SNOW WAITED MOST of the morning for her call.
It galled him that he had spent more time than he should have sitting in his office, replaying the sound of her voice in his mind. Her slight accent had a different rise and fall than what he was used to hearing. Although in a city the size of New York, he’d heard a lot of different accents. And a lot of intonations. Until she’d used the words threatening and fear in relation to his patient. And then he’d been transported back to another world, a world where those two words held a very different meaning.
At home as a child, he’d learned to read voices well and knew when it was time to flee the vicinity. There was a certain blurring of words—the way they ran together in a string of nonsensical phrases—that never boded well for those who lived in his household. So he’d normally chosen that time to grab his bike and ride to his friend Kaleb’s house.
The only tone in the Sabat household had been calm. Controlled. Snow had internalized those softer voices and magnified them into a type of self-protection that he’d used at home during the worst times. He’d learned it was possible to keep his emotions in check.
At least he hoped he could. He’d been able to do it with Theresa, keeping a big portion of his childhood a secret from her. But if that fail-safe ever came tumbling down?
He’d decided a while back he was never going to let himself get into a situation where he might lose control of his emotions. The divorce had been a godsend, actually. He no longer had to fear losing his temper, never had to feel his way around every discussion looking for a way to keep things from escalating into an outright argument.
He’d heard a hint of irritation in Kirsten’s voice at one point of their conversation, but no real anger. No sharp temper that could wound his patients. Instead, he’d been the one who’d gotten a little testy, and he didn’t like it. Didn’t like that someone he barely knew had been able to get a rise out of him, when Theresa never could.
“Just get angry, Snow!” she’d insisted toward the end. “Don’t freeze me out.”
She’d never understood that anger was one of those emotions he’d banished from his vocabulary. That had probably been the last real conversation he and his ex had had, before she found what she’d been looking for in someone else’s arms.
It had been his fault. He was enough of a realist to admit it. And he’d been reading the signs—just like he had during his childhood—for a long time. He just hadn’t been able to, or wanted, to do anything about it. He had not wanted his past to rise up and overwhelm his defenses.
Was that what his dad had felt every time he picked up a bottle? Every time he lifted his hand in anger?
Snow didn’t drink much anymore. He could remember a couple of times he’d gotten roaring drunk as a way to escape. One of those time was when he’d gone to the bar with Kaleb to celebrate his divorce. And once when he’d realized his good friend might have found what Snow hadn’t been able to find: love. He wasn’t an alcoholic, like his dad, but he’d decided about six months ago that he was done with the stuff—a twinge of fear that there might be a genetic component to his dad’s problems that might eventually catch up to him.
That’s probably why Kirsten’s offhand comment had burrowed deep and stayed there.
He glanced at the phone on his desk. Damn. Time to get up and get some work done. He’d told Kirsten he would check on their patient later this afternoon, but maybe he would go early. Wait. Their patient? He’d used that term yesterday, too, when talking to Kirsten.
His jaw clenched. Tanya Latimer was his patient. He’d done the surgery. He’d done the lead-up. Ultimately, what happened to her was on him. There would be no one to swoop in and rescue her if he wasn’t on his toes. Just like there’d been no one to swoop in and rescue him and his mom.
Just as he pried himself out of his chair, the desk phone went off. His nerves immediately kicked into high gear. He took a moment to calm himself before picking it up. Despite his efforts, he practically growled a greeting before catching himself.
Hell, what was wrong with him?
“Dr. Tangredi—Snow?”
“Yes.” He recognized her voice immediately, sinking back into his chair. “How is she?”
No asking her how she was or how her day was going. He was turning into a first-class jerk.
“I did talk to her.” There was a long pause. “Could we, er, meet somewhere to discuss it? I feel like this is better said in person than over the phone.”
A sense of foreboding went through him. Maybe Tanya had decided she wanted to stop the process or get a new doctor. Hell, if that happened he was not going to be happy. Not with his patient and not with himself, for ignoring his gut.
“Is now a good time? I can meet you here in my office, or in the staff lounge, whichever is better.”
Another pause. “I did get permission to share what’s going on with you, but just barely. I think it might be better done in a private place to respect her wishes.”
A private place. He liked the tiny differences in the way she phrased things. Like when she’d used the word discombobulated. It was unique to her, and...
Damn attractive.
Except he didn’t need to find anything about her attractive. Not her raven-colored locks. Not the blue eyes that were such a contrast to her skin tone. “How about here in my office, then?”
