Later, as they sprawled exhausted on the couch, she saw that his hand was bleeding.
"Oh God, I'm sorry. Look what I did. I didn't mean to." "I know. I just didn't want anything to wake Martha." God, she'd forgotten all about Martha.
, - "But you said she's a sound sleeper." '"She is. And she's probably sleeping like the dead after that party tonight, but still .
. . " "Even in the throes of passion, you don't stop being the protective father."
"It's not a hat I can just take off when I want to. I hope that doesn't offend you. ' '"Not in the least, " she said and kissed him to make sure he understood. "It tells me something about you, something good. ' She loved this man. She felt so at home with him. They shared a past, and she sensed they shared a set of values. Here was something that could really last.
With that thought bright and warm in her mind, Gin dozed off.
Gin was almost dressed when Gerry woke up. Dawn was moments away. He winced at the light. She could tell he had a headache.
"What're you doing? " "Got to get home and get showered. Surgery this morning with Duncan."
"At least stay for coffee. I can put on, '' "I think it's better if Martha doesn't find me here when she wakes up."
"Maybe you're right, " he said, "but I won't be getting her up for a while yet."
"Still, I've got to go." They embraced. She didn't want to let go, didn't want to leave. She wanted to spend the morning with Gerry having coffee and bagels and then making love again and showering together and then, maybe only then, think about assisting on cosmetic surgery.
"My place next time We can scream and shout all we want. Nobody in Adams Morgan notices that sort of thing." On her way home, the sun was just peeking over the horizon and silhouetting the spire of the Washington Monument as she crossed the Arlington Memorial Bridge.
Again she worried that she was rushing things with Gerry. But no .
.
.
this felt right.
Does it get any better than this? she wondered. She was assisting Duncan Lathram, she was legislative aide to Senator Marsden on health-care matters, she was making love to Gerry Canney. Finally, all the pieces of her life seemed to be falling into place.
No. It did not, could not, get any better than this.
CONSULTATIONS MRS. JABLONSKY WANTED A BREAST REDUCTION. SHE SAT topless on the examination table, lifting her large, pendulous breasts and letting them drop . . . lifting and dropping . . .
"I'm sixty-eight years old, " she told Duncan. "I've had these since I was fourteen. I used to be proud of them, but now they're quite literally a pain. They're weighing me down, making me stoop-shouldered, giving me backaches. I want them gone." "Surely not gone, " Duncan said.
"No, of course not. Just less of them. If they droop any farther I'll be able to tuck the damn things into my waistband." Duncan laughed.
"That doesn't sound too comfortable. We'll trim them to a more manageable size for you. But what . . . ? " He'd noticed a large number of white and pink lesions all over her trunk. He touched one, then another. They lookect and felt like the aftereffects of cryosurgery.
"Oh, those. That's Dr. Suer's work. You know, the dermatologist?
He's been removing my lesions."
"Your lesions? " "That's what he calls these things." She pointed to a halfinch area of seborrheic keratosis on her upper arm. "He says they're not cancerous but they could change anytime."
"These things? He said they might turn cancerous? " "Yes. And I had loads of them." Duncan felt his jaw muscles tighten. "How many of these lffions' has he removed? " '"Oh, fifty at least. He had me coming back every week to take off a few more. We're just about done.
It's been quite a trial, but it's such a relief to know I won't have to worry about skin cancer anymore."
"Must have cost you a fortune."
"Oh, no. He just billed Medicate.
He accepts insurance. Not like you."
"You're right there, Mrs. Jablonsky. I'm nothing like Dr. Suer."
He lowered his voice and muttered, "Probably graduated from the Ingraham."
'"I beg your pardon? " "Nothing." Duncan ground his teeth. The medical mountebank. Freezing offperfectly benign keratoses and billing for removal of precancerous lesions.
What a world. All a doctor had to do was practice straight, ethical medicine, and he was guaranteed a decent living. But that wasn't enough for the avaricious slugs who left a trail of slime across the profession. It drove him up the wall.
Congress had no exclusive on greed. There were doctors who deserved an implant as well.
Duncan's thoughts began to wander a new path, wondering if there might be a way . . .
He shook it off. No sense in letting matters get complewly out of hand.
He scheduled Mrs. Jablonsky for surgery, then went on to the next patient. The chart sat in a pocket on the outside of the exam-room door.
He glanced at the intake sheet as he reached for the doorknob, and stopped. Hugh K. Marsden. Could it . . . ?
His gaze jumped a couple of lines down to the occupation box, U. S.
senator.
Duncan leaned against the doorjamb. This was too much. The chairman himself?
Could it be . . . was someone on to him? Was he being set up?
But they'd never use a U. S. senator to try and trap him. Still . .
.
hard to believe Marsden's presence was mere chance.
Well, he'd pretend not to recognize Marsden and see how the consultation played out.
"Mr. Marsden, " he said, entering and extending his hand. "Dr. Lathram." Marsden's handshake was firm. And he didn't correct Duncan's failure to address him as Senator.
"Glad to meet you, Doctor. You come highly recommended."
"That's always good to hear." He pretended to glance through the medical history on the intake form he'd already perused outside the door.
"Looks like you've been in pretty good health. What can we do for you here? " Marsden turned his head and touched the top of the auricle of his left ear. "I have it on good authority that this needs attending to." Duncan stepped closer and saw the pink nodule in question He touched it, smooth, firm. He pulled an illuminated magnifying glass from a drawer and bent for a closer look. Fine capillaries crisscrossed the opalescent surface. A positive Tyndall effect with the light. He palpated it again, pressing around the edges. It was bigger than he'd initially thought.
"Your authority is a good one. You've got a basal cell carcinoma there.
No risk of distant spread, but if left to its own devices it will continue to grow and eventually ulcerate and bleed. My advice is to have it out now, while it's small."
"That's why I'm here." Duncan placed the magnifier on the counter.
"Sorry. I don't do therapeutic surgery, only cosmetic work. But I can recommend, " "You were recommended."
"I won't argue with that, but I don't do what you need . , , crone.
"But I do need a cosmetic repair. I don't want a notch out of my ear.
" "I appreciate that, but, " 'I Dr. Panzella told me you're the best.
" "Gin? She sent you to me? " Why? he wondered, irritably. She should know better.
"Not really. It. seems we have something in common, She works for each of us. She spotted this thing on my ear, called it a lesion', and told me to have it looked at. Since many of my colleagues on the Hill speak highly of you, and since Gin seems devoted to you, I figure you're the man." Duncan's mind raced. He felt awkward. But this explained Marsden's presence, the Gin connection.