The Baby Who Stole the Doctor's Heart (6 page)

“You know you're not very good company, don't you?” Angela finally said, taking care not to frown again.

“You wanted good company? I didn't hear that mentioned in the invitation.”

She gave him a long, hard look to see if there was any hint of amusement there. And she did see it once again. It was subtle, but there was a little glint in his eye, if she caught it from the right angle. “If I'd wanted
good
company, I'd have left you in the truck and only invited Fred in.”

The corners of his mouth turned up, but barely noticeably. “You begged,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“You begged. The offer of coffee was polite. The pie…definitely begging. Down on your knees for sure, if not for the snow.”

“Wishful thinking,
Doctor
. Because I was still at the polite stage. Had I been begging, you'd be getting more than apple pie. I'd be serving it a la mode, and tonight you're
not
getting a la mode.” She emphasized that by putting the carton of ice cream she'd pulled from the freezer to soften back into the freezer. “And just so you'll know, the pie is a leftover. And leftovers signify being polite. That's all.” Good words, but her heart was racing a mile a minute. More than that, she could feel a flush rising in her cheeks. Whatever he was doing to her wasn't anything any man had ever done before and she was scared to death it would show. So she sidled up to the refrigerator, hoping it would cast some kind of shadow over her. If not, she'd have to crawl in.

“So, do you cook like this for yourself all the time? Pies, sea bass
puttanesca
?”

“Sometimes. Not always. It's a release…an outlet. Helps calm me down when I'm upset or frustrated. Gives me time to think.”

“You've been frustrated or upset lately? Is that what begot the pie?”

“A little. And before you ask, yes, you're the cause of it. I'd counted on getting into your class. And your rejection has actually brought about a lot of cooking—new recipes for diabetics I hope to introduce at the hospital.” The flush was subsiding now that she was reminded of how he'd turned her down. Then, of all things, praised the abilities that weren't good enough.

He eyed her objectively, the crinkle of a smile returning to his lips. “You pack it in well.”

“I don't eat it all. I give it away…friends and family.” She removed the pie from the microwave. “And, occasionally, grumpy men who rescue dogs.”

“I suppose Dinah told you what I said to Eric, didn't she? Sometimes I forget what a clannish place this is, that everybody is connected to each other in one way or another.”

“She told me,” Angela said stiffly, as she set the plate in front of Mark, practically threw a fork at him, then choose
not
to sit across from him. It would be too uncomfortable. She didn't want to look at him, didn't want any kind of personal involvement. Which was what compelled her to pull a high stool over to the kitchen counter. “And it would have been nice hearing it from you.”

“I compliment you, then what? You think you're going to get a spot in my class? One thing leads to another, we save a life together and naturally you're the most likely candidate to sit front and center, rightfully? Is that what would have happened?”

“Maybe. At least a few days ago. But after tonight…” She shrugged. “It doesn't matter. Just eat your pie before it gets cold, then you and Fred can be on your way and you won't have to worry that something you say might be misconstrued by the dietician.” Admittedly, she was a little hurt. Hearing the words from Mark would have meant…something. She wasn't sure what. And now she'd never know.

“So that's why you're sitting halfway across the room? Because I didn't praise you to your face?”

“I'm sitting across the room from you because I choose to, just like you chose not to say anything to me about my performance tonight. I know I wasn't very good. I'm well aware of how little knowledge I have and how, in practical terms, I really wasn't much use to you. But sometimes a pat on the back and the words
good job
go a long way.” She cut off a bite of pie, nibbled at it, and suddenly didn't feel like eating. Not alone. Not with Mark either. In fact, all she wanted was to settle in and listen to the gentle breathing of her daughter. That always made everything better. But she didn't even have that tonight, and all of a sudden her tiny condo felt cavernous. And empty. Even with Mark there. “Look, I'm really tired. It just hit me.”

“Probably the adrenalin wearing off.”

“Probably… Anyway, I'm going to bed. Stay here as long as you like. Eat your pie. Finish mine if you're really hungry. In fact, take what's left home with you.” She pushed herself off the stool and didn't even loiter in the kitchen. All she wanted was that door between the two of them, like she'd wanted earlier. If it took her being a bad hostess leaving her guest sitting alone in the kitchen, eating, so be it. She didn't want to be anywhere near Mark Anderson tonight, not even for a few minutes. “So, if you'll excuse me…”

Mark shook his head, and a broad grin broke out all over his face. It showed in his eyes, and in the lines at the corner
of his eyes. Showed in laugh lines at the corners of his mouth. Very attractive, she noted, then immediately tried recanting that thought. But it was already too late. In her mind, Mark Anderson had just become framed as attractive. Not brooding, not scowling. Attractive.

