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She wore little make-up. On occasion he’d noticed that she’d applied a gloss to her lips that made them dewy looking. Her hair was always contained by a ribbon or clip or was braided. More than once he’d pictured what it might look like free. She was unique. He’d give her that.
It had been a long time since he’d found a woman so interesting. She reminded him of Irish coffee. Sweet, fresh cream on top with a stout bite beneath. What kind of magic was this woman conjuring over him?
“Come this way, my dear.” Mr. Volpentesta led them to a table for two in a far corner of the room.
“How do you know him?” Ryan said close to her ear.
“I live upstairs.” She turned and followed the man again.
“Good choice,” he said, more to himself than her when they were given a cozy spot. What he’d had in mind had been more of a friendly meal than a lovers’ evening. He looked around the room but not finding a better option he accepted his fate. He held her chair out and waited until Lucy was settled before he sat.
“Your father has left nothing out.” She spread her napkin in her lap.
“He was a thorough man.”
“Was?”
Left no choice, he said, “He died.” He couldn’t keep the heartache out of his voice.
At her stricken and pitying look, he wished he’d lied. She placed a hand on his forearm and gave him an earnest look. “I’m sorry.”
Her touch and concern diminished his feeling of loss for a moment. For the first time he actually felt comforted by another human being. Why was it that this Southern belle touched more than just his arm? “I’m doing fine.”
Mercifully, the waiter came to take their order and bought them a bottle of house wine. Ryan wasn’t surprised when Lucy ordered a salad. When the waiter left he leaned forward and said, “Do you have any idea on how many levels of wrong it is to order a salad in a place like this?”
“I’m just not that hungry.”
He gave her a speculative look. “If I were to guess, you haven’t been eating like you should.”
She shrugged and toyed with her silverware.
“Not going to comment on that one?”
“No,” she said with less zeal than she had earlier, confirming he’d been correct.
He fished for something to keep the conversation going that wasn’t too personal. He didn’t think she’d answer more questions if they were. “So, did you grow up in Atlanta?” That wasn’t as impersonal as he would’ve liked but he wanted to know more about her.
“Sort of, but mostly at a boarding school in northeast Georgia.”
He cocked his head in question.
“My parents divorced. It was easier to send Alexis and me off than to take care of us.”
His mother had died when he’d been young. Before his father had gotten too sick he’d been there to take care of Ryan and his sisters. They had never doubted that they were wanted and loved. “Alexis?”
“My twin sister.”
“So you’re a twin. Interesting. I bet you’re close. My father said more than once that ‘Family’s everything. Without family you have nothing.’”
Clouds formed in her eyes. “I guess for some that’s true,” she said, sounding more resigned than wistful.
But not for her? “I shouldn’t have said that.” He took a swallow of his wine. The melancholy in her voice made him wish he’d not quoted his father.
“Alexis and I had each other. We were our own family...” She let the words trail off.
He had to find another subject. “You know, it turns out we’re a better team than I anticipated.”
“Even as slowly as I speak, I’m still worthwhile.” She smirked.
Despite her making fun of him, he enjoyed her quick mind. “Truthfully, I like your accent. Makes me think of lazy, hot days and ice-cold drinks.”
She blinked then her eyelids fluttered down. “Now you’re embarrassing me.” She looked at him. “You know something about me. How about telling me about you?”
“Brooklyn, and more Brooklyn. Med school NYU, intern Angel’s, Angel’s today.”
“I see. The source of your clipped dialect, with a hint of Irish burr occasionally.”
“Guilty. My father was second-generation Irish. My accent isn’t anywhere near as strong as his was.”
Was. He hated that word. Every time he said it, it just reaffirmed that his father was gone.
Their meals arrived. He inhaled the smell of the steaming pie. “This is going to taste wonderful.” He glanced up as he bit into a slice of pizza. Lucy watched him. She looked down at her salad. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“You were thinking something. Tell.”
Her eyes slowly lifted. “I’ve never seen a man enjoy his food quite as much as you do.”
He grinned around the warm pizza at his lips. “I told you I was hungry and this is darned good pizza. Thanks for bringing me here.”
“You’re welcome.”
