WHY ON EARTH had she told him all of Danny’s story yesterday? Maybe it was Kaleb’s suggestion of putting a family picture in her office and the fact that she thought of her brother every single day. Agonized over it whenever her head hit the pillow. And Kaleb’s hand had felt so damn good on hers in her office. As if he cared. Really cared.
In that moment she’d realized how much she’d needed someone besides Grace Central and her family to know what had happened to him. Someone who understood the devastating loss that suicide brought. Kaleb had lost a patient to it. And she’d lost a brother.
But once she’d said the actual words, a spurt of panic had shot through her, along with a few other emotions she hadn’t wanted to dissect. The panic had been chased by a vague sense of nausea over letting someone she barely knew see her like this. But when his arm had gone around her, she’d slid right against his chest with a sense of belonging that had shocked her. Scared her. And when his warm palm had settled on the back of her neck, she’d almost melted. It was sensual and comforting and familiar, all at the same time. It was the same sensation she’d had in the bar all those weeks ago. She’d wanted to look up at him. Had wanted him to kiss her. Make her forget all over again.
Which would have been stupid. Because it hadn’t changed anything that night, and it wouldn’t change anything if she let it happen again. Thank God she’d snuck out of his room in the early hours of the morning, before he woke up. Better she’d left than him. It was becoming a ritual with her now. To leave before being left. She wanted to be the first one to exit a room. Or be the first one to leave a get-together. That’s what losing a fiancé, followed by losing a brother, did. The thought of being left behind had evidently become a crippling force that she couldn’t shake.
Because when Kaleb had been the first one to move away from her when they were in her office, she’d squirmed inside. Felt that same sense of fearful dread. Which is probably why she’d been slightly sick after the encounter. Why she’d woken up this morning with that same low-grade churning in her midsection at the thought of facing him again.
She pulled two pieces of bread out of the wrapper and slid them into her toaster, waiting for that warm smell of crisp toast to fill the air. It was weird how much she loved it. Even when she was sick, it was normally the one thing she could eat. A minute or two later, her nose twitched. Ah, right on cue. The toaster kicked the bread into the air with a sharp snap, and Nicola retrieved it, then spread some butter and a spoonful of marmalade onto each slice.
Almost as soon as she bit into the food, her stomach settled and she closed her eyes to enjoy the treat.
“See? I try to treat you right.” She leaned against the counter and let the tangy blend of flavors dance across her tongue.
Dr. Danvers’s diplopia patient had an appointment this afternoon for the second scan. That was a lot quicker than she’d thought it would be. But it would give her a chance to ask the patient and her parents a few more questions. If she wanted to be there on time, she’d better get a move on. After finishing her breakfast, she went to the bathroom and slapped on a little makeup, frowning at the dark circles under her eyes. Lack of sleep last night?
She shrugged and reached under the counter for the sponge to wipe out her sink, her feminine products catching her eye. Hmm, she hadn’t gotten her period yet.
How long overdue was she?
Not more than a week or two. She’d never been particularly regular, so she couldn’t really chart it beyond having a vague sense of when it might come. But she was wrong more often than she was right.
She always kept something in her purse just in case. Maybe that’s why she’d felt a little off yesterday and this morning—she was getting ready to start. Just what she needed. But the alternative was...
She shuddered. Yeah, not what she needed on top of everything else. Besides, it wasn’t like she was having a lot of sex nowadays.
Except for...
She blinked. Don’t even go there. They’d used protection and she was still within her normal parameters of a week or two late.
Besides, she couldn’t do anything about it right this second. So if another week went by and nothing happened, then she’d let herself worry. But until then, she was going on with her life.
Starting with Dr. Danvers’s patient.
An hour later, she sat in an exam room with Lindy MacDonald and her parents, along with Dr. Danvers. This time, his prickly intern was nowhere to be seen, for which she was glad. Lindy was being prepped for the MRI, with the neurologist explaining to the girl’s parents what would happen with the contrast. They had to sign yet another consent form. Nicola noticed the mom’s hand was shaking. Poor woman, she had to be scared out of her mind wondering if something was growing in her daughter’s brain.
