Deadly Medicine (25 page)

Ward cringed, not only at hearing the terrible story, but at the way Melvin had violated the patient’s confidentiality.

“It sounds dreadful, Frieda, but unfortunately, it does happen,” Ward said sadly. In fact, it had once nearly happened to her. Only the hand of God had saved her patient, whose paperwork had gotten jammed in the printer. Twenty minutes later, as the patient was walking out the door, she collapsed. The new EKG revealed a heart attack, and Ward and the rest of the team were able to revive her. The heart team went to work and opened a blockage in one of her coronary arteries. She lived to see her fortieth birthday.

“Well, I still think they should investigate.”

Abby tried to reassure her. “You might not be aware of it, but I’m sure they did. The hospital has a huge stake in patient survival.”

“At least until they pay the bill, right?” Frieda said.

Everyone was silent, but when Frieda started to laugh a second later, the tension was broken. On cue, the men in front of them began their trek off the back of the green.

Their rotation had been established on the first hole, and it had been working. Judi, the weakest golfer, always hit first off the fairway. After allowing an appropriate few seconds for the men to clear the green, she stepped up to the ball, took a choppy backswing, and whacked the ball. It flew half the distance to the green on a soft line drive, then hopped on, and to the utter astonishment of everyone watching, it struck the flagstick and dropped into the hole.

They mobbed her amid hooting and hollering, and when the foursome behind them started cheering, Judi faced them and politely bowed. As they walked back to their carts, Frieda patted her on the back. “You know what this means, don’t you?” she asked.

Judi looked perplexed. “I buy the drinks?”

“No, silly. That tradition is for a hole-in-one. It means we have time to pee.”

Everyone laughed, and they did indeed stop at the restrooms before beginning the back nine. When Abby and Ward emerged a few minutes later, to their shock, Judi and Frieda were rearranging the golf clubs on the carts.

“What are you doing?” Abby asked.

“I decided to ride with Frieda on the back nine. You two don’t mind, do you?” Judi asked.

Abby looked from her mother to Ward, a question in her sparkling eyes. Ward shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

When they were out of earshot, Ward nudged Abby. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think your mom is flirting with Frieda.”

“Why would I take it the wrong way?” she asked. “I think they’d make a cute couple.”

Ward’s jaw dropped. “Abby, is your mom gay, too?”

Abby nodded.

“Wow. What a team.”

Sepsis

Ward awakened gradually, ignoring the assault on her senses that tried to pull her into the day. The sun bathed her eyelids with a warm wash of light. Birds chirped outside her window, gossiping back and forth, then singing together in chorus. Silky, soft sheets caressed her naked skin. The sweet scent of sex filled her nostrils. Among her senses, only taste was denied satisfaction this morning, and if she concentrated, she could still imagine the tangy taste of Abby on her tongue.

It was Sunday afternoon. Two weeks had passed since her first visit to Abby’s, or was this still the first visit? She’d left a few times, but only for the essential tasks like work and grocery shopping, golf and kayaking. She hadn’t been home to Philly, or to Jeannie’s, and the bed in the house beside the hospital had been essentially undisturbed. She had spent all of her nights—the ones outside the hospital, anyway—at Abby’s house. She’d messed up her own sheets only to catch some sleep after her night shifts. On one of those mornings, just as she’d been about to pull on her mask and crawl into bed, a knock at the door had surprised her. Abby had warmed her bed for an hour before heading to work. They hadn’t made love that morning, just spent an hour talking before Abby’s first meeting of the day. They tended to spend a good deal of their time talking—about everything.

Stretching, Ward rolled onto her side and studied the room. It was Abby, and the more she knew of her, the more Ward liked both her and her house. For fifty hours each week Abby dressed in skirts and heels and roamed the sterile world of the hospital, but when she came home, she was a jeans-and-T-shirts girl, warm and cozy in the woods of her home and the woods that surrounded it.

Slipping from between the sheets, Ward located a T-shirt that looked familiar as well as a pair of shorts. After pulling them on, she peed and brushed her teeth, then wandered into the living room. Abby sat on the couch, her laptop perched on her knees as she peeked at the television and the Phillies’ game being broadcast.

“Hi,” Abby said, a smile exploding on her face.