That was about as private as it got.
“Okay. Which number?”
“Four-oh-three.”
“I’ll be up there in a few minutes.”
For a split second he wondered if it would have been better to go somewhere for coffee outside of the hospital. He could have found someplace where they would be unlikely to run across anyone he knew. There were other ways to assure privacy without it needing to be a place where it was only the two of them.
Too late now. He’d already invited her up.
He straightened his desk, then got up and moved over to a small seating arrangement in the far corner, consisting of a leather sofa and two matching chairs. He stopped himself. It didn’t matter what the space looked like. He wasn’t entertaining her. He was having a professional discussion.
Still, he closed the door to the bathroom across from the chairs.
Just as he did, there was a knock on his door. She’d been close. Maybe she was coming from her own office, since they were all on the fourth floor.
He went behind his desk and sat down. “Come in.”
Kirsten poked her head in as if to assure herself that she had the right office, then entered the room, shutting the door quietly behind herself. “Hi. Thanks for seeing me.” She glanced at his door, her head tilting.
“I wondered if you’d forgotten about calling me this morning.” Damn. If that didn’t sound like he was sitting here wringing his hands as he waited for her call, he didn’t know what did.
She lowered herself into a chair and glanced again at his door. “Is there something I should know about the hospital?”
He blinked. Was she worried about being alone with him? That thought gutted him. “Such as...?”
“You have an extra lock on your door. Mine only has the one on the doorknob.”
He stiffened, even as a wave of relief went through him. It was the door she was worried about, not him. And she was right. He’d had a dead bolt installed. Another habit that he hadn’t been able to break. But this one was harmless. “No, there’s nothing other than the fact that we’re in a big city.”
“Do I need more locks?”
Hell, he hoped not. “It was an option when I started at the hospital. You have to do what you feel most comfortable with.” It hadn’t actually been an option, but they’d asked him if he needed anything specific in his office, and he’d asked about the extra lock, since he did periodically sleep on the couch when he had an especially critical patient. “I sometimes have to spend the night here.”
She nodded. “Ah, okay, I see.”
He had a feeling she didn’t really, but this was one subject he didn’t want to dwell on or pick apart. “You didn’t come here to discuss the lock on my door, though.”
“No.” She leaned forward. “Did you ever talk to your patient about her future plans?”
He went back through the various conversations he’d had with her, her husband and her parents. “She was pretty ill by the time I met her. She was in the last stages of primary pulmonary hypertension and if she didn’t have a transplant, she would die. Her heart was already enlarged and threatening to fail. They all said transplantation was what she wanted. Including Tanya.” He was explaining a lot more than he needed to. Maybe because he wasn’t sure what Kirsten was getting at. Could he have missed a concern during one of their conversations? Was she planning on doing something else that required a pristine set of lungs? “If there was a concern, she should have discussed it before agreeing to the transplant.”
“It has nothing to do with the transplant. Well, it does, but only indirectly.”
“What is it, then?”
“It has to do with her antirejection meds.”
He leaned back in his chair, dragging his hand through his hair, his fingers snarling in it for a second. He needed to get the damn curls cut off. He made sure his voice was very steady when he said, “Not taking them is not an option. It will never be an option. She knew that up front. It’s a lifetime commitment. If there are problems with cost or insurance coverage, we can work through them, and the hospital has a program that—”
“It’s not the cost. At least that’s not what she relayed to me.”
She shifted in her chair as if dreading whatever it was the patient had told her. He probably wasn’t helping by reacting every time she said something. Sure, he hadn’t raised his voice and his tone had been low, soft even, but maybe she was just as good at reading undertones as he was. Because what he was reading from her was off the chart. There was empathy, a trace of pity. And impatience. He was pretty sure that was directed at him.
Well, he was getting pretty damn impatient himself, despite his efforts to the contrary. “I’m waiting for you to tell me what the problem is. That was our agreement. That you not withhold information.”
The way he’d withheld information from Theresa? Information he should have trusted her with. No, that was completely different from this situation.
“I know.” Her voice was softer than his had been. “What are the effects of her medication on...fertility? Especially the teratogenic properties.”
It came to him in a flash. Tanya was a young woman in her midtwenties. They’d asked the standard questions and taken blood test after blood test, checking for levels of certain things as well as pregnancy before the transplant and the steps leading up to it.
“She can’t get pregnant.” He qualified that. “She shouldn’t get pregnant. Not right now.”
