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Authors: Karen Rose Smith

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BOOK: The Good Doctor
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Not sure how to handle this one, Violet treaded carefully. “I met Peter and somehow I got caught up in the whole auction and a donation and it just happened.” That was true enough.

“When are you seeing him?”

Thinking about her argument with Peter, she knew they might not be going on the date. “I'm not sure. You know doctors and their schedules. It might never happen.”

“Do you want it to happen?”

Since Violet wasn't good at subterfuge, she answered honestly. “Even if we go on a date, nothing can come of it. He's here, and I'll be returning to New York.”

“It sounds as if you've thought about more than just a date.”

Suddenly Violet realized how much she'd given away. Silence seemed to be her best course.

“If he's caught your attention, he must be pretty special. I know you. You'd rather read medical journals than date.”

“He
is
special,” Violet agreed, giving her friend that much. “He has a patient he took me to meet.” She explained about Celeste.

“Are you going to see her again?”

“Yes, this evening, I hope. Tomorrow's her surgery and she's probably scared to death. I hate to think of her lying up there all alone. You should see her, Jess. She's got these big brown eyes that just melt my heart.”

“I'm sure any time you spend with her will be good for her.”

“I think any time I spend with her will be good for
me.

When Violet looked up at her friend, Jessica's eyes held questions that she didn't ask. Violet was glad because she certainly didn't have any answers.

 

Later that day at the nurses' desk, Violet checked on Celeste's condition. Unlike Friday night, the hospital was bustling with activity as visitors came and went, and nurses cared for patients. Although she wasn't familiar with San Juan Hospital, Violet felt at home here as she did in most hospitals.

After she peered through the glass doors at Celeste, she went inside. The TV was turned on to a cartoon channel. However, Violet got Celeste's full attention as she came to sit beside her bed. “Hi, there.”

“You came back,” the little girl said, her words slurring a bit.

“I told you I would.” She took Celeste's hand. “Tomorrow, Dr. Clark is going to start to make you better.”

Celeste nodded. “He said he is. He read me a story.”

“Today?”

The little girl wrinkled her brow, then nodded. “Before the nurse turned on the cartoons. I get tired of them.”

“I bet you do. Would you like me to read you a story?”

Celeste's smile was wide as she said, “The one with the rainbow.”

Several books lay on the serving table at the foot of the bed. Violet shuffled through them until she found the rainbow book, then sat beside Celeste and began to read.

Her fifteen minutes were almost up when Peter stepped into the cubicle. He took in the sight of her, the raspberry-colored sweater and slacks, the way she was holding Celeste's hand.

But then his attention was all for Celeste. “How's my favorite patient?”

“Okay. Violet read me a book.”

“I see. I came in to tell you we're going to wake you up very early tomorrow morning so we can fix your back.”

“Then I can get out of bed?”

Peter frowned. “Not tomorrow, maybe not the next day, either. But your back will start healing and someday soon you'll be out of bed and walking.”

Violet checked her watch. “I know my time's up.” Leaning over Celeste, she brushed the little girl's hair from her brow. “I'm going to hang around the hospital and come back in a little while. Then we can read another story or watch TV together, whatever you want to do.”

“Will you come tomorrow?” Celeste asked.

The little girl touched Violet deeply. She needed someone
to befriend her besides Peter. She needed a woman's touch and Violet could give that to her. “You're going to go to sleep while Dr. Peter works on your back. I'll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, and I promise I'll be back in a little while.” Then unable to help herself, she gave Celeste a light kiss on the forehead, avoided Peter's gaze and slipped out the door.

Deciding not to wait to talk to him—she didn't need that turmoil right now—she headed for the elevator. She was walking down the corridor when he came up beside her and clasped her arm. His touch on her sleeve sent tingles through her body, and when she met his gaze, her pulse raced erratically until she thought about his small patient.

“Is something wrong?”

His face was as unreadable as his eyes. He was dressed casually this evening in jeans and an oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up his arms as if he were any other visitor to the hospital. But he wasn't just any visitor.

Now he said, “Her surgery could take a while tomorrow. She might not be ready for a visitor until tomorrow evening.”

“She might not be ready for a visitor but I think it's important that someone be here for her. Even if she's not awake, I think she'll sense my presence.”

“You could be waiting for hours to see her.”

“Then I guess I'll wait. What time is her surgery?”

“It's scheduled for eight.”

“Can I see her before she goes to the operating room?”

He looked disconcerted. “I suppose you can. When I spoke to her social worker, she said she couldn't possibly get in here at that hour.”

