The M.D. Courts His Nurse

by Meagan Mckinney

  “Yeah, you’re a natural-born poet. It’s built into your language, but not in mine.”

  “Into the heart, Johnny, the heart. Look, if this woman of yours is worth moping over, then go get her.”

  John’s pensive frown slowly transformed into a smile of admiration. Bob’s advice echoed Hazel’s, and maybe they were both right.

  “Melt her heart, huh?” he said thoughtfully.

  Bob winked at his friend. “You do that. The love of a good woman is priceless, my friend, the greatest treasure of them all.”

  “I’ll take your word for it,” John assured him. “But if it is a treasure, then so far I’ve misplaced the key.”

  Thirteen

  “Dr. Saville? Have you got a moment?”

  Rebecca’s voice seemed to startle him back to reality. Although a medical journal lay open before him on the desk, his attention had long since wandered outside to the tree-lined streets of Mystery. Not yet 9:00 a.m., but Monday was already shaping up as a beautiful, sun-drenched day. Outside, at least, he thought as he took in her stern, purposeful features.

  He rose quickly, watching her. “Of course, Becky. Have a seat.”

  Now I’m Becky again, she told herself. But on Friday I was Miss O’Reilly. Maybe his “therapeutic weekend” has left him in a laid-back mood. Obviously, judging from the shadows under his eyes, he didn’t set any records for sleeping.

  The chair in front of his desk seemed too close for comfort, so she perched on the edge of the sofa, and he sank back into his soft leather desk chair.

  “What’s on your mind?” he added.

  Something’s different about him, she thought with some confusion. Not just calling me Becky—the rigid, imperious manner of last Friday was gone.

  But don’t be distracted from your task. Don’t start making excuses, she lectured herself.

  “This isn’t my two-week notice or anything,” she informed him, speaking a bit too quickly. “But I know it takes time to find nurses, so I wanted to let you know early that I’m looking for another job. That way you’ll have time to replace me.”

  “Replace you?” he repeated with some confusion, as if not quite understanding English. “You mean you’re quitting?”

  His attitude of confused betrayal irritated her. He of all people had no right to make her feel guilty.

  “As I just said,” she repeated in an impatient tone, “I’m looking for another job. Obviously, that means I’d have to quit this job to take another.”

  He frowned slightly.

  “I’m interviewing next week at Lutheran Hospital. They need surgical-recovery nurses. I know the shift supervisor, Amy Jackman. She taught my anatomy class in nursing school, and…she’s been…been encouraging me to apply.”

  It became increasingly more difficult to organize and complete her thoughts. How could she when his eyes were so obviously pained.

  “They’ll snap you right up,” John said stiffly. “You easily have the skills and knowledge of a nurse with ten years’ more experience.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Is it—I mean, is it money?” he demanded. “If the raise I gave you wasn’t—”

  “It’s not the money,” she assured him. “I’ll be making almost the same salary if I’m hired at Lutheran.”

  Their eyes met, held, and Rebecca saw his conflicting emotions like miniature storms raging in his eyes.

  “Then is it the situation between us?” he asked frankly.

  “No.”

  “Sure it is. What else could it be?”

  “It’s…it’s me. Not you, not us, it’s me.”

  “How do you mean?” he demanded.

  “What we did at my place. It was a mistake.”

  “I thought you said you don’t regret what we did.”

  It took an effort to hold her own contradictory emotions in check. “I did say that, and I still mean it. What I really regret is all that has happened afterward.”

  It was a lame, unclear remark, and she knew it. She had meant to bring up the subject of his “recreational weekends,” but she couldn’t quite bring herself to be that specific—or presumptuous.

  “Afterward?” he repeated, his tone mocking the word. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but nothing much at all has happened. Between us, I mean. I tried to ask you out, is all, and you shot me right down.” He boldly accused her with his eyes.

  “You didn’t exactly ask me out,” she said, soldiering on bravely. “You attempted to squeeze me in on a week-night schedule, remember? So you could leave your weekends free.”

