What Matters Most (9 page)

“That’s a good idea. Thanks.”

Their hamburgers arrived, and Jack picked one up, bit into it and managed to chew, but he could barely swallow it. “I don’t have an appetite,” Melanie said, pushing the food away. “I love these burgers, but I just can’t eat right now.”

He slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her a little closer to him. “I know. I don’t want any food, either. I almost choked on that.” He sipped the coffee. “Is it all right with you if we go?”

“Sure.” They didn’t speak at all during the drive to the apartment building in which she lived. He parked near the front door of her building and turned to her.

Melanie knew that in Jack’s present frame of mind, he didn’t want to be alone. He felt the child’s death as if it were his personal responsibility, and though the first loss of one of her patients cut her to the quick, her training in putting a distance between herself and the patients’ condition helped her to put the incident in perspective.

Jack walked with her to the door of her apartment, and no one had to tell her that he didn’t want to leave her. He closed his eyes, pulled her to him and tightened his arms around her. “I don’t want to leave you,” he whispered.

She didn’t want him to leave, either, but she always thought ahead to the consequences of her acts. “Is it because you’re depressed?” she asked him.

“I don’t doubt that my defenses are lower, but I wouldn’t want to leave you, even if nothing had happened tonight.”

Her right hand went to his left cheek almost of its own volition, and, as he gazed down at her with all the pain, misery, passion and affection that churned in him reflected in his eyes, she couldn’t have resisted him if her life had depended on it. “Come in for a little while, Jack. I don’t know why, but I’m scared to death about bringing you into my apartment after midnight.”

His famous grin did not materialize when he said, “Why? What can happen after midnight in your apartment that couldn’t happen at twelve noon? If I know my facts, passion can go wild anytime, day or night.”

“Excuse me. I’ll be right back,” she told him once they were in her apartment. “Have a seat somewhere.” She went to the kitchen, heated two slices of pizza in the microwave oven, boiled water for drip coffee and was back in the living room in less than ten minutes.

“I want you to eat this, Jack. You’ll wake up at three in the morning starved. It’s not much, so have some. Sorry I don’t have any beer.”

He never took kindly to being ordered to do anything. He hadn’t, even as a child. But he realized that she wanted to take care of him right then, and he needed that care. He also needed her honest expression of it. He took the tray from her, put it on the coffee table and looked at her. “I’ll eat it, and I appreciate your concern for me, but what I need from you most of all is some sign that you care.”

Both of her eyebrows shot up, and she imagined that her face bore an expression of disbelief. “Jack, do you think I make coffee and heat food for just any man at almost one-fifteen in the morning? And do I kiss Tom, Dick and Harry as I’ve kissed you?”

“I tell myself I’m special to you, and I try to believe it, but you have a way of punching a hole in this balloon when I least expect it.”

“Your pizza is getting cold.”

“Yeah. By the way, I love pepperoni pizza.”

She patted his hand, because she had to touch him, and any part of him would suffice. “So do I. I keep some in the freezer for the times I don’t feel like cooking.”

“Invite me to dinner sometime. I imagine you’re as good a cook as you are a nurse.”

“Thanks for the compliment. I’ll graduate soon, and I’d like you to come to my graduation. I’m not going to invite my father, because he might cause a scene and spoil the occasion for me. But I want someone to be there for me. Would you come?”

“Of course I’ll come. When is it?” She told him and watched him make a note in his date book. “It will be my pleasure.” He finished the pizza and drained the coffee cup. “I’ll take this to the kitchen.”

She rushed to take the tray from him. “Oh, no. You’re my guest.” He continued to the kitchen as if he hadn’t heard her. But she knew him by now, and little that he did surprised her. She hastened to turn on the kitchen’s ceiling light and bumped into him as he placed the tray on a counter.

