Hitting the Right Note (5 page)

P
lacental abruption.

Simon was almost sure that was what was happening with Sheree and her baby. In the two and half weeks since he first met Sheree and began to consult on her care he had run the full battery of tests to figure out what was causing the tenderness she complained about and the bleeding that had been observed. He had taken several ultrasound scans, looked at the fetus's growth markers, and everything pointed to abruption. But the dizziness and fainting didn't really match. They were the reason Dr. Brighton, the OB he had consulted with, had been doubtful about his diagnosis. But Simon had seen this too many times, and by the time they saw all the signs that it was indeed an abruption, it would be too late. He worked with his gut, and his gut was telling him this was what was going on with Sheree. He couldn't remember the last time he had listened to that gut feeling and been wrong. He wasn't about to start now.

He sighed as he walked down the hall toward the exam room where she was waiting for her appointment. Now came the task of breaking the news to her, and likely to Judith also, who had been with Sheree during the last two visits.

Judith.

He still couldn't believe she was here, in the same hospital with him, connected to one of his patients. He had come to both dread and anticipate his appointments with Sheree because they almost always brought him into contact with Judith. He looked forward to seeing her, but it was almost painful to stand in the same room, look at her, talk to her, everything that had happened hanging in the air between them. But if she wasn't going to say anything, neither was he. In fact, his approach thus far had been to interact as little with her as possible so as to preserve his sanity. He was content to continue with that approach.

“Good afternoon, Sheree,” he said, prepared with a warm smile for Sheree as he pushed open the door and entered the room.

“Good afternoon, Doctor,” she said, a tired smile lifting her lips.

As suspected, Judith was standing on the other side of her bed. He was surprised to find her watching him, her eyes slightly narrowed, as if waiting. But for what?

“Hello, Miss Isaacs,” he said, nodding to her briefly.

“Please, call me JJ.”

Not in this lifetime.

He nodded and focused on Sheree. “So we got back your tests from two days ago, and we think we know what may be happening with your pregnancy.”

Worry wrinkled Sheree's features. “I'm listening.”

“We think that you may have a slight placental abruption,” he began calmly. “Basically, that's where the placenta separates from the uterus. In a severe or complete abruption, the separation would cause the fetus to be deprived of oxygen and nutrients from your body. We would have to do an immediate C-section to save the baby.”

He heard Judith gasp and saw Sheree's eyes moisten with fear.

“However,” he said, placing a calming hand on her arm, “in your case, the abruption seems to be quite small. So we should be able to manage it and your care, so that your baby can further develop and have the best chance of survival on delivery.”

Sheree began to swipe at tears as they rolled down her cheeks. He knew she was afraid, but it would have been unfair to not give her all the facts. He watched JJ perch on the edge of the bed and take Sheree's hand comfortingly. The compassion in her eyes stabbed at his heart.

“Hey, I know this is scary,” JJ said gently. “But Dr. Massri said that in your case we caught it. You know what that means? Chances are, everything will be fine. You have to believe that. This baby will be fine, Sheree.”

“Your sister-in-law is right,” Simon chimed in. “About one in fifty pregnant women will experience an abruption at some point in their pregnancy, so it's not that uncommon. We know how to handle it. So I want you to stop worrying. But we will have to monitor you closely to make sure that everything is going smoothly, and you will have to take it very easy. Your pregnancy is high risk, and so I want you doing no strenuous activity at all.”

Sheree nodded. “Okay, I can do that.”

“Also,” Simon added, “I'd like to see you weekly, at least for the next few weeks, so we can keep track of things. If you have any problems, I want you to have the hospital page me.”

Sheree nodded.

“Any questions?” he asked.

They had lots, just like he thought they would, and he did his best to answer them. When they had run out, Simon stood to go.

“Don't worry, Sheree,” he said reassuringly. “So far, your baby looks fairly healthy. All we're doing is making sure he or she stays that way.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Sheree said, a slightly more relaxed look on her face.

He smiled. “You're welcome.”

“Yes, thank you,” JJ added.

He glanced at her and found himself staring into her intriguing hazel eyes. Beautiful eyes that would draw him in if he stared too long. He tore away from her gaze and hastily exited the room. It was only when he was outside that he realized he hadn't responded to her thanks at all.

He had to stop doing this. He couldn't let one woman unnerve him and turn him into a fool like this.

He gritted his teeth, angry at himself, and headed down the hall.

“Wait! Stop.”

There were footsteps behind him. But he didn't pay attention, didn't realize the calls were for him until a hand grabbed his arm. When he stopped and turned around, he was surprised to find a beautiful woman glaring at him. A beautiful, ticked-off woman.

He opened and closed his mouth several times before coming up with an appropriate sentence.

“Miss Isaacs . . .?” He blinked rapidly to confirm that he wasn't imagining things. “Is . . . uh . . . is everything okay? Is your sister-in-law okay?”

“My sister-in-law is fine,” JJ said, crossing her arms. “I, however, am not.”

More blinking. “Excuse me?”

“Do you have a problem with me, Dr. Massri?”

“What?”

“Do you have a problem with me?” JJ repeated, enunciating every word for emphasis. “Do you have an issue with the way I treat my sister-in-law? Has she said something to you about me that I should know? Do you think I am not taking care of her?”

JJ stepped toward Simon, and he fought the urge to respond with a step back.

“Because I'm getting the distinct feeling that you disapprove of me,” JJ continued. “And let me tell you, I have been better to Sheree than all my sisters, so I don't know why you're treating me as if I am a problem.”

“I don't think you're a problem . . .”

