As You Wish (7 page)

“No, nothing. We’re fine. Thank you. Just the check,” Patricia said.

The waitress nodded and skittered away from the table.

“I’m sorry, Patricia. I didn’t mean to snap.”

Patricia picked up her purse. “I’m not the one you need to apologize to.”

“I just wanted everything to go right tonight.”

“I understand,” Patricia said. “It is getting late, though. I was up at five this morning, and you have a long drive ahead of you to get back to Columbus.”

“Will you consider my proposal?”

The word itself sounded like a dinner plate being dropped on the floor. The chance to be First Lady required marrying David Hoess, who shouted at waitresses. “I will consider it.” She stood up and pulled a twenty from her purse, discreetly tucking it under her plate. “Excuse me while I use the ladies room.”

Hurrying through the small empty salon, she locked herself in a stall. She pressed her cheek against the cool marble wall. How ambitious was she? Getting through medical school required ambition, and if she shook her family tree hard enough, a couple of congressmen and a senator fell out, along with several lesser officials. Then there was esteemed Uncle William, who everyone claimed could have kept Nixon out of office if he hadn’t died in the Normandy Invasion. And she could do a great deal of good as First Lady of the state, even if they only got that far.

Besides, arranged marriages weren’t uncommon, even now. Her grandparents’ marriage had been arranged, and it had turned out wonderfully. Her parents hadn’t sat down with David’s parents and drawn up a contract, but a hundred years ago, they would have. It would honor her parents if she married David. Wouldn’t it?

Patricia unlocked the door. Her long day weighed around her. She should check on that patient tonight before she went home. Maybe her duty was to her state and her country in the future, but tonight her duty was to Mrs. Magyar. She washed her hands.

As she crossed the dining room, she saw David standing next to the table, talking to their waitress. In a total reversal of her previous mood, the girl was smiling. So was David. As Patricia watched, he stroked the girl’s cheek, and she blushed. Patricia ducked behind a wall. Her heart pounding, she scanned the room for escape. It couldn’t be what she thought it was. When she spotted the maître d’, she straightened and walked toward him.

“Excuse me, could you please tell Mr. Hoess that I’m waiting for him at the door?”

“Of course, Dr. Whitmer.” The man bowed and hurried away.

Patricia opened her phone and dialed the hospital. She could check on her patient just as efficiently over the phone if the woman was asleep. Except she wasn’t. According to the nurse on duty, Mrs. Magyar was awake and fretful, asking lots of questions no one on duty had the answers to.

“All right, I’ll be there in a few minutes,” she was saying as David walked up to her. “If you get a chance, let her know I called, and I’m on my way. Good-bye.”

David grinned, the portrait of innocence.

“I need to stop at the hospital.”

He frowned, probably imagining a malpractice suit and what it would do to his plans and his career. “Why? Is there a problem?”

“One of my patients may need to have another surgery, and she’s upset.”

“You’re not her surgeon. Why do you have to talk to her?”

“Because she’s my patient.” The tension stretched out between them. She wished she could just say,
Let’s go home
, but she’d already given her word. “If you don’t want to go with me, I can get a cab.”

“I’ll go with you.” David almost but not quite pouted.

At the hospital, David hung back at the nurses’ station, talking to the duty nurse who, to Patricia’s relief, was male. Mrs. Magyar and her husband sat watching television grimly in her room.

Patricia glanced up and recognized
Seinfeld
reruns. “Hello, Mrs. Magyar, how are you feeling?”

“Dr. Whitmer, I didn’t expect you tonight.”

“I was passing by, so I thought I would stop.”

“Will someone tell us what’s going on?” Mr. Magyar stood up. According to his wife’s file and their conversations, he’d spent most of his adult life working as a machinist until he was laid off three years ago. He was still built like one.

“Bill,” Mrs. Magyar scolded.

“I’ll be happy to answer any questions I can, but I’m afraid Dr. Radesku is really the expert here.”

“I don’t like him,” Mr. Magyar snarled.

“Bill! I’m sorry, Dr. Whitmer, my husband—”

“He’s rude to my wife,” Mr. Magyar continued.

Patricia folded her hands together, trying to appear calm and professional. “In what way?”