“You want to share?” He raised the slice in his hand. Somehow the word share took on an intimate connotation when it included her. “Come on, you should at least try your landlord’s pie.”
“I guess I could stand a bite.”
He leaned over the table, holding the slice to her lips. She took a mouthful next to where he’d bitten. Somehow it made it far too familiar. As if their lips had touched. He was captivated by the change in her facial expression when it became one of ecstasy as she experienced the taste and texture of the morsel. His gaze remained glued to her lips when the tip of her tongue peeked out to caress the breadth of her full lips, seizing every particle of pleasure, leaving her pink mouth wet and glistening.
He shifted uncomfortably as his body reacted to the sight. Her utterly innocent look said she had no idea how incredibly erotic her actions were. Making her even more mesmerizing.
“Another?” He couldn’t have stopped himself from asking if he’d been offered a million dollars. He wanted her to repeat that sensual gesture. The downside was he wasn’t sure he could leave the restaurant without embarrassing himself, or, worse, her.
“It was good, but, no, thanks.”
Disappointed, he accepted her decision without pressing her to change her mind. With an effort he prevented his discomfort from showing. Based on her innocent appearance and just as enthralling was the fact she had no idea what she did to him.
He took another bite, hoping to clear his head, but it didn’t help. She really was an enigma. In her slacks and sweater, she looked at if she had never experienced much of life, but he knew better.
They were finishing their meal over a discussion of the latest movies when Lucy’s attention was drawn to something across the room. He turned to see what it was. A mother a few tables over was holding a baby of about six months old. What was it with her and babies? He still didn’t understand her reaction to going to the nursery. He would’ve thought she’d have jumped at the chance to meet a new family.
“Something wrong?”
She looked at him with glassy eyes. “I was just missing my family.”
He identified with missing loved ones. But those feelings could and should be managed. Dealing with a weepy woman was something he wasn’t going to do. “I’m going to call it an evening. I’ve—we’ve, got an early morning. I’ll walk you to your door.”
“Go on. I’ll be fine. I need to speak to Mr. Volpentesta anyway. I’ll get the check.”
“That won’t happen. A gentleman pays the bill. It’s the O’Doherty way.”
* * *
Lucy climbed the stairs to her apartment. The place seemed less inviting after spending time with Ryan in the bustling restaurant. The solitude was stifling. She’d left everything that truly mattered in her life behind when she’d moved to New York. Maybe out of desperation she was hoping she and Ryan were becoming friends.
Their relationship had been rocky initially but they’d developed a mutual understanding in the last few days. He did what he needed to do and she tried not to get in his way. Up until today they’d shared nothing of their personal lives. Their work had forced them together but that hadn’t made them friends. Maybe that was changing.
She unlocked and entered her apartment. Flipping on a lamp, she pulled the curtains closed, something she often forgot to do, not yet being used to living so close to others. She began to undress.
She’d enjoyed her meal with Ryan. It had been nice to eat with someone for a change. While living with Alexis and Sam, they’d eaten the evening meal together every night. It hadn’t taken her long to miss that camaraderie, the feeling of being included.
Lucy had felt that same fellowship with Ryan tonight, but had he?
CHAPTER THREE
FRIDAY NIGHT, LUCY hadn’t been home thirty minutes when her phone rang. The deep voice on the other end spoke so swiftly she didn’t catch what he said. It sounded like Ryan but she wasn’t sure.
“Ryan?”
“Yes. Lucy, we have a case coming in. You need to meet me in the emergency room.”
“I’ll be right there.”
She dressed again quickly in jeans and a warm cream-colored pullover sweater. Wrapping a dark blue scarf around her neck and pulling on her coat, she headed out the door. After a subway ride and the usual couple of missed turns in the hospital, she found her way to the ER. At the nurses’ desk, she asked what room Dr. O’Doherty was in.
“He’s seeing a patient. Are you the parent?”
Lucy flinched. That question hit too close to home. That wasn’t her job. “I’m the family counselor for Neurosurgery. Dr. O’Doherty is expecting me.” She showed the clerk her badge.
“He’s in exam room nineteen,” the nurse said, indicating Lucy should go down the hall.
Lucy found the room and knocked on the door. Pushing it open slightly, she stuck her head inside the dim room.