  “Oh, well, pardon me all to hell,” he flung at her in exasperation, “for not supplying you with my complete monthly itinerary before we made love. Maybe you should print up a questionnaire to make sure we men will be acceptable to your timetable.”

  At these cutting words, her defiant frown became a mask of angry contempt. “You should talk about a questionnaire. Believe me, I’ve had my fingers crossed since having unprotected sex with you. And I don’t mean pregnancy, either.”

  Both of them had raised their voices as their altercation escalated. Now, at the worst possible moment, Lois poked her head into the office.

  “Dr. Saville? Becky?” she reproved the two of them with her tone. “Wendy Johnson is here for her appointment.”

  Rebecca flushed deeply, realizing Lois, at least, had heard that “fingers crossed” comment. Perhaps even Wendy had.

  “Of course, Lois,” she managed calmly even though her pulse still throbbed hard in that temple vein of hers. “I’m on my way.”

  She left the office without even looking at John again.

  He called up the main menu on his computer screen and selected Wendy Johnson’s patient file, beginning to review it. But angry frustration directed at Becky kept intruding into his thoughts.

  He was trying, damn it all, to follow Bob Morningstar’s and Hazel’s advice. But it was virtually impossible to melt a woman’s heart while she was insulting him—reminding him how much she regretted ever making love with him, at that.

  If this woman is worth having, Bob’s voice echoed in memory, then quit moping and go get her.

  Open up a little, Hazel’s mellow, throaty voice goaded him. Be patient with Becky.

  Yeah, right, he thought bitterly as he grabbed his stethoscope off the corner of the desk and rose to go see his patient. Any opening he gave Rebecca was just one more spot where she could stick the knife in.

  “This is one marriage I just might not be able to pull off,” Hazel confided to Lois early on Tuesday evening. “The unstoppable force, I’m afraid, has met the immovable object. But I’m giving it one more try. Once those two stubborn fools get their pride out of the way, they’ll be able to see what a fine couple they make.”

  The two women stood in the main room of the former quarters once occupied by the foreman of the Lazy M. A few years ago a brand-new bunkhouse had been built, complete with new quarters for the foreman. Since then the four-room apartment in the main barn had stood deserted.

  “You’re absolutely right that they’ll be stuck with each other,” Lois conceded, glancing around the small quarters. “Once you manage to get them back here. No windows, and only the one door leading in off the tack room. But it’s going to be a tricky piece of work getting them both back here at exactly the same time.”

  A crafty glint sparkled in Hazel’s eyes. “Oh, it’s going to take some fine acting on my part,” she admitted. “Especially since I’ll be faking illness to fool a sharp doctor and nurse. You’re right about the timing, too. Fortunately, I can push both of those youngsters around a little. Age has its perks. Russ?”

  A young cowboy, who was busy stocking a small refrigerator with food and beverages, glanced up from his task. He was the same lad who had put Rick Collins’s truck out of commission by deflating one of its giant tires.

  “Yeah, boss?”

  “Remember, you’ll need to be well hidden in the tack room. And you’ll need to stay hidden until t
hey both come inside.”

  He grinned. Like Hazel, he was clearly enjoying all this hugger-mugger, which was why she always picked him for any task requiring trickery and deceptions. To him this was all like practical jokes, and she’d never met a cowboy yet who didn’t relish a good practical joke.

  “No sweat, boss woman,” he assured her. “You lure ’em out here, and I’ll spring the chute on ’em.”

  Even now two more hands were hard at work, sprucing up the old quarters. The rooms had been thoroughly cleaned, the refrigerator and cupboards well stocked. Hazel’s housekeeper had already stocked the bathroom linen closet and made up the bed.

  “We’ll be making our play on Thursday afternoon,” Hazel told Russ. “That’s perfect because Lois tells me the medical suite will be closed all day Friday for painting. That means it’ll be a three-day weekend.”

  “You can’t keep them prisoners for three days!” Lois exclaimed.

  Hazel laughed. “Oh, I know that. We’ll spring ’em sometime the next day.”