“I know I'm a lousy date. Lousy company. Lousy companion. But I'll swear I've never had a woman just get up and leave me eating at the table the way you're about to do.”

“In a public restaurant, I might have excused myself to the restroom and run out the back door.”

“So you make a habit of this?”

“Honestly, I don't know. The last time I had a man eating at my table…other than my husband… Let's see. It must have been nine years ago, right after I met Brad. We weren't married yet so technically he wasn't my husband. I cooked for him and…” And they'd left the dinner table in the middle of the meal. But they'd left it together and had gone only as far as the bedroom. That thought made her blush. Which was another reason she needed to get away from Mark. Because a brief flash of the two of them heading off to the bedroom crossed her mind. “Anyway, that was a long time ago, and right now I'm tired. So…”

As she slipped past him, he stood, nearly blocking the doorway. Then he patted her on the back. “Job well done,” he said. Then he sat right back down and picked up his fork, giving her a little salute with it, before she could react.

Later, in her bedroom, long after she'd heard her front door shut, she was still awake, too wired to sleep. So maybe his little effort there had been conciliatory. She'd coerced him into it. Or he was simply being condescending. Whatever it was, it didn't matter because it
had
been a job well done. She knew that, and felt pleased by it. More importantly,
he
knew that, too. It was on that thought she finally drifted off, dreaming not of Mark so much as working shoulder to
shoulder with him. Another time, another emergency, and in her dream
she
was calling the shots.

It was a very pleasant dream indeed.

“I
T'S
easy for a child to be persuaded, by an adult, to do the wrong thing, and if that adult doesn't know the facts, or disregards them, that child is in jeopardy. You're supposed to trust the adults in your life, and while they might mean well, when your kindly grandfather tells you it's OK to have that little piece of cake, that it will be their secret, it needs to be the child who takes the upper hand and educates the grandfather. And I'm not saying that all adults will sneak cake to diabetic children. Because they won't. But the honest truth is, it's easy to just give in. You know, the notion that one little slipup won't hurt them. But it can. A lifetime of slipups and bad notions will kill them, so they have to learn young to do better, know more, and take control.”

Seated at the mahogany conference table for twelve, with everybody else at one end and Angela all by herself at the other—her choice, not theirs—Angela drew in a deep breath, then slumped down a little in the chair. It wasn't a formal hearing. She was among friends. Eric and Neil. Dinah. Walt Graham. Doctors Jane McGinnis and Kent Stafford. James and Fallon Galbraith. And, surprisingly, Mark Anderson. They were facing her; she was facing them, presenting her program.

“I know you've been going forward with it, getting it set
up,” Eric said. “But to what extent? How soon can we give it a try?”

“Actually, the lodge up on Little Sister is undergoing major renovation after the fire several months ago. They've redone the secondary kitchen already and they're working on some of the rooms, so it hasn't reopened to the public yet. But they've agreed to let us come and camp out in the part of the lodge that's complete. It's probably not what comes to mind as a traditional camp setting as it's going to be inside, but the lodge management is happy to open up one of the wings for us, and allow me access to a kitchen because they really want to see this camp initiated.”

“So you're already lining up candidates?” Neil asked. “I didn't know you'd gotten that far, but I'm impressed.”

“I have a list started. In fact, a waiting list because I've already filled up the spots in our first camp session. And I've got to tell you, the people here in White Elk are really excited. When it comes to anything about taking care of their children they're exceptionally supportive.” She glanced at Mark, who seemed to be fixed on something far, far away. Saw something in his eyes…sadness? “The town charity Christmas trees were sponsored for it this year.” Christmas trees lining the streets of White Elk, donated by the town merchants. Families, companies, individuals paid to decorate the trees, in principle sponsoring them. “And proceeds went to the program here for diabetic children. Half
that
money was set aside for the camp. Also, the parents of the kids who might come…they know this is our launch, that I haven't done anything like this before, and we intend to use this first session as trial and error to see what we need in order to go forward with a regular program. Maybe offer these camps five or six times a year after we work out the details. More often, if we see there's a need for an ongoing program of this type.”