Ward was exhausted. She’d just worked three consecutive night shifts, nearly forty tough hours in the ER. Although she’d slept after the first two shifts, she’d cut this nap short. If she didn’t, she’d have difficulty sleeping tonight, and her body wouldn’t swing back into day shift. So, she’d crawled into bed around ten in the morning, and even though it was only two in the afternoon, she’d forced her eyes open and her body upright. She’d stay that way until the rest of the world went to bed later tonight.

“How was your nap?”

In spite of the lack of sleep, she was invigorated by Abby’s smile. Sleep was totally over-rated. “Wonderful.”

They spent the afternoon on the couch, watching the game and talking, sharing a few kisses. It was perfectly relaxing, and in spite of her lack of sleep, Ward felt good. Great, in fact. Being with Abby felt great.

The ringing of Ward’s cell phone broke their peace. She stood and looked at Abby apologically. “I need to take this call.” She placed the phone to her ear as she eased through the sliding door onto the deck. It had been difficult to pull herself out of the comfortable arms of the couch, but she had to. Michelle was calling, and while Ward touched base with her tenant regularly, it was unusual for Michelle to initiate contact. Ward needed to make sure nothing was amiss.

“Howdy,” she said. Since Michelle had started teasing Ward about her retreat into the rugged terrain of the mountains, Ward had been playing the part of cowgirl when they talked.

“Howdy. Do people really talk like that where you are? Do they have guns? I mean, out in the open, on their trucks? ’Cuz that sort of scares me more than the knife-and-gun club here. At least I know these guys just want my money. Who knows what guys in pickup trucks want?”

Instead of settling into one of the cozy chairs on Abby’s deck, she leaned against the plank railing, looking out at the breathtaking view of the river. It was early evening, and the cloudless sky afforded the sun full access to the deck. It heated her skin as she imagined the cool of the forest and river at the end of her line of vision.

Some people might question Abby’s decision to live close to the water, to tolerate its fits and floods, but Ward wasn’t one of them. She could marvel at this beauty forever. The trees lining the banks at the rear of the property were hundreds of years old, the boulders scattered around the yard and the woods and the water thrown there by the same violent forces that created the heavens and the earth. The ferns and moss along the water’s edge and under the trees were tenacious species that tolerated both the water and lack of light under the great canopy above them.

Gazing back from the path of the water, Ward recognized Abby’s touch. Her hands had laid the pockets of vibrant color between the rocks there, and that knowledge gave Ward much satisfaction. Abby was truly talented. Her yard, her whole house was put together to meld woman and nature, and it amazed Ward that it was so beautiful and technologically advanced at the same time. The colors and designs Abby chose just seemed to flow into each other, peacefully. And that was just what Ward felt when she was here—serene.

A click made her turn, and she was surprised to see Abby walk out onto the deck. More surprised that Abby walked over to her and rested her head against her shoulder, and she couldn’t resist the urge to turn just a fraction and pull Abby against her. Just the touch gave her goose bumps. Michelle hadn’t even revealed the purpose of her call, and Ward wanted to end it so she could take Abby back to bed.

“I know how you feel. The guns take some getting used to. But you kind of caught me at a bad time,” she said, as Abby began flicking her tongue along the muscles of her neck, working her way toward her ear. “What’s up?”

“The dryer stopped working. I’m going to have the guy come out and check it. I’m off tomorrow. Just wanted to let you know.”

Ward swallowed, fighting to focus on the conversation as her body was flooded with the sensations of Abby—her smell, her softness pressed against her, her hot mouth on her skin. “Okay, just let me know what it costs and I’ll reimburse you.”

“No worries. I’ll take care of it.”

Ward disconnected the call and tossed the phone onto the chair behind her, then pulled Abby into her arms. She arched her neck, giving Abby more space, and gasped from the electrical shocks those tiny kisses were producing. Her skin tingled, her breath caught, and her heart pounded. The flood of wet heat in her sex made her knees grow weak.

Abby broke the kiss long enough to guide her back to the lounge chair.

*

“So, who was on the phone?” Abby asked as she circled Ward’s nipple with her silky fingertip.

“Hmm?” Ward asked, trying to shake the fog from her brain.

“On the phone. Roommate?”

Blinking a few times, Ward cleared her eyes and tried to look at Abby, but she couldn’t focus. Abby was too close, her head resting on Ward’s chest. “No, umm, not roommate. Housemate, I guess.”

“Housemate? Ex-roommate? Girlfriend? Partner? Wife?”

Abby’s tone was inquisitive, not demanding, and Ward kissed her gently on top of her head.

