AFTER THE DOG INCIDENT, Noah had to concede that Tessa’s ideas had merit.
So he decided to experiment, based on Tessa’s criticisms, and tried smiling as he spoke to his patients. But he couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled. This observation in and of itself was startling. He could still smile, couldn’t he? Maybe he couldn’t. Maybe Ginny’s and Julia’s deaths had stolen his ability to ever do something as simple as smile ever again.
But he had to try. When he entered Madison Ryan’s room, he did so with a grin on his face.
By the look on her and her mother’s faces, he didn’t succeed too well. He caught his reflection in the mirror that sat over the nearby sink and nearly jumped. His smile resembled a creepy leer. He immediately smoothed out his facial features and tried for something more relaxed instead of so ridiculously upbeat. It seemed to make Maddy and her mother more comfortable. He’d have to practice smiling in private, in front of a mirror, before he tried it again with a patient.
He began sharing the latest update on Maddy’s condition, offering up blood cell counts and other test results. The news was positive, but Maddy and her mother only stared at him uneasily. Though they seemed to understand this news didn’t mean the little girl was cured, he felt the need to add, “I should caution you not to get too excited just yet since we still have a long road ahead.”
The pair was silent. He stopped, thinking of Tessa. What would she say about his gloomy outlook for this child? How had he felt, as a parent, when Ginny’s doctors delivered such updates? Of course, he’d understood the terminology better than most, given his background. But he remembered that he’d taken every scrap of hope that was offered to him at the time, feeding the will to go on, to keep fighting for his daughter’s sake.
He might not believe in hope now. Not anymore. But did he have the right to withhold it from others? Maybe Tessa had a point. Would it be so bad to give his patients the opportunity to enjoy their successes?
“So…” He cleared his throat. “We still have a battle to fight, but these test results are good news.”
He watched as some of the tension eased from Mrs. Ryan’s shoulders.
“This is a win,” he tried again. “And you should celebrate.”
The change was instant. Maddy beamed as her mom leaned down to embrace her. There were tears of happiness in her eyes as she straightened.
“Thank you, Dr. Brennan. I can’t tell you how grateful I am for all that you’re doing for my little girl.”
For a moment, he wanted to correct her, to let her know he didn’t deserve such praise. But instead he motioned to the child. “Maddy’s the one with the hardest job. And she’s doing great at it.”
His patient’s grin widened even more, and warmth bloomed in his chest. It felt startlingly good to see those smiles, to focus on this win with them. He realized that this victory was much the same as what Tessa was attempting with the dog-therapy program.
He was still averse to the idea of animals in a hospital. The environment should be kept sterile, especially in a cancer ward where the patients’ immune systems were already so heavily taxed. But he appreciated what Tessa was trying to do. She wanted to boost the kids’ spirits, take their minds off their pain, no matter how briefly.
As Maddy’s mother ran her palm over her daughter’s patchy hair and murmured words of encouragement, something shifted inside of Noah—something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Before he could consider it too closely, he heard someone say his name.
“Dr. Brennan?”
He turned, already sensing her there. Tessa Worth.
“Could I have a moment of your time?” The soft plea in her voice stirred something else in his chest. He nearly offered a sharp reply, but he caught himself. Did she really deserve his scorn? She was only doing her job, after all. Why was he giving her such a hard time? Because it inconvenienced him? Or was it something else?
He didn’t really want to consider the answers to some of those questions. But neither did he wish to punish her for doing what she thought was right.
“I can be with you in a couple of minutes. Why don’t you wait for me in my office?”
She nodded and before she left, offered a smile to Maddy and her mother. He marveled at how easily she could do it. And her smile was beautiful, warm and welcoming. Everything about her was kind and caring.
He shook himself, frowning at his own distraction.
“Well.” He cleared his throat. “Maddy, I’ll catch up with you tomorrow, okay?”
She nodded, a lingering grin keeping her face bright and hopeful. On impulse, he held up a hand. Her mouth dropped slightly, and then she beamed as she smacked her palm against his in a high five.
Before he could pull his arm away, her mother grabbed it.
“Dr. Brennan. Thank you.” There were tears shining in her eyes.
Both mother and daughter looked as if he’d handed them a gift. It wounded him, as much as it warmed him. He knew the dark place they were living in. He knew what it was to be on their side of this conversation, how desperately he’d clung to every reassurance, how he’d convinced himself that Ginny would win the fight.
The reminder nearly made him issue a warning, cautioning them against hope. Hope blinded a person to reality. He didn’t want that for Maddy, nor her mother. But he didn’t want to see them weighed down by fear, either. So he forced himself to nod before leaving the room.
* * *
SHE WAS STANDING awkwardly in front of his desk when Noah entered his office. As he closed the door behind him, he gestured for her to take a seat. They sat at the same time, he on one side of the desk and she on the other.
“I wanted to apologize,” she said without preamble, “for not speaking with you in person about the animal therapy ahead of time.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but she rushed on, as if she had to get the words out before he said something that might stop her.
“It was unfair to spring it on you. I mean, yes, I emailed you about it, but I should have been more direct. It was—” she straightened and cleared her throat “—unprofessional of me.” She licked her lips. “But I think the program will do a lot of good for the children,” she finally said.
“I agree.” He enjoyed seeing her eyes widen at his response.
“You…do?”
“Yes.” He nodded. “I still don’t think it does as much good as you believe it does. But I’m willing to concede that it eases the patients’ anxiety, at least for as long as the animal is present.”
“Yes. Exactly. They deserve a few minutes of joy, don’t you think?”
Of course he wanted his patients to experience happiness, but he wasn’t sure how much she understood about the fight against cancer.