“Then there you have it. If you want to know what’s wrong and why she seems worried or upset. That’s it in a—” she paused as if looking for the right word “—nutshell.”
That made him smile, erasing his earlier thoughts about his childhood. “I see. So like I said, she shouldn’t get pregnant right now. But that doesn’t mean that she’ll never be able to carry a child to term. But there are risks that come with pregnancy. And she needs to wait. She’s on the largest doses of immunosuppressants right now, when the risk for rejection is at its highest. But we’ll gradually wean her from some of those as her condition becomes more stable.”
“So there’s still a chance she could have children.”
“Yes. But it won’t be easy, and she can’t just suddenly decide to get pregnant. It will have to be well-planned so we can juggle her medications and monitor her. Some of them have deleterious effects on pregnancy and on the fetus itself.”
“That is very good news. Not the deleterious part—that means harmful, right?—but the fact that it can be done. I knew in general it was possible—after all there have been uterine transplants done—but I didn’t know in this specific case...” She paused. “It took a long time for her to be willing to tell me this. She had to write it all down, since she’s still on the ventilator, and she was visibly upset as she wrote.”
He could relate to that. It would be a long time—if ever—before he felt comfortable enough with anyone to share certain things. And yet Kirsten had gained his patient’s trust in, what...? Less than three hours? He was going to need to watch his step around her.
Kirsten pulled a piece of paper from her pocket and opened it to show him what Tanya had written. The ink was smeared in places, like something wet had dripped on it. He glanced at her.
“She was crying.”
His gut contracted into a tight ball. “Damn. Why didn’t she ask me this before the procedure? I could have put her mind at ease.”
“She was worried about dying before the procedure. Her survival instincts were hoping for a way out. An escape. And when the possibility of a transplant was placed on the table, she grabbed at it. Only now is she able to think beyond that, to the consequences of her decision.”
He could relate to that all too well. At one time, Snow’s survival instincts had given him a blatant disregard for anyone’s well-being outside of his own. Empathy had been a hard commodity to find. It was there. Just submerged under the junk that littered his life.
His mom and Kaleb were two of the few people he cared about. Two of the few people he trusted. And now his mom was finally out of harm’s way. His dad had put her in ICU for weeks. When she’d recovered and found he’d been arrested for what he’d done, she finally divorced his ass. Snow hadn’t been in contact with the scumbag in over the decade he’d been behind bars. His mom had undergone counseling. And Snow? Well he’d been self-sufficient for a very long time. Counseling wouldn’t help whatever was left of the damage his father had inflicted. And maybe that was for the best. It served as a reminder—a kind of cautionary tale.
“They’re not permanent consequences. Maybe in a year we can start thinking in terms of having children.” Too late, he realized his last phrase could have been construed differently from the way he’d meant it. “Tanya and her husband I mean.”
She grinned, a cute dimple forming in her right cheek. “I knew what you meant. Us having children? That would be a very bad match, I think. Besides, who knows where I’ll be in a year’s time.”
He got hung up for a second on her saying they would be a very bad match, before moving to the last sentence.
“Are you thinking of leaving NYC Memorial already?”
“No. Not yet. We just never know where life will take us.”
She was avoiding answering him directly. Maybe another hospital was wooing her. Or maybe she just wasn’t happy here. Well, it was none of his business. If she left tomorrow, life as he knew it would simply go on unaltered. Except didn’t he owe it to the hospital to be a positive force and not a negative one that created a toxic workplace? Maybe he should make more of an effort to be conciliatory and friendly—find a little of that misplaced empathy and put it on display.
“I do appreciate your help with Tanya. I’ll talk to her about the having-children issue.” He glanced again at the tearstained paper his patient had written on.
“Do you mind if I talk to her instead? It might be easier coming from me, since she and I have already spoken about it. If you can explain the steps she’ll need to take, I’ll make sure she knows.”
That was fair. After all, Tanya had confided in Kirsten and not in him. And he knew himself well enough to realize that the pulmonologist presented a much more sympathetic face than he did. Snow was driven from task to task, moving to the beat of mental checklists that needed to be completed each day. Feelings—and talking about them—didn’t come easily for him. He shied away from them both with patients and in his personal life. But he had a feeling that Kirsten had no such problems. Neither had Theresa. She’d put in a whole lot more than she’d gotten out of their marriage. It’s why, in the end, she’d decided he wasn’t worth the effort. And he couldn’t blame her.
Oh, he could for the affair. She should have just asked for a divorce and been done with it. She certainly had once she’d found someone else.
