The Surgeon's Baby Bombshell. Deanne Anders
Guidry had been on the staff here since he had started in practice. Now white-haired, and a little round about the middle, the man led his staff with a firm but gentle hand, and with his top concern always for the care of the patient.
Ian admired the man, and had always found him easy to work with. He actually found it easy to work with all the staff here—the only exception being this psychiatrist who was hounding him right now. He couldn’t say what it was about her that sent him running whenever she came around, but his fight-or-flight instinct always kicked in, sending him hurrying away from her.
“Good morning.”
He and Dr. Wentworth replied at the same time, then looked at each other. He wondered if she knew just how forced the smile on her face looked.
“Am I interrupting anything?” the older man asked, and then gave the two of them a disapproving look, letting them both know that he had witnessed at least part of their conversation.
Ian knew that one of the man’s strictest rules for his staff was that there must be no confrontations between them. His expectations were high, but they all tried to meet them.
Now, after the trouble Lydia had caused for him in Atlanta, Ian tried especially hard to avoid any trouble, and for the two and a half years he’d been here he’d had no problems with Richard Guidry. It would be the department’s resident shrink that got him in trouble.
“We were just trying to set a time when we can get together to discuss a mutual patient,” Ian said, then looked over at Dr. Wentworth, aiming for a smile that would at least look less painful than the one she wore. “Isn’t that right, Dr. Wentworth?”
The woman gave him a look that started out as disapproving and then turned sly as she tilted her head and smiled up at him.
“That’s right, Dr. Guidry. Ian was just agreeing with me that we need to get together today to discuss this patient. Your office this afternoon around five, right?” she asked. “I’ll see you then.”
She walked off before giving him an opportunity to reply, leaving him with no doubt that he had just been outmaneuvered.
“I’m glad to see that y’all are working so well together,” Dr. Guidry said as he turned back to Ian. “Frannie’s an excellent psychiatrist, and she’s very passionate about the work she’s doing here on the pediatric floor. I wouldn’t want there to be any issues between the two of you”
The man gave Ian a pat on the back, then continued on his way down the hall. Ian had no doubt that their performance hadn’t fooled the older doctor—the man was too sharp for that—so he would have no choice but to meet the psychiatrist as he had agreed. Which was the last thing he wanted to do.
IAN FINISHED HIS NOTES for the monthly department heads’ meeting scheduled for the next day. He’d hoped to be setting up the education on new robotic equipment in the OR by next month, but the cost of the newest model had increased above his approved budgeted amount, and now he was stuck with going back to ask the finance board for more money.
He ran his hands through his hair and stood. It was ridiculous that he was continually having his hands tied by upper management, who wouldn’t know a scalpel from a pair of forceps. The new equipment would help cut down on the invasiveness of so many surgeries—which in turn would decrease recovery time and complications. It shouldn’t have to be so hard to get the tools his team needed to take better care of their patients. How was he supposed to operate his department like this?
Ian opened the drawer in his desk and pulled out a pamphlet on the new equipment. The advances they had made in robotic surgery had quickly made their current equipment outdated. He knew the city had struggled for years after Hurricane Katrina to replace the older equipment, and this would be a big start in that direction if he could only get the budget increase he needed.
Under the pamphlet he spotted the unopened letter he had received from his ex-wife weeks before. The plain white envelope glared up at him. It sat there accusing him, as Lydia had, of being cold, heartless and uncaring. He feared the envelope contained more of the hurtful words she’d spat at him in front of their counselor. Words that had cut him to the bone and severed any feelings he’d had for her. Had Lydia always been that cruel? That heartless? They’d had problems, sure—what couple didn’t?—but he would never have guessed that the woman he’d loved since high school could turn on him that way.
But then, hadn’t he deserved it? At least some of it? Like she said, if he’d been at home maybe he would have been able to save his son. He glared at the envelope and slammed the drawer shut. No, he would not be dragged back to that pit of hell where he’d lived after the loss of his son.
He looked down to his watch. There were only minutes before his meeting with Dr. Wentworth and he was determined not to show any of his weaknesses. The last thing he needed was the woman with those soul-searching eyes of hers trying to pry into his personal life.
Picking up the phone, he made a call to the robotic medical equipment company, to check once more on the new prices, while he forced the pain back down deep inside his chest where he kept it hidden.
* * *
Frannie stood against the wall outside Ian’s office. She knew he was in there. She could hear him moving around his desk and papers being shuffled. She knocked on the door and waited for an answer while she fought her instinct to run. This was going to be a disaster—especially after the way she’d tricked him into meeting with her.
Hearing a bark ordering her to enter, she opened the door.
“Ian, thanks for meeting with me,” she said as she entered the room.
She’d never gotten the nerve before to seek Ian out in his office. At least now she’d have him cornered. He had no choice but to talk to her.
Sitting behind his desk, the man looked even more powerful, and the hospital-issue furniture seemed dwarfed by his size. Watching as he looked up at her with eyes that flared with impatience, she caught herself taking a step back.
No, he wasn’t going to scare her off this time. Squaring her shoulders, she forced her chin up and held her ground. This man was not going to ignore her again.
“I know we’ve both been busy, but I would really like to talk to you about some of the progress I’ve been seeing with your patients this week.”
Ian leaned back in his chair and gave her his usual uninterested stare. It was as if the man looked straight through her—as if he couldn’t stand to look her in the eye. Or was scared to.
“Is Danny Owens eating?” he asked.
She’d checked on the teenager during her afternoon rounds and knew Ian wasn’t going to like her answer. While Danny’s nurse had reported that he had eaten a few bites of his lunch, his appetite was still far from what it should be for a growing teenage boy. Frannie had an idea that until his girlfriend started making some progress toward recovery they wouldn’t see a lot of change in his appetite—but he had started to talk to her and his parents now, so at least she had begun to see some improvement.
“Some, but not enough. He’s not eating like he needs to.”
The pointed look he gave her told her the conversation was over as far as he was concerned. But if he thought she was going to be that easy to get rid of he’d underestimated her. They needed to get everything out in the open. No more tiptoeing around Dr. Spencer and his issues. If she was going to work with the man they needed to do it now.
“Exactly what is it, Dr. Spencer, that you don’t like about me? Is it that the board chose to fund my program without your approval? Or is it something more personal?”
She wanted the truth. If she could take it.
“There is nothing ‘personal’ between us,