  “Becky may be awfully mad,” Lois cautioned.

  “I can wrangle Becky,” Hazel scoffed. She cast another glance around the rustic apartment. “Not exactly the Waldorf, is it? There’s no whirlpool in the bathroom, that’s for sure. Not even a tub, just a shower. But all the plumbing works.”

  “Pretty basic,” Lois agreed. “But it’s comfy and clean. Private, too.”

  Hazel patted a solid old armchair in the living room. “Personally, I can’t stand these sissy living rooms with swags of drapery everywhere and all those fussy little cushions every place you want to sit. And furniture that breaks at the first rough use it gets. This place is solid as bedrock.”

  She paused, thinking about the news that had brought Lois by.

  “So Becky wants a new job?” she mused aloud. “I knew she was looking to move, but this sounds like a complete makeover of her life. Listen—has she said anything to you about what happened between them after the bus accident? You know, on that day they both took off from work?”

  Lois shook her head. “Not in so many words. Becky’s a pretty private person when it comes to stuff like that. But isn’t it obvious what must have happened?”

  Russ was out of hearing range now. “Part of it is,” Hazel replied. “Those two slept together, all right. And they both liked it just fine. Mutual attraction is not their problem.”

  “No,” Lois agreed. “They’re plenty hot for each other. Their main problem is John’s lost weekends. I can tell you right now, Hazel—it won’t matter how much Becky loves him. If John is having an affair, with Louise Wallant or any other woman, Becky will not forgive him.”

  “Nor should she,” Hazel agreed. “The whole point of being in love is to feel special in the eyes of the person you love. Being a name on a list—even if it’s a short list—is hardly special.”

  “Do you think he’s having an affair?”

  Hazel shook her head. “I don’t. I think Becky is the only filly he wants in his stable. That young man is a true-blue romantic, just like Becky.”

  “Then why,” Lois asked, “is he being so secretive about where he goes on the weekends?”

  “Dogged if I know, hon.”

  Hazel took another look around the nearly ready apartment. “That’s why we’re pulling off this little deception. If we can just trap those two together long enough, they’ll have to open up to each other.”

  Russ, who overheard this last remark, looked up from his task to grin wickedly at his boss. He showed her the bottle of champagne he was about to put in the fridge.

  “Either that,” he reminded her, “or they’ll tear into each other like two badgers in a barrel.”

  Fourteen

  The work week, it seemed to Rebecca, passed with agonizing slowness. The hours after work, most of which she spent apartment hunting, fairly flew by, for they kept her thoughts elsewhere. But time spent at the medical suite dragged by like rainy days. Constant proximity to John was unavoidable, and the contrast between now and the times they’d briefly gotten along made her heart ache over the broken promise of their love.

  Recovering from his initial disappointment that she was quitting, John began searching for her replacement with a seeming vengeance. He called the county’s only employment office, and by Thursday he’d already interviewed the first two applicants. One of whom looked like a professional beauty-contest winner.

  No surprise, Rebecca fumed silently, that the attractive, leggy one received a much longer interview.

  “Am I glad the office is closed tomorrow,” she told Lois near the end of Thursday afternoon. “Three whole days away from hi—from this place. The sooner I get another job, the happier I’ll be. The only thing I’m gonna miss around here is you, Lo.”

  “So I’m a ‘thing’ now?”

  “Oh, you know what I mean.”

  “Mmm-hmm,” Lois responded, “I know who you mean, sure.”

  Rebecca could have sworn a knowing smile flickered in her friend’s eyes for a moment. “What?” she demanded. For several days now Lois had been acting as if she knew a secret and had no plans to share it. “Why that smug tone?”

  “Oh, stop being so paranoid,” Lo rebuked her. “It’s just you two, you and John—if it wasn’t such a shame what you’re doing, it would be comical.”

  Their employer was back in his office with Doug Ott, the day’s last patient, for a consultation. Rebecca bridled at her friend’s comment. “What are you babbling about?” she demanded. “What’s a shame?”