But he and Kirsten were colleagues and nothing else. So there was no need to worry about that kind of incompatibility. As long as his transplant patient was on the road to recovery, that’s what he needed to focus on. That, and nothing else.
So as long as this particular problem was on its way to being solved, he could go back to what he did best. Treat his patient’s physical needs while leaving the emotional side to someone else.
Someone other than him.
The cell phone that had been on his desk buzzed. He glanced at the screen. “Sorry, I need to take this.”
“Okay, I’ll talk to you later, then.”
He nodded, picked up the phone and barked out his name. He listened for a second to the doctor in the emergency room, then stuck his head out of the door, catching Kirsten before she’d gotten halfway down the hall.
“Hey, Kirsten, could you hold up for a second?”
She turned with a frown, then headed back toward him.
His attention went back to the doctor. “I’ll be right down. I’ll have our new pulmonologist with me.”
At least he hoped he would. Maybe she had another patient scheduled.
He hung up. “There’s a case down in the ER. A lung-transplant patient from another state was visiting relatives here when he started having trouble breathing. Do you have time to go see him with me?”
“Yes, of course. Do you know anything else?”
They stood in front of the elevators. “Male in his thirties. Pulse ox isn’t great, and it looks almost like a virus is attacking his lungs. At least that’s what they’re guessing. They want me down there in case it’s the beginning of organ rejection.”
They got on and Snow pushed the button for the first floor.
“And me?”
“I’d like another set of eyes and ears. Treating someone else’s patient isn’t the easiest.”
Her eyebrows went up. “Or dealing with the doctors who treated them.”
That got a smile out of him. “Are you thinking of any doctor in particular?”
Her eyes rounded as if in mock surprise. “Of course not. I don’t ever have run-ins with other patients’ doctors.”
He laughed. “Somehow, I don’t think that’s true.”
They came out on the first floor and he headed toward the emergency department with Kirsten close behind. The nurse at reception, a phone to her ear, pointed toward the first exam room on the left. One of the trauma rooms.
Snow pushed through the doors and found Dr. Lawrence standing next to a patient who had an oxygen mask over his face. “Thanks for coming. This is Randy Stewart. He came to visit his parents for a couple of days and started to feel a tightness in his chest.”
Snow came over and greeted the patient. “Hi, Randy. I’m Snowden Tangredi, head of transplant surgery here at the hospital. Dr. Nadir is a lung specialist. So you’re having a little trouble breathing, Randy?”
He nodded, breath coming out on an extended wheeze. A sound Snow did not like. “Just in the last two hours.”
“Okay. I know Dr. Lawrence has already listened to your lungs, but I’m going to take another quick listen, okay?”
Using his stethoscope, he listened to the sounds coming from his lungs, frowning as he thought he picked up a slight sound almost like...
He motioned Kirsten over. “Can you listen for a minute and tell me what you think?”
Kirsten followed his lead and leaned in close, her eyes closed in concentration.
Snow studied her. Although he hadn’t actually worked a case with her, other than Tanya’s, he got the sense that she was nothing if not thorough. She’d gotten to the heart of the issue with Tanya, hadn’t she?
It was one of the reasons he’d wanted her to come with him.
Her eyes popped open, finding his immediately. “I’m hearing some crackling.”
“Yeah, me, too.” He glanced at Dr. Lawrence, who nodded. “I did, too. If he wasn’t a transplant patient, I’d say he was having an asthma attack.”
Kirsten spoke up. “I agree. My asthmatic patients have this exact same sound.”
What were the odds?
“Did you get ahold of Randy’s transplant surgeon?”
“No, he’s on vacation in the Bahamas. But they’re accessing his records for us.”
Randy lowered the mask for a second. “I had a checkup a month ago with my surgeon and everything was fine then.”
“So you’ve had no problems before coming here for vacation.”
“None.”
“Where is home for you?”
“Montana.” He wheezed again, but the sound wasn’t quite as labored as his last breath had been.
Kirsten came up beside him. “Montana probably doesn’t have the allergens there that we have here.”
The pollution index had been high for the last week.
He sat on the stool and pulled over to the bed. “Did your doctor mention anything about the donor lungs? Any diagnosed problems?”
“No. The person had a traumatic brain injury from a traffic accident. Nothing involving the lungs at all. He was young, in his teens.” Randy swallowed before reaching above the oxygen mask to pinch the bridge of his nose, as if fighting emotion.