“All right. Then I'll be here at seven and I won't get in anybody's way. I just want her to know she's not alone.”

His expression seemed to soften a bit. “You never do or say what I expect you to,” he admitted truthfully.

“I don't know what you mean.”

“Before you came to Red Rock, I formed an impression of you from Ryan, Lily, your brothers…from professional gossip.”

She knew the hospital grapevines could spread around the world but she was always surprised when they did.

“You have a reputation, Dr. Fortune, as a brilliant diagnostician. The gossip highway in Red Rock has it that as the only girl in your family besides your mom—” He stopped as though he thought better of what he was going to say.

“Yes?” she prompted with a drawl.

“Never mind. I shouldn't have brought it up.”

“But you did and I can guess. My family had money. I was the only girl. Therefore, I must have been spoiled, pampered, always used to getting my own way. Does that about sum it up?”

With a look of chagrin, he took a step closer to her. “Being a Fortune isn't always what it's cracked up to be, is it?”

Seeing he was sincere and maybe even understood, she gave a little shrug. “It has more advantages than disadvantages. The truth is I probably was pampered and spoiled. Still, being the only girl, I was also lonely. That's why I can understand a little how Celeste feels.”

They were standing close now and she could remember everything about their night together, his gentleness and compassion, his strong arms around her, the scent of him, his body's arousal that he'd restrained and ignored.

As his gaze fell to her lips, her limbs felt weak. Then he backed away and she took a deep breath.

“If you're going to be here tomorrow, I'll try to find you after surgery and tell you how everything went,” he said evenly.

“I'll be in the lounge,” she responded, gesturing down the hall to the waiting room.

When he turned to leave, she added, “Peter, I'll be praying everything goes well.”

He nodded and then walked away.

When Violet stepped into the elevator and the doors closed, she leaned against the back wall. Peter Clark definitely shook up her world and she had to decide if she was going to let him in or keep him out.

Right now it was a toss-up.

Six

A
fter the night in Houston when Peter had held Violet in his arms, he'd made a decision. He had to stop whatever was happening between them and stop it fast. More than once he'd told himself physical satisfaction was fleeting. Although he knew in his gut that he and Violet would be good together, he also knew they'd get burned badly. She was exactly the type of woman he didn't date. Her life was a product of her career, as was his. Mix long distance into the recipe and they'd both be headed for disaster. People their age were set in their ways. Change could happen, but it was damn hard. He wanted a woman who put him, home and family first.

All that resolved, he still felt as if someone had kicked him in the gut when he saw Violet with Celeste early Monday morning before the six-year-old's surgery. She was leaning over the little girl, comforting her, holding her hand. Thank
ful he didn't have time for conversation, he simply told Violet he'd let her know when Celeste's surgery was over.

Three hours later, he half expected her to be gone. But there she was, standing in the hospital lounge, looking out the window. Her profile was so purely feminine, her hair so damn shiny, her chin so assertive yet vulnerable at the same time, he took a deep breath and stayed put in the doorway.

“Violet,” he said in an even tone.

She swung around, her face expectant.

“The fusion went well. Celeste's prognosis will depend on how determined she is to get better. She'll be in recovery for the next two hours and back up to ICU for tonight. We're hoping to move her to a regular room tomorrow.”

If he'd wanted to keep a distance from Violet, he couldn't because she hurried toward him, her face bright, her eyes filled with gratitude. “While I'm here, I'll help her get better. She needs somebody to champion her…besides you.”

“She
will
need support to walk again,” he agreed. “Rehab is tough, but kids are usually resilient.” He stopped, not wanting to prolong their conversation, but needing to cover two other points. “Have you heard from Ryan?”

“No, not a word. I wanted to give him a little time. But I'm worried about him. I'll call him this afternoon on his cell phone.”

“I'm going to invite him to lunch or dinner or something and we're going to discuss treatments. He can't look at this as hopeless. Not yet.”

By the expression on Violet's face, he saw she was struggling with her own feelings on the subject. Although she might strongly want Ryan to look for treatment, she would respect his decision, no matter what it was.

Peter couldn't do that. He simply couldn't. He didn't know how
not
to fight, and he was going to try to instill some of that
fighting spirit into Ryan. Violet's experience with patients was apparently different from his. Maybe that was because as a surgeon, he was active in his treatment. She often had to sit by and watch nature take its course. Not an easy thing to do.

Still aware that every fiber of his being wanted to be close to her, wanted to take her into his arms, wanted to do a hell of a lot more than that, he came to the next topic for discussion.

