slid an arm behind Harper’s shoulders and helped her sit up. “You dizzy?”

  “Not anymore.”

  “How many?” Flann held out three fingers.

  “Five.”

  “Stop fucking around.”

  Harper tried to grin but her mouth didn’t really seem to be working right. “Three. I told you I’m fine.”

  Carrie dropped to her knees beside them. “Oh my God, that was really a shot. How are you feeling?”

  “Like an ass. Come on, get me off the field. I’m okay.” All Harper’s teammates and most of the opposing team were standing around her in a circle. “Come on, we’re winning. Let’s not lose the momentum.”

  “Right.” Flann tightened her grip behind Harper’s shoulders and pulled her to her feet. Harper had to lean on her, but she tried to make it as subtle as possible. “You sure we don’t need the hospital tonight?”

  “No, but I might need a ride home.”

  “I’ll take you to the big house.”

  “What for?”

  “So Mama can look after you for a while. Otherwise you’re just gonna lie on your sofa feeling sorry for yourself.”

  “True. But we’re not leaving until you finish kicking their asses.”

  Flann got her settled on a bench with a bag of ice. “Hold that. I’ll be back after I’m done ass kicking.”

  When the team finished creaming the opposition, Carrie joined Harper. “How you doing?”

  “Looks worse than it is.”

  “That’s good to know, because it really looks terrible. You’ve got a lump the size of—well, a softball on your jaw. Do you think it’s broken?”

  “I doubt it. Maybe a hairline crack, but nothing that won’t heal on its own.”

  “That was a freakin’ missile she hit,” Carrie said. “I put it high and outside, but she teed off on it. Sorry.”

  “Not your fault.”

  Flann strode up. “Wouldn’t have hit you if you’d had your head in the game. You shouldn’t be playing if you can’t concentrate.”

  “Kiss my ass,” Harper said, and was pleased the words came out clearly.

  “You’re lucky daydreaming about a woman didn’t end you up in the ER,” Flann said.

  “Who says I was—”

  “Tell me you weren’t thinking about a certain blonde with a killer body and a mind like a buzz saw.”

  Carrie jumped up. “Okay, I’m out of here for this conversation.”

  “No need,” Harper said carefully. “The conversation’s ended.”

  Flann looked at Carrie. “You going with everyone to the Hilltop for pizza?”

  “I was planning on it.”

  “I’ll see you there after I drop this one off.”

  Carrie smiled. “Okay.”

  *

  Flann was mercifully quiet for the first half of the drive home. Harper rode with her head back, her eyes closed, and the ice slowly melting as she held it to her face.

  “You asleep?” Flann finally said.

  “No.”

  “What do you think about what Presley said earlier?”

  “I’m not surprised. Are you?” Harper had been thinking about Presley all afternoon. About what she’d said, the way she’d looked, and the sadness in her eyes. She’d been remembering, too, the way she’d looked naked, straddling her, wild and triumphant.

  “What?” Flann asked.

  “What?”

  “You kind of groaned. Are you feeling worse?”

  “No, I’m fine,” Harper said, tortured by the memories she didn’t want to give up.

  “Got any bright ideas about what we might be able to do to change things? ’Cause Presley is pretty set on what needs to be done.”

  “Maybe,” Harper said. “I’ll talk to you and Dad about it when I get things a little more worked out in my head.”

  “Don’t take too long. Presley isn’t likely to give us an extension.”

  “She’s not the enemy.” Harper wanted to defend Presley even as she struggled to find a way to stop her from doing what she planned.

  “Nope,” Flann said lightly, swinging into the drive at the big house. “She’s just the enemy’s hatchet man.”

  Flann stopped in front of the house, jumped out before Harper could argue, and came around to help Harper out of the car.

  “I’m okay,” Harper griped, shaking off the arm Flann wrapped around her waist. “I don’t need a damn wheelchair.”

  “I wasn’t getting you one.”

  Harper’s mother came out onto the back porch. “What are you two squabbling about now?” She folded her arms and narrowed her eyes as Harper drew closer. “Bat or ball?”

  “Ball.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “That’s what the glove at the end of your arm is supposed to be for, Harper.”

  “It took a funny jump.”

  “And that’s what your eyes are for,” she went on, holding open the screen door. She glanced at Flann. “How exactly did you let this happen?”

  “Me? It’s not my fault she was sleeping at shortstop.”

  “You know the rules. If one of you has been up all night and is too tired to play, the other one makes the call to pull you out.”

  “Wasn’t her fault,” Harper said, slumping into a chair at the table. “I just took my eye off the ball for a second.”

  “I see.”

  Flann kissed their mother quickly on the cheek and backed toward the door. “I’m going for pizza. See you later.”

  The door banged shut and she was gone. Ida
opened the icebox compartment and pulled out a tray of ice cubes. She ran it under cold water, popped out the cubes, refilled the tray, and put it back in the freezer. After filling a plastic bag with the cubes, she handed it to Harper and took the melted bag from her. “Something happen today? Problem with one of the patients?”

  Harper stretched out in the chair, her legs extended under the table, the bag of ice back against her jaw. “Presley called Dad, Flann, and me into her office today. SunView plans on closing the Rivers.”

  “Closing it,” Ida said slowly. “That would be hard on everyone around these parts.”

  “Yeah, it would.”

  “Is there anything you can do?”

  “We need more money.”

  “Don’t we all.” Ida shook her head and slammed a plastic dish basin into the sink. She yanked on the faucet and hot water gushed into the tub. She rinsed glasses and laid them in to soak. “Didn’t the board see this coming?”

  “I don’t know. If they did, I don’t think they let Dad in on it.”

  “They didn’t, not until very recently.”

  “I’ve maybe got an idea, but it’s probably harebrained.”

  Her mother stood behind her and gently kneaded her shoulders. “Maybe a harebrained idea is what it’s going to take.”

  “Maybe.” Harper closed her eyes. Her mother’s hands were strong and tender on her tight muscles, and just as soothing as they’d been when she was a kid and her mother would tend to her bruises and scrapes.

  “What really happened tonight?” Ida asked.

  “I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “Why not?”

  Harper thought of a million excuses as she let herself relax into her mother’s hands. “I was thinking about Presley.”

  “What she told you today about the hospital?”

  Slowly, Harper shook her head. “No. About…personal stuff.”

  “That overnight visit, you mean.”

  Harper felt her face glow bright red. “Yes. Well, not just that.”

  “Harper, sweetie,” her mother said gently, “you don’t have to be embarrassed about having feelings or what you got up to with her.”