Regina had placed the flowers on her desk, though they took up a good bit of space, and thought about Milton Shaw. He was getting to her. Damn it. That thing with the ear cover this morning, the kiss on the cheek, the flowers. He was making her like him too much. Asshole.
Muttering to herself, she touched the petals absently with her fingers. She had the paper flowers he’d given her hidden in her top desk drawer—the one from the day she’d met him, and the one he’d given her yesterday morning.
There was a knock at her door.
“Come in.”
It was Charlie Hong, dressed in bright yellow scrubs today, searching for her over the mountain of roses.
“Here.” She moved them to a filing cabinet on the other side of the office.
“So, who’s the mystery lover?” he teased.
Huffing in annoyance, Regina settled back into her chair. “Why is everyone so fascinated by my love life?”
“’Cause you have one for once?”
Regina rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh. It’s just that it’s a novelty, is that it?”
“Well, you turned down Dr. Berkeley, and everyone has the hots for him.”
Berkeley was an ass. A grandiose ass who took himself way too seriously. She hadn’t even hesitated to turn him down.
“And that pharmaceutical rep who looks like Captain America. You turned him down, too.”
“He’s like twelve,” she protested.
“And that father who came in with his daughter, the one who’d been in a skiing accident and turned out to have an osteochondroma. He asked you out.”
“And I said no, because I wasn’t interested in dating the parent of a patient.”
“A temporary patient. Well, there’s been a pool going that you’re gay, so don’t be surprised if money changes hands today.”
“Great. That’s just great. Well, everyone can just keep wondering, because I’m not going to spill the details of my private life just to amuse you fools.”
“Hey,” he said, raising his hands in protest. “It’s not me.”
Regina eased back in her chair. “Sorry, Charlie, guess I’m a little touchy.”
“Yeah, no kidding. You really hate having your privacy invaded, don’t you?”
Regina didn’t want to get into her father and the cameras and the attack, so she just shrugged. “Yeah, I do.”
“Well, hey. I’m sorry I bugged you about it.”
“It’s fine. Maybe I’ll tell you about him sometime.”
“So it is a him?”
“Seriously?”
“Sorry.” He snickered. “Oh, hey, listen. I wanted to tell you. You have a new patient. He’s a little famous around here. His name is Saint George.”
Regina knew him, had met him when he’d come for a checkup. He was a little pistol of a kid around six or seven who’d been treated for leukemia prior to her coming to the hospital. The treatment had been successful and the boy hadn’t had any detectable cancer for the past twelve months. They called him Saint George because he liked to wear a helmet and carry around a lance, but his name was George Carter. “He’s here now?”
“Yeah,” Charlie answered, and stole a tissue off her desk to wipe his nose. “Came with his mom last night because his head hurt. We took a look . . .”
“And it’s back,” she finished.
He nodded, his square face seeming to sag. “You should go talk to him in a little while. He’s getting some blood drawn, but he looks pretty shaken up.”
Regina nodded, ignoring the burning sensation in her eyes. “Yeah, I will.”
“Cool. Jackie called the Shaw the Magician. He should be here soon.”
Regina’s head lifted. “Why would she call him? He was already on his way for the benefit rehearsals.”
Seeming puzzled at her tone, Charlie tilted his head. “I don’t know. I think Saint George likes him. The magician promised to come visit him if he ever ended back up in the hospital. You okay, Reggie?”
Regina realized she was frowning fiercely. “Yeah.” She looked down. “I’m okay.”
“Okay,” Charlie said, but his tone was doubtful. “I’ll see you later.”
Regina sighed. She didn’t want to tell Milton that a kid he knew was sick. She wanted their relationship to be about fun and sex and magic, not huge emotional upheaval. Rubbing the bridge of her nose, she pulled up Saint George’s chart on her screen. She was surprised she hadn’t seen him on her list when she’d made her rounds this morning, but saw that he’d been scheduled for an MRI and hadn’t been transferred to her until late morning.
She checked her phone. Milton hadn’t called or texted. Why did that worry her?
A few minutes later, Regina knocked lightly on the door to Saint George’s room.
“Come in,” a woman’s voice said softly—presumably Saint George’s mother. The woman, a slightly plump blonde with a short bob and a small upturned nose looked at Regina with red, swollen eyes, but she wasn’t crying.
Saint George was turned away from Regina, the sheet pulled up over his head.
“Hi, Mrs. Carter. Hi, Saint George. I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Dr. Burke. We met at your checkup last year.”
“Hello, Dr. Burke,” Mrs. Carter replied, and her gaze drifted back to her son. He didn’t say anything, but he tugged the sheet a little farther over his head.
Regina walked over to the bed and wanted to put a hand on the boy’s shoulder to comfort him, wanted to, but knew better. Instead she folded her hands in front of her.
“Well, George, this just sucks.”
The little shape shifted beneath the sheet, but he didn’t speak.
Mrs. Carter looked a little startled, but seemed too exhausted to process anything.
“I was told you’d fought your last dragon, but here you are again. You really need to stop chasing them down, George.”
“Saint George,” the voice mumbled. “And I know what you’re doing.”