In the matter of dates and being smooth about them, he simply wasn't. “I was going over my schedule for the weekend,” he began. “You bought a date for the Riverwalk. So do you still want to do that?”

After a long look into his eyes, she responded, “If you do.”

Great. She was leaving the ball in his court. “I don't break commitments I've made,” he assured her. “I won't be on call on Saturday. How about Saturday night around seven?”

“Saturday night sounds good.”

She sounded as if she might be looking forward to it. To his chagrin, so was he.

 

Her husband was avoiding her.

Lily had been sitting in the living room, reading, when Ryan came in from the barn Tuesday afternoon. His gaze had wavered from hers as he'd told her he was going upstairs to change for a business appointment in San Antonio.

Throwing her magazine on the coffee table, she felt anger rise in her all over again. Business appointment. He had too many of those. Her eyes filled with tears as she thought about Melissa Wilkes hanging all over Ryan at the bachelor auction. Married or not, that girl had her cap set for her husband. It wasn't going to happen.

A little voice inside Lily's head murmured,
Maybe it already has.

After her reunion with Ryan and their marriage, they'd
been closer than they'd ever been in their younger years. But over the past few weeks, he'd become remote, and she didn't know what to do. She'd asked him if something was wrong but as she suspected, he'd insisted there was nothing bothering him. His actions said differently. She wasn't the type of woman to just sit around and let an affair happen.

When Ryan returned to the living room, she asked, “Will you be back for dinner?”

He headed for the front door. “I doubt it. You go ahead without me. I'll see you when I get back.”

A few moments later, Lily heard the heavy front door close.

He'd see her when he got back? After being with someone else? After showing his real feelings to another woman? He hadn't even given her a chance to kiss him goodbye. There was something wrong, whether he would admit it or not.

Pushing aside the magazine she'd been reading, Lily headed for the table in the foyer where she'd left her purse, hurried to the back entrance and ran to the garage. She waited outside by the side of the building until she heard Ryan start up his truck and pull out. Then she went inside the garage into her own SUV, made herself count to twenty and followed him.

As Lily tailed him, Ryan drove to San Antonio—to the east side. She almost lost him a few times, but he was traveling at a steady pace and she found his truck again. Her heart pounded along with the revolution of the tires. As instinct told her he wasn't keeping a business appointment, she hoped she was being paranoid.

Eventually Lily ended up in a development of homes. They were spacious houses with expansive properties. Lagging behind so as not to be noticed, she almost lost her husband as he turned right and then left. Finally, with his turn signal blinking, he drove into a curved, brick-patterned driveway that led to a beautiful two-story brick home.

Lily pulled up across the street under the cover and shade of tall trees and quickly opened her glove compartment, removing small binoculars she used on the ranch to spot wildlife. Now she focused them on the arched doorway of the home. As she feared, a woman opened the door—a woman who appeared to be in her early thirties, a woman with long, straight blond hair, a woman who was very sleek in jeans and very beautiful though in Lily's estimation very pale. To Lily's horror and dismay, she not only saw a woman at the door, but a boy with blond bangs who looked to be about ten. He was wearing a soccer uniform and smiling. Ryan enveloped him in a huge hug.

That was all Lily needed to see. Tears welled up in her eyes and she felt as if she couldn't catch her breath. The door of the house closed, and she sat there stunned.

When she felt her tears on her hands, she knew she had to drive away. She knew she had to go back to the Double Crown and figure out what she was going to do.

As she switched on the ignition, thoughts and feelings raced through her so fast she couldn't catch hold of them. All she knew was that her heart hurt and nothing would ever be the same again.

 

The Riverwalk was a San Antonio experience and a happening place, especially on a Saturday night. In a casual blouse and slacks, Violet strolled beside Peter wishing away the awkwardness between them. When he'd picked her up at the pool house, she'd caught a glimpse of Miles watching her from the back of the big house. Both he and Clyde knew this was her auction date and had teased her unmercifully. Jessica, on the other hand, had wanted to know if she'd seen Peter at the hospital when she returned from visiting Celeste.

The truth was, Violet hadn't seen Peter since the afternoon
after Celeste's surgery. He couldn't be avoiding her because she never went to the hospital at exactly the same time. Yet tonight they seemed to have a wall between them and she didn't know how to tear it down.

“It's a nice night,” he commented, breaking the silence as they strolled along the gray cobblestone path.

The aroma of grilled onions and steaks, fried seafood and garlic filled the air along with the sound of the horn from a flatbed water taxi, people talking, the drone of a plane overhead.

