Prognosis: Romance. GINA WILKINS
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the remarks were less enthusiastic. And that frustrated him to no end.
His conversational abilities were fine. Having grown up in an academic household, he could express himself clearly, easily explain even the most complicated terms and hold his own in a debate. Spending time with his study-group friends the past three years had taught him more about making small talk and lightening tense moments with a smile and a quip—things he hadn’t learned from his intensely serious parents.
While it had been made clear from the beginning that physicians had to maintain a professional distance, and while some specialties required less personal interaction than others, James was primarily interested in the pediatric infectious disease practice. With his strong academic and research background in microbiology, he believed he had much to offer to the field. Yet dealing with the emotions of patients and their worried parents was very much a part of that specialty and James wondered sometimes if he’d ever master that particular skill.
It wasn’t that he didn’t care about the ailing children. Obviously he did, or he wouldn’t even consider dedicating the rest of his life to curing them. Nor was he hardened to the emotional toll a child’s illness took on the rest of the family. He always felt as if he was saying the right things, behaving as the situation required—and yet he still kept getting those vaguely worded evaluations about how he needed to work on his communication skills.
He was growing increasingly frustrated with that situation. How was he to maintain a professional distance and still empathize with the patients? How did one learn to express the optimum mixture of competency and compassion? If only there were some formula to memorize or some protocol to learn, he’d have no problem, but this was an intuitive, indefinable quality he wasn’t sure he possessed.
Obviously, he’d been less than successful in communicating with Shannon Gambill, he thought glumly, making a note in a patient chart before completing his duties on the last Thursday of his Acting Internship. He’d thought he’d been friendly and pleasant, just persistent enough to make his interest clear. Shannon had seen his behavior differently.
You make me nervous, James.
He still winced when he remembered those words. Apparently he’d come on too strong or too…something. It had certainly never been his intention to make her uncomfortable.
He supposed he really was lousy at this communication thing.
“Hey, James, how’s it going?”
Looking up from the chart in response to the greeting, James smiled at the slightly rumpled, sandy-haired medical student approaching from the end of the hallway. “Hi, Ron. I’m doing well, how about you?”
His friend Ron Gibson was also completing an AI in pediatrics, though Ron was assigned to pediatric oncology and hematology, or pedi hem-onc in medical jargon. Twenty-eight-year-old Ron had become one of James’s two closest male friends since they’d joined the same five-person study group in the first semester of their freshman year of medical school. Charming, laid-back and affable, Ron had struggled a bit during the first two years of classwork and exams, but he excelled in clinical practice, becoming an instant favorite with the very sick children he wanted to spend his career treating.
Ron seemed to have no problem at all communicating, James thought a bit glumly as he dropped the patient chart into the wall-mounted holder outside the hospital room. “What are you doing on this wing?”
“Looking for you. Haley, Connor and I are meeting for dinner this evening. Connor’s at loose ends tonight because Mia and Alexis are doing something girly and he thought it would be a good time to catch up. Want to join us?”
James didn’t even have to think about it. “Sure. What time?”
Moving to the next room on his assigned patients’ list after Ron went back to his own duties, James drew a deep breath as he picked up the chart and flipped through it. He pasted on a smile before entering, trying to add a little of Ron’s natural warmth to the expression.
It came so easily to Ron—why did James have to work so hard at it, when all he wanted to do was help his patients?
The Italian restaurant where the group had decided to meet was surprisingly busy for a Thursday evening. Looking for his friends, James entered past a crowd waiting for tables in the lobby. He wasn’t in the greatest of moods after his tiring day. It didn’t help that this restaurant was on the same street as the toy store where Shannon worked—as if he had needed that reminder.
Still, he looked forward to visiting for a little while with Connor and Ron and Haley. It was so rare for them to get together now that they were all on such different schedules. He’d miss seeing Anne, the only remaining member of the original study group, but since Ron hadn’t mentioned her joining them, he assumed she’d had other obligations.
A slightly harried-looking hostess gave him a vague smile when he approached. “How many, sir?”
“Actually, I’m meeting some people here. I don’t know if they’re here yet… Oh, there they are.” Never shy about calling attention to himself, Ron stood at a table across the busy dining room, waving his arms to get James’s attention.
Even though it was still five minutes before the agreed-upon meeting time, James was the last to arrive. He took the chair next to Connor, across the table from Ron and Haley.
Thirty-four-year-old Connor Hayes was the senior member of the group, having taught and coached for a few years before entering med school. James remembered how tough that first semester had been for his friend. Only a couple of months into his training, Connor had become fully responsible for the then-six-year-old daughter whose existence had been a secret to him before that time. Had it not been for his friend Mia, now his wife of just over two years, who had stepped forward to help him with Alexis, Connor might well have had to drop out of medical school in his first year.
Which would have been a shame, James thought, because there was such a shortage of primary-care doctors, which was what Connor wanted to practice. Connor would be an excellent family practitioner.
James looked curiously around the full dining room. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen it so busy here. Especially on a weeknight.”
Ron chuckled. “You don’t even know it’s half-price lasagna night, do you?”
“Is it?” James shrugged, now comprehending the restaurant’s popularity. “I guess that explains it. Maybe I’ve just never been here on a Thursday before.”
“Like you’d ever have to wait in line to save a few bucks on some pasta,” Ron joked.
“I appreciate a bargain as much as the next guy,” James assured him, taking no offense at the teasing. Ron joked with everyone. James had figured out long ago that it was never intended mean-spiritedly. Ron just liked laughing and encouraging people to laugh with him.
Like the others, James ordered the lasagna. He was well aware his friends were all on limited budgets as they completed medical school on student loans. He would’ve offered to pick up the check, but he’d tried that a couple of times early on and his friends had made it politely, but firmly, clear that they paid their own ways.
He’d always been very careful not to make an issue of his good fortune—after all, it wasn’t as if he’d earned the money himself. He just happened to have been born into a wealthy family, which was nothing more than the luck of the draw as far as he was concerned. He had long since realized how true it was that money couldn’t buy happiness. Or true friendship.
“Here’s to tomorrow, the last day of the current rotation,” Ron said, holding up his water glass. “One day closer to graduation.”
Laughing, they joined in the toast with sips of water.
They chatted about their experiences during the past month’s rotations, swapping amusing anecdotes and sharing tidbits they had learned. They were starting a new block the following week and that gave them something to discuss, as well. In addition, all of them would be spending time during the next few months doing