“Well, camping in a lodge sounds pretty good to me,” Neil said. “Especially as we still have snow on the ground.”

“It will vary by the season. One of my goals is to make the camp different every time we offer it. For example, in the winter, we're going to teach the children winter physical fitness as part of the program…skiing, skating. And in the summer concentrate on activities like tennis and swimming. Anything to keep them physically active. I think refresher courses will be good, let them come back whenever they want to, or whenever they feel they need the support. Keep it an open program for these children so they'll always feel like there's somebody there who cares. Hopefully, it will be so fun for them they'll just want to come back for no other reason than being there with kids going through the same thing”

They were with her on this. She could feel it in the way her nerves tingled. See it in the way their eyes stayed glued to her. All except Mark's eyes—his were still staring at something out the window. She glanced, reflexively, to see what he was looking at, and realized it was only the asphalt parking lot. So what was it, somewhere far beyond that parking lot, that was holding onto him? “Also, did I mention that I have contributors?”

Gabby laughed. “About a dozen times.”

“Nerves,” Angela confessed. “I've been planning what I was going to tell you for days, and I think I've rewritten it about a hundred times.” It would be a big financial commitment from the hospital to get this camp started, but conceivably, this camp could draw children from everywhere. In time, if it grew, they would need their own property, their own buildings… Angela stopped herself. It was an enormous dream, and right now she had to concentrate on the first steps necessary to get it started. “And I know the one thing I forgot to mention, which you probably know but I want to
state for the record. Walt's going to be there to oversee the medical end of the operation. Helen Baxter, the manager, has given him a room at the lodge so we'll have him whenever we need him.” She glanced at Walt Graham, who smiled. “And to begin with, I've got several volunteers who'll be there for various activities. As well as some of the parents.”

“How many children?” Fallon Galbraith asked.

“Initially, a dozen. I want a manageable number for starters. Later on, we'll want more, as we take on more staff and know better what will work and what won't. Like I said, we really need this first week to get a good idea of how we're going to operate it over the course.”

“Eric and I have discussed it at length, and we think it's a good idea.” Neil said. “Part of my brother's endowment was for expansion into new pediatric programs, and I think Gavin would have liked this, and would have been honored to be part of it. But I do have one concern before we agree fully to the camp, and that's the medical end of it. While we know that Walt's a good doctor, we also know that he's had some health concerns of his own lately, and we're wondering if he's going to be able to do all the chasing after the kids that might be required.” He deferred to Walt.

“My chasing days are over. But I'll be there to help in any other way I can. Oversee the medical aspects of the program, as we've said. Teach some classes, give some advice. And I've also agreed to do the pre-camp physicals on the children, and have a look at their past medical records to see what we're dealing with. Their insulin dependency, their A1C tests, any other health concerns that might arise.” He was the annual Santa on the two-week run of the Christmas train. Twenty-five years in the red suit, twenty-five years with kids of all shapes, sizes and ages sitting on his knee pouring out their fondest wishes. Forty years of bringing babies into this world.
Those things, if nothing else, spoke of his commitment to the children coming to the camp.

“But that still leaves us without an extra chaser,” Neil said. “And for this trial run, I want more medical staff on site, since we don't know what we're going to be anticipating. More than that, I want to set up a small clinic, be ready to treat minor emergencies around the clock.”

“I'll be glad to volunteer,” Fallon Galbraith said. “But I'll need a fair amount of warning as I've got Tyler to take care of.” She'd married James Galbraith only a month earlier, and become an instant mom to an active little boy.

“And you know I'm in for whatever you need but, like Fallon, I'll need fair notice, too.” James Galbraith was head of Pediatrics at the hospital, and as such on call a good bit of the time.

“I do have one suggestion,” Eric said, glancing at Mark.

Mark saw the glance, and shifted his stare to the floor. “And why do I have this feeling that your suggestion has something to do with me?”

“You're not really doing anything yet,” Eric said to him.

“Getting ready to start my classes,” Mark defended. “You know, those classes you dragged me here to White Elk to teach. Remember? Mountain rescue,
not
kiddie camp.”

“Classes that aren't going to start for a few weeks. And at the rate you're dragging your feet selecting your candidates, it could be even longer than that.”

“I'm working in Emergency. It's not about dragging my feet, it's about being selective.”

“OK, I'll give you that. But you can be selective at camp as well as you can here. And regarding hospital duty, we can schedule around you.”