He could very well feel conflicted. It was always hard discussing the donor. Transplant patients were always aware that their salvation came at the death of someone else. It was hard.
Kirsten came over and put her hand on his arm. “That teenager gave you a gift of life. I’m sure he would be happy to know that.”
Even as he watched, the patient’s hand dropped back to his side. “Thank you.”
Kirsten had something that Snow didn’t—that ability to somehow connect with a patient on an emotional level and reassure them. She’d done it with Tanya, when he hadn’t been able to. Just another sign that he lacked some sort of empathy gene. Nature? Or nurture?
Hell, did it even matter? His dad had taken something more than Snow’s ability to trust people with his deepest emotions. He had also screwed up his ability to relate to people in a visceral, instinctive way. Maybe partly because he didn’t trust people enough to show vulnerability.
It made him good at being objective, gave him the means to look at things through a lens of science rather than a lens of feelings.
But Kirsten could go so far beyond that. And a part of him wished he could somehow tap that part of himself.
He couldn’t, though. And that was all there was to it. He was also going to need to be careful around Kirsten. If she had a gift for unearthing emotions in others, might she somehow be able to dig beneath the rubble inside of him and find something he didn’t want found?
Hell, he hoped not.
A nurse stuck her head in and handed him a tablet. “They just sent over the records from Montana.”
“Great, thanks.”
“And, Dr. Lawrence, I have a patient out front who’s complaining of chest pains.”
“I’ll be right there.” The other doctor threw him an apologetic look. “Can you take it from here?”
“Yep. We’ve got it.”
We. Meaning him and Kirsten.
Well, he was the one who’d asked her to come. And it had been the right decision, despite the little part inside of him that warned him to keep his distance.
He flipped through the tablet, catching bits and phrases and sorting them into slots in his brain. Randy was right. There was no mention of asthma in the donor. But that didn’t mean that it wasn’t there. If he was a teen, he could have wheezed from time to time, but not enough to lead to a diagnosis. And the donor was also from Montana.
Setting down the tablet, he waited for Kirsten to finish saying something to the patient. Something that actually made the man laugh. He frowned, a spike of something going through him. Was he jealous? Jealous of her ability to be at ease around someone she barely knew?
Of course not.
He moved closer, waiting for Kirsten to look at him. “I’d like to run a test or two and if those show what I think they might, I want to give you a breathing treatment.”
“So it’s not rejection?” Randy’s voice held a hint of fear.
“I don’t think so.”
“Thank God. I told my wife to stay at home with the kids. I haven’t even called her to let her know I’m at the hospital. This was just going to be a quick trip to help my parents sort out the details of their wills.” He paused. “I’m a lawyer, so I don’t want to leave that kind of thing with just anyone.”
“I can understand that.” Just like Snow didn’t want to leave the details of his past with just anyone.
Kirsten glanced at him. “So you are thinking asthma attack?”
“I do. Your thoughts?”
“The same. He said the tightness is easing a bit.”
“Good news.” Snow forced a smile. “So let’s get you patched up and out of here. Unless you want to stick around for a while longer?”
Randy laughed. “No. I’ve seen just about all I want to see of hospitals.”
“I can imagine. So while we want you to explore some of New York, a tour of the hospital isn’t on most of the popular sightseeing routes.”
“I’m okay to fly out day after tomorrow?”
“If this is what I think it is, then yes. But I do want you to follow up with your doctor at home. Sooner rather than later. They’ll probably want to add a rescue inhaler to your regimen, although I hope this never happens again.”
“I don’t know how to thank you.”
This time, Snow’s smile wasn’t forced. “Just live your best life and enjoy every breath.”
“Thank you. I intend to do exactly that.”
Kirsten should have felt better after her talk with Snow. Especially after treating Randy Stewart with him. The transplant surgeon had gotten the diagnosis exactly right. She should feel gratified that they’d been on the same page, and how easy it had been to treat that patient...together.
But as she walked from her office toward the elevator a half hour later, she was left with a nagging sense of unease. It wasn’t due to the patient. It was the extra lock on the door to Snow’s office. She’d made it a point to glance at the other office doors on the way back to her own office after the emergency case. No one else had anything marring the wood of their doors. His excuse had been that he sometimes slept in his office. But surely other doctors did, as well. Did he really expect someone to break in and disturb his sleep?
A chill went over her. Maybe he needed the extra lock for a completely different reason. Like not getting caught doing something he shouldn’t.
Stop it, Kirsten. The man is not a drug addict.
