by Amy Ruttan
“Calm down,” he said gently.
“You want me to calm down?”
“Look, I just think there’s more to this than you’re telling me. You’re a horrible liar.”
“Why do you think there’s more to this?”
“There is a scar here, an old one,” Reece remarked. “That’s why I asked.”
Vivian sighed. “It was a long time ago. I’m sorry. I don’t like to talk about it.”
“Right. I forgot you don’t like to talk about the past.”
“I’m not the only one.”
He shot her a warning look, but she was right. “It’s okay, Vivian.”
“I didn’t think...I mean. I don’t know what I mean.” There was a hint of sadness in her voice. Hopelessness when it came to this disease. He knew it well.
“When was she diagnosed?” Reece asked.
“Three months ago. Her doctor sent me the MRI. I finished up my affairs over there and headed here.”
“I’m sorry.” And he meant it. He wouldn’t wish this disease on his worst enemy.
Vivian nodded. “Thanks, and I would appreciate you not saying too much about this. I like to keep my private life and work life separate. I don’t care if people know she’s my mother, just not why she’s here.”
“It’s me, Vivian. I understand about that,” he said gently.
“I appreciate it.”
“Well, that explains why you were so interested in my Alzheimer’s trial,” Reece remarked. “Which makes me feel better.”
“Did you honestly think I would try and poach that?” she asked, hurt in her voice.
“It’s a tough world out there. Lots of people hungry for opportunity.” Reece finished up his work. “You can’t blame me for being suspicious.”
“No, I guess I can’t.” Vivian handed him the scissors. “I’m not interested in Alzheimer’s. That’s not where I’ve focused my papers. I’m a diagnostician. Plain and simple.”
“And you’re here to diagnose Gary Trainer?”
“One of the reasons, though, truth be told, I didn’t know about Gary until today.”
They shared a smile—one he hadn’t shared with her in so long. It was nice. He’d missed it. It was nice just knowing what another meant without having to explain. He disposed of the suture kit and then began to wrap her mother’s wrist.
“Is this what had you tied up when you asked me to set up the test?” he asked.
Vivian nodded. “I couldn’t leave her alone. I’m going to hire her a companion soon, but when I came home tonight she had left the door unlocked and had to be reminded about a few things. It was her first real bad day since I came home.”
“I understand. I respect that.”
He knew about bad days and parents.
His parents had been superstars and ran on a different schedule than the rest of the world. Reece had spent many a day sleeping during daylight hours and up all night, because that was what his parents did.
When he was a young child there were two years he didn’t see the sun. Only the moon and countless strangers passing through their Belle Meade mansion while his parents threw endless parties and get-togethers.
How he’d wished for some stability.
A normal life.
The only stability he’d ever had in his life were the couple of summers he’d spent with his paternal grandfather in Kentucky, up in the mountains. There were regular meals, chores, swimming and stability.
Those summers had ended when he was ten, when his grandfather got Alzheimer’s. Reece’s father had sold the Kentucky cabin and put his grandfather in a home near Memphis, where he’d died alone a year later.
Reece had never seen his grandfather again. It was then he’d decided to dedicate his life to curing Alzheimer’s.
That was all that mattered.
Medicine. Not music.
“She should be fine, but maybe try to find out if your mother tried to do harm to herself in her past. If she regresses it could be a repeat episode.”
Vivian nodded. “I will. She doesn’t talk much about those times. She’s private too.”
Reece chuckled with her. “I know, but I would hate to have to put her on a suicide watch.”
“She’s not suicidal when she’s lucid,” Vivian snapped defensively.
“Okay, but you understand where I’m coming from as her doctor.”
“You’re not her doctor.”
“I will be.”
Vivian looked confused. “What do you mean?”