Apparently, that wasn't what Mark wanted to hear because he blew out an impatient sigh. So did Angela and, if anything,
hers was louder than Mark's. “I need someone who wants to be there,” she said. “It's pretty obvious he doesn't.”

“It's not about wanting or not wanting to help the camp. I think it's a worthy cause but that's not why I'm here.”

“And he doesn't want to get involved,” Angela jumped right in.

In response, Eric glanced over at Neil, smiling as if the decision had been made prior to this meeting. Finalized, approved and stamped.

Mark recognized that. “So I don't have a choice in this, do I?”

Eric didn't even try hiding his growing grin. “Certainly, you have a choice. Just talk to Ed Lester, head of maintenance here, about what you'll need moved up to the lodge for you.” He held up his phone. “I've just texted him to get ready, that we'll be doing the moving first thing in the morning. By then Helen Baxter will have your space set aside, and you'll be good to go.”

“You've already texted her?” Mark snapped.

Eric nodded. “In anticipation of you accepting the position.”

“Oh, and make sure you talk to Marsha Harding, head of Purchasing, about what you'll need in the clinic,” Neil added. “She'll have plenty of time to order anything we don't have on hand, and she's expecting your call, too.”

Mark glanced at Angela, giving her one of his biggest scowls ever. “Did you plan this? Is that why you wanted me here? To sabotage me this way?”

“Trust me, I'm the one who just got sabotaged. If you think I want to work shoulder to shoulder with you…” She paused, thought back to her dream of only last night, where she and Mark were working shoulder to shoulder, and
she
was in charge. Well, this wasn't what she'd expected, but it did have a certain perverse appeal, she had to admit. “You
know, on second thoughts, it'll be fine. Just fine. And I'm sure the children will
love
you.”

Mark leaned back in his chair, dropped his head backwards, closed his eyes. Groaned. “When I came here, and
specifically
told you that I didn't want involvement on any level with anything other than the mountain rescue training and maybe some work in Emergency, what was it about that you didn't understand?” His words were meant for Neil and Eric. “What was it about me coming to White Elk that made you think that heaping more and more responsibility on me will change my mind about anything in my life?”

Everybody at the table chuckled. Everybody but Angela, who wondered what could have caused someone with Mark's talent to want to run away the way he was trying to do. Actually, she felt bad for him, felt like she was responsible for trapping him in something he didn't want, and that wasn't her intention. She knew what it was like to be trapped, and wouldn't wish it on anybody. But the choices weren't hers to make. If Neil and Eric thought Mark needed to be at camp as a medic, then he probably did. So now it was up to her to be a little nicer to Mark than she had been. After all, he was now an integral part of the camp's success. The thing was, even with all his medical attributes, she would have been happier with a willing volunteer. And nothing about Mark Anderson was willing. Meaning, in a way, they were both stuck. Only she was stuck in a much better position because, with all her heart, she wanted this to work and he only wanted to get it over with and tick off a few more days on his calendar. “You don't have to be involved,” she told him. “Just available.”

He opened his eyes, stared at the ceiling for a moment then finally lowered his gaze to her. “Oh, I'll be involved, one way or another. But you're still not getting into my school. That's what this is about, isn't it? You getting a whole week to goad me? Neil and Eric putting us together for an entire
week, hoping you'll be able to persuade me? Because they do want you in my program. Won't force the issue but apparently won't drop it either.”

“What?” she sputtered, forgetting the audience surrounding her. “Is your ego so inflated that you think my JD camp has
anything
to do with you? Because let me tell you, Dr. Anderson, that nothing is further from the truth. This camp is about the children, and what I'm
not
going to tolerate from you is that attitude. Not around the children. Unleash it on me, let it out in an empty room, take it out on Neil and Eric as they're the ones putting you in this position, I don't care. But
not
around the children.”

Chairs at the table scooted across the floor, and Fallon and James exited quietly. So did Dinah and Walt. All unseen to Angela, who was seeing nothing but red.

“And if I could have my choice of a second doctor with me the whole time, it wouldn't be you. Don't flatter yourself into thinking that I begged Neil and Eric to give you to me, because it's their idea, not mine.”

“I didn't say
begged
,” Mark quipped, biting back a smile.

“Looks like a match made in heaven,” Eric commented to Neil.

Angela's attention snapped to her two bosses. “Made in heaven? Do you know how grumpy he is?”

“We know,” Neil said, then grinned. “And we're hoping that a week at camp with all those kids might do wonders for his disposition.”