Ryan wore a heavy red sweater with a hint of a white T-shirt showing at the collar and dark jeans that fit his trim hips perfectly. His lab coat was nowhere in sight but, despite his dress, the air of authority around him said he belonged.
A young Hispanic boy of about six months lay on a pristine white sheet on top of a stretcher as if asleep. Lucy worked to make the golfball-size lump in her throat disappear. The boy was so close to Emily’s age. This case was already hitting too close to home. The temptation to turn and run was great. The child’s unnatural stillness indicated he’d been medicated. If anything like this happened to Emily...
Ryan lifted one of the boy’s eyelids and directed a penlight into it. A couple stood nearby, the old man’s arm circled the woman’s shoulders, holding her close.
Taking a bracing lungful of air and letting it out slowly, Lucy slipped quietly into the room and stood nearby so not to interrupt Ryan’s examination. She would get through this. See about the family then go home and regroup. That way she would have her emotions under control by morning.
An anxious-looking woman stood nearby, clutching a purse in a grip that could have strangled a living thing. Lucy’s heart went out to her. Would she herself act the same way if it was Emily lying on the bed? She had to stop thinking in that context. This wasn’t Emily and if it had been, she wasn’t Lucy’s to worry over.
In what must have been her nervousness, the woman broke into rapid Spanish. Ryan gave the mother a perplexed look. Apparently he had no idea what the woman was saying.
It was time for Lucy to brace herself and be the professional she was trained to be instead of the quivering mass of emotions she’d morphed into. She stepped closer, lightly touching the mother on the arm to draw her attention. In a low, even voice Lucy explained who she was in Spanish. The woman visibly relaxed as Lucy continued to speak. “I’m Lucy Edwards and I work with Dr. O’Doherty. Your boy’s in good hands. What’s your son’s name?”
“Miguel.”
“That’s a nice name. Why don’t you come over here and sit?” With a shaking hand Lucy directed her toward a metal straight-backed chair near the wall. The man followed them and stood close. She glanced to where Ryan’s wide shoulders still leaned over the child. Taking a cleansing breath, she said, “As soon as Dr. O’Doherty is through examining Miguel, he’ll be able to tell you more.” The woman nodded, her eyes reflecting all the fear she was feeling. “What’s your relationship to Miguel?”
“His mother. No, I’m really his aunt.”
The words bit into Lucy and a swirl of agony formed in her stomach. Could things get any worse? Her hand came to rest over the spot. She was Emily’s aunt, not her mother. Pressing her hand down, she hoped it would ease the building torment but knew it couldn’t. Would she ever recover? Accept?
“His mother ran off and left him with me.”
She’d run off and left Emily. But it had been different. Her sister was Emily’s mother. Why wasn’t there another chair for her to sit on? She had to grasp her emotions to hold them in check. She’d break down later and let the tears flow. Something she’d sworn never to do again. Lucy almost missed what the woman was saying as she reminded herself to breathe.
“Miguel’s mother didn’t understand his illness. It scared her. This...” the woman placed a hand on the forearm of the man standing beside her “...is my father. Miguel and I live with him.”
With fortitude Lucy would never have thought she possessed, she managed to continue consoling the woman and her father. Maybe if she focused on their needs instead of her own, the anguish would diminish. She continued to tell herself that lie.
Having finished his examination, Ryan approached them. Lucy looked up to find his eyes on her. He nodded with what she read as his appreciation and respect but his brows crowded together seconds too long. Was the agony she felt written on her face? She tried to school her appearance not to show her feelings. The question in Ryan’s eyes was replaced by a grave look.
“Ms. Edwards, may I speak with you a moment?”
She nodded then told the woman and her father she’d be right back. Ryan waited for her outside the door. When she stood close enough that he wouldn’t be overheard by others in the ER, he said, “This child needs surgery.”
“I understand.”
“I won’t lie. This will be a tough one.”
“Then you need to explain it to them. Reassure them.”
“I’m not going to do that.” Ryan didn’t think getting run over by a sixteen-wheeler truck could have knocked the wind out of him more completely. He couldn’t and wouldn’t provide the care Lucy was pushing him toward.