If Nicola was going to ask her questions, she’d better do it now.
“Do you mind if I ask you a couple of things?”
She’d been introduced a few minutes ago, and Danvers had given her permission to examine Lindy, as well. She was positive the surgeon had been thorough, so she skipped a physical exam. Instead she asked about any strange symptoms that she might not have attributed to her daughter’s double vision, but that had occurred, nonetheless.
“No, nothing I can think of.”
“What about her eyes? Besides the double vision. Any lumps or bumps or eye strain that were out of the ordinary?”
“Mom, what about that spider bite?”
“I’d forgotten about that.” The woman shook her head. “But surely, that can’t have anything to do with it.”
“Spider bite?” Nicola leaned forward. How many times had she heard that before, that a simple symptom couldn’t have anything to do with a condition, only to realize it had everything to do with it?
“She got this strange bump on her eyelid. I thought maybe it was a mosquito bite at first. It came and went for about six months. Every time I got ready to make a doctor’s appointment, it seemed to get better. I used hot compresses and antihistamine lotion on it and eventually it faded to nothing.”
“So you never took her to the doctor for it?” She glanced at the chart to remind herself which eye they were dealing with.
“No. She said it didn’t hurt or anything. Just looked like an insect bite, or maybe even a sty or something. But it was in the middle of her lid.”
“Which lid?”
“Her left one.”
Standing next to her, she saw Dr. Danvers stiffen. Then he moved over to the patient. Pushing his glasses onto his nose, he asked Lindy’s mom, “Mind if I take a quick look?”
“No, of course not.”
The surgeon tilted the girl’s chin and looked closely at her. “Close your eyes, please.”
Lindy shut her eyes, and Dr. Danvers used his gloved thumb to apply slight pressure to different parts of the eyelid. His gaze came up and fixed Nicola with a look. “I think there’s a slight thickening here. How did you know?”
“I didn’t. And I don’t know for sure. Not without seeing the scans. But I’ve heard of cases where a large chalazion can exert enough pressure on the cornea to change its shape.”
“A chalazion?” Lindy’s mom came over and looked at her daughter’s eyelid.
“Maybe so.” Danvers looked at his patient. “I’m going to turn your lid inside out, okay?”
“Will it hurt?”
“No. It might feel a little funny, though. I want to look at the back of your lid.” He quickly flipped up her lid and stared at the undersurface. “I do see a slight scarring here. Look.”
Nicola came closer and saw what he did. A whitened portion in the middle of all those blood vessels.
After righting Lindy’s lid, he sat on the stool across from her parents. “Your daughter may have had what’s called a chalazion. It’s a little different than a sty in that a sty is normally on the margin of the eyelid, whereas a chalazion’s core tends to point toward the eye itself. So when it bursts, or drains, the opening will appear on the back of the lid, where it’s out of sight. You may even miss it when that happens—you’ll just notice that the swelling appears to subside. Just like what you described. How big would you say her swelling was?”
“Maybe the size of an M&M. Once it got even larger than that. But she said it never hurt. She was more embarrassed by what her friends might think than anything else.”
Lindy said, “Because it was ugly. I’m glad it’s gone.”
“I am, too,” Danvers said. “I still would like to do the MRI to rule out anything else, but it’s possible this chalazion caused her change in vision, which would be much simpler than what we thought.”
“Will it be permanent?”
“If the pressure was there for six months, it might be. The best-case scenario would be for her eye to slowly return to its former shape. It may also be why Lindy’s vision has seemed to fluctuate in that eye enough to make it difficult to prescribe a corrective lens.”
“We thought we were going crazy. It was like every time I took her in, they came up with a different reading. And there were times she couldn’t tell which screen was clearer.”
