Destroy (A Standalone Romance Novel) (27 page)

“She’ll be eating in a
minute, dear,” my mom replied for me. I just smiled.

This was going to be a
learning curve for me. Although I would not treat geriatric patients–not as a
career choice anyway–I was interested to see and hear their reactions under
various circumstances.

We ate in silence for my
dad’s sake. Eating and talking was not recommended. One thing at a time.

An hour later, John (my
other brother) and his wife Alice arrived. She always amazed me. She was the
cutie-pie in high school and she was still as cute as a button.

“Goodness,” she said,
“it’s so good to see you, Hattie. You look, I don’t know”—she turned to
John—“older, I guess.”

“Okay, okay, Alice,” I
said, “it’s fantastic to see you, too. And yes, I’m a few years older and
uglier as you said.”

“Stop that, Sis,” John
said, “and let me look at you.” He paused to peer into my eyes and then took me
in his arms. “You’re still the greatest sister in the world.”

John is an absolutely
loveable fellow. He always manages to say the right things at the right time. I
used to run to him when something went wrong at school or if Dad was after me
for doing something I didn’t like. I used to take refuge in John’s room. Hide
under his bed. I knew I would be safe there.

When Eliot and Janette
joined us in the kitchen a few minutes later, my dad got up and went to the
living room. I knew what was happening. I put a finger on my lips, indicating
for everyone to quiet down. The noise of our voices was too much for him. Mom
closed the French doors between the kitchen and living room so we could talk
without disturbing my dad’s concentration on the TV screen.

“How are you, Janette?” I
asked.

She looked at me, grinned
and shook her head. “I’m fine, Doctor. I’m sick like a dog in the morning, but
other than that, I feel okay.”

“Alright, alright, call
it whatever you like, but I’m interested, okay?”

Everyone burst out
laughing.

“Okay, people,” Eliot
then declared, “if you and John are ready, I’ll get Dad to take his jacket and
we’ll be going.”

“Are you sure it’s safe?”
Mom asked, looking really worried.

“Don’t you worry none,
Mom,” John said, “Eliot and I will skate with him. You never forget how to
skate.”

“And I’ll take photos on
my phone,” I said. “If either of you has a smart phone I can send them to you.”
I looked at my two sisters-in-law.

“Yes, yes, of course,” Janette
said. “Eliot got me one last month.” She hesitated and looked at her husband.
“You’ll have to show me how to get those photos, Eliot.”

It took a few more
minutes for everyone to get ready, but in the end, we piled in Eliot’s SUV,
glad to be out of the house. I don’t know why I was anxious to be away. Maybe
it was because I was no longer used to family gatherings. I didn’t want to hear
any of the local gossips or take part in any of these “promised activities”
which never materialized. “Let’s do lunch; I’ll see you next week in church;
let’s go shopping at the mall,” and so on, were now things I no longer did or
cared to do. Alice was right; I had aged considerably in the last few years. I
was “older” but I don’t know if I was any wiser. It seemed to me that I had
regressed into my teens ever since I laid eyes on Jeff. The man was becoming my
nightmare. A tug-of-war between lust and love. And neither side seemed to be
winning.

The skating rink hadn’t
changed one bit since I had left for university. The land belonged to an old
fellow who loved skating. When his sons were born, there was no way he would
drive them thirty miles to the nearest city rink every weekend. So, he decided
to clear part of his backyard (a whole acre of it) and to dedicate it to making
a skating rink out of it in the winter. Thirty years later, the whole
neighborhood would gather from time to time to skate on his rink. Our families
were some of his guests. We just had to give him a call saying we were coming,
and he would leave the gates open for us.

Dad didn’t recognize the
place at first, yet as soon as John shod him with his skates, he perked up and
asked, “Where’s George?” George was the owner of the rink. “Have you phoned him
that we were coming?” He looked at Eliot.

“Yes we did, Dad. Are you
okay to skate with us?” He put his hand on his shoulder.