“He says she wouldn’t understand what he’s doing, and he won’t answer our questions.” Bill Magyar had
what are you going to do about it
stamped on his forehead.

Patricia thought about David waiting impatiently at the desk and her early morning today. She sighed. It had taken two months of minor complaints from Mrs. Magyar to earn her trust enough to get to the real issue. Two months too long in her case.

Just because she’d had a long day, Patricia couldn’t walk out on the frightened woman and her equally frightened husband. She reached back for a chair. “Why don’t you tell me what your questions are, and I’ll see if I have any answers for you. And if not, I’ll see if I can locate Dr. Radesku.”

Over an hour later, Patricia walked out of Mrs. Magyar’s room. Mr. and Mrs. Magyar felt better. Patricia felt much worse. The minor aches and bloating Mrs. Magyar had been experiencing for six months before confessing them to Patricia were ovarian cancer. In that time, the cancer had spread. Dr. Radesku felt there was little hope of cutting it out and doubted Mrs. Magyar’s ability to survive chemotherapy due to her age and general health. Patricia hadn’t told her that. She’d said Radesku found a few things he wanted to take a closer look at in his exploratory surgery. She’d given a shortened explanation of what cancer was and how it happened, ignoring Mr. Magyar’s nicotine-stained fingers.

When Mrs. Magyar had walked into Patricia’s cubicle at the clinic two months ago, she’d complained of headaches. Patricia had taken her history and attributed it to stress and general poor health. She had not done a complete physical despite the fact that the woman obviously hadn’t had one in years. If she had done the physical that day, Mrs. Magyar might not be in this mess now.

“Finally. I didn’t think you were ever coming out.” David unfolded himself from the hall couch. “Can we go now?”

“I may have killed that woman,” Patricia murmured.

“What? Is it malpractice? Could she sue?”

Patricia frowned. “No. I don’t want to talk about this. Can we just go home?”

“Sure.” David took her arm and led her to the parking garage. “She couldn’t sue you, could she?”

“Not if she’s dead, David.”

David growled. “Her estate, then.”

“She doesn’t have an estate. She’s a clinic patient.”

“All the more reason for her heirs to sue you. You’re a big fat target in this town.”

“David, I told you I didn’t want to talk about this.”

“Yeah, but if you need legal—”

“I don’t. I didn’t misdiagnose anything. I merely didn’t do everything I could have done. All right?” Patricia jerked open the passenger-side door before he could get it for her. “Just take me home.” She slumped in the seat. Exhaustion clung to her like grime. She wanted to go home, take a hot shower, and climb into the crisp, clean sheets of her bed. Mrs. Dudley, her cleaning lady, would have been by today, so her bed would be fresh, at least.

David parked his car in front of the house and followed Patricia to the door. She unlocked it and turned toward him. “Thank you for the lovely evening.”

“May I come in?”

Patricia was too well bred to let the snarl in her throat out. “I don’t think tonight is good. I’m very tired. Maybe next time.”

David stroked her cheek. “You’re not mad, are you?”

“No, just tired. I’ve been up since five, and it’s been a difficult day.” She tried to sound firm, but right now she was considering skipping the shower and going straight to bed.

“I hope you’ll think about what we discussed.”

Patricia stared at him for a minute. Having just spent an hour talking to a woman who might be dead within the year and her soon-to-be widower, she couldn’t remember what had happened over dinner. Oh yes. First Lady. “I will. I promise.”

David tilted his head and leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers. If she’d been firing on all cylinders, Patricia would have turned so he would have kissed her cheek instead. He pulled her into his arms, and she had to put her hands on his shoulders to keep her balance. He was in good shape, his body lean and lightly muscled. Not as powerful as Ryan’s. His kiss was tentative and nervous, not the possessive, demanding kisses of Ryan. He didn’t bend her back with the force of his desire, taking complete possession of her. His hands supported her as though he might hurt her if he held her too tightly. Ryan never hesitated to crush her against his solid chest. One of David’s hands slid down to the small of her back, pulling her against him, but still without any real pressure. David’s tongue brushed against her closed lips.

Patricia jerked backward. “David.”