“You’re exactly what I needed, and I’d rather not leave. But I know that if I don’t get out of here, I could ruin something that’s very special. I…Oh, Melanie. I…”

He needed her. She knew it, and her arms opened to him. She tried to control the trembling of her lips when he brought her to him and locked her to his body. Tremors raced through her, and she knew he could feel her body shake. Her unsteady hands reached for his nape, and then his mouth was on her, fierce and hungry. She parted her lips to receive him and groans escaped her when his tongue began its lover’s dance. He imprisoned her between himself and the wall, and his hand roamed over her arms and her back. Heat roared through her veins as her blood raced hot and fast to her loins. Her breasts grew heavy, and her nipples ached until, in need of relief, she rubbed them against him mercilessly.

He placed his hand on her left breast, and when she pressed his hand, he asked her, “What do you want? Tell me.”

When she undulated against him, he lifted her and kissed her aching flesh. Out of her mind with desire, she ripped off the first three buttons of her dress, and seconds later screams tore out of her when his warm, moist mouth covered her nipple. She closed her eyes and let him have her.

“If you’re going to send me home,” he said, his voice low and guttural, “do it now.”

Her senses returned at once, and she pressed against his shoulder. He set her on her feet and wrapped her in his arms. “I didn’t mean to let it get that far,” she said, “but you…you got to me. These feelings…I’ve never had them before. I hope you’ll forgive me,” she whispered.

With both arms still tightly around her, he said, “Forgive you for what? For being one hundred percent woman? I didn’t push it, because I know you wouldn’t be comfortable having me for a lover. Not yet, at least. But, honey, the chemistry between us is like lightning. When we make love, we’ll be like a forest fire after a long, long drought.”

A man shouldn’t be that sure of a woman.
She gathered herself, laid back her shoulders and looked him in the eye. “Did you say
when?
I’m not that sure.”

“I am. This level of attraction is rare. It’s also precious, and I’m wise enough not to let it slip by. You should be, too. We need more time to know each other, but if desire takes over…” He grinned. “You know the rest.”

“I certainly do.” She reached up and kissed his lips. “Go home.”

He stared at her. “If you want me to go, that is definitely not the way to get me to do it. Walk me to the door.”

With his hand on the doorknob, he looked down at her. “I’ll call you tomorrow morning around ten. All right?” She nodded. He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, opened the door and left. She locked the door and went to the kitchen thinking for the first time that a relationship with Jack Ferguson might be possible.
She had begun to need him, but so much stood between them, even if he acted as if it didn’t. Wasn’t this what she’d feared from the outset?

Jack drove home slowly, entered his house through the kitchen, emptied the still-warm food Vernie had left him into the garbage disposal, and went upstairs to his room. He had to get up at six, so he had four hours to rest following one of the most difficult experiences in his profession, but when he checked his calendar, he saw that he didn’t have to operate that morning and set his alarm clock for eight o’clock. That would give him plenty of time to keep a consultation appointment at nine-thirty.

He showered, dried off and slipped into his king-size sleigh bed. The cool sheets, which Vernie changed every day, and the hard mattress soothed him only a little. Fire still raged in his loins from the fueling he’d received while he caressed, fondled and suckled Melanie. He didn’t ask himself where he was headed with her, because he had already decided that she pleased him as no other woman had—morally, intellectually and physically. Moreover, she believed in him and supported his efforts. So, if what he felt for her developed to the point where he didn’t want to be without her, he would embrace it and her. He wouldn’t push it forward, but he wouldn’t fight it, either.

He wished he could talk with his father and ask him how he dealt with the loss of a patient. After his one-hour consultation with interns later that morning, he went to the doctors’ lounge in the hospital and telephoned his father.

“How are you, son? Ben and I are thinking of going on a fishing trip this weekend. I’d be glad if you’d come along with us.”

“I’d like that, too, Dad, but I’m leaving Sunday evening for a medical convention in Atlanta. I’m doing a workshop, and I need Saturday to prepare for it.”

“A workshop, eh? That’s the way to get the respect of your peers. Have you closed that place in South Baltimore? That’s what’s taking up your time. If you hadn’t been down
there,
you’d have finished polishing your lecture.”

Montague Ferguson hadn’t asked why his son had called him at ten-thirty in the morning, rather than in the evening when he usually called. Oh, what was the use! He hung up and phoned the doctor at St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital with whom he had developed a dialogue.

