Nothing Lasts Forever (22 page)

T
he one other time Ken Mallory had gone to an opera, he had fallen asleep. On this night he was watching
Rigoletto
at the San Francisco Opera House and enjoying every minute of it. He was seated in a box with Lauren Harrison and her father. In the lobby of the opera house during intermission, Alex Harrison had introduced him to a large number of friends.

“This is my future son-in-law and a brilliant doctor, Ken Mallory.”

Being Alex Harrison’s son-in-law was enough to
make
him a brilliant doctor.

After the performance, the Harrisons and Mallory went to the Fairmont Hotel for supper in the elegant main dining room. Mallory enjoyed the deferential greeting that the maître d’ gave to Alex Harrison as he led them to their booth.
From now on, I’ll be able to afford places like this,
Mallory thought,
and everyone is going to know who I am.

After they had ordered, Lauren said, “Darling, I
think we should have a party to announce our engagement.”

“That’s a good idea!” her father said. “We’ll make it a big one. What do you say, Ken?”

A warning bell sounded in Mallory’s mind. An engagement party would mean publicity.
I’ll have to set Kat straight first. A little money should take care of that.
Mallory cursed the stupid bet he had made. For a mere ten thousand dollars, his whole shining future might now be in jeopardy. He could just imagine what would happen if he tried to explain Kat to the Harrisons.

By the way, I forgot to mention that I’m already engaged to a doctor at the hospital. She’s black
…

Or:
Do you want to hear something funny? I bet the boys at the hospital ten thousand dollars I could fuck this black doctor…

Or:
I already have one wedding planned…

No,
he thought,
I’ll have to find a way to buy Kat off.

They were looking at Mallory expectantly.

Mallory smiled. “A party sounds like a wonderful idea.”

Lauren said enthusiastically, “Good. I’ll get things started. You men have no idea what it takes to give a party.”

Alex Harrison turned to Mallory. “I’ve already started the ball rolling for you, Ken.”

“Sir?”

“Gary Gitlin, the head of North Shore Hospital, is an old golf buddy of mine. I talked to him about you, and he doesn’t think there will be any problem about having you affiliated with his hospital. That’s quite prestigious, you know. And at the same time, I’ll get you set up in your own practice.”

Mallory listened, filled with a sense of euphoria. “That’s wonderful.”

“Of course, it will take a few years to build up a really lucrative practice, but I think you should be able to make two or three hundred thousand dollars the first year or two.”

Two or three hundred thousand! My God!
Mallory thought.
He makes it sound like peanuts.
“That…That would be very nice, sir.”

Alex Harrison smiled. “Ken, since I’m going to be your father-in-law, let’s get off this ‘sir’ business. Call me Alex.”

“Right, Alex.”

“You know, I’ve never been a June bride,” Lauren said. “Is June all right with you, darling?”

He could hear Kat’s voice saying:
Don’t you think we should set a date? I thought maybe June.

Mallory took Lauren’s hand in his. “That sounds great.”
That will give me plenty of time to handle Kat,
Mallory decided. He smiled to himself.
I’ll offer her some of the money I won getting her into bed.

“We have a yacht in the south of France,” Alex Harrison was saying, “Would you two like to honeymoon on the French Riviera? You can fly over in our Gulfstream.”

A yacht. The French Riviera. It was like a fantasy come true. Mallory looked at Lauren. “I’d honeymoon anywhere with Lauren.”

Alex Harrison nodded. “Well, it looks like everything is settled.” He smiled at his daughter. “I’m going to miss you, baby.”

“You’re not losing me, Father. You’re gaining a doctor!”

Alex Harrison nodded. “And a damn good one. I can
never thank you enough for saving my life, Ken.”

Lauren stroked Mallory’s hand. “I’ll thank him for you.”

“Ken, why don’t we have lunch next week?” Alex Harrison said. “We’ll pick out some decent office space for you, maybe in the Post Building, and I’ll make a date for you to see Gary Gitlin. A lot of my friends are dying to meet you.”