“Just housemate, Abby.”

Abby pulled back and smiled sadly at Ward. “C’mon, Ward. Beautiful women don’t just appear on my doorstep every day. You must be running from something. Or someone.”

Two weeks earlier, when she’d asked if there was a Mrs. Ward, Ward hadn’t been ready to talk about Jess. Her time with Abby had been healing, though. Abby was like an elixir that had soothed all of Ward’s wounds and breathed life into her again. She wasn’t sure where their relationship was heading, but if it was going anywhere—even to the bedroom from the deck—she needed to be honest. She pulled Abby back to her and wound her fingers into Abby’s. “Not running
from
someone, Abby. Running
to
someone.”

Abby looked up and searched Ward’s eyes. “I don’t understand.”

“Her name is Jess. I followed her here, from Philadelphia. I wanted to be close by, in case she changed her mind about us. But she’s made it very clear that it’s over, and so…” Ward shrugged.

“You’ve moved on?”

Ward nodded and smiled.

“So I’m the famous transition girlfriend?”

Ward looked into Abby’s eyes. She saw no judgment, only concern, and found her courage in their warmth. “Are you my girlfriend? I’m not sure what it is we’re doing here, but I think it’s time we give it a name.”

Abby sat up but looked down. “You’re leaving in a few weeks. We’ll probably never see each other again. We don’t need to give it a name.”

Abby sounded defensive, and Ward found that reaction oddly comforting. Jess hadn’t really cared what Ward did, where she was, or what she’d planned. It seemed that Abby did, though, and Ward had to admit she cared, too. She’d wanted nothing from Abby at the start, nothing except the sex she knew was on Abby’s mind when she’d taken her hand and guided Ward to her bedroom. Unexpectedly, they’d created something wonderful together, and Ward had slipped into this…what was it called, if not a relationship…and it felt as good and as right as anything she’d ever felt.

Ward grabbed Abby’s wrist, a little more tightly than necessary, and Abby looked up. Ward loosened her grip and offered a small smile, then opened her arms. “Come back here, Ms. Rosen.”

When Abby had settled against her once again, with Ward’s face in her hair, Ward spoke. “Abby, a few weeks ago, I couldn’t even think about someone else. And then I met you under that tree and saw fireworks. Literally. I haven’t been able to think of anything—or anyone—but you, since then. You’re beautiful.” Ward turned Abby’s face toward hers and kissed her softly on the lips. “And funny.” They kissed again. “And smart.” Another kiss, this one longer.

Abby pulled back a hair and whispered into Ward’s mouth.

“And insatiable. God, Ward, I’ve never felt like this before. I really can’t get enough of you. Let’s go back to bed.”

“What’s wrong with out here? It’s certainly private enough.”

Abby looked down at the lounge chair, intended for one. “I’d like to…spread out.”

“I can’t argue with that.”

They made love, not passionately, but slowly and tenderly. When they were face-to-face on Abby’s pillow an hour later, Abby ran her fingers through Ward’s hair and kissed her softly on the nose. “So tell me about Jess.”

“What about her?”

“Everything. She’s officially my competition, and I want to know what I’m up against.”

Ward laughed. “You’re not up against anything, Ab. I told you, it’s over with Jess.”

“And I told you, I’m not that stupid. I want to know everything you’re willing to tell me. Maybe talking to a neutral third party will help you realize she’s an idiot and doesn’t deserve you.”

Ward laughed and pulled Abby closer. “I already know that,” she said, “and I have a feeling you’re not very neutral.” She told Abby her story anyway. Maybe Abby could make sense of it all or offer some insight no one else could. Or maybe she just needed to be honest with Abby, because if she was honest with herself, she was beginning to feel like she wanted the month of July to last forever. She wanted her time with Abby at this little cabin by the river to never end. And in spite of the fact that Abby had never had a serious relationship, Ward suspected she felt the same way.

Venous Air Embolus

Meetings had always been one of Ward’s favorite things. From the time she was a Girl Scout, she’d loved the power that filled a room full of people coming together with common goals in mind. She loved the idea of it, anyway. It didn’t take her long to realize little was accomplished at meetings, that most of the negotiating and discussing took place in the high-school cafeteria and on the basketball court. It didn’t matter how far she climbed up the ladder, nothing ever changed. It was now a hospital cafeteria, and a golf course instead of basketball court, but it still worked the same way.