“Of course I am, son.
I’ll beat you to the post yet, you no-good-for-nothing!” he exclaimed
jocularly. I loved those lucidity moments of my dad. They were going to be very
precious memories for me. For all of us, actually.

As we began skating–my
dad in between my two brothers–I turned and took several shots of him. He even
smiled at me for a second or two.

Then, all of a sudden,
his face became a blank mask. He didn’t know where he was or what he was doing.
However, my brothers knew it would happen. They immediately grabbed his arms
and skated with him back to the bench. A few minutes later, Dad asked why we
were sitting there. “For goodness’ sakes, men; let’s give this ice another go,
shall we?” And up he went.

That evening, we couldn’t
talk enough about Dad’s skating feat. Throughout a marvelous Thanksgiving
dinner, we chatted, rather quietly for Dad’s sake, about the future and the
possibility of my returning home.

“At this point, I don’t
think it’s even worth mentioning,” I said in answer to John’s query. “I still
have five years of residency to do after my internship. Then I’ll have to see
which
is the best transplant hospital
for me. If they
grant me the privileges then I’ll move, otherwise, I’ll have to stay where I am
at the time of my residency.”

“What are you talking
about ‘privileges’; is that like an authorization to practice there?” Eliot was
curious.

“Yes, exactly like it.
Every practicing physician in a hospital has privileges–the authorization to
practice in that facility. It is a privilege because the hospital pays for
everything on your behalf and becomes responsible for your actions. They insure
you for millions–just in case you have an accident during an operation. If you
make a mistake and a patient under your care dies, the insurance will
compensate the family, but you can kiss your career goodbye.”

“Does that mean you could
be out of a job because you made a mistake?” my mother asked. “Isn’t that a
little harsh?”

I shook my head. “Not if
you kill your patient, Mom. It’s much better than being thrown in jail, I
think.”

“Couldn’t the family sue
you–a civil action or some such thing?” John asked.

“I suppose they could,
but generally they don’t. The insurance would have compensated them handsomely
and I don’t think any lawyer would gladly try fighting such complicated case in
court.”

“Besides, it would cost
too much to the family,” John added.

The evening was nearly
drawing to a close when the phone rang. I had a hunch that Jeff was calling. I
was right. He was on the line. I didn’t want to talk to him. I didn’t want to
be drawn back into that nightmare.

“It’s for you,” Eliot
said as he came back to the living room.

“You can take it in Dad’s
den, if you want, dear,” Mom suggested.

“No, that’s fine, Mom.
I’ll take it in the kitchen. No problem.” I was already up and getting the
receiver off the hook.

“Hi there,” I said
somewhat cheerfully. “What’s up? Has the hospital caught on fire?”

“No, Heather, it hasn’t.
I…I mean I just…I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Okay. Here I am. How are
you doing?”

“Not well. You didn’t
tell me that you intended to leave. What’s that all about? Why didn’t you say
anything?”

“Because I don’t think I
owe you an explanation every time I want to go somewhere, do I?”

“No, of course you don’t.
But I thought we were friends.”

“Listen, Dr. Aldridge,
friends trust each other and they don’t chase one another. You just stay put
and I’ll see you when I get back!”

I was about to hang up
when I heard him say, “Please, Heather, don’t!”

I put the receiver back
to my ear. “Okay. Just take it easy. I’ll be back on Monday morning. Don’t
worry. I’ll be looking forward to the next ice-cream cone, alright?”

I heard him laugh. I
exhaled a sigh.

“Can I come to pick you
up at the airport?”

“No…I mean, I think it
will be better for me to take a cab. I’ll see you on Monday. Okay?”

“You sure it’s what you
want?”

“Don’t push your luck,
Dr. Aldridge, otherwise, no dessert for you next week!”

I heard my two brothers
burst out in loud laughter.

“Have a good night,
sweetie,” Jeff said, almost in a whisper, and hung up.