“I think you might rephrase that, Father.” Lauren suggested. She turned to Ken. “I’ve been talking to
my
friends about you and they’re eager to meet you, too, only I’m not going to let them.”

“I’m not interested in anyone but you,” Mallory said warmly.

When they got into their chauffeur-driven Rolls-Royce, Lauren asked, “Where can we drop you, darling?”

“The hospital. I’ve got to check on a few patients.” He had no intention of seeing any patients. Kat was on duty at the hospital.

Lauren stroked his cheek. “My poor baby. You work much too hard.”

Mallory sighed. “It doesn’t matter. As long as I’m helping people.”

He found Kat in the geriatric ward.

“Hi, Kat.”

She was in an angry mood. “We had a date last night, Ken.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I wasn’t able to make it, and—”

“That’s the third time in the last week. What’s going on?”

She was becoming a boring nag. “Kat, I have to talk to you. Is there an empty room around here?”

She thought for a moment. “A patient checked out of 315. Let’s go in there.”

They started down the corridor. A nurse walked up to them. “Oh, Dr. Mallory! Dr. Peterson has been looking for you. He—”

“Tell him I’m busy.” He took Kat by the arm and led her to the elevator.

When they arrived at the third floor, they walked silently down the corridor and went into Room 315. Mallory closed the door behind them. He was hyperventilating. His whole golden future depended on the next few minutes.

He took Kat’s hand in his. It was time to be sincere. “Kat, you know I’m crazy about you. I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. But, honey, the idea of having a baby right now…well…can’t you see how wrong it would be? I mean…we’re both working day and night, we aren’t making enough money to…”

“But we can manage,” Kat said. “I love you, Ken, and I—”

“Wait. All I’m asking is that we put everything off for a little while. Let me finish my term at the hospital and get started in private practice somewhere. Maybe we’ll go back East. In a few years we’ll be able to afford to get married and have a baby.”

“
In a few years?
But I told you, I’m pregnant.”

“I know, darling, but it’s been what, now…two months? There’s still plenty of time to abort it.”

Kat looked at him, shocked. “No! I won’t abort it. I want us to get married right away. Now.”

We have a yacht in the south of France. Would you
two like to honeymoon on the French Riviera? You can fly over in our Gulfstream.

“I’ve already told Paige and Honey that we’re getting married. They’re going to be my bridesmaids. And I told them about the baby.”

Mallory felt a cold chill go through him. Things were getting out of hand. If the Harrisons got wind of this, he would be finished. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why not?”

Mallory forced a smile. “I want to keep our private lives private.”
I’ll get you set up in your own practice…You should be able to make two or three hundred thousand dollars the first year or two.
“Kat, I’m going to ask you this for the last time. Will you have an abortion?” He was
willing
her to say yes, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice.

“No.”

“Kat…”

“I can’t, Ken. I told you how I felt about the abortion I had as a girl. I swore I could never live through such a thing again. Don’t ask me again.”

And it was at that moment that Ken Mallory realized he could not take a chance. He had no choice. He was going to have to kill her.

H
oney looked forward every day to seeing the patient in Room 306. His name was Sean Reilly, and he was a good-looking Irishman, with black hair and black sparkling eyes. Honey guessed that he was in his early forties.

When Honey first met him on her rounds, she had looked at his chart and said, “I see you’re here for a cholecystectomy.”

“I thought they were going to remove my gallbladder.”

Honey smiled. “Same thing.”

Sean fixed his black eyes on her. “They can cut out anything they want except my heart. That belongs to you.”

Honey laughed. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“I hope so, darlin’.”

When Honey had a few minutes to spare, she would drop by and chat with Sean. He was charming and amusing.

“It’s worth bein’ operated on just to have you around, little darlin’.”

“You aren’t nervous about the operation, are you?” she asked.

“Not if you’re going to operate, love.”

“I’m not a surgeon. I’m an internist.”

“Are internists allowed to have dinner with their patients?”