Even though he shouldn’t do it because it would mean that he would be further getting involved in Vivian’s life, he couldn’t see her suffer like this. Her mother was a good candidate anyway—given that Vivian had said she was early onset and was diagnosed only three months ago—and he had to keep telling himself that he was going to make the offer because it made sense for his trial...not because of his past with Vivian.
“I mean I’ve decided to take your mother in my trial.”
Vivian was stunned. “What?”
“That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? Your mother can start my Alzheimer’s trial tomorrow.”
This is not distancing yourself from her.
CHAPTER FOUR
“I THOUGHT YOU said your trial was full?” Vivian asked.
Reece shrugged. “There’s room for a good candidate and I think your mother is a good fit.”
“You don’t have to make room for her because it’s me.” In fact she didn’t want him to. She’d taken so much from him already. She didn’t deserve this kindness and didn’t want any handouts.
She didn’t need them.
Except, her mother needed to be on his trial. It was a shot.
“I’m not. Don’t mistake my offer for anything but the fact your mother is a good candidate.” His eyes were dark, cold and it sent a shudder down her spine. “This has nothing to do with our past relationship. It’s purely medical.”
Vivian tried not to blush. Of course he wasn’t doing it for any other reason and she felt foolish for saying it. What did she think—that he would still care for her seven years after breaking off their relationship with a note?
“Of course. I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that. It’s been a trying day.”
His expression softened. “I’m sorry too.”
“So why don’t you tell me what you need for this trial?” Vivian asked, trying to steer the subject away from apologies for something that was no longer there. Something she never really deserved since she’d thrown it away.
“Well, first things first. I will get her admitted up into the neuro floor and we’ll go from there.” Reece turned to the computer and began to do the paperwork.
“Admit her?”
“Yes. All my trial patients are admitted until after I administer the medicine and they recover from the procedure so I can keep a close eye on the protocol. Will that be a problem?” Then he frowned. “I know you didn’t want this spread around...”
“You’re right, I didn’t, but it’s okay. She’s more important. Besides, she has a different last name from me.”
“Not Maguire?”
“No.” And she didn’t elaborate that her mother had kept Vivian’s father’s name, but Vivian had taken her mother’s maiden name when she’d turned eighteen. She’d wanted to wipe her father’s name from hers. She didn’t need to be reminded she was the daughter of Hank Bowen, failed country singer, liar, cheat and drunk.
“So your mother’s surname is...?”
“Bowen. Her name is Sandra Bowen.” Vivian sighed and gave Reece the rest of the info he would need to admit her.
“Vivian?” her mother moaned as she woke up.
“Right here, Mama.” Vivian gripped her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“Where am I?”
“Cumberland Mills,” Reece reminded her gently.
“Why?” Then her mother winced and looked at her bandaged wrist. “More than a blip?”
Vivian nodded. �
�Dr. Castle wants to admit you.”
“I’m not suicidal,” Sandra snapped. “Please believe me. The knife slipped.”
It broke Vivian’s heart because Reece had seen the old scars. Scars from a long time ago when her mother had been just that. Another reason why Vivian had wanted to sever the ties between her and her father.
“We know, Mama. It’s not that at all...”
“I’m running an Alzheimer’s trial. Your daughter, Dr. Maguire, will be helping and you’re a perfect candidate, Mrs. Bowen.” He smiled at her, one of those charming smiles which could win over any woman with a pulse and it worked like a charm on her mother.
“Oh, well, that sounds great. What’s the trial testing?”
“Medication, Mrs. Bowen, that will hopefully cure Alzheimer’s.” He smiled again, but wouldn’t look at Vivian. “I take it Vivian is your medical power of attorney now?”
“I am,” Vivian said. Then she looked at her mother. “What do you say, Mama? Do you want to be part of the trial?”
“Of course.” Her mother grinned. “Besides, I’ll get to see you in action.”
Reece smiled and patted her mother’s arm. “That’s the spirit. I’ll get a porter to take you up to your room. Dr. Maguire, can I speak to you for a moment?”