Nicola should feel a flare of pride, but that nagging sense of unease in the pit of her stomach was back, and she wasn’t sure what to do about it. Could it be the case itself? That she was afraid of being wrong and being shown up? Or have someone say “I told you I was right.”
No. As long as they got the right diagnosis, Nicola didn’t care who came up with it.
And if it saved a patient from having brain surgery, it was worth all the discomfort in the world.
Maybe she was hungry. All she’d had for breakfast was toast. Probably not a smart move to eat nothing but carbs. Except she did that all the time with no ill effects.
“Okay, let’s get her to radiology and take a closer look at that spot we saw the other day.”
Lindy glanced at her. “Will you be there?”
Her face turned warm. “If you’d like me to be. I won’t be able to be in the room while you’re having the MRI, but I can wait right outside. Will that be okay?”
“Yes.”
Nicola glanced at Dr. Danvers, who nodded and gave her a smile. A genuine one, this time. Maybe he believed her.
Why wouldn’t he? It’s not like she had any skin in the game. She just wanted what was best for his patient.
As did he, she reminded herself.
The contrast went smoothly, and so did the MRI. Fortunately, the patient didn’t have claustrophobia, so she was in and out in forty minutes and sent back to a waiting area with her mom and dad. Danvers was going to read the scans himself, so there would be no waiting time. Kaleb was right. He was a good guy. She didn’t sense any resentment, for which she was grateful. And, honestly, he would have eventually come to the same conclusion. Or at least agreed that it wasn’t a tumor, even if he’d opened her up and sectioned the spot.
Sitting in his office a few minutes later, she waited tensely as he went through the scans on his computer. He pointed out several interesting things as they scrolled through, and she put the information into her mental filing cabinet for future reference.
“Okay, here we go.” A slice of Lindy’s pituitary gland came into view and the shadow seemed less distinct now than it had in the previous test. And nothing really stood out as abnormal.
He looked up with a sigh. “I’ll have to give it to you. You were right. It’s probably not a microadenoma. Just an ‘incidentaloma,’ like you said. Thank you for not backing down.”
Kaleb’s words came back to her. “Dr. Danvers, I hope you don’t think I—”
“Clint, please. After all, it looks like I’ll be calling on you for consults on a regular basis.”
She blinked, a sudden warmth going through her system. Was he saying he appreciated her input? He’d thanked her for not backing down, so it certainly sounded like it. She remembered his incredulous response when she’d suggested the image might show a simple piece of fatty tissue. He’d been right to be surprised. According to Kaleb, she probably hadn’t helped her case by just blowing past his diagnosis and forming one of her own. Maybe she’d work on that a little. As a woman in medical school there had been times where she’d had to stand up to someone because of her gender—felt like she’d had to be a little bit bolder in order to gain a hearing, even though she’d been in the top ten of her class.
But this wasn’t school, and they were all on equal footing here. So she could afford to relax a bit and enjoy the view. She’d made it. And it seemed like even in a hospital the size of NYC Memorial, she was going to swim, and not sink.
“And you can call me Nicola, or Nic, either one.”
“Okay, Nic, I should apologize for my attitude yesterday. I’m not used to people second-guessing me.”
So she hadn’t imagined it.
She gave him a smile. “I’ve been told by a very reliable source that I can be a bit abrasive at times.”
His laugh was warm. “As someone who’s also been called abrasive—and a few other things that aren’t suitable for work—I can relate. You can be abrasive with me anytime you want. I promise to not be offended. Or at least try to get over it, if I am.”
“I promise to do the same.” She grinned. “Or at least try.”
The door opened and Kaleb came in, glancing from one to the other. “I hope by the giddy look on both of your faces that this means good news for the patient. Was it a chalazion?”
Clint’s eyebrows pulled together. “Now how on earth could you have guessed that?”
The scene in her office flew before her eyes, and stopped at the part where her head had been planted on his chest and his thumb had swept across her nape.
