Danielle Steel - The Ranch

“Hi there, monkey face,” Zoe said as she picked her up and took her to change her diaper, But she noticed as she did that Jade seemed heavier than usual, and Zoe was still tired after a night's sleep. That was happening more and more lately, and it reminded her to call the lab when she got into the office.

She left the house at six forty-five, and was at UC Hospital to do rounds at seven, and in her office at eight-thirty, and there were already two dozen patients waiting for her. It was one of the busiest days she'd had in months, and she didn't have time to call the lab till lunchtime. And when she did, they didn't have the results for her, and for once she lost her temper.

“We've waited two weeks for this, dammit. It's not fair to keep people waiting that long,” she complained. “These are life-and-death situations, we're not talking about a urinalysis here, for chrissake. How soon can I have it?” They apologized for being backlogged and promised her that if she called back at four o'clock she'd have the results, but she didn't get a chance to stop again until five-thirty, and she still had patients waiting for her. But she wanted the results before the close of business, so she called them. They fumbled around for a while, while she fumed, and pushed several messages around her desk, and then they came back on the line and told her.

“Positive,” the lab tech said matter-of-factly. It was no big surprise. Her patients tested positive for the AIDS virus all the time. That was why they came to see her.

“Positive?” she said, as though she'd never heard it before. “Positive?” She could feel the planet spinning.

“That's what I said,” he said easily. “Is it a surprise this time?” The trouble was, it wasn't. It explained how tired she had been, how exhausted, the weight she had lost, the diarrhea she had had from time to time, and the symptoms that had been troubling her for six months, since Christmas. The results were her own this time, and she knew exactly when it had happened. She had stuck herself with a dirty needle by accident, nearly a year before, when she was doing a blood test on a little girl who had died of AIDS two months ago, in April.

She thanked the lab tech for the results, and hung up the phone ever so quietly, feeling as though the world had just come to an end, just as her patients did when she told them. There had been nothing subtle about it, nothing gentle about what he said. “Positive”… positive… she had AIDS… What would she do with Jade?… How was she going to work? Who would take care of her when she got sick?… What was she going to do now? And as she contemplated the enormity of it, she was overwhelmed by the intensity of her feelings. She had had denial about it at first, but she had suspected it for weeks, when she had gotten a funny sore on her lip. It had disappeared fairly rapidly, but her suspicions didn't. Her own medical background had finally forced her to face it, and at least get tested. It was exactly what she dealt with, with her patients. But her concerns had been vivid enough to make her avoid Dick Franklin for the last few weeks, although she had always been extremely careful with him. Ever since her lover had died of AIDS ten years before, she had always exercised every precaution, and warned the men in her life about him. She had told Dick, and they had both been unfailingly cautious. She had never exposed him to any risk. But if she were to continue seeing him now, she would tell him, just so he'd know what she had to contend with. But she had no desire to see him, or tell him. She couldn't imagine him taking care of her or even being very sympathetic. He had even warned her of the risks she was taking, with her kind of practice. It had happened to other doctors before, just as it had to her. And he didn't think the dangers were worth it.

He was a scientist, and they were good friends certainly, but he wasn't the kind of person you went to with a problem. He was the kind of man you went out with for a nice evening. But she was sure he'd be appalled, if she told him. And she knew, without even thinking about it, that their dating career had just ended. So had a lot of things, maybe not her medical career for now, but certainly her future. She had an overwhelming urge to burst into tears, but she knew she couldn't, she still had to see patients. But suddenly, she could hardly think straight.

“Anyone home?” Sam Warner popped his head around her door again, and looked startled when he saw her expression. She looked as though someone had just shot her out of a cannon. And they had. A big one. “Are you okay? You look awful,” he said bluntly.

“I think I'm coming down with something,” she said vaguely, groping for an excuse to explain her complete discomposure. “A cold, a flu… something.”

“Then you shouldn't be here,” he said firmly. “I'm not hustling you for work, but your patients can't afford to catch anything from you, and you know it.”

“I'll wear a mask,” she said, fumbling in her desk with trembling fingers, and he saw how badly her hands shook when she tried unsuccessfully to tie it. But he didn't say anything. He just looked worried, “I… really… I'm fine… I just… I have a headache…”

“You're a mess,” he said, taking the stethoscope from around her neck and putting it on the table. “Go home. I'll see the rest of your patients, and I won't charge you. It's a gift from me. Some people just don't know when to quit.” He wagged a finger at her and almost pushed her out the door, but she didn't refuse him. Suddenly she couldn't think, she couldn't breathe, she couldn't believe what she'd heard. She had AIDS… AIDS… the killer that all her patients died of… her life was over. It wasn't, of course, she could live for years with the proper care, and she knew that. But she had the virus in her blood, waiting there, like a sniper or a time bomb. “Go home,” Sam was saying to her, “get into bed, and stay there. I'll come by and check on you later.”

“You don't have to, I'm fine. And thank you for finishing up for me.” He was a great guy and she was deeply fond of him. He was so incredibly kind and gentle with her dying patients. She wondered if she should tell him what had happened, it made perfect sense to tell him, but she didn't want anyone to know. Not yet. Not until she had to. Not Sam. Not her friends. No one. Not even her nurses. Except Dick Franklin, of course, she knew she'd have to tell him she was infected with the AIDS virus, although she had been scrupulously careful, and knew there had been no risk to him. But purely ethically, she wanted to tell him, although she had no intention of sleeping with him again. But there was no one else she wanted to share her bad news with. As she did with everything else, she kept it to herself. Zoe Phillips did not cry on anyone's shoulder.

But Zoe cried all the way home, in the old Volkswagen van, and when she reached her house, she looked almost as ravaged as she felt. The au pair looked shocked when she walked in, and even Jade stared at her for a moment. “Mommy sad?” she asked, looking worried.

“Mommy loves you,” she said, holding her close, thinking that she would have to be very careful not to cut herself, or go anywhere near Jade if she did. She wondered if she should wear a mask and gloves in the house now, and then realized she was being ridiculous and panic was settling in. She was a doctor, she knew better than that. But this was so different. It was her life. It was hard to be rational and objective.

She took Sam's advice and went to bed, and Jade crawled in with her, and Zoe lay there for a long time, holding her little girl. It was as though the child sensed that something was terribly wrong, and she might lose her mother somehow. It wasn't that she “might,” it was that she would one day, Zoe reminded herself, the question was when, not if, as it was for anyone with the AIDS virus. But in Zoe's case, because of how she'd contracted it, it would be sooner rather than later, and she panicked again at the realization that she had no one to leave Jade with when she died. She'd have to think it over before too long, and decisions had to be made.