“Yes, ma'am. I'll be there.” It was one event he was expected to attend, and he intended to take full advantage of it. “And on Saturday, I'm in the rodeo again.”
“I'll be there,” she whispered.
“Are you going to sing again?”
“Maybe.” She smiled. “It was fun.” But it had also scared them both a little. “I'll see what the crowd looks like.”
“You looked great on that palomino.” She would have loved to ride off on it with him. “And Sunday is ours, and we'll see how next week goes.”
“That sounds pretty good.” She smiled at him, this was very new for both of them, and more than a little scary. They wandered back to Hartley and Mary Stuart then, and as he left them, Gordon brushed his hand against hers, and it tied her stomach in a knot being so close to him, and not being able to do anything about it. She was dying to kiss him.
“How was your ride?” she asked Hartley, and he looked sympathetic.
“A lot nicer than your morning. Mary Stuart was just telling me about Zoe. Pancreatic cancer is an awful thing. I had a cousin who died of it in Boston.” Tanya nodded, grateful to know her friend's story. “I'm so sorry.”
“Me too,” Tanya said, and exchanged a glance with Mary Stuart. “She could go on for quite a while apparently, but eventually there might be complications.” It was complicated lying, but he was nodding agreement.
“That's exactly what happened to my cousin. All you can do is make her as comfortable as possible, let her do what she wants, and be there if she needs you.” His saying that reminded Tanya that she had forgotten to tell Gordon she was taking Zoe's baby eventually. She wanted him to know, for a variety of reasons. And she wanted to see his reaction. She couldn't believe that she was actually testing the waters for a future with him after three days, but if it was even a remote possibility for some later date, she wanted to know how he would react to a number of things, and one of them was Zoe's baby.
Hartley walked them up to lunch, and the three of them talked endlessly about Zoe, her health, her career, her clinic, her child, her future, her brilliant mind, her enormous devotion to mankind. They went on endlessly about her, and the subject of their admiration and sympathy was sitting in her bedroom, thinking. She knew she had to call Sam, but she was stalling about it. She needed to ask him if he'd cover for her for a few more days, but she was afraid he'd hear something more in her voice, and she wanted to keep it from him. But while she sat mulling over what to do, and whether she should just leave a message for him, the phone rang, and it was providence, because Sam was calling her to ask her advice about a patient. She needed a major change in medication, and Sam wanted to be sure he was doing what Zoe wanted. He was actually surprised to find her in her room, he was planning to leave a message, but thought he'd check first, just in case she was there for a minute.
“I'm glad I caught you,” he said, sounding pleased and then asked her the question, and she gave him the answer. She was happy that he'd asked, so many other people didn't give the primary physician that courtesy to make the decision.
“I really appreciate your asking me,” she told him. It was why she liked having him cover for her instead of other people. Other relief doctors had screwed up many of her patients while she was gone, and never even bothered to tell her.
“Thanks for saying that,” he said. He sounded busy and happy, and he said he was taking a rare lunch break. “You don't get fat around here, I'll say that much. I haven't run this hard since med school.” In the past he had covered for her at night, or an afternoon, so she could go to dinner, or the theater, or have a glass of wine without worrying about it at a social event. This was the first time he'd done a whole week for her, and he loved it. “You run a great show here,” he said admiringly, “and all your patients love you. It's mighty hard to live up to.”
“They're probably not even asking for me by now.” She smiled. “They're all going to come in asking for Dr. Warner.”
“I should be so lucky.” And as he listened to her, he thought she sounded a little strange, as if she was tired or in bed or had just woken up, or been crying, and it suddenly struck him as odd, and he asked her about it. It was just an instinct, and she was so startled to be asked if she was really all right or upset about something that it silenced her for a moment, and then she started crying again, and couldn't answer. And he heard that too, and suddenly in his head, there were alarm bells.
“Did something happen to one of your friends?” he asked her gently. “Or to you?” He was an extraordinarily intuitive person and that scared her.
“No, no, they're fine,” she said, and then realized she had to ask him about the following week while she had him on the phone, and she decided to try it. “Actually, I was going to call you anyway. We're having such a good time that I was wondering if…” She faltered and pressed onward all in the same breath, hoping he wouldn't notice“… if you could maybe do another week for me, possibly less. But at worst, I'd come home a week from Sunday. I wasn't sure if you were free, or how you felt about it, and I wanted to ask you.”
“I'd love it,” he said quietly, but he had listened to every intonation in her voice and he was convinced she was crying. “But something's wrong, and I want to know what it is so I can help you.”
“Really nothing,” she continued to lie to him. “But can you do another week at the clinic?”
“I told you I would. No problem. But that's not the issue. Zoe, what's wrong? There's always a piece of the puzzle you don't show me. Why are you hiding? What's wrong, baby… I can hear you crying… please don't shut me out… I want to help you.” He was almost crying too, and at her end she was sobbing.
“I can't, Sam… please don't ask me…”
“Why? What is it that's so terrible that you have to hide and carry all your burdens alone?” And then as he asked her, he knew. It was the same thing she saw every day, and he was seeing now. The ultimate scourge, the greatest shame, the final sorrow. She had AIDS. She didn't tell him, but he knew it. “Zoe?” She could hear in his voice that something had happened. And at her end of the phone, she was very quiet. It explained a lot of things, why she wanted no relationship with anyone, why she had looked so ill that day. It happened to a lot of doctors who treated patients with AIDS. You tried to be so careful, but it happened. You made a mistake, someone moved wrong, you stuck a child and pricked yourself, you were tired, you got sloppy, whatever the reason, the result was final. “Zoe?” he said again, and his voice was very gentle. He was only sorry not to be in the same room with her so he could put his arms around her. “Did you stick yourself? I want to know… please…” There was a long, long silence, and then a sigh. It was so hard fighting him. Her secret was out now.
“Yeah… last year… she was a little kid and very wiggly.”
“Oh, God… I knew it. Why didn't you tell me? I've been so stupid, and so have you. What are you doing? Why are you hiding from me? Are you sick now?” He sounded panicked. She had AIDS, and he'd done nothing to help her except cover her practice. His mind and heart were racing. “Are you sick?” he asked her again, sounding still more forceful.
“Kind of. It's not serious, but the doctor here wants me to take it easy for a few days. I think I'll be all right by Monday. He says give it a full week to avoid secondary infection.”
“Listen to the doctor. What is it?” He sounded suddenly clinical and she smiled. “Respiratory?” She didn't sound like it though. Aside from the tears, her voice was normal.