Nothing in his demeanor indicated anything of the sort. He’d been completely lucid every time she’d seen him. But how many times had doctors hidden such habits?
Well, she didn’t personally know any, but she’d heard the stories. And had been warned countless times in medical school not to start down that path.
She’d just pushed the call button for the elevator and gotten on when a hand stopped it from closing. Snow stood in the doorway looking more than a little bit intimidating. As if he’d heard her thoughts and knew exactly where to find her.
Ridiculous.
“I’m headed to lunch. Care to join me?” He stepped into the elevator and pushed the button for the ground floor.
She blinked. The difference between the Snow in his office and the one asking her to lunch seemed almost night and day. “Are you going somewhere close? I need to be back in an hour.”
“There’s a bistro that serves soup and sandwiches right around the corner—Sergio’s. Have you ever been there?”
She hadn’t been to very many restaurants, since she was still getting to know people, and she hated to eat at a restaurant alone. Lots of people did it, and she wasn’t sure why she was so opposed to doing the same, but it made her feel even more isolated. Maybe she was just missing her dad. Or her former hospital. Whatever it was, the prospect of sitting down to a meal with another person was very appealing. Even if she hadn’t gotten off to a very good start with the man who’d invited her.
“I haven’t, but I would love to try it.”
“Okay. And I promise not to talk shop.”
“Shop?”
“To talk about work and patients.”
Well, she couldn’t imagine what else they would have to talk about. “It’s okay. I find work interesting. And I bet you’ve had some fascinating cases.”
“I’m sure you’ve had your share, as well.” He smiled. “But my stomach has been yelling at me for an hour. And I realize that I’m not the most friendly member of NYC Memorial’s staff. I wouldn’t want to be the reason you’re thinking of leaving.”
Thinking of leaving... Oh, what she’d said in his office about not knowing where she’d be in a year. So that’s why he was inviting her to lunch. Great.
“Oh. Like I said, I’m not thinking of leaving right now. But if I were, it wouldn’t be because of you or anyone else. It would be because it’s what I feel I should do. So no need to invite me to lunch if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m a tough girl. I can handle doctors who ‘aren’t the most friendly.’”
He gave her a smile. One that carried at least a hint of sincerity. “It’s not the only reason I asked you. It’s later than I expected, and you’ve been a big help with Tanya, not to mention Randy. Her writing that list had to have taken up a lot of your time. I thought it might have been a simple thing, like the fear of organ rejection and not wanting to get her hopes up.”
The elevator stopped, letting them off. “I was happy to be there for her. And for Randy. But I think Tanya realizing she might just have a future in front of her is what brought on the topic of children. She’s finally able to look toward something not related to her illness.”
“I guess I should be glad of that then. We’ll hopefully get her weaned off the vent in another day or so.”
She remembered something else. “I forgot to mention. Her pulse ox is actually up by another percentage point. So I think you can stop worrying on that front. They’re also slowly reducing the settings on her vent, like you’d asked them to do, without any negative effects.”
“That is very good news.”
Maybe having lunch with him wasn’t such a bad idea. It would give her a chance to see what he was like when he wasn’t at work. And help her understand the need for the locks.
He’s not a drug addict.
The repeated thought almost made her laugh. Since when had she become so suspicious?
They walked through the front lobby of the hospital, the ceiling there stretching up four floors. There were railings and chair groupings on each floor where people could look over the foyer, and a huge chandelier that rivaled the ones found in exclusive hotels. NYC Memorial was a beautiful hospital, she had to admit. Prestigious and influential. She didn’t care about the prestige, though. She only cared about what was under its beautiful facade.
Kind of like she cared only about what was beneath Snow’s attractive exterior. He seemed to genuinely care about his patients. And his instinct about there being something going on with Tanya had been right on target. So he was insightful. A very good trait in a doctor. Not all of them had it. A lot of times they were so focused on the physical signs of illness that they neglected digging deeper. But Snow had not needed to dig. He’d known something was wrong.
Not something she’d expect if his focus was anywhere other than his patients. That alone made her relax.
And she suddenly realized she was hungry, as well, as her stomach let out a loud burbling sound. Her eyes widened and she gave a little laugh when he glanced at her with raised eyebrows. “Okay, my stomach thinks this is a good idea, too.”
“Glad to know I’m not the only one.” He nodded at the traffic light in front of them. “We’ll turn right here and then the bistro is two buildings down.”
They were there in less than two minutes. There was no line of customers that she could see. At least not outside. Well, it was almost one thirty.