Violet glanced at Peter. He looked handsome and strong and virile in khaki slacks, and a black-and-tan-striped Henley shirt. “It would be nicer if I didn't feel as if I were on a forced date with you,” she said honestly, hoping to clear the air.

Stopping, he looked at her and a wry smile tilted his lips. “Aah. I thought I was the only one feeling that.”

“I wanted to come tonight, Peter. I just wish we could be friends instead of…opponents. We should be on the same side, not different ones.”

After a long, silent moment, he said, “I found a hospital in New York City that has openings in its clinical trials. If Ryan qualifies, he could get a spot.”

“And if he doesn't
want
to qualify?” she challenged him.

There was a bench under one of the oaks. Peter took her arm and led her in that direction, sitting down beside her. “I mean to convince him to look at possibilities.”

“Sometimes even doctors have to bow to the inevitable.”

“Maybe so. But I can tell you, even an extra week is important to loved ones who are left behind.”

That opened the door and Violet walked in. “Your family was left by your mother. Is that why you're so determined?”

“You're damned straight, that's why. My mother was the personification of a life well lived. She couldn't do enough
for others. Her family came first, including the foster kids, but that wasn't all. She volunteered at the thrift shop and helped in the soup kitchen. In the world's terms, I guess she wasn't successful, but in humanitarian terms, she was damn near perfect.”

“What happened to her?”

“It doesn't matter,” Peter muttered, looking across the walk at a storefront.

“I think it does.” She rested her hand on his arm. “Please tell me.”

His gaze returned to hers then and something passed between them—something she could feel deep down inside, something she'd never felt before in talking to a man. Removing her hand from his arm, she placed it in her lap and waited.

“She had a couple of dizzy spells. The doctors prescribed tests and we learned she had a brain tumor. Three months later, she was gone. The explanation that she'd gone to heaven just didn't cut it. We were still trying to wrap our minds around that when less than a year later Dad remarried.”

“That
was
fast.” Violet could hear the flat disapproval that she sensed Peter was trying to let go of.

“It was too fast for me. Linda and Stacey seemed to cope better, maybe because they were girls and needed a mother. I didn't need a replacement. I needed to keep the memories alive of the one I'd had. By marrying that quickly, Dad seemed to be making a statement that life moved on and Mom hadn't been important.”

“I'm sure he didn't feel that way.”

“No. He and I talked about it later. Before I went to college, we had one of those father-son chats that both guys dread. He talked a lot more than I did. I guess he sensed that I might go off and not come back.”

“Could that have happened?”

Now Peter studied the people strolling along the Riverwalk. “No. I cared about Stacey and Linda and the other kids too much. And I did love my father. I just hadn't agreed with what he'd done. He explained that Charlene had come along at just the right time. He admitted that after Mom died, he felt totally lost and out of his depth and he needed someone to help with all of us. We had two foster kids living with us—Jamie and Carla—who were both younger than Linda. Charlene stepped in and took over, but it just didn't feel right. Jamie and Carla were with us about another year—Jamie went back to his mother and Carla was actually adopted. After that, Charlene and Dad didn't take in more kids. I bet fifteen kids went through our lives when Mom was living.”

“Not every woman can be a mother to all kids.”

“I realized that even then. And I know Charlene stepped in with three strikes against her as far as I was concerned. But to me, she just never measured up.”

“And now?”

“She's made my dad happy. She's friends with Linda and Stacey and they call her often. She and I respect each other, but we keep our distance. That's the way it's always going to be.”

“And you became a neurosurgeon so patients didn't die of brain tumors.”

“Something like that.”

After he stood, he brought the personal conversation to an end. “Now you have the history of Peter Clark and why I believe Ryan should take a chance on living.”

Rising to her feet beside him, she looked up at him. “I agree with you in theory. I do. But we aren't in Ryan's shoes and he just wants to make the most of the time he does have.”

With a slight shake of his head, Peter gave her a wry smile. “I guess if we want to enjoy tonight, we're going to have to just agree to disagree.”

“I can do that,” she decided.

He motioned down the Riverwalk, lined with outdoor seating and colorful umbrellas. “Good, then let me take you to my favorite restaurant. It serves the best pasta-and-lobster dish I've ever eaten.”

An hour and a half later, Violet dabbed her mouth with her napkin after putting down her dessert fork, then smiled at Peter. “You were right. That's the best meal I've ever eaten. And the cheesecake was delicious. Do you think the chef would give me his recipes?”

Peter chuckled. “For a price.”

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