“Kaleb happened to be in my office, when I was going over the patient’s files.”
“But that wasn’t in her files, or I would have seen it.”
Kaleb came over and looked at the screen where Lindy’s images were. “Nicola made a list of possibilities. And chalazion was on the top of her list.”
Clint’s eyes swung to hers. “So you figured this out, before you even asked the patient whether she’d had any problems with her eyelid.”
“No, I hadn’t figured it out. I just have this weird way of connecting lines on a diagram. Wherever most of those lines meet is the place I start looking first.”
“And a chalazion fit all the criteria.”
“It did. But I couldn’t be sure unless the patient connected the dots for me.”
Clint’s fingers went to the computer screen and traced the small dot near Lindy’s pituitary gland. “And if the patient hadn’t remembered having that bump on her eyelid?”
“I don’t know, honestly. All we can do is our best, using the information we have at the time.”
Like telling Kaleb about Danny’s suicide? Like going to that bar and sleeping with him? Maybe. She’d done just what she said. Done the best she could to get by.
“So what’s the treatment plan? Or is there one?” Kaleb asked. “If the patient’s diplopia isn’t caused by a tumor, can anything be done?”
“We need to get her vision stabilized so she can at least be fitted with glasses. So I’ll be referring her to an ophthalmic surgeon. He may be able to deal with the scar tissue behind her lid and control whatever inflammation is still going on. But for now, we need to give the family the good news.”
“We?” Nicola looked at him in surprise. Maybe he meant “we” in the figurative sense. Or maybe he meant for Kaleb to go with him.
He smiled. “I think since you’re the one who actually made me second-guess my diagnosis, you should be there. And Kaleb, too, since he vouched for you.”
Kaleb had vouched for her? That surprised her. Especially since he’d given her a little speech about playing nicely.
Well, not exactly that, but it was probably what he’d meant.
Her eyes met his and found him looking at her, with one eyebrow quirked up. Ah, so he hadn’t meant her to find out about that. But why? She’d do the same for him if need be.
“I’d love to go with you. Thank you.”
Clint stood. “Kaleb, you in?”
“Sure. I’m always up for delivering good news.”
But didn’t he usually deliver good news? Well, the melanoma case certainly couldn’t be considered good, but for the most part, he was helping someone feel better about themselves, right? So definitely not bad news, unless he was unable or unwilling to perform surgery on someone.
They made their way to the waiting room, where the family had been asked to stay until after the results were read. Lindy’s dad stood first, looking worried. Who could blame him? They’d gone from thinking their daughter would undergo brain surgery, to them saying maybe not.
Clint went over and shook his hand then smiled at Lindy and her mom, who were sitting close together. “Well, I have some very good news, thanks to Dr. Bradley here. She—and I would agree—thinks the bump Lindy had on her eyelid changed the shape of her cornea and has caused her vision problem.”
“So there’s not a tumor?” Lindy’s mom reached for her husband’s hand.
“No. We don’t think so.”
“But the MRI...” she said.
“We’re not sure what the image is, but we’re pretty sure it’s not a microadenoma, like I originally thought.”
Lindy’s dad sank back into his chair, still gripping his wife’s hand. He lifted it to his mouth and kissed it, before looking at her. “This is great news. For all of us.”
“Yes, especially since we want to add to our family. We were going to try, and then when Lindy developed double vision, we decided we needed to put it off to concentrate on her. But now I guess it’s okay to move forward...?” She glanced up at Clint. “Right? Lindy’s treatment isn’t going to be complicated?”
“I don’t believe so. There’s a little pocket of scar tissue behind her eyelid that may need to be scraped to lower its profile, but it will almost certainly be a quick outpatient surgery. I’m going to call you with the number of a great surgeon who specializes in ocular problems. He should be able to do her surgery.”
“How can I ever thank you?” Lindy’s mom looked at Nicola, her eyes filling with tears.
“There’s no need to thank me. I’m just happy it turned out to be something so simple.”