I put down the receiver
and marched back into the living room. I glared in jest at my two best friends.
“You two are going to pay for that somehow!”

“But who’s this Dr.
Aldridge?” Janette asked, her eyes going from me to Eliot to Mom and to John.

“He’s a wonderful
fellow,” Mom replied. “I met him when I was in Washington. He’s just a very
nice man. He’s lost both his parents to dementia and he was very helpful with
the information he gave me.”

“Why were you angry at
him?” Alice asked me.

“Oh it’s just because
he’s got a tendency of chasing me like a puppy and I hadn’t told him I was
leaving for the weekend.” I looked at my mother. “You remember when you were at
my place, Mom; he came knocking and just invited himself.”

“No-no, dear, you had
every intention of kicking him out to the gutter. I was the one who told him to
join us for dinner.”

“That’s because he can be
such a pest sometimes,” I uttered in my defense.

“Maybe Eliot and I should
pay you a visit and have a little tête-à-tête with Dr. Aldridge. What do you
think?” John asked me.

I had to laugh.
Throughout high school every time I came home complaining about a boy that
wouldn’t leave me alone, the next morning my two brothers would walk me to
school and have a “little tête-à-tête” with the young fellow. It usually turned
out fine, but today was different.

“I would love to see all
of you in D.C. one of these days. It’s not too long of a drive I think.” I
looked at Eliot. “Maybe after the baby is born?”

“I guess we could do
that,” he replied. “Maybe we could rent an RV and travel across country for our
next holiday.” He looked at everyone around the table. And then in one burst of
agreements, they all chipped in with suggestions. It sounded as if they were
going to pack their bags in the morning.

Talking about packing
one’s bag; on Sunday afternoon, it was my turn to do so. My plane was scheduled
to take off at five o’clock. The family met for brunch at a local restaurant;
we didn’t want Mom to cook again for the rest of the weekend. We made plans for
my coming for the baby’s birth–before April 20
^th
if possible–and
talked some more about the six of them (plus one) coming over for a week during
the summer. I promised to make arrangements to rent a house for them. Anyway,
there was a lot of water to go under the bridge before any of these things
would happen. I had to see what would happen with Jeff first. Not that my life
depended on Jeff’s movements, but I couldn’t set the matter aside either. I had
to face it: I was involved with a married man. If his divorce came through,
then I would have to revisit the whole thing once again.

Chapter
30

After a wonderful weekend,
I was glad to be back in D.C. It was home for me now. They say, “
home
is where the heart is”, and this was where my heart
resided. I loved my apartment, Tiffany and her pink bathrobe with her bunny
slippers; I loved my work and the feel of winter on the East Coast. It snowed a
lot, but it was definitely a milder climate than Omaha. The harshness of
blizzards in the region was remarkable.

I stuffed my beanie into
my carryon as soon as I reached the arrivals’ hall in Dulles Airport. Although
it was getting late, I felt light on my feet. Somehow, I knew things with Jeff
would work out. Perhaps I was to be proven wrong, but my little voice wasn’t
often fibbing.

Tiffany was expecting me
with a plate of vegetable ravioli in the oven and a glass of Merlot on the
kitchen counter.

She burst into a happy dance,
so excited she was when I came through the door. I couldn’t help myself–I took
a picture of Tiff in her pink robe and bunny slippers. If one day I was lucky
enough to have a private practice or a desk to call “mine”, I would place that
photo in evidence. It would remind me not to take life too seriously.

We sat down to eat as
soon as I had taken a shower and changed into my PJ’s. Tiffany then told me
that Jeff phoned her on Friday night asking–no, demanding–where I was. Tiffany
had told him that it was none of his business.

“You see, Hattie, I
didn’t want him to take the next plane to Omaha. If I gave him your mom’s phone
number, he could easily find your address and impose himself on your family. He
already did enough imposing when your mother was here.”