“So it’s settled. I have an extra pair of tickets that the two of you can have,” Mrs. Guidry said, her pleasure showing through the big smile she gave them both. “It will be so much fun. I’m sure you’re going to want to join the krewe next year, Ian.”
Ian walked over and grabbed a big green roll of plastic grass, and threw it over his shoulder before climbing up the ladder to the deck of the float. Frannie noticed the stunned look on his face but didn’t comment on it.
Mrs. Guidry was very good at her job of recruiting volunteers and members for her various charities and projects. She had no doubt that by the time the float was finished Mrs. Guidry would have a new member for the krewe of Hestia.
They worked in silence as Ian rolled out the carpet and she stapled it down. They’d covered over half the deck by quitting time.
Ian offered his hand to her and she was surprised to find her back sore from being bent over. She reached up and grabbed his hand, but let go as soon as she could. They stood together, looking around the warehouse.
“My car or yours?” he asked.
Startled, she stepped away from him. “I’m sorry?”
“You said you wanted to talk somewhere else,” Ian said as he climbed down the ladder before her. “I thought we’d go somewhere to get a coffee?”
She realized he was referring to their earlier conversation, though she hadn’t really meant tonight. The last thing she’d thought he would want would be to spend more time with her, but without coming up with a really good but totally made-up excuse she didn’t see how she could get out of it.
“Frannie?”
She realized they had walked to the exit of the warehouse.
“What?” she asked at last.
“I owe you an apology,” Ian said, “and I think it would be good if we talked.”
“Now who sounds like the shrink?” she said as she searched her purse for her keys.
“I think I sound like an adult. Sometimes I don’t act like one, but I’m trying to tonight,” Ian said.
“Why don’t we both drive? Do you know Gussy’s?” she asked.
But she’d been flippant with her remark and now regretted it. As surprising as it was, Ian wanted to talk to her tonight. As a friend? As a psychiatrist? An ex-lover? Who knew where this was coming from, but it was the first time he had ever reached out to her and, even though she was still hurt from the way they had left things between them, she would help him however she could.
“No,” he said as he pulled out his own keys.
She gave him directions and climbed into her car.
CHAPTER SIX
IAN WALKED INTO a small restaurant that would have been called a dive in any other city but New Orleans. He’d learned soon after arriving in the city that places like Gussy’s, with its scuffed linoleum floors, painted wood walls and scarred wooden bar top, were the home of food that could stand up to any five-star restaurant in Atlanta or any other city in the country.
The place was only half full, and he followed Frannie to a table in the back corner.
He’d spent the trip across town reminding himself of all the reasons that spending time with Frannie wasn’t a good idea. What had made him ask her for coffee? Was it the fact that the thought of going back to his home alone one more time was more than he could take? Ever since Frannie had left that night his house had felt empty. It was as if she’d brought life into it for just a few minutes and then taken it away.
“If you’re hungry, Gussy’s étouffée is the best. It’ll make your tongue dance right out of your mouth,” she said.
“Maybe another time. I’m too tired for any part of me to do any dancing tonight,” he said. “I think I’ll settle for coffee.”
Their orders were quickly taken, and for a minute they sat there in silence. There were so many things he had thought of lately that he wanted to ask Frannie. Some of them were professional. How was her study going and how was she screening the patients in it? But others were personal—such as why did she become so sick at the sight of blood?
“Dr. Wilson was telling me about the study you’re doing on our trauma patients. He’s very impressed with your work.”
He watched as her smile brightened, as it always did when she was talking about her patients.
“I’m so glad that he is, because we’ll be working together a lot with his trauma patients,” she said. “Traumatic head injuries in children are life-changing and we need to learn more about them.”
“And including his trauma patients is important to the study because...?” he asked.
“Because our knowledge about the effects of medical trauma on children is still evolving. The more data we compile, the better we can work to help decrease these effects. I have several of your patients enrolled in the study,” she said. “Studies have shown that these kids have an increase of behavioral and developmental problems, and medical issues later in life that could be related to the stress they suffered early on... I’m sorry. I get carried away sometimes,” she said. “It’s just that I know that we could do more in the medical field to help these kids.”
“It’s okay. I get that way when we get a new piece of equipment in the OR,” he said. “I’d like to look over your study process sometime.”
He watched as a smile lit her face. Rubbing the back of his neck, he took a breath. This was going to hurt him, but it had to be said.
“You were right and I owe you an apology. If my patients are going to be in your study I need to be involved. I have a tendency to get so absorbed in my own work that I don’t pay attention to other things.”
He winced after the words had come out of his mouth. Wasn’t that one of the many things his ex-wife had complained about to their counselor? No. He wouldn’t let those memories in. There was no point revisiting those dark days.