It had been just before twelve when she’d called him, and she’d actually been surprised he wasn’t already out to lunch. She could have called his cell phone, but something inside had urged her to take the less personal route. Especially after his earlier comment about keeping his distance with patients. Besides, if he’d been out to lunch with someone, she hadn’t wanted to disturb him. But, of course, then they’d gotten caught taking care of the transplant patient down in the ER. That had taken an hour in and of itself.
“Well, thanks for inviting me.”
“It’s fine. I could have eaten in my office or at the hospital cafeteria. I’ve just done that a lot lately and going off-site today was appealing.”
“For me, too.” She didn’t add that since arriving, she’d been picking up food from the cafeteria and going back to her office with it, just so she wasn’t sitting alone at a table.
Well, today she wouldn’t be alone. And it would be the first time she’d gotten to eat at one of the local places.
They were greeted almost immediately and escorted back to a dim booth near the rear of the restaurant. The booth sported high backs topped with frosted glass partitions, giving the space an intimate feel. Maybe she’d spoken too soon about being glad to be off-site. But this was lunch between colleagues. It wasn’t a date. So no need to feel awkward about it.
One of the waitstaff came over and greeted them. “What can I get you to drink? We have beer, wine, soft drinks and several types of lemonade.”
She wanted a glass of wine, but since she was still working, decided against it. “I’d just like a cup of hot tea, if you have it, and a glass of water.”
Snow added, “And I’ll have a cola, brand doesn’t matter.”
“Great. I’ll be right back with your drinks.”
As soon as she left, Snow asked how she was settling in at the hospital.
“Okay, I think. It’s much bigger than what I came from, so it’s still a little overwhelming. As you could tell from my getting lost. Dr. Sabat has been a big help, and we’ve eaten a couple of meals together.”
“Dr. Sabat?” He had a weird look on his face. “Kaleb is a nice guy, but—”
“Oh!” She realized what he must think. “No, I meant I’ve eaten with his wife, Nicola.”
He seemed to relax back in his seat. “I keep forgetting that Nicola’s last name has changed. They’re both great people, and Kaleb and I go way back.”
“From what Nicola says, they’re head over heels in love. And they sure love that baby.”
“Yes, I would say so, although I don’t see as much of Kaleb as I used to.”
“You said you go way back. Did you know each other in medical school?”
“Try elementary school in upstate New York.” He smiled.
That surprised her. Somehow she couldn’t picture him as a kid riding his bike with friends. “Wow, and you both ended up being doctors at the same hospital?”
He nodded. “Strange how life works. He was definitely a godsend when... Well, let’s just say he was there at a time when I really needed a friend.”
That touched her, and she wasn’t sure why. He’d said Kaleb was a godsend when he needed a friend. So there’d been a rocky period in his life? It certainly sounded like it. That lock on his door crossed her mind’s eye before she dismissed it.
She tried to think of a subtle way to get him to say more as he continued to talk. “So are your parents in the area?” he asked.
“No. My father moved back to Lebanon not too long ago. And my mom passed away ten years ago.”
“I’m sorry, Kirsten.”
The words were accompanied by a frown, as if he really was sorry. “It’s okay. She could have used your skills back when we came to the States looking for a cure, though.”
“A cure?”
“She was in the late stages of cystic fibrosis. She’d always said I was her miracle child, since she’d been advised not to get pregnant. I was an accident, but she said she felt like there was a reason for it. So it really made me feel for Tanya.”
The waitress came back for their order. All she wanted was soup and half a sandwich, so she chose the chicken salad and potato soup. Snow opted for a turkey club sandwich.
“Your mom came over here for treatment?”
“A transplant, actually. But she didn’t make the list in time. She died a year after we arrived. My dad decided we would stay, since I wanted to go through medical school. I did, and here I am.”
“I’m sorry your mom didn’t get what she needed.” He glanced at her. “You’re a pulmonologist...”
She answered his unspoken question. “Yes, my mom is why I went into this specialty. I’d like to think she would have approved.”
“I’m sure she would have. She’d have really liked the way you helped Tanya.”
“I didn’t do much. Just listened.” His words warmed her. Did he like the way she’d handled Randy, as well?
“It sounds like that’s what she needed the most.”
She smiled. “Don’t we all, from time to time? Need someone to listen?”
Before he could answer, the waitress chose that moment to come by with their food. She placed their meals in front of them and asked if there was anything else either of them needed, then she slid into the background once again.
“So where did you live before moving to NYC Memorial?”