“No. There’s a rule against it.”

“Do internists ever break rules?”

“Never.” Honey was smiling.

“I think you’re beautiful,” Sean said.

No one had ever told Honey that before. She found herself blushing. “Thank you.”

“You’re like the fresh mornin’ dew in the fields of Killarney.”

“Have you ever been to Ireland?” Honey asked.

He laughed. “No, but I promise you we’ll go there together one day. You’ll see.”

It was ridiculous Irish blarney, and yet…

That afternoon when Honey went in to see Sean, she said, “How are you feeling?”

“The better for seeing you. Have you thought about our dinner date?”

“No,” Honey said. She was lying.

“I was hoping after my operation, I could take you out. You’re not engaged, or married, or anything silly like that, are you?”

Honey smiled. “Nothing silly like that.”

“Good! Neither am I. Who would have me?”

A
lot of women,
Honey thought.

“If you like home cooking, I happen to be a great cook.”

“We’ll see.”

When Honey went to Sean’s room the following morning, he said, “I have a little present for you.” He handed her a sheet of drawing paper. On it was a softened, idealized sketch of Honey.

“I love it!” Honey said. “You’re a wonderful artist!” And she suddenly remembered the psychic’s words:
You’re going to fall in love. He’s an artist.
She was looking at Sean strangely.

“Is anything wrong?”

“No,” Honey said slowly. “No.”

Five minutes later, Honey walked into Frances Gordon’s room.

“Here comes the Virgo!”

Honey said, “Do you remember telling me that I was going to fall in love with someone—an artist?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I…I think I’ve met him.”

Frances Gordon smiled. “See? The stars never lie.”

“Could…could you tell me a little about him? About us?”

“There are some tarot cards in that drawer over there. Could you give them to me, please?”

As Honey handed her the cards, she thought,
This is ridiculous! I don’t believe in this!

Frances Gordon was laying out the cards. She kept nodding to herself, and nodding and smiling, and suddenly she stopped. Her face went pale. “Oh, my God!” She looked up at Honey.

“What…what’s the matter?” Honey asked.

“This artist. You say you’ve already met him?”

“I think so. Yes.”

Frances Gordon’s voice was filled with sadness. “The
poor man.” She looked up at Honey. “I’m sorry…I’m so sorry.”

Sean Reilly was scheduled to have his operation the following morning.

8:15
A.M.
Dr. William Radnor was in OR Two, preparing for the operation.

8:25
A.M.
A truck containing a week’s supply of bags of blood pulled up at the emergency entrance to Embarcadero County Hospital. The driver carried the bags to the blood bank in the basement. Eric Foster, the resident on duty, was sharing coffee and a danish with a pretty young nurse, Andrea.

“Where do you want these?” the driver asked.

“Just set them down there.” Foster pointed to a corner.

“Right.” The driver put the bags down and pulled out a form. “I need your John Hancock.”

“Okay.” Foster signed the form. “Thanks.”

“No sweat.” The driver left.

Foster turned to Andrea. “Where were we?”

“You were telling me how adorable I am.”

“Right. If you weren’t married, I’d really go after you,” the resident said. “Do you ever fool around?”

“No. My husband is a boxer.”

“Oh. Do you have a sister?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

“Is she as pretty as you are?”

“Prettier.”

“What’s her name?”

“Marilyn.”

“Why don’t we double-date one night?”

As they chatted, the fax machine began to click. Foster ignored it.

8:45
A.M.
Dr. Radnor began the operation on Sean Reilly. The beginning went smoothly. The operating room functioned like a well-oiled machine, run by capable people doing their jobs.

9:05
A.M.
Dr. Radnor reached the cystic duct. A textbook operation up until then. As he started to excise the gallbladder, his hand slipped and the scalpel nicked an artery. Blood began to pour out.

“Jesus!” He tried to stop the flow.

The anesthesiologist called out, “His blood pressure just dropped to ninety-five. He’s going into shock!”

Radnor turned to the circulating nurse. “Get some more blood up here, stat!”