Her smile got bigger and she leaned closer to him, resting her arms on the table. Her mouth was close to his ear, and her breath was as sweet as the tea she was drinking. Desire curled through him, washing away any memories of his ex-wife and her accusations.
“I promise I won’t tell anyone,” she said, leaning even closer, her lips a soft caress against his ear, “that the fierce, brooding Dr. Spencer apologized.”
“Thank you,” he said. “I do have a reputation to uphold.”
He leaned away, unable to handle the stress of being so close and knowing that he couldn’t reach out and touch her, take her as his body was demanding. Did she feel it? Or did she really believe that their one night together had been enough?
“I’d love to share my study with you. As I’ve said before, your input concerning your patients will be very important,”
“I do have a question,” he said. He’d been wondering about this ever since he’d learned that she had an aversion to blood. “I’ve seen you in the emergency room when we have traumas come in, so how do you deal with the blood there? Isn’t that hard for you?”
Her smile dimmed for a minute and he hated to see it. She was beautiful when she smiled—which brought him to another question.
“And why the baggy lab coats and the glasses? Don’t get me wrong—you’re a beautiful woman no matter what you put on,” he said, “but it doesn’t really fit with your personality.”
He was happy to see her smile return as she relaxed back in her chair.
“Thank you—I think... But I wouldn’t call myself beautiful. My friends call it my ‘left over from residency’ look. I prefer to call it my professional wardrobe. Some people don’t think of a psychiatrist as being a real doctor—my father being one of them. When I was growing up I always thought of my father in his jacket and glasses as being in his doctor uniform. When I put my lab coat on and replace my contacts with my glasses I feel like a doctor—and hopefully that makes others respect me as a doctor too.”
“So that’s the reason. It’s always seem
ed to me that you’re trying to hide behind those glasses and that lab coat, but I never could understand why. Like I said, you’re beautiful either way. It just seems like you’re trying to hide that beauty when you’re at work.”
* * *
She’d been blessed with her mother’s looks, and she knew that, but she would never be as beautiful as her mother, with her delicate features.
She had a small clip of a memory that she had played over and over in her mind since she was a child. Her mother was dressed in a pretty pink dress with ruffles flowing down to the floor as she danced across Frannie’s bedroom floor, so graceful, so full of life.
But her memories of her mother were few, as if her death had overshadowed them. Sometimes she felt as if she had lost part of her childhood, as her mind seemed to overlay each memory of her mother with her last memory—the one that ended with her mother lying in a pool of blood.
She felt the change between herself and Ian. It was as if he knew what she was thinking—as if he knew her thoughts were painful and he was giving her the space she needed to deal with it.
She was reminded of how upset he had gotten when she had commented on how hard it had to be on Sarah’s parents as they made decisions for their child. She’d recognized his pain even when he’d lost his temper with her after misunderstanding her words. Now she knew why. He’d lost someone close to him too, and she knew instinctively that he would understand what it had been like for a little girl to lose her mother in one of the most traumatic ways possible.
“I don’t remember having any problems with blood as a child before I turned seven. I had many skinned knees and skinned elbows. I broke my arm in kindergarten. There might have been blood then—I’m not sure. You might not have noticed, but I’m a little accident-prone,” she said.
She saw a small lift of his lips.
“When I turned seven my parents finally let me ride the bus to school. One Friday I got off the bus and rushed home. I’d been picked as student of the week and I couldn’t wait to tell my momma, but when I came in she wasn’t there. Not at the door, nor in the kitchen, where I would normally find her. I checked the garage and her car was there, so I headed upstairs. Sometimes she’d have what my daddy would call ‘one of her spells’ and she’d lock herself in her room so I wouldn’t disturb her. But that day she didn’t lock her door. Maybe she thought she had. I want to think she did. I hope she didn’t plan on me finding her like that...”
Surrounded by what had looked like rivers of blood, her eyes staring up at the ceiling, unable to see the little girl who had gazed down at her, crying for her mommy to wake up.
Frannie blinked, trying to clear the tears from her eyes. She wasn’t crying for herself. She was crying for the little girl who would never understand how her mother could have left her that way.
“It seemed as if I stood in that doorway for hours, but it couldn’t have been much more than a few minutes. I ran to our neighbors and then my father came and got me,” she said. “I cut my finger a few weeks later and had my first official panic attack, and the rest, as they say, is history—including ‘the incident’ in the OR.”
She looked down and was surprised to see her napkin had been shredded into small pieces.
“I’m sorry,” Ian said.
Two simple words that told her he had been there and he knew that all the words in the world would never be enough to ease the pain she’d felt as she’d had to grow up without her mother there with her.
“Why are we really here tonight, Ian?” she asked, and held her breath.
She watched as she saw the war within him. Would he tell her the truth, or would he brush her off as he tended to do when she asked anything personal of him?
“I messed things up between us and I’m sorry for that,” he said.