“They’re scared. They need the reassurance that you can give them.”
“Lucy, I do surgery. Not feelings. That’s your department,” he said, his voice rising. “You do your job.”
She flinched but didn’t move. “I am doing my job by seeing that you do yours. I’ll translate. All you have to do is explain what’s going to happen. Parents need to know their doctor cares.”
He had cared. That was the problem. He knew the hurt it caused. He knew pain so great that if he let it out of the box it would groan, snarl and devour him.
“No. You handle it.” He turned to walk away.
She grabbed his arm. “Look, someone has to tell this family something right away. I’m not the doctor. I don’t have the medical knowledge. You’re an excellent surgeon, just let them know that. Give them some hope. That’s all you have to do.” They stared at each other for a long moment before she said quietly, “I’d hate to tell Mr. Matherson that you refused to co-operate on the coordinated care project.”
“The hell you will,” he bellowed, and shook his arm out of her grasp.
Lucy’s head jerked around toward the ER desk. His gaze followed. The staff behind the desk and in the hall had stopped in place to look at them with astonishment, curiosity and anticipation on their faces.
Great. If this got back to Matherson or, worse, Rodriguez...
He looked at Lucy. “Okay. But I do it my way,” he growled.
Lucy nodded. At least she didn’t smirk. If she had, he didn’t know how he would’ve reacted. He’d talk to the parents but he’d leave feelings out of it. He’d survived his father’s death and illness on his own and others could handle their problems. He offered his medical skills to his patients, performed surgery to the best of his ability but he couldn’t get involved outside his work in the OR.
They re-entered the room.
The family remained seated and he stood over them as he spoke. Lucy translated. “As I understand it, Dr. Matthews, your son’s neurologist, has explained that the child has experienced a grand mal seizure. The drugs that he has been taking are no longer working effectively. The seizures your son is having now will only get worse as time goes on. Your son—”
“Miguel,” Lucy offered.
That was just like Lucy to make it personal. Something he didn’t want. Ryan glared at her then turned back to the mother. “Miguel’s going to need surgery to slow these down. At first Dr. Matthews thought the surgery might need to be done right away. I believe that Miguel needs to stay in the hospital and be monitored for a few days. But he will need surgery. Even after that the seizures will continue, but they shouldn’t be as severe.”
The mother was openly crying by the time he’d finished. All he wanted was to get out of there. Nothing he could say or do would make it better for them. He wasn’t going to try. No matter how hard Lucy pushed.
He looked at her. “I need to make some arrangements and a couple of calls. I’ll have to see about setting up a surgery time and date. Right now, I want him to remain sedated and rest. Dr. Matthews has already started the admission process.”
“I’ll see that they understand.” She mouthed, “Thank you.”
That wasn’t going to smooth over how he felt about being forced to talk to the parents. His stomach was one big mess of knots. He left without a backward glance.
Thirty minutes later and still seething from the earlier ordeal, Ryan stalked to the family counselors’ office. For a person who couldn’t have told anyone where it was at the beginning of the week, he was actually visiting it for the third time. Lucy had made him go through the wringer and he intended to make it clear he would not allow it to happen again.
It was late enough that the floor was quiet and the lights had been turned down in the hallway. A light glowed beneath the office door. He rapped on the door with enough force that the nurse at the end of the hall looked up from where she was charting.
There was movement in the room and the door remained closed. Lucy must be in there. He’d raised his hand to knock again when the door opened.
“Yes?” She met his gaze. “Is something wrong?”
“As a matter of fact, there is. I will not be blackmailed.”
Both their heads tuned toward the shushing sound coming from down the hall. The nurse had her finger held across her lips.
“Let’s go into your office.” He gave her a nudge. Her uncertain look brought his anger down a notch. He hadn’t intended to scare her. “Please, Lucy.”
She backed into the room but didn’t meet his eyes. He entered and closed the door, and Lucy moved as far back in the room as the tiny space would allow. She didn’t sit, so neither did he.
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Just what was that all about down there in the ER? Why the big push to get me to be so concerned about the family’s feelings? You went too far tonight, Lucy.” He stepped a pace closer as he spoke.