“Certainly they deserve it,” he replied, “but I’m not sure it’s possible, at least not in the way you think it is.”
She frowned, but he jumped in before she could come up with an argument.
“I just mean that what these families are experiencing is probably the most frightening battle of their lives. No matter how many puppies you throw at the situation, it doesn’t change the reality of what they’re up against.”
To his surprise, she nodded, though he hardly thought she agreed with him.
“There’s something else I’d like to say.”
He braced himself as she drew a deep breath.
“I’m sorry for how I spoke to you last week, in the commons. That was inconsiderate of me. I recognize that you’re a good doctor, and you didn’t deserve my criticism. How you handle your patients is…” She trailed off, and he wondered if she was struggling to find something nice to say.
He held up a hand before she could speak further. “Did Ana put you up to this apology?”
Her lips parted and then closed. “Excuse me?”
“I know Ana is determined you and I maintain a civil working relationship. Did she suggest you apologize?”
Her cheeks flushed to a pretty pink, and her eyes shone. She sputtered for a moment and then let out a sharp “No!”
She stood and began pacing. “You just might be the most insufferable human being I have ever met! No, Ana did not put me up to this.” She did a fair imitation of him as she repeated his words. He found himself amused more than irritated. “I was only trying to…to…”
“Get back on my good side?” He only said it for the reaction he knew it would evoke. He realized he was forming a bad habit of enjoying getting under her skin.
“You have a good side?” she tossed back, and he nearly—but not quite—smiled, without any real effort. It startled him: what had been so difficult with his patients almost came naturally when Tessa Worth was around.
He stood to his feet. “Apology accepted,” he said.
She sputtered once more. “I retract my apology,” she declared crisply.
“It’s too late. I’ve already accepted it.”
Her eyes narrowed, and he marveled at himself. Was he…teasing her? This woman who was such a thorn in his side? He should get her out of his office, as quickly as possible.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, Ms. Worth, I have patients to see.”
He thought she might protest—he was stunned to realize that a part of him hoped she would—but she seemed to realize it was a lost cause.
“Thank you, Doctor,” she ground out, and he had to give her credit for maintaining her composure.
Although she did slam the door on her way out.
* * *
OVER THE NEXT couple of weeks, Tessa found herself both relieved and strangely disappointed that she had no further run-ins with Dr. Brennan. They fell into a routine of working around each other. Tessa spent quite a bit of her time in her office on the first floor, but she also dedicated several hours of her week to visiting the pediatric oncology ward. She wanted to have a clear understanding of the work being done there, and the experiences of the children and their families. She checked with Ana, to ensure she wasn’t spending too much time away from her desk, and found that Ana fully endorsed her choice.
She expected Dr. Brennan to protest her intrusion into his ward, but she was surprised to find he said nothing to her at all about it.
But neither did he embrace her presence. He greeted her with a nod whenever he saw her, and occasionally, she sensed him watching her as she interacted with the staff or patients, but he gave no indication he disapproved. Although part of her wished he’d make more of an effort for them to be colleagues, she didn’t press her luck.
Gradually, she began to relax, even when she knew he was nearby. She was always aware of his presence, but she no longer anticipated an altercation every time she stepped into his territory. She didn’t mistake his silence for acquiescence, but she was at least hopeful they could be professional about their individual roles at the hospital.
The animal therapy program with Linda and Viva became a regular occurrence, and Tessa even sent out a press release to local news crews for some coverage. She was thrilled when one news outlet decided to send a reporter.
Noah grumbled about the news crew’s interference. But to his credit, when they arrived and interviewed him for the story, he was polite and professional, even going so far as to thank them for featuring the hospital. Tessa was relieved, and when the story aired that night on the local news, her father called to congratulate her.
It was the first time in a long time that she could remember him being proud of her. Her relationship with her dad had always been different than her sisters’. As the baby of the family, he hadn’t held her to the same exacting standards. But she knew he’d been disappointed when she left her fiancé at the altar, quit her job as a nurse, giving no explanations, and went to work at the animal clinic. He’d seen it, as Paige had, as a step down in the world. She knew his encouragement now was because he wanted to see her continue to succeed in her new job at the hospital. There was nothing wrong with that, of course. She only wished he could have expressed the same support when she’d been a lowly staff member at the animal clinic.
While Tessa was proud of the success, her work became more challenging to her personally. She had left pediatrics because it hurt too much to be around children. She’d thought public relations would be easier because she wouldn’t be working directly with the kids, but she’d be contributing to their healing just the same. And in some ways, it was easier. She didn’t have the responsibility of their day-to-day care, as the nurses did. But she was becoming too invested in them, in their struggles and victories.
She couldn’t help asking them questions, about their journeys with cancer. Most stories had the same beginning, with the family being blindsided by the diagnosis. It started with seemingly innocent symptoms—persistent coughs, ongoing flu, nosebleeds, bruising, joint pain—until finally everything culminated in a visit to the emergency room or a family doctor that had the foresight to request the appropriate tests. From there, it was a whirlwind of activity—rushing to the children’s hospital, the immediate onslaught of treatment and the worry and the waiting…
When Tessa heard these stories, her heart expanded and contracted at the same time. And even though it was ridiculous and wrong, she couldn’t help feeling a strange sort of envy. These families were experiencing heartache and tragedy, and she would never wish that for anyone. But as she observed mothers and daughters, fathers and sons, she couldn’t help the grief that smothered her. She would never know what it was to hold her own, biological child in such a way, to soothe and reassure them, to feel the solid weight of them in her arms.
But how could she be so selfish, when these families were fighting for a future where they may no longer have that privilege, either?