“Ian, I’m the one who should apologize,” she said, then looked down at the table.
This was not a pleasant conversation, but she knew they needed to have it. And if he could be an adult about what had happened between them, so could she. She felt her face burn as it flushed with humiliation.
“I shouldn’t have pushed you. You had legitimate concerns about us becoming involved...uh...that way. And you were right.”
“I’m not apologizing for the sex, Frannie.”
She looked up at him in shock. What did he mean?
“That was something we both wanted, but I could have handled what happened afterward better.”
She watched as he took a deep breath, then continued.
“I haven’t been involved with anyone since my divorce. You were the first and I guess I lost it. As you can tell, I’m still having trouble dealing with what happened to my family.”
He looked at her then, and his smile was sweet but sad.
“If I say it’s not you, it’s me are you going to hit me?” he said.
“No, but I should,” she said. “I’m sorry that you lost your son, Ian. I don’t know what happened between you and your wife, but if you ever want to talk about it you can tell me.”
They stood to go without saying anything more. What was there to say? They’d cleared the air between them and in doing so left things open between them. They’d begun to form a friendship, which she knew was all Ian had to give her, and that would have to be enough for now.
CHAPTER SEVEN
FRANNIE WOKE THE next morning feeling tired and drained. She told herself she was just suffering from too little sleep.
Dragging herself from bed, she forced herself into the shower. This wasn’t like her. She was normally a morning person.
When she found herself nauseated at the sight of her usual breakfast of eggs and toast, she rushed to the calendar she kept posted on the refrigerator. She counted out the days three times, hoping that she was wrong. It didn’t make sense. They’d used protection. There had to be a mistake. There had to be another reason she was late this month.
She stopped outside the first pharmacy she saw on her way to work, then sat in the car contemplating what she was about to do. There would be no going back once she took a pregnancy test. There would be no denying what she had known for the last two days but had chosen to ignore, instead choosing to explain her lack of a period on stress.
And when—if—the test was positive, what then? She’d have no choice but to tell Ian. It wasn’t as if she’d be able to hide the fact from him for long. Besides, she would never hold back the information that he was going to be a father from him. It was his right to know.
She knew that, but she couldn’t help but wonder what his reaction would be. Would he want to be part of the baby’s life?
Having stalled for as long as she could, she opened the car door and went into the pharmacy. She wandered the store, picking up deodorant, face cleansers and some other items, and then casually walked over to the aisle where the pregnancy tests were stored. Above them a large rack of condoms was displayed. They should have a big warning sign above them, she thought, but probably the pregnancy tests below should be enough.
She checked out her purchases, then considered going into the restroom there. She decided against it. She played various scenarios over in her head. The test turned pink and she cried tears brought on by happiness and also fear of what it would mean for the rest of her life. The test turned blue and she cried tears for a baby that had never been.
Unable to live through another moment on the emotional rollercoaster she had been traveling all morning, she ducked into the first bathroom she found when she entered the hospital.
When the test turned a pretty shade of pink she was surprised to find that she didn’t cry at all. Instead she laughed—maybe a little hysterically, but at least it wasn’t tears.
She placed her hand over her stomach as she stood in front of the bathroom mirror—an old chrome fixture with dull yellow bulbs hanging over it. She was going to have a baby. Her and Ian’s
baby. She’d always planned to have children someday, and while this baby might not be planned, she would make sure it never felt unwanted.
She wanted to go and find Ian and tell him about the baby right away, but knew that wasn’t the right thing to do. There’d be enough gossip in the hospital concerning her pregnancy when she began to show. Right now she wanted to keep it between her and Ian. Also, the way Ian had drawn away from her the night they’d had sex still bothered her, though she did understand some of the reason.
He’d been honest with her about the fact that he was still dealing with the loss of his son and his marriage—would he be able to handle having another child? Would he want to? He’d made it plain that he wasn’t interested in a relationship, and she could accept that, but they’d have to find a way to work together if he decided to be part of this child’s life.
She left the bathroom and then headed to do her rounds. Sarah had had her surgery the day before, and Frannie had picked up a small present for her that she’d seen in the drugstore that morning. She needed to ask the help of one of the nurses up on the pediatric floor before she took it to her.
* * *
“What’s this?” Ian asked as he entered Sarah’s room.
Her surgery had gone well, and he was glad to see her sitting up in her room playing—though he didn’t understand what everyone including Frannie was doing in her room. Then he eyed the doll in her hands, which had a small tube coming out of its abdomen. It looked very much like the IV tubing they used for giving medications and fluids.
“Who’s your friend?” he asked.
“Her name is Melissa. Dr. Frannie gave her to me. She’s Melinda’s friend,” the little girl said, and then lifted the doll up for him to see.
The Surgeon's Baby Bombshell Page 7