  “Yeah, right, like you don’t know. I’m not babbling, I have eyes to see, ears to hear. All week long it’s been ‘Dr. Saville, this’ and ‘Miss O’Reilly, that,’ you two all stilted and formal. Each of you like cocked weapons with hair triggers, close to exploding. When in truth both of you would rather channel all that energy in bed with each other.”

  Rebecca’s nostrils flared in sudden anger. “I realize there’s a long, long list of women praying for that privilege,” she returned sarcastically. “But my name’s not on it.”

  She deeply regretted that last sentence when Lois suddenly laughed and said, “Anymore.”

  Rebecca flushed and turned back to her computer, but Lois wasn’t fooled for a moment. Keeping her voice down, she chanted a little jump-rope rhyme to the tune of “Reuben, Reuben, I’ve Been Thinking”:

  “Sy and I went to the cir-cus,

  Sy got hit with a rolling pin;

  We got even with the cir-cus,

  We bought tickets but we didn’t go in!”

  “That’s you and John,” Lois explained. “You both got hurt a little. Now you think you can get even by denying what you both really want most. All you’re doing is punishing yourselves. Like two little kids mad at the circus.”

  Despite her anger, Rebecca was shaken up by Lois’s quiet, thoughtful insight.

  Lois read those feelings in her face and smiled. “I’m pulling rank on you, babe, that’s all. Believe me, when you make twenty years of marriage actually work, it teaches you some psychology.”

  Before Rebecca could say anything, however, John and Doug emerged from his office, still quietly talking, and came up front to the reception area.

  While Doug and Lois settled his account, John stopped at Rebecca’s desk. “Miss O’Reilly, before you leave today would you kindly pull the Conroy X-rays from the files and leave them on my door? I requested them this morning.”

  His indignant tone seemed far more resentful than the trivial matter justified.

  “The X-rays have been on your door for hours, Doctor,” she replied with icy precision. “Go check the envelope.”

  “Oh, well…” He looked a little nonplussed. But his tone remained resentful. “Anyone can make a simple mistake.”

  He hesitated, then decided to add one more thing.

  Suddenly Rebecca understood the real reason for his ticked-off tone.

  “And by the way, it was rude and unprofessional of you to decline a meeting with Shan
non when she interviewed. She asked about your duties, and I hoped you would fill her in. You said you wanted to help with the transition.”

  Oh, it’s ‘Shannon’ already, she thought. Did he actually interview her, or did he just stare at her body and dispense the laid-back, sexy charm he reserved for women in fox stoles and luxury cars?

  After all, though a knockout, Shannon wasn’t wealthy.

  “I didn’t exactly refuse,” she fibbed. “I had a patient on the phone when you called me. By the time I got off, she was leaving.”

  “You deliberately kept that patient on the line until Shannon left,” he challenged.

  “Yeah? Well, too bad for Miss Perky,” she retorted.

  “I’ve got the feeling she’s already hired, anyway, I must be a psychic or something.”

  “Something,” he agreed grimly just before slamming his door.

  “Oh, my, my,” Lois said, the last patient gone now. She shook her neat blond head in amazement. “Gonna punish that old circus,” she teased.

  “Circus schmircus,” Rebecca snapped, still miffed. As if all that mattered were Shannon’s injured sensibilities. “The man’s not only arrogant and conceited, he’s shallow. And he talks about rude? ‘I requested them this morning.’ Well he can just bully someone else, because soon he won’t have me to push around. I just hope he doesn’t turn on you, Lois.”

  “God forbid,” Lois agreed, barely keeping a straight face.

  Despite her brave and determined words, Rebecca gave vent to her turbulent emotions during the drive back to her apartment. As hot tears spilled over her lashes, she berated herself again for the moment of sexual surrender with John.

  It had been so wonderful while they made love—a pleasure and oneness she’d never in her life experienced. It could not have been better. But the pain and anger she’d felt since then, the humiliation at the way he treated her, as if she were trying to guilt-trip him or somehow sink her hooks into him.