Regina almost smiled. “What am I doing?”
“You’re acting like you don’t care so I don’t get upset.”
Regina chuckled. “You’re right. Sorry about that, George. I guess I’m used to the little kids. They don’t like it when I start crying. So you’re saying I can go ahead and bawl my head off?”
Something that sounded suspiciously like a snicker came from under the sheet. “Yeah. Go ahead.”
Regina gave her best theatrical sob, and the sheet was ripped away, revealing a small face with brown eyes and short red hair.
“Gotcha,” Regina told him with a superior sniff. “Too easy.”
Saint George shook his head, scowling. “I have cancer. You’re supposed to be nice to me.”
Sarah came in with a lunch tray, passing briefly in front of Regina as she set the meal on a rolling cart with an arm that swung over the bed.
Regina shrugged, pretending indifference. “I’m not nice to anybody.”
“It’s true,” Sarah chimed in as she checked the monitors. “Dr. Burke is not nice. She won’t even tell us who sent her flowers.”
“See,” Regina continued, “I’m not nice. Now tell me something, Saint George, where is your lance and helmet?”
The kid, now looking disinterestedly at the food on the tray, glanced over at his mother. “My head got too big, and I broke the lance jousting on my bike.”
Regina glanced at his mother, and wished she could send him home to ride his bike and joust and play, but she knew better than anyone that sometimes life sucked, and you just had to fight your way through it. Not exactly magic tricks and costumes, but she was here to help him fight as best she knew how.
“I suppose we’ll have to get you some new ones,” she mused. “Only the best, of course.”
The kid looked glumly at his food while Sarah straightened some of his
tubes and cords. “I don’t want to be a knight anymore.”
“That’s pretty sad,” Regina said sincerely. “There aren’t enough knights these days.”
“Now that’s the truth,” Sarah chimed in again. “Though I think a knight sent Dr. Burke the flowers.”
Regina glared at her—not the flowers again.
George was frowning, his freckles standing out on his nose. “Someone sent you flowers?”
“Yes,” Regina admitted, “but I’m pretty sure the man who sent them isn’t a knight.”
“How do you know?”
Regina quirked an eyebrow at the kid, about to reply, when an imperious knock sounded on the door.
“Come in,” Saint George shouted, seeming to have forgotten his shyness.
A man in a suit, a fedora, and a mask swept inside the room with a dramatic flair that should have been ridiculous. Oh, damn. Here we go. This is the man I’m sleeping with.
“Shaw,” George said, sitting up straighter, his face brightening. “How did you know I was here?”
Regina couldn’t help but feel like Milton’s eyes rested on her for a moment. With an elaborate flourish, he removed his hat and bowed to everyone.
“Saint George. I had no idea you knew such pretty women,” the magician said matter-of-factly, tossing the fedora at the end of George’s bed and taking a seat.
“Dr. Burke is my doctor,” Saint George explained with a small yawn, and Milton’s grin flashed.
“She looks very nice.”
The boy shook his head, shifting restlessly on the bed. “She’s not.”
Sarah laughed. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes or so, Dr. Burke, to check on him.”
Regina nodded absently, only half listening.
“Well, there is a rumor that she’s an evil princess who’s actually a dragon in disguise,” Milton explained easily.
Saint George stared at her, brown eyes huge in his face. “I could see that.”
“Would a knight send a dragon flowers?” she countered. “I received flowers this very morning from a man everyone is sure is a knight.”
“He’s probably trying to trick you so he can stab you through the heart,” the kid predicted nonchalantly.
Regina felt her lips quirk. Right you are, kid. “That does seem reasonable.”
“Come here.” Milton gestured for the boy to lean closer. Regina took the hint and directed her attention to Saint George’s mother, but she could still hear the low whisper.
“In a few weeks we’re going to put on a magic show,” Milton whispered, “and I am going to make this evil princess disappear forever. I’m betting that once I work my magic, the dragon will come out.”
Regina hadn’t heard the part about the evil princess being a dragon. She suspected Milton has just made that up.
“You really think so?”
“And I’d very much like your help, since you’ll be here.”
The kid looked doubtful and wise beyond his years. “I guess I could do that.”
“Great! If you feel up for it, join us in the entertainment room after lunch.”
The boy had been sliding farther and farther back into his pillows, his bruised-looking eyelids drooping, but he answered, “Okay. Maybe.” The last word was barely audible.
“All right,” Milton agreed, his voice softening. “We’ll play it by ear.”
The boy fell asleep while the three adults watched over him silently. Tears ran down Mrs. Carter’s cheeks and dripped unheeded onto her pink T-shirt.
“I thought he would stay well,” she said quietly. “It’s almost worse than the first time.”
Regina started to speak, to say something, but stopped when she realized that there were no words of comfort she could offer that wouldn’t sound like bullshit. She started to say something anyway, but Shaw the Magician had already slid nimbly off the bed. Wanting to keep him from trying some kind of trick, Regina tried to intercede, but he gently, implacably set her out of his path by putting his hands on her shoulders and moving her a few inches out of the way.
He crouched down next to Mrs. Carter and produced a handkerchief from somewhere. Who carries handkerchiefs? Regina thought.