“So are we.” She hauled in a deep breath and blew it out. “So anything we need to do before we get your referral?”
Clint smiled. “Nope. Go and enjoy your life. And let me know how things go. Good luck on adding to your family.”
Lindy’s mom gave her husband a knowing look. “Thank you. And we’ll definitely let you know about Lindy’s treatment. Thank you again. All of you.”
“Let me know if you need anything in the meantime. My office should call you sometime this afternoon with the information on the ocular surgeon. I’ll touch bases with him, as well.”
With that, they said their goodbyes and left the room.
“Well,” Kaleb said. “These are the cases that make everything worthwhile.”
“Agreed.”
Kaleb looked at her and Clint. “Are you guys up for lunch at Plato’s?”
“Not me, sorry.” Clint said. “I’m supposed to meet with my wife at noon.” He glanced at his watch. “And I’m about to be late. You guys go and enjoy.” He left the room with a wave.
Nicola’s stomach gave a twinge of protest. She was sure Kaleb hadn’t been angling for lunch to be a two-person deal, so she tried to let him off the hook. “Look, I’m sure you have somewhere you need to be, as well.”
“Yes, I do.”
Nicola swallowed. He didn’t have to be quite so quick to find an excuse. “Okay, well then, I guess—”
“I mean, yes, I do, as in I need to be sitting down to eat somewhere. You don’t have to come, if you don’t want to, but since it’s noon...”
Maybe she’d feel better if she had something in her stomach. “That would be great. Is this place close?”
“It’s actually just half a block from here. It’s an easy walk.”
“Okay, great.”
They left the hospital and started down the street. It was warm and muggy outside already, but at least the sun wasn’t blazing down on them. Still, she was glad the restaurant was close, or she’d be wilting by the time they got there.
“Looks like you and Clint were on the same page this time.”
“Yes, thanks to you.” Nicola shifted to pass someone on the sidewalk. “Thanks for vouching for me.”
He smiled. “I vouched for Clint, when I was talking to you, if you remember right.”
That’s right—he had. Some of the warm feelings she’d had about it melted away. So putting in a good word for her hadn’t been so special after all. He probably did it with all of his colleagues. Part of his whole “collaborating” mindset.
“Well, I appreciate it, anyway, but don’t feel like you have to stick up for me. Hopefully my work can stand on its own merit very soon.”
“It already can. Except when two stubborn and proud personalities collide. I felt like a little mediation might be in order.”
“Mediation. So you’re a diplomat as well as a surgeon?” She couldn’t totally banish the hint of irritation from her voice. Maybe it was the heat, but what had started off as something positive had shifted to feeling like he’d inserted himself where he hadn’t been needed. “You don’t think Clint and I could have worked it out on our own?”
He touched her arm. “Sorry. You’re right. I wasn’t trying to interfere. Danvers is a friend, but I certainly didn’t want him biting your head off, since I felt you were onto something.”
Okay, now she felt like a jerk. “I’m sorry. I’m just used to fighting my own battles.”
“I know you are. I truly was just trying to help.” His hand slid back to his side. “We’re almost there. I hope you like burgers. Although they have some other things on the menu, as well.”
“A burger sounds good right about now.”
Her stomach was still a little rough, but she was pretty sure that as soon as she ate something, she’d feel better. That’s what had happened this morning, although it hadn’t lasted long.
Something pinged in her head, but she didn’t have time to stop and examine whatever it was right now. If it was still there when she got home, she’d deal with it then.
A minute or two later they arrived.
Plato’s had an artsy feel, with shiny chrome panels accented with touches of black. She admired the exterior while Kaleb went in to give their names. There were people waiting outside, but then again this was New York, so she shouldn’t have expected anything else.
He came back out. “About fifteen minutes. Is that okay?”
“Better than I thought it would be, actually. I’ve heard of horrific wait times at some restaurants.”
