Hot Single Docs: Giving In To Temptation: NYC Angels: Making the Surgeon Smile / NYC Angels: An Explosive Reunion / St Piran's: The Wedding of The Year. Lynne Marshall
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on the following Thursday the case involving Dr. Woods and Rodriguez went public at Angel’s. She read the memo addressed to the hospital staff about a boy named Jamie Kilpatrick and a high-risk neurosurgery that Dr. Woods had recommended to Dr. Rodriguez. One thing stood out beyond everything else: Dr. Rodriguez had valiantly taken full responsibility for the boy’s death.
One major question crossed Polly’s mind. Why would Dr. Rodriguez put his career and reputation on the line to protect Dr. Woods? She didn’t need to think for long. The man was obviously in love with her, just like Janetta had said. Wow, what must it feel like to have someone love you that much?
* * *
That night Polly combed the aisles of her local market, hunting for healthy food. Her routine in the mornings had always been to buy a couple of pieces of fresh fruit from one of the street carts near the hospital. She’d bring a yogurt from home for morning break, then a sandwich for lunch, usually tuna, and eat the second piece of fruit. Now she worried she wasn’t getting enough vitamins. She grabbed a bag of baby spinach, deciding to sauté it with oil and garlic and serve it for dinner over the chicken breast she’d just picked up. Eating for two was a big responsibility, and she wanted her baby to have the best opportunity possible at a healthy start.
Eyeing a package of her favorite cookies, she steered away. This pregnancy business would be harder than anything she’d done in her life, but she was determined to have a successful pregnancy.
The thought of a healthy baby brought back the need to see an obstetrician in the next couple of weeks. With fingers crossed that Dr. Woods would come through for her, she paid for her groceries and headed home.
* * *
John stood over his six-burner state-of-the-art stove, grilling salmon. He’d gutted the old-fashioned kitchen when his parents had sold him their condo at a steal before moving to Florida. Now he had a kitchen that connected to the flow of the house, instead of hidden behind a wall. The 56th Street, near Sutton Place address was perfectly situated for work, plus he had the East River within walking distance whenever he felt like taking a jog. With two bedrooms and baths, a living room, which he’d expanded by breaking down a small third bedroom wall, and the new roomier kitchen, he lived comfortably for a New York City bachelor.
Tri-colored squash sautéed in a small pan and the brown rice steamed in another. He loved to cook and wasn’t shy about letting people know. While cooking, he wondered if Polly was taking good care of herself, and how she might enjoy this meal. Flipping the fish, he realized he didn’t have a clue what she liked to eat beyond cheese pizza. For all he knew, she hated fish.
She was carrying his baby. Every time he thought about it, the breath squeezed from his lungs.
With everything under control dinner-wise, and Polly solidly implanted in his mind, he dug out his cell phone and called a forgotten friend. “Geoff, it’s John.”
The old medical school colleagues went through a required, though brief catch-up time, then John broached the true reason for his call. “I was wondering if you’d do me a favor. One of my ortho nurses just found out she’s pregnant, and she needs a good OB guy. I told her I knew the best. Any chance you could squeeze her in?”
Geoff asked John to hold while he flipped through his calendar and, taking this opportunity, John checked the salmon and veggies, then opened his kitchen catch-all drawer, hunting for a pad of paper and a pen. Soon Geoff was back on the line with an appointment date and time.
“Fantastic. Thanks so much.” He tugged his earlobe. “Oh, by the way, send me the bill.”
By the brief silence on the other end before Geoff agreed, John figured he hadn’t pulled the wool over his old classmate’s eyes. Yes. John Griffin had knocked up a nurse. His nurse. Polly.
* * *
On Friday afternoon Polly was in the middle of hanging intravenous antibiotics for her newest post-op patient when John appeared at her side. Her hand trembled as she placed the small bottle of potent medicine on the hook and opened the drip regulator. She got mad at herself for letting him have that much power over her and hoped he hadn’t noticed. He was in his OR scrubs, having followed the surgical patient back to the ward.
Having already received report from the OR recovery nurse, she knew Emanuel had been in a car accident, had broken his left leg, and needed to have a metal plate and pins to secure his bones back in place.
“I wanted you to have this.” John handed her a small piece of paper.
She stared at it instead of reaching for it, thankful that Emanuel was completely out of it and in a private room so no one else would hear them talk. “What’s that?”
“It’s an appointment with the best OB guy in the city.”
Hesitant to take anything from John, she shook her head. “That’s okay. I’ve got someone else in mind.”
John tugged his ear. “You need to let me be involved in this, too.”
“Why, John? The other day you wanted nothing to do with me or our baby,” she whispered spiritedly over Emanuel. “You wanted to pay me off.” She wanted to sound indignant, but it came out hurt.
“Look, there’s a lot to get used to for both of us. I’m just asking you to give me time.”
She snatched the paper from his fingers. “You think I don’t understand how much we both have to get used to? And as for time, well, you’ve got approximately eight months to work it out.” She glanced at the appointment, next Thursday at four p.m. with a Geoffrey Bernstein. It was perfect for her work schedule, she’d give him that. Then she noticed the address. Park Avenue? “Forget it. I can’t afford this guy.”
“It’s all taken care of.”
It stalled her for a second, but she quickly recovered. “I don’t want your guilt charity.” She handed back the paper but he refused to take it and left, grinding his jaws, without another word.
That afternoon Layla Woods crossed the ward, heading directly for Polly, looking far less confident than usual. Up close, Polly could see she had dark circles under her eyes, as if she’d been on call and hadn’t slept. “I’ve got some information for you.”
“Great. Thank you so much.” Polly glanced around to make sure no one was within hearing distance.
“I’ve been told this guy is the best OB doc in town. The only problem is the wait list is long, and I think he’s pretty pricey.” She handed Polly the paper, and Polly opened it immediately. Dr. Geoffrey Bernstein.
Polly tried not to hide her disappointment because Dr. Woods had gone out of her way to help her out. “I can’t thank you enough. I’ll look into this right away.”
They parted company and Polly watched the petite doctor walk away as a hollow, aching path burrowed through her stomach.
Round one had gone to John. Not only had he found her the most expensive doctor in town, he’d made an appointment for her, too. And he was paying.
As her least favorite Uncle Randolph used to say whenever Polly had resisted her cousin’s baggy hand-me-down clothes: Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
So be it. For the good of her baby she’d take the appointment John had made for her, and because she’d been raised right afterwards she’d swallow her pride and thank him for it.
* * *
Three nights later Polly worked her second double shift. It probably wasn’t a wise move as she still hadn’t recovered from the first sixteen-hour shift, even though she’d had the whole weekend to do it. Now she dragged through another.
The pregnancy had zapped most of her energy. She’d also become aware that other early signs of pregnancy were cropping up. Her breasts were tender, and she wanted to sleep more. And she was hungry. All the time. Maybe she’d be one of those lucky ladies who didn’t get morning sickness, but it was still very early along.
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