George’s mom accepted the handkerchief, but made no move to wipe her face. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Milton said. “Cry all you want. He’s asleep.”
“I just thought . . .”
“I thought so, too,” he finished for her. “You had to believe that he would stay well. Otherwise, you would have lived your life in fear, which is no life. Trust me. I know.”
She shook her head, denying that she wasn’t guilty, that she hadn’t messed up, but he wouldn’t have it.
“It’s not your fault, Cindy,” he said sharply and waited until the woman nodded. “Okay, now wipe your face. I’m sure Dr. Burke wants to talk to you privately.”
“Okay,” the woman whispered, and wiped her face. When she was finished, she tried to hand him back the handkerchief.
He waved her off. “You keep it. And if you need anything else, just let Jackie know, and I’ll take care of it.”
Cindy shook her head, almost crying again. “You’ve done so much.”
Milton stood and collected his hat from the end of the bed. He set it decisively on his dark hair. “He’s a good kid. I’m happy to help.”
He turned to Regina, and she inhaled deeply without exactly knowing why.
“I’ll be waiting at the nurses’ station. I’d like to talk to you,” he said simply.
Regina swallowed and nodded curtly.
A small smile quirked at the corner of his mouth, just a hint of a smile really, and then it was gone. Regina wondered if maybe she had imagined it.
She did speak with Mrs. Carter briefly, explaining that they’d already started the chemo, and that George would likely be extremely tired for a few days. Mrs. Carter already knew most of it, having gone through it before, but she listened dully, and then Regina went to meet Milton, who was indeed at the nurses’ station, speaking to Jackie Keen. She caught his eye and gestured down a nearby hall, the one that led to the garden.
He nodded, but he continued talking to the nurses, so Regina headed that way herself. It was a popular spot in the winter since it was warm, but she thought they’d be able to talk in relative peace and quiet. There was a bench to sit on and a fountain.
She made her way to the glass doors that opened to the garden and took a deep breath of the warm, moist air. The sun was out, sparkling on the glass and snow overhead. There was a path from the entrance that split in two directions, circling around the garden for those who liked to walk. It did continue straight, though, into the center, where there were several benches interspersed among tropical palms and flowers.
Selecting the bench partially obscured by an enormous elephant ear plant, Regina took a seat and stretched out her legs in front of her.
Milton joined her a couple minutes later, removing his hat and mask and setting them on the bench. He sat down silently, his body vibrating with tension.
“What can you tell me?”
Regina was certain then, even if he never spoke about it, that Milton had lost someone to cancer. Only people who’d lost someone had that particular look, that tone, the depth of understanding that came with deep and abiding sorrow. She would also bet, based on where he chose to perform his magic, that he’d lost someone who’d been a child, maybe a sibling.
“I can’t tell you anything,” she told him gently. “You know I can’t.”
“Yeah.” He looked at the ground between his feet.
Regina wanted to comfort him, but she barely knew this man, for all that she’d given her body to him. She couldn’t offer him platitudes like he was a stranger, couldn’t reassure him. She laid a hand on his shoulder and remained silent.
“This sucks,” he muttered.
“Yeah,” she agreed, rubbing slow circles on his shoulder.
He turned to look at her, and his blue eyes were burning. “How do you do this all the time? Why did you choose this?”
Regina swallowed. She could put him off; she doubted he would push, but she was so bad at this comforting thing that she wanted to give him something. “I lost my grandmother to cancer. I visited with her in the hospital when I could, but I had Celeste to worry about back then and I had to take care of her. One time, while I was there, I had to wait outside while they performed some tests. I started wandering around and I saw how respected all the doctors were, how much people looked up to them. I was just about to go to college, my father had disappeared, and we’d lost everything. I wanted to be respected again. I wanted people to look at me and know that I was a decent person, that I was . . .” She searched for the word she wanted. “Worthy.”
“That’s why you became a children’s oncologist? For respect?”
“Well, that’s why I wanted to become a doctor. Stupid, huh?”
“Seems like a lot of work. So what made you want to help children with cancer?”
“One of my professors. I took care of his daughter between classes for a little extra cash. She was diagnosed with a brain tumor my junior year.”
His eyes darkened. “Did she make it?”
Regina nodded. “Yeah, she did, but it was a long fight. She had to learn how to walk again after the surgery. It was the bravest thing I’d ever seen.” She laughed, but not like anything was funny. “It put my problems in perspective, you know?”
He was quiet for a moment, looking down at his hands again. She thought—maybe—he was going to tell her about whomever he’d lost.
“So what did you want to be before your father disappeared? What were you going to do?”
Regina sat back, startled. What had she wanted to do? “I don’t remember. I may not have known. I liked math and science. I liked knowing how things worked. I might have been an engineer, maybe.”
She glanced at him. “What about you? Why do you do what you do?”
He tapped his fingers together restlessly. “Computers? I’ve always been into them. Video games. Anything with a screen and a monitor. My mom used to make me go play outside, play sports. She was worried I’d get sick if I stayed in the house all the time.”
The Lady Vanishes Page 19