“There are a lot of people to feed in the city. You didn’t have wait times where you were?”
“We did. But Grace Central was located a little off the beaten track, so it was easier to find an off time there.”
He nodded, motioning her to some chairs that had been set outside under some nearby shade trees. “Do you miss it? Your old hospital, I mean.”
“Hmm. That’s a hard question. I miss the hospital itself. But I needed to make a change. Danny’s death just cemented things. I’d also just gotten out of a relationship—with someone who also worked there—a few months before I applied at NYC Memorial. It...” She shrugged. “It was a hard time all the way around. And my hospital administrator felt like I needed to go somewhere with more opportunities. He’s actually the one who found out the hospital here was looking for someone with a diagnostic emphasis.”
“And you haven’t looked back?”
She crossed her legs, searching for the right words. Her breakup, while hard, hadn’t exactly been unexpected. But Danny’s death...
While she did miss the smaller feel of her old hospital, it now held a lot of painful memories. And she’d come to realize her former administrator really was right. She thought she’d be leery of giving her opinions in a bigger hospital, but that hadn’t been the case. She was still the same person she’d been before the move.
Then why didn’t she feel the same?
“I’ve tried not to look back. Oh, I still have friends there that I miss, but I like it at NYC Memorial so far.”
“I’m glad.”
Was he? Was he really? She wasn’t sure why it mattered, but suddenly it did. Maybe a month and a half ago, she wouldn’t have cared. But there was something about Kaleb that made her curious.
“I’ve told you quite a bit about myself. But I know almost nothing about you. How long have you worked at the hospital?”
“I actually came here fresh out of medical school. I can’t imagine being anywhere else.”
A man walked up, glanced at her with a tilted head and then greeted Kaleb. “Well, well, well. Funny to see you here.”
“Hi, Snow. I could say the same about you.”
Kaleb turned to her. “Snow, this is Nicola Bradley. She just started at the hospital a couple of weeks ago. She helped diagnose a case that Clint Danvers was working on. We’re actually celebrating a good outcome, but Clint had somewhere he had to be, so he bailed on us.”
Said as if he was trying to explain away eating lunch with her? Her stomach churned just a bit harder.
“Good outcomes are always reason to celebrate. You and I have had a couple of toasts about that very subject not too long ago.” The man held out his hand. “Snowden Tangredi. I’m one of NYC Memorials’ transplant surgeons. Welcome to the hospital. You work with Clint?”
“Not exactly. I work in internal medicine, but specialize in diagnostics.”
“Interesting. Kaleb and I go way back. You could say we’ve been through some memorable life events together. In fact—”
“Snow, she’s not interested.”
Actually she was. Intrigued was more like it, because Kaleb seemed to have known what his friend had been about to say and was anxious to head him off.
“Okay,” Snowden said. “Although I’m not exactly sure that’s true.” The other man gave her a smile.
She had a feeling there was some pointed exchange happening between them that only the two friends could understand.
Nicola said, “We were just waiting to be seated. Do you want to join us? I’m sure we could add another person to our party.”
“I’m not exactly sure Kaleb would like that.” He shot his friend a look. “Besides, I’m headed to the courthouse to meet a friend—he’s a lawyer there.”
“Well, don’t let us hold you up.”
Kaleb’s words were a bit sharper than necessary. She was right. Something was going on between these two that she didn’t understand. But Kaleb wasn’t anxious for his friend to stick around. It was almost as if he was hiding something and was afraid Snowden might spill the beans. But what?
She had no idea. But whatever it was, it was none of her business. So she let the men finish their small talk, only adding something if she was asked directly.
And when Snowden finally headed off in the direction of the courthouse, Kaleb seemed to relax in his seat.
And then they were being called by the hostess to head up front. Their table was ready.
And just in time to save Kaleb from answering any awkward questions. Not that she was going to ask them.
Even if she was dying to know what those life events Snowden mentioned were. And why Kaleb seemed so anxious to keep them quiet.