Robyn Carr - What We Find

“When are you going back?” he asked.

“That’s really not your concern, now is it?” she said.

“You’ve lost your mind, is that it? You’re a surgeon. A gifted surgeon. You can’t stay here!”

“I don’t want to talk about it with you. You really should have called. I could’ve saved you a trip.”

“You’re ignoring my calls.”

“Well, there’s a reason for that. We’re not seeing each other anymore.”

“We’re not enemies, I hope. Come on, Maggie. Can we talk? Please? We have things to talk about.”

“This is a bad time,” she said.

Sully came from behind her, from the kitchen or storeroom. For seventy and in recovery from heart surgery, apparently his hearing was perfect. “Hello, Andrew,” he said. “How’ve you been?”

“Sully! Damn, it’s good to see you,” Andrew said, grabbing Sully’s hand and pumping it. “You look great! Are you feeling all right?”

“I’m doing fine. Not crazy about the new diet, but I’ll live.”

Andrew laughed. “You have really good color.”

“I was told I’d come out of it looking better than when I went in. I have freshly widened arteries to float my oxygen through. As a beauty treatment, I don’t recommend it.”

“Can’t say I blame you,” Andrew said with a laugh. “What a relief to see you. Did Maggie say I called? Just to see how you were?”

“She might’ve mentioned it, thanks. But we’re doing fine.”

“Maggie, are you going back to Denver anytime soon?” Andrew asked.

“I haven’t made any plans.”

“Can you break away for a few minutes? I won’t keep you long.”

“Sure. Meet you out front in a few.”

She watched him walk away, leave the store as a couple of guys walked in. “I’ll get this, Sully,” she said.

“Nah, go deal with him. I’ll live through a checkout or two.”

“You’re sure?” she asked.

“Stop pampering me. I’m doing a damn sight better after heart surgery than he did after his knee surgery. You’d think he’d delivered a baby elephant or something. And don’t you dare use me as an excuse for not going back to work. Go on now. Get rid of him.”

That made Maggie laugh a little, though she was in no mood to laugh over Andrew. It was true, though—what a lot of complaining he’d done after a knee scope. It was his first experience on that side of the knife, poor baby. “I won’t be long,” she said.

“Be as long as you want,” he said. “Just make sure you don’t invite him to dinner.”

Oh, Sully wasn’t happy with Andrew, and he didn’t even know the half of what Andrew had put her through. It was so rare for Sully to get out of sorts with someone and Maggie hadn’t even explained all that went on between them. But then, Sully usually guessed right.

Andrew was leaning up against his car, texting or reading his email. He straightened when she walked out of the store and down the porch steps. He really was so good-looking. She remembered the first time he suggested dinner. She’d been so surprised—he wanted to date her? He was one of those classically handsome men—chiseled cheekbones and chin, tall with dark blond hair, striking blue eyes, enviable physique. And he was so nice. But he was an ER doc—they had to have certain gifts, had to know how to deal with frightened, hurting people, had to be swift and skilled. Andrew could put patients and their families at ease and get the job done quickly.

“Maggie,” he said. “You’re looking good.”

“Thank you. Listen, we don’t have anything to do here. You said you were done. Let’s go with that.”

“Come on, Maggie, that wasn’t exactly it,” he argued, reaching for her hand.

“No, that was exactly it. Before I came back here, before Sully’s heart attack, you said I was too depressed for you, that you couldn’t deal with it anymore. Of course my practice was shutting down, I was thinking about filing for bankruptcy, I was being sued by the family of a sixteen-year-old I lost on the table, and I was trying to stay ahead of the bills by picking up call for other doctors, mostly nights and weekends so I could give interviews and depositions all week. Oh—and did I mention, I’d just lost my baby? The baby I wanted but you didn’t. I’m so sorry I wasn’t more cheerful, but there you have it.” She shrugged. “Sorry, babe, that’s all I’ve got,” she said, mimicking him. “It turned out Sully needed me. That’s all I have to say, Andrew.”

“Look, I want us to be friends,” he said. “I want to lend support if I can...”

She laughed a little. “You want us to be friends?” she asked, aghast. “I’ve never been treated more cruelly by anyone in my life, Andrew. You asked me to abort a baby because it wasn’t convenient for you, then you bitched because I grieved. Andrew, hear this, please. I don’t want to be friends. I spent a couple of years as your friend. That meant taking vacation to look after you when you got a meniscus tear repaired, listening to your rants over your crazy ex-wife and hearing a million complaints about the working conditions in your ER. Being your friend appears to mean that I should be there for you, be perpetually happy no matter what’s going on. But, when I need you, you’re unavailable. That’s not good enough for me. Please just go.”

“Maggie,” he said in that calm, deep, lovely voice. “You’re crying.”

“Shit,” she said, wiping at her cheeks. “We’re done. It’s non-negotiable. I wouldn’t take you back if you begged me. I can’t be with a man as selfish as you.”

“That’s not fair,” he said. “Would you have wanted me to lie? When you told me you were pregnant, I told you the truth. I have a daughter and a crazy ex-wife and no, I was not planning to have more children. It was one of the first issues we talked about when we started seeing each other. You said you understood completely.”

“I wasn’t pregnant then!”

“Be reasonable—it wasn’t planned,” he said.

“Just go!”

She turned and walked around to the back of the store and in the back door. She ducked into the bathroom beside the storeroom and looked in the mirror. Sure enough, she was crying. Again.

In medicine, everyone worships stoicism, thus her hiding in stairwells. She once sneaked into a bathroom and sobbed her brains out when she lost a young woman and her unborn child, even though saving them had been a long shot. GSW. Gunshot wound—so tragic. Then there was a mass shooting at a high school, several victims and they pulled them through, all of them, and it had almost the same effect on her—she cried until she was sick to her stomach. That was back when she was in Chicago doing her fellowship with Walter. The sheer violence and cruelty of a school shooting had nearly gutted her. By the time she was practicing, she’d figured out how to hide it, the overpowering emotion. But she hadn’t cried over a man since she was sixteen.

Not the man, she reminded herself. The relationship and the baby.

Andrew, the sensitive ER doctor, left her because she was having trouble coping with her loss. She really and truly had not known he was that inflexible, that cold. There must be a lesson in there somewhere. And she was damn sure going to find it.

She splashed cold water on her face, dried it, went back into the store. And of course who was standing beside Sully wearing a look of concern but Cal.

“Well, Calistoga, you’re just everywhere, aren’t you?”

“You okay, Maggie?” he asked.

“I got a little pissed, that’s all. Ex-boyfriend.”

“Gotcha,” Cal said. He looked at his watch. “Why don’t you go home and see what you can find for dinner for you and Sully. I’ll hang out here till closing.”