“Right away, doctor.”

9:06
A.M.
The telephone rang in the blood bank.

“Don’t go away,” Foster told Andrea. He walked past the fax machine, which had stopped clicking, and picked up the telephone. “Blood supply.”

“We need four units of Type O in OR Two, stat.”

“Right.” Foster replaced the receiver and went to the corner where the new blood had been deposited. He pulled out four bags and placed them on the top shelf of the metal cart used for such emergencies. He double-checked
the bags. “Type O,” he said aloud. He rang for an orderly.

“What’s going on?” Andrea asked.

Foster looked at the schedule in front of him. “It looks like one of the patients is giving Dr. Radnor a bad time.”

9:10
A.M.
The orderly came into the blood bank. “What have we got?”

“Take this to OR Two. They’re waiting for it.”

He watched the orderly wheel out the cart, then turned to Andrea. “Tell me about your sister.”

“She’s married, too.”

“Aw…”

Andrea smiled. “But she fools around.”

“Does she really?”

“I’m only kidding. I have to go back to work, Eric. Thanks for the coffee and danish.”

“Anytime.” He watched her leave and thought,
What a great ass!

9:12
A.M.
The orderly was waiting for an elevator to take him to the second floor.

9:13
A.M.
Dr. Radnor was doing his best to minimize the catastrophe. “Where’s the damned blood?”

9:15
A.M.
The orderly pushed at the door to OR Two and the circulating nurse opened it.

“Thanks,” she said. She carried the bags into the room. “It’s here, doctor.”

“Start pumping it into him. Fast!”

In the blood bank, Eric Foster finished his coffee, thinking about Andrea.
All the good-looking ones are married.

As he started toward his desk, he passed the fax machine. He pulled out the fax. It read:

Recall Warning Alert #687, June 25: Red Blood Cells, Fresh Frozen Plasma. Units CB83711, CB800007. Community Blood Bank of California, Arizona, Washington, Oregon. Blood products testing repeatedly reactive for Antibody HIV Type I were distributed.

He stared at it a moment, then walked over to his desk and picked up the invoice he had signed for the bags of blood that had just been delivered. He looked at the number on the invoice. The number on the warning was identical.

“Oh, my God!” he said. He grabbed the telephone. “Get me OR Two, fast!”

A nurse answered.

“This is the blood bank. I just sent up four units of Type O. Don’t use it! I’m sending up some fresh blood immediately.”

The nurse said, “Sorry, it’s too late.”

Dr. Radnor broke the news to Sean Reilly.

“It was a mistake,” Radnor said. “A terrible mistake. I would give anything if it had not happened.”

Sean was staring at him, in shock. “My God! I’m going to die.”

“We won’t know whether you’re HIV-positive for six or eight weeks. And even if you are, that does not necessarily mean you will get AIDS. We’re going to do everything we can for you.”

“What the hell can you do for me that you haven’t already done?” Sean said bitterly. “I’m a dead man.”

When Honey heard the news, she was devastated. She remembered Frances Gordon’s words.
The poor man.

Sean Reilly was asleep when Honey walked into his room. She sat at his bedside for a long time, watching him.

He opened his eyes and saw Honey. “I dreamed that I was dreaming, and that I wasn’t going to die.”

“Sean…”

“Did you come to visit the corpse?”

“Please don’t talk that way.”

“How could this happen?” he cried.

“Someone made a mistake, Sean.”

“God, I don’t want to die of AIDS!”

“Some people who get HIV may never get AIDS. The Irish are lucky.”

“I wish I could believe you.”

She took his hand in hers. “You’ve got to.”

“I’m not a praying man,” Sean said, “but I sure as hell am going to start now.”

“I’ll pray with you,” Honey said.

He smiled wryly. “I guess we can forget about that dinner, huh?”

“Oh, no. You don’t get out of it that easily. I’m looking forward to it.”

He studied her a moment. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

“You bet I do! No matter what happens. Remember, you promised to take me to Ireland.”