“Sure.” Vivian kissed her mother’s head. “I’ll just be a moment.”
“Of course, darlin’.”
Vivian shut the door to the trauma pod. “What do you need, Dr. Castle?”
“I just wanted to clarify something.”
“Okay.” Now she was confused. She thought everything was fine. Maybe he’d changed his mind.
“I said you were involved with the trial to ease her, but since you want her connection to you kept quiet you can’t have any involvement.”
“I assumed as much,” she said, trying to not let her anger take over. Did he think she was so obtuse?
“I also want her MRI. The one her GP sent you.”
“Of course. Anything else?”
Reece shrugged with indifference. “No, I’ll update you as I know more.”
“Okay. For what it’s worth, thanks.” She didn’t wait for an answer. He’d made it quite clear why he was doing this for her mother. It was purely medical and she was fine with that. She expected that. Whatever they had in the past was long gone. And really all she wanted now for their working relationship was tolerance and professional indifference.
* * *
Reece regretted his demeanor toward Vivian the moment he uttered those words, but it was for the best. He knew bringing Vivian’s mother on his trial was not going to distance himself from Vivian. Far from it. So he tried to delude himself. Tell himself the only reason he was doing it was because Vivian’s mother was a perfect candidate for the trial. It had nothing to do with old feelings.
Keep telling yourself that.
It was hard to remind himself of that because every time he looked at Vivian he remembered every kiss, every touch.
The scent of her hair, the taste of her lips.
That was why he’d never had a long relationship after her. Vivian haunted him.
She’d taken his trust, something that was so hard for him to give, and crushed it. He knew he’d never feel that way again. Never open up again. So he didn’t bother after a handful of bad dates and failed attempts at a relationship.
They always broke it off, saying he was never there.
And it was true.
His heart was in Germany.
I have to get away from here.
Reece turned and shut the door to the office. He was overtired and maudlin. Past was in the past. Focus on the now.
“Dr. Castle?” Reece turned to see one of his interns run toward him.
“Yes, Dr. Brody?”
Dr. Brody caught her breath. “Have you seen Dr. Maguire? She’s needed in the ICU.”
“Is it something I can help with?”
Dr. Brody shrugged. “I don’t know. Dr. Brigham told me to find Dr. Maguire. He heard she had come back to the hospital and was in the ER.”
Reece nodded. “I’ll get her. Tell Dr. Brigham we’ll meet him in the ICU.”
Dr. Brody nodded and ran back the way she came.
So much for going home to have some sleep.
He didn’t knock when he opened the trauma pod. “Dr. Maguire, you’re wanted in the ICU. Dr. Brigham is specifically requesting you.”
Vivian quickly looked down at her mother. There was such love and tenderness between them. Reece envied it. His parents had never shown much interest in him. Except when he’d walked away from the musical career they had wanted for him in order to go to medical school.
“You were invited to sing at the Opry. Singing at the Opry will launch your career. You can’t say no.”
“I can, Dad. I’m going to be a surgeon.”
“You have a gift. You’re throwing it all away.”
“I have a gift, yes. A gift of medicine, Dad. I don’t want a musical career. I don’t want to be Ray Castille’s son and always live in your shadow.”
Reece had never wanted fame and fortune. Not in music anyway. He loved music, but he loved medicine and surgery more.
He wanted to be remembered for saving lives, not a gold record.
“Are you going to be okay, Mama?” Vivian asked.
“Sure. I’ll be fine. Go do your job.”
“I’ll get a nurse to take her up to the neurosurgery floor and stay with her,” he offered.
Vivian nodded and collected her things. They left the ER together after a nurse came to stay with Vivian’s mother.
“I wonder what it’s about. I’m not on duty.”
“Someone saw you come in,” Reece said.
Vivian sighed. “I guess it’s to be expected, being the new kid on the block, right?”
“Probably.” Reece held open a door for her.
“Weren’t you on your way home?” Vivian asked.