She stood her ground. “Because the least they deserved was to have their doctor’s, and especially their surgeon’s, concern. They want to hear the good and the bad from you. They want to feel they can trust you with their loved one’s life. To do that they have to know you. They have to have a relationship with you, even if it is only a surface one. They’re putting the most precious thing in their lives into your hands and that takes real courage.
“Do you have any idea what it is like to hand your child over to someone? To trust them to give them the care and attention that you would?”
Her large, dramatic eyes glistened. Was she going to cry?
“Are you so insensitive that you can’t have any compassion for the parents of your patients? It’s a good thing you’re not a thoracic surgeon because I don’t think you’d even recognize a heart if you saw one.”
Ryan recoiled as if he’d been slapped. He’d come here with the intention of getting an apology and instead he was getting a dressing down. Where was all this venom coming from?
She turned to her desk, putting her back to him. “I’ve had enough for today. I’m headed home. We can talk about this tomorrow.”
“No, we can’t.” He used his OR hand-me-an-instrument voice. “We’re going to talk about it now. I don’t think that entire tirade was to do with me or what happened in the ER tonight.”
She pulled out the desk drawer and brought out her purse. “Look, Ryan, I’m too tired to hash this out tonight. I’d just like to go home.”
“We’re not going anywhere until you explain to me—”
“You can’t keep me here.”
“I can.” He moved so that he leaned against the door. “But I’d prefer not to.” Her luminous eyes pleaded with him and his heart caught. The part he’d thought had died with his father. Lucy was pulling him, kicking and screaming, back to life.
“Something is wrong. Don’t tell me you’re just upset about the boy because I won’t buy it. Even with your tender heart, you wouldn’t be this upset.”
“Not only a brain surgeon but a psychiatrist too. My, you must’ve been a genius in med school to be as young as you are and pull off two degrees.”
“Not a genius but I do pride myself on being perceptive. Or at least I used to be.” That had been until Alex Rodriguez had been brought in to take the department head position that Ryan had been so sure was his. “Anyway, we’re not talking about me.”
She pulled her coat and scarf off the back of her chair. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings but it needed to be said. Now, if you’ll excuse me...?” She stepped toward him as if hoping to intimidate him into letting her pass.
He shook his head. “Not until you explain.”
She dropped into a desk chair. He took the chair closest, propping his elbows on his knees and facing her.
“Sharing wasn’t outlined in the co-ordinated patient care manual. Can’t you just let it go?”
“You owe me an explanation for your attack.” That at least got a contrite look from her. Was he losing his mind? He didn’t confide in people and he didn’t get involved in another person’s personal life.
“You’re going to make me say it?”
He nodded.
“Miguel’s mother isn’t really his mother.”
“Miguel?” His brows dipped. He was completely lost.
“Your newest patient.” Her voice had a tone of impatience and a touch of disappointment.
He was catching up. What did Miguel have to do with her problem? “Oh, yes, Miguel Rivera.”
“His mother is really his aunt.”
She wasn’t usually this vague. His puzzled look must have indicated he had no idea of the significance of that statement.
“I carried a baby for my sister and her husband. I had in vitro fertilization,” she said quietly.
Being a surrogate for her sister had been Lucy’s ultimate pleasure. Handing over the baby she’d carried her greatest pain. In order to survive emotionally, she’d left. Emily was her sister’s baby, not her own. No matter how much her heart screamed differently.
She stood and said in a flat voice, “Now can I go?”
Ryan’s eyes widened. He blinked and shifted slightly, as if he was formulating his words carefully. “Of all the things I might have thought you’d say, that wasn’t one of them.”
To voice the words had been painful, but there was something freeing about having said them. She couldn’t believe she’d told Ryan of all people. He’d more than once proved he couldn’t connect on an emotional level. If she had been going to confess to someone, he wouldn’t have been her choice. She’d only shared her pain because he’d caught her in a weak moment and he’d insisted.
Still, being new to town and working long hours, he was the closest person to a friend she had. He was the only soul other than Mr. Volpentesta that she saw regularly. That thought was so sad she didn’t take time to analyze it for fear she would start crying. Here she was revealing her deepest pain to someone who hadn’t wanted her even taking up his time just a few days earlier.