“I’m sorry.” David backed away. “You’re just so desirable, Patricia. If I had known when we were kids how you would look now and how much I would want you…” He drew an unsteady breath. “I’m sorry if I was too aggressive.”

“Good night, David.” Patricia stepped through the door, pushing it closed behind her. She leaned on the heavy oak panels, listening as David started up his car and drove away. His kiss had left her cold. Actually chilly. She remembered CPR dummies displaying more passion.

He was also the one who could make her First Lady.

And Mrs. Magyar might die within the year because she had taken the woman at her word and not bothered with a complete physical the first time she’d seen her.

Patricia closed her eyes. She hadn’t even been a real doctor for a year, and she had already killed someone. She’d already failed. But David could help her make up for it. If he succeeded with his political ambitions, she could help the whole country. Her parents approved of David, and her grandfather would respect her desire to help the entire country. If Mrs. Magyar was any indication, she might be a better First Lady than doctor.

Chapter Five

Ryan watched David’s Audi pass through the gates. He hit the button to close them just before the Audi’s bumper cleared. In the amount of time it had taken David to drive to the house and back, he couldn’t have gotten past first base. David’s head jerked to look at the twelve-foot-high iron gate closing in his rearview mirror.
Yeah, you little snot, you’re locked out
. After David pulled out into the street, Ryan dropped his flashlight in his pocket to do the final check on the house for the night.

The night sounds closed around him. Growing up in the city, he’d never seen so many stars or heard so many crickets. It hadn’t taken long to fall in love with it all. Over the years he’d been alone here, he’d come to treasure these nighttime walks. No matter what went wrong during the day, he had this solitary peace at the end to make sure everything was sealed up tight and all was right in the little kingdom he ruled.

When Patricia moved back, he’d worried she would change his habits by coming and going at all hours, but she didn’t. If she wasn’t on call at the hospital all night, she was home and in bed by eleven. She probably didn’t even know he checked all the doors at eleven thirty every night. Tonight, she had made him a little late, but that didn’t matter because the little snot-nose hadn’t gotten any place. He grabbed the front doorknob, and it twisted in his hand.

He frowned. She might have been so tired she forgot to lock it when she came in, but that wasn’t like her at all. He pushed.

A muffled shriek sounded, and the door jerked open. Patricia stood just inside the foyer like she might leap at him. She was still wearing the floaty summer dress she’d been wearing earlier. Ryan wondered if she’d been leaning against the door since David left.

“RYAN. WHAT ARE you doing?” she demanded.

“Checking the doors.”

Patricia stared at the door. Then she sighed and chuckled. “Of course. I’m sorry. I just got in and hadn’t locked it yet. I just thought David…” She trailed off.

“Was forcing his way through the door?” Ryan finished for her. He wouldn’t have thought the snapping poodle she’d introduced him to before had it in him, but maybe he’d misjudged the boy. Ryan wondered if he should get a shotgun and sit at the front door, guarding her. It was overkill considering that if anyone tried to get in now with the perimeter alarm set, the entire city police department would be here in minutes, and he could get to her from his house in seconds at a run.

“I don’t know what I was thinking.” Patricia shook her head. “Do you do this every night?”

“Yes. I make sure the gate is closed and check the house.” Something about her seemed wrong. He wondered what David might have said that left her thinking he would barge through the door. “Are you okay?”

She laughed again. “You always seemed to be asking me that.”

Ryan shrugged. His natural instinct to leave before she could lash out at him with her sharp tone warred with the desire to find out what happened and fix it. “You seem upset.”

“Is it that noticeable?”

He shrugged again.

She closed her eyes and put her hand over her mouth. “I may have killed a patient.”

“How?”

“She came to me complaining of headaches, and she had ovarian cancer.”

Ryan swallowed.
“It’s all right, Ry,”
he heard.
“It’s just a little headache. Be a good boy and go to school.”

“I should have done a complete physical on her when I saw her the first time,” Patricia continued. “If I had, I would have felt the bloating in her abdomen, or if I had ordered a blood test, I could have caught it a long time ago. Now she’s had a complete hysterectomy, and she might lose part of her small intestine, and who knows what else Dr. Radesku will find when he opens her up tomorrow.”