“It’s Ferguson,” he said when the doctor answered the phone. They spoke for a few minutes before Jack asked the man, “How do you handle the death of a child who trusted you? I had my first experience with that last night, and it’s eating me like acid. The father brought the child to my office when she was already in a coma.”

“What was her problem?”

“She had chronic asthma and developed double pneumonia.”

“I see. And she was in a coma, right? You couldn’t have done one thing other than console the parents. I had to learn early in my practice that when I did everything I could, the loss of a child was not my fault, and that I cannot alter God’s agenda. It hurts. You and I are human. We go the limit for our patients, but we do have limits, and we have to accept that.”

He thought for a minute. “Thanks. I appreciate your words and your time. I’ll be in touch.”

“Any time, Doctor Ferguson. If I was of any help,
I
thank
you.
”

He phoned Melanie and waited impatiently for the sound of her voice. When she said hello, waves of relief and contentment washed over him. “How are you this morning? You didn’t get much sleep.”

“I’m in good shape. I’ve been waiting to find out how you made it. I prayed that you wouldn’t have to perform heart surgery this morning.”

“Thanks. I didn’t have to operate this morning, and trust me, I was happy about that. This call isn’t about work. I wanted to know how you are. But I remember that as I was leaving the office last evening I asked you to give Mr. Bond most of the samples of metoprolol that I had in the office. Would you please phone the company and get some more samples?”

“All right. We’re getting calls already. I’ll be out of the office for half an hour or so around noon, because I want to run over to the bereaved parents’ home and take them some food. On occasions like this, lots of people come and sit with the family, and you have to have a lot of food for them.”

“That’s true. What are you taking?”

“I made biscuits and a big pan of candied sweet potatoes. I didn’t have time to do more.”

“What’s the address?” She told him. “Thanks. I’ll have something delivered.” He surprised himself when he said, “We’re off tonight. Why don’t we make ourselves a picnic, get a blanket and enjoy it by the lake in Druid Hill Park? I haven’t done that in years.”

“It’s a wonderful idea, but I hear that park has deteriorated. Maybe we shouldn’t go there at night.”

“Point taken. What’ll we do? I want to spend the evening with you, and something tells me a public place is our best bet.”

“Let’s go down to the Inner Harbor, sit by the water and watch the boats and the people.” He tried unsuccessfully to imagine Elaine telling him that she would enjoy such a simple evening, not to speak of suggesting it.

“If you know where we can be in a quiet place there, great,” he said. “Otherwise, we can go for a drive to a great picnic place beside a lovely pond out near Owings Mills. If we’re lucky, there’ll be a jazz band or a string quartet there.”

“Where you lead I follow,” she said. “Who’s packing the picnic basket?”

“It’s my party. You bring the cookies. I’ll be at your place at five.”

It would be the first time he had been with her on a purely social occasion, and he could hardly wait to see how they behaved with each other. He believed that their employee-employer relationship was a strike against him, at least to her mind, but he needed to know her a lot better than he did, and it seemed as if he also had a great deal to learn about himself.

At four o’clock, Melanie closed and locked the office, dashed home, changed into a white pantsuit, yellow tank top and white espadrilles. Dressed that way, she could go anyplace, even to the opera. She combed out her hair and let it hang to her shoulders, put a pair of gold hoops in her ears, put on some lipstick and looked at her watch. She hadn’t been able to afford expensive clothes, but she shopped carefully and always appeared well dressed.

She opened the door when he rang the doorbell at five o’clock and looked at the breathtaking specimen of a man in white pants and a yellow polo T-shirt. Surprised, and not a little amused, she looked down and saw white sneakers on his feet. Laughter bubbled up in her.

“Hi,” he said. “What’s funny?”

“If I pull off this jacket, we’ll be dressed alike.”

He leaned forward, kissed her nose and said, “My white jacket’s in the car. You’re so beautiful. I’ve never seen your hair down. Gosh, I’m not sure I want to share you with a lot of people.”

She certainly didn’t want to share him, but he’d never hear her say it. She got the rum cookies that she’d made before leaving home that morning, hooked the strap of her white shoulder bag over her shoulder and looked up at him. “I’m ready.”