CHAPTER 7

The call came to Don a few minutes before he was to see his first patient.

“Yes, sir!” he responded to the deep voice of the president of the medical association. “How may I help you, sir?”

“Please come to my office at ten. I have something to discuss with you.”

“I’ll be there,” Don said. He sat still, his hand on the receiver, and stared out the window of his office. His view of the manicured grounds, the blooming forsythia, the delicate pinks of the magnolias usually relaxed him. But today he sensed it was not medical matters that Dr. John Alexander wanted to talk about.

He thought, My personal life has nothing to do with my professional life. I’ll have to let him know this at the outset. In fact, I insist that he see it that way.

As he sat there thinking, he recalled how everyone always thought that he and Leanne were the perfect couple. He thought so, too, at first. Leanne was attractive, smart, witty, capable and seemed solidly grounded in what she wanted out of life. He adored her, admired her, felt lucky to love such a wonderful person who loved him and put him first.

But somehow his life with Leanne had become routine, although they both enjoyed their sexual life, which lately seemed to have lost the spontaneity they had once had. They did enjoy the moments whenever they occurred.

Don had noticed, too, how quickly Leanne left their bed instead of remaining in his arms as he wanted her to do.

Something about “cleaning up.” But he thought it was rather an opportunity to “wash him away.”

Now it had become a humdrum, mundane matter-of-fact existence. No longer glorious, excited lovers. They had become more like companions, rearing their children, pursuing their separate careers, earning income for the support and welfare of the family.

He thought about Alisha and the immediate sensation he felt in his quickening groin alerted him. He wanted her, loved her. He had to admit that initially the attention of a younger woman had excited him. And she did not look at all like Leanne.

Tiny, about five feet tall and weighing perhaps a hundred and ten pounds, she had a glowing cocoa brown skin that made him want to touch her. Her figure was neat and trim. Because she played tennis, her arms and legs were well-toned.

She wore her dark hair in a sleek chin-length bob that swirled gently around her face. To Don, she was like a breath of fresh air. She had brought a newness, a refreshing aura that he no longer saw in his wife.

He found himself looking forward to seeing her every day, sharing their coffee breaks. And he noticed her absence whenever she took a day off.

* * *

After he’d seen his nine a.m. patient, Don informed Becky Long that he would be away from the office around ten.

“Fine, Doctor. I’ll hold the patient line until you get back.”

“Thanks.”

He took the elevator to where the association’s fourth floor offices were located; billing, conference room, and the corporate offices were situated around a central lounge area. Comfortable chairs, tables with lamps, periodicals on a coffee table in the center, plus a wall-mounted television set all helped visitors relax while waiting to be called into one of the various offices.

John Alexander was a surgeon, the founder and president of the Atlantic Medical Associates. He had been a running back for a National Football League team and when his contract with the team expired, he enrolled in a medical school.

Tall, about six feet, four inches, he commanded a strong presence in the medical group.

Don Matthews, an associate for ten years, was one of the organization’s most productive members. His practice had a larger roster of patients than any other practitioner.

He entered the president’s outer office, well decorated with soft beige walls, matching linen draperies at the windows at the opposite ends of the room, and various seascape watercolors on the walls. The furniture was leather chairs and a leather sofa behind a coffee table covered with carefully arranged magazines. It was a room meant to signify confidence. Don knew the man’s professional credentials and football memorabilia were to be found in the inner office. A room that also spoke of confidence.

The president’s secretary greeted him as he entered the reception room.

“Good morning, Dr. Matthews. How are you?”

“Fine, thank you,” he said to the secretary.

“He’s expecting you. You may go in.”

Don tapped lightly on the door, heard a man’s voice say, “Come in. Yes, Don, come in! How are you?”

Dr. Alexander stood up behind his desk and extended his hand.

Don grasped the offered hand with a firm handshake, hoping to convey his position in the upcoming confrontation.

“I’m fine, fine,” Dr. Alexander said. “Like some coffee? Drink? Have a seat,” he pointed to a chair.

“No thanks, John, I don’t have much of my time…have patients waiting.”

Maintaining eye contact with John Alexander, who remained seated, and speaking in a controlled, firm voice, Don was determined to make his position clear.

“First of all, John, I’m assuming you called me in here because of certain rumors you may have heard.”

“Well, I…”

“Okay, before you go any farther, let me clarify something. What I’m guessing you heard is not a rumor. My wife has agreed to a divorce and I am involved with another woman and plan to marry her as soon as the divorce is final. Now, despite the fact that this is all personal, I am telling you so that you will have firsthand knowledge of the facts.”

“Thanks for the clarification, Don, but let me say that as an officer of this association, I am duty-bound to protect its interests, which includes looking into anything that could possibly negatively impact those interests. Federal laws apply to everything we do, including personal interactions. And so my inquiry is not personal; it is part of my professional responsibilities. I hope we are both clear on that.”

“Yes, we are, and I hope my intentions are clearer now,” Don responded.

“I do believe they are, and thanks for coming in, Don,” Dr. Alexander said, signaling that the meeting was over.