“I worked at a small hospital in Ohio. My mom was treated at one of the major hospitals there.”
He nodded. “And you didn’t want to work at the hospital where she was treated?”
“There weren’t any open positions in pulmonology there when I started looking. But NYC Memorial had one. And it’s okay. I think I needed a change of scenery, anyway. Once my dad moved...well, there was nothing keeping me anchored in Ohio. I thought maybe in a big city, I wouldn’t be quite as...tied to needing a car for transportation.”
She’d been going to say she wouldn’t be as lonely—wouldn’t have constant reminders of having her heart broken, of her boyfriend scooting out of her life as if she’d meant nothing at all—but she changed the wording at the last second. He didn’t need to know that her immersion in her work was due to a failed relationship. Or that it was on purpose.
At thirty-two she’d only had one serious boyfriend and that was in medical school, where the pressures of studying and internship had taken a toll on them as a couple. She’d needed more from him in terms of emotional support and encouragement, whereas he seemed to handle the later parts of school by becoming laser-focused on the tasks in front of him. It had left her feeling wobbly and insecure. When she tried to talk to him about it, he sidestepped the subject time and time again.
And then, when they’d gone to separate hospitals, he’d walked away from her without so much as a backward glance. It had been a crushing blow. She’d tried texting him occasionally, and while he hadn’t exactly ghosted her, his obvious indifference had made the wound fester until she finally deleted his number from her phone.
She decided she wasn’t going to give another man the opportunity to turn his back on her like that. It made her decision to return to Lebanon that much easier.
But she had to admit that it was sometimes hard going home to an empty apartment, although she now valued her solitude, for the most part. But she did miss the camaraderie that medical school and the small hospital in Ohio had offered.
“Do you find you miss Lebanon? You said your dad went back there.”
This is where it got tricky. She really didn’t want anyone to know at this point that she was seriously thinking of going back there. She wasn’t certain about it, but it had been rolling around in her mind for a while. What she didn’t want to do was sink her chances at NYC Memorial by making that declaration to anyone. Because she might just end up at the hospital for a while.
“I do miss it. I grew up there and almost all of my relatives are there, except for a couple of third cousins who are in Philadelphia.” Cousins she’d never met and probably never would. But her dad had made it a point to let her know their names and contact information in case she got into trouble. Not that she would call them.
“I imagine it’s hard being away from them.”
“Yes. But I love it in New York, as well. And I’m sure this will become ‘home’ with a little time and a couple more friends.”
“Let me know if you need a tour guide for seeing the sights. I know a good one who’s lived in New York his whole life.”
She hadn’t yet ventured into the touristy parts of the city, for the main reason that she’d hit the ground running as soon as she’d arrived. “That would be great. Could you give me the person’s contact information?”
“You already have it.” He gave her a smile.
She did? She didn’t remember seeing that. Was it in the welcome packet or something? “I haven’t looked through everything the hospital gave me yet, so I may have overlooked it.”
“Actually, it’s me. It’s the least I can do for helping me out with Tanya. And for how unwelcoming I was when I called looking for you.”
She frowned. “I talked to Tanya because I wanted to. And I was late, so I understand why you might have been irritated.”
“That may be, but you’re new here, and I was kind of rude. We can coordinate our next days off together and spend a morning or afternoon just hitting the high points. If you’re okay with doing that.”
There was something in his voice that sounded a little uncertain, as if he might think she really had a problem going with him. And, in reality, she might, given some of the tangled emotions he engendered in her, but what could she say? That she didn’t want to see New York? Or that she didn’t particularly want him as a tour guide? Because honestly, the thought of going from place to place with him held an odd appeal. She’d seen rare glimpses of a softer side of Snow and wondered what he might be like away from the hospital. Those imaginings worried her. Made her consider turning him down.
But going to see those sights on her own seemed almost as sad as sitting in a restaurant by herself. She could ask Nicola to go with her, but she had the baby and not a whole lot of free time, by her own admission.
So she let out a breath and decided to commit herself, before she could chicken out. But only for a day, in case it went horribly wrong. And it very well could. Except this wasn’t a relationship or even a date, so what could it hurt?
“Okay. I’ll take you up on your offer. Let me know when is good for you, and I’ll try to sync my schedule with it.”
Even as she said the words she hoped she wasn’t making a huge mistake. One that could create problems with him in the future or with the hospital in general. But how could it? One afternoon did not a career break. Or a relationship make.
At least she hoped not.