“Then what's with the attitude?” JJ hissed, the intensity in her voice jumping up a few notches, her hands finding their way to her hips. He noted her pupils dilating, the veins at her temples pulsing, the pace of her breathing increasing, all biological signals that she was in as heightened an emotional state as he was. Except the emotion at work for her was probably anger. And for him, it was something else. Something he hadn't quite been able to put his finger on thus far.

“Attitude?”

“Yes, attitude,” JJ continued, taking another step forward. “The way you ignore me when I'm in the room, the way you barely acknowledge my questions, the way you dismiss me almost immediately.”

“I have never been rude to you.”

“No, you only act like I don't exist,” JJ shot back. “I have been with Sheree for every appointment, but you barely say two words to me. You treated my sister Sydney better on the first day you met her than you treated me today, even though you see me every time Sheree is here!”

“I'm sorry if you felt that I haven't been professional with your family.”

“I'm not talking about my family!” she snapped, stomping her foot for emphasis. “I am talking about me. I may not be a patient, but I am a visitor to this hospital. And I deserve to be at least treated with regard. But you have been nothing but aloof with me since the first time you saw me—”

Simon didn't know what got into him. Maybe it was all the frustration of the past few weeks, not talking to her about what was on his mind. Maybe it was the curious eyes of the people who passed them in the hallway. But he grabbed JJ's arm and pulled her into an empty waiting area off to their right. The minute he let her arm go, the words tumbled out of his mouth.

“The first time I saw you, you could barely breathe. You were curled up in the corner of an elevator in the middle of Paris, about to pass out from panic. And if I recall correctly, I did a lot more than treat you with regard.”

Time seemed to stop.

He watched her eyes widen and recognition flood in like the tide of a rough sea washing onto the shore. Her mouth fell open as her eyes searched his face, devoured his features. She stopped breathing even as he struggled for a breath of his own.

“Oh my,” she whispered, her eyes still glued to his face. “It
was
you.”

He took a deep, measured breath.

“Yes,” he answered, matching her whisper with a murmur. “It was me. Judith.”

It was so liberating to say her name. To finally have it out there. To acknowledge the connection they had, beyond her sister-in-law. Beyond the walls of the hospital. Beyond even this city of Toronto.

She couldn't seem to pull her eyes away. He knew he definitely couldn't, with her looking at him like that. And as he looked down into her hazel orbs, he could see layer after layer of memories float to the surface. The days and events that had brought them together for those few hours so many years ago became real again. If he was honest with himself, he often wondered if he had imagined the whole thing. It seemed like something out of a movie. A man trapped in an elevator with a woman who in their first meeting manages to trigger more protective instincts in him than anyone else he has known in his life. And then she steps on a plane and disappears and it was like it never even happened.

She started to breathe again. Each breath lifting her chest slightly, warming the narrow space between them, tightening his chest. Tightening every muscle in his body. Every part of him was tense, just as it was whenever she was around.

They could have been standing there for five minutes or five hours, for all Simon knew. She never looked away and neither did he. He never heard the footsteps. Never heard the sounds from the hallway enter the small, semi-enclosed area. Only faintly recognized his name. And that was only after the third repetition.

“Dr. Massri!”

He stepped back from Judith and turned around. It took him a few moments to remember where he was. He looked at the woman in aqua-green scrubs, barely registering her.

“Dr. Sterling wants to see you before you leave for the evening,” the woman said. She looked at Simon as if she wasn't quite sure he had heard. Then she glanced behind him at JJ. She raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Simon blinked and looked down at the charts in his hands. Then back at the nurse.

“I'll go see her now.”

Numbness settled over him as, without looking back, he stepped toward the door and out into the hallway behind the nurse. It was a good thing Sheree had been his last patient. He was definitely done for the day. He dropped the charts off at the nursing station on his way to the office where he knew he would find the chief. He was almost there when he heard her voice again.

“Wait!”

He didn't wait. Didn't even slow down.

“Simon, stop.”

He stopped at the sound of his name on her lips, and she planted herself in front of him.

“If you knew me, if you remembered me all this time, why didn't you say something?” she demanded.

He shook his head, surprised and disappointed. “Why didn't you?”

She threw her hands up helplessly. “It was five years ago. Who would remember? Or even want to?”

“It was four and a half years ago,” Simon said, beginning to walk again. “And I remember.”

“Is that why you're treating me like this?” JJ asked as she tried to keep up. “Because you're upset that I forgot you?”

Simon stopped suddenly, causing JJ to almost crash right into him.

“First of all, you didn't forget me,” he said, glaring at her. His eyes dared her to protest, and when she didn't he knew he was right.

“And second of all, I am not treating you any differently.”

JJ put her hands on her hips. “That's a lie. And you know it.”

“Whatever,” he said, turning around to leave. “Believe what you want.”

“No!” She grabbed his arm and froze him in place with her touch. “Tell me the truth. Tell me why, for some reason, you're mad at me.”

He turned back to face her.

“Okay,” he said, his brows drawing together. “Honestly? You threw me. This person you've become . . .”

He motioned helplessly to her form.

JJ looked down at herself then back at Simon. “What person?”

“This person with the short, over-styled hair, and the makeup and the black nails, and those, those. . . clothes,” he said, failing to keep the negative tone out of his voice. “This is not the woman I met in Paris. It's not the woman I . . .”

He what? Went back to the hotel looking for the day after? Thought about for weeks? Wondered about for months?

“It's not you,” he finished finally.

He watched her self-consciously fold her arms around her body. “My clothes and hair are different, so I'm different? Isn't that a bit judgmental?”

He shook his head, his eyes softening as he stared at her. He could see pieces of that woman he'd met in Paris. Flickers that would slip through when she smiled, or when she wasn't being as careful.