CHAPTER 15

Sixty-five-year-old Nora Baskerville had been Don’s patient since the death of her husband five years ago. Childless, the couple had been deeply devoted to each other, and the devastating change in her life and its associated loneliness and depression had eventually led to the onset of hypertension and type 2 diabetes. Weight gain due to comfort overeating was another of her problems. Today she was the doctor’s last patient.

As the two left the examining room, Don told the widow he was pleased with how she was complying with the treatment plan he had designed. “I know it has not been easy, but you keep up the good work. And remember, diet and exercise will help keep your diabetes under control,” he said reassuringly.

“Oh, my, yes, I’ll do my best,” she promised, giving him a bright smile. “And thanks, Dr. Matthews, for taking such good care of me.”

“It is entirely my pleasure to do so,” he said, gently patting her shoulder.

He returned to his office to make a few final notes on her computer file. Going into his private bathroom, he washed his face and hands before picking up his briefcase and grabbing his suit jacket from the clothes tree.

He had just reached the door to leave when his cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his briefcase, hoping it wasn’t a crisis of some sort. He checked it. Alisha! He had not seen or heard from her in three months. What could she possibly want now?

“I must see you,” she said when he called her.

“What for? What are you talking about? You know we’re through seeing each other!”

“I know that. This is very important to both of us.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“Like I said, this is important!”

* * *

Since their getaway weekend in New York City, Don and Leanne both recognized the exciting renewal in their relationship. It seemed to be as fresh and exciting as it was in the beginning of their life together. They were free to indulge one another, especially since both children were away at college. They could tease, frolic, play games, do whatever they wished, like carefree youngsters. These days, Don could hardly wait to get home to see what Leanne had planned. She enjoyed seeing the delight on his face when she would reveal her surprise.

He never knew what to expect when he arrived home, and after a day of meeting his patients’ needs, he welcomed the various activities she had planned. Smiling to himself, he recalled the past Saturday. He had spent the afternoon at the barber shop and returned home about five that afternoon.

He found a note taped to the newel post of the front stairs.

“Go up,” was the message. Grinning with anticipation, he tore off the note and raced up the stairs.

“Lea, Lea, where are you?” There was no reply.

He went into their bedroom. He found another note taped to the mirror over the dresser, You are freezing cold! Check the fireplace.

On the fireplace mantelpiece was a large white card on which Leanne had printed in large block letters, Not here, try the fridge.

When he opened the refrigerator door, he found a box of frankfurters, a package of hamburger patties, a bowl of potato salad covered with cellophane, as well as a covered bowl of tossed green salad. There was also a platter of peeled shrimp with a container of cocktail sauce in the center.

Standing in the kitchen, staring into the opened refrigerator door, he detected the odor of burning charcoal. And that’s when he found her, lounging in a deck chair out on the patio.

She laughed when she saw him standing in the kitchen door that led to the patio.

“Surprise! You’re cooking tonight, Bubba! And your wife is hungry.” She waggled a finger at him. “So, the fire is hot, let’s get the show on the road.”

“You little vixen!” He leaned over and kissed her. “May I please change into my chef’s outfit?

“As long as you’re quick about it.”

He dashed off, loosening his tie as he did so. This was going to be a wonderful Saturday night.

He returned wearing tan shorts, a white tee shirt and his favorite Red Sox baseball cap. A dish towel was flung over his shoulder, and he was wearing a white chef’s apron. He was carrying a tray with the food and supplies that he placed on a table beside the grill.

Leanne handed him a tall, frosted glass of lemonade.

“To keep you cool while you cook.”

That Saturday night they remained out on the patio long after they had eaten. A full moon rose on the horizon, and when the evening breezes became chilly and the fire died out, they moved indoors, cleaned up and, arm-in-arm, went upstairs to bed.

* * *

They were in their night clothes, watching the late news.

“So, when are you going to tell the good doctor he is going to be a father?” Wally asked Alisha.

“Tomorrow,” Alisha answered.

Wally yawned, stretched her arms over her head, then asked, “Tomorrow, where?”

“Actually, Wally, at his office at the medical center. Be after closing time. Hardly anyone there except the cleaning staff and maintenance people. Not too many professionals hang about after patient hours.”

“Well, how are you going to get in? Didn’t you have to turn in a key when you left?”

“Not before I had a duplicate made.”

Wally shook her head.

“Girl, you are something else! How long has it been since you’ve seen him? There will be no doubt that when he sees that bump in your belly, he’ll know you’re pregnant.”

“That’s why I’ve kept my distance. It’s been almost four months.”

“Hope you know what you’re doing, kid. I must say, you’ve got some chutzpah, as the Yiddish say.”

“Wally, my dear friend, I know what I want and I won’t stop until I get it!”

“What do you want?”

“I want what I should have…to be the wife of a prominent physician, enjoying his status and money. I want to be a whole lot more than the daughter of a steel mill worker from Pittsburgh! That’s what I want, and I’m going to get it.”

“But the man is married!”

“That’s not my problem.”