“I was, but I want to get your mother settled first. Besides, I figured you’d want help navigating the maze of Cumberland Mills. It has been seven years. Things have changed.”
She laughed. “Good point.”
“Exactly. I’m always right.” He winked.
“I remember the first time I tried to navigate these halls. I ended up in Pathology and missed my rounds.”
Reece chuckled. “I forgot about that. First day of rounds too. Boy, was Brigham mad.”
“You mean Isaac, don’t you?” Vivian teased.
“I’ve never been able to bring myself to call him that.” Reece held open the door for her. “He’ll always be Brigham the blowhard to me.”
She laughed, her eyes twinkling. “I forgot about that nickname. Seems so long ago.”
“It was,” he said and a blush crept up her neck. They didn’t say anything else to each other then.
Dr. Brigham was waiting outside of an ICU room. “Ah, Dr. Maguire and Dr. Castle. Glad you’re both here. We have a donor who was deemed brain-dead in the ER six hours ago, but an intern insists the patient was decerebrate upon a recent examination. Problem is she won’t wake up on her own. She needs the ventilator to keep her alive. So all signs point to brain death.”
“That’s common,” Vivian remarked.
“I know. So we did a scan and found a tumor. My question is, Dr. Maguire, can we get it out and if so will the patient come through? She was in a bad car accident. She survived surgery, but can she survive another one?”
“Can I see the scans?”
Dr. Brigham motioned for them to follow him into a room, where the patient’s scans were brought up. Reece peered close. A routine scan in the ER had missed it, but it was there in the brain stem. A brain-stem glioma. Small, barely noticeable and a delicate place. If unsuccessful it would render the patient brain-dead.
“How did the ER doctor misdiagnose this woman as brain-dead? The glioma is preventing her from waking up,” Vivian asked in disgust. “It’s very rare and they’re practically
impossible to find at this stage. It’s barely begun. I’ve removed two successfully. They weren’t in adults and weren’t this small.”
“Do you think you can remove it?” Dr. Brigham asked.
“We’ll tell the patient’s next of kin the options. Send home the transplant team. They should never have been called in in the first place. She does have a shot and that’s better than nothing.”
“So glad you’re here with us, Dr. Maguire.” Dr. Brigham left the room.
“Do you think you can remove it?” Reece asked. He stepped closer to get a look at it. Dangerously close, so he took a step back, remembering she was off-limits. He’d forgotten himself for a moment there.
“I’ll have a good shot. Frankly it’s her only shot. This tumor will kill her eventually. Sooner rather than later. And she’ll never come to in her present state with this tumor pressing here.” Vivian sighed. “It’s horrible, but whatever sent her to the ER might’ve saved her life. Do you want to scrub in with me?”
The question caught him off guard. He should say no, just go home for the evening after getting her mother settled, but this was a once-in-a-lifetime tumor.
“Yes. I would.”
Vivian smiled. “Great. I need a surgeon I can trust in there with me.”
He was shocked. “You trust me?”
“You’re a fine surgeon, if my memory serves me correct. I need a good surgeon to help me. I don’t know the other surgeons on this floor. I know you.”
The compliment caught him off guard. “Okay. I’ll get your mother settled and meet you in the scrub room.”
She nodded and turned back to the scans as Reece left. He’d tried to push her away and the last place he wanted to be was in an OR with her for hours while they did brain surgery, but he wasn’t going to walk away from a once-in-a-lifetime surgery.
He’d be a fool to turn his back on her and this opportunity.
And when it came to his career he was no fool.
* * *
Vivian hadn’t felt this much pressure to perform a surgery since her first solo surgery. Funnily enough, Reece had been at her side then too. And she felt as nervous as she had that day long ago. Dr. Brigham had meant her first solo surgery as a test. She’d always been shy and quiet. He’d wanted to intimidate her. See if she’d crack under the pressure and quit the program.
