Tortured by Her Touch. Dianne Drake
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candidate.”
“But?”
“But I don’t want this clinic turning out a whole battalion of you. And I’m afraid that’s what you’re going to do.”
“In other words, you don’t believe I have the ability to separate my personal from my professional life. So tell me, are you able to do that? Do you never take your work home with you or bring your personal life to work?”
“Most days I’m good,” Lewis said.
“And most days, I will be, too. All I’ve got is my word. I know I’ve got some attitude adjustments to make still, but that could also be a strength in helping my patients, in making them understand how they’re not the only ones. So, on the spot?” He held out a confident hand to shake with Dr. Lewis.
Lewis took in a deep breath, let it out slowly, and extended his hand to Marc. “On the spot, but it’s a probationary spot. Three months to start with, then a reevaluation.”
“That’s all I can ask for,” Marc said. “Thank you.”
“I’m warning you, Rousseau, when you’re on my time you’re a rehab doctor, nothing more, nothing less. Do you understand me?”
Marc nodded. “So I’m assuming my office is more accessible than yours because this one is too small for good maneuverability?” Inwardly, he was pleased by the offer. Now all he had to do was see if it was a match made in heaven or hell.
Anne Sebastian looked out her window at the gardens stretching as far as she could see. But it wasn’t the garden she was seeing. In fact, she was seeing red! “Seriously, you hired him to head physical rehab?”
Jason Lewis shrugged. “He has the qualifications we need.”
“And an attitude that precedes him. I have a friend at Mercy who said—”
“He’ll adjust,” Jason interrupted. “In spite of what you’ve heard, he’ll fall into our routine nicely.”
“And if he doesn’t?” she asked, too perplexed to turn around to confront her brother-in-law.
“Then I’ll fire him, the way I would any other staff member who becomes a detriment to the facility or its patients.”
She spun around. “No, you won’t. It’s not in you to do something like that. Especially since he’s a wounded soldier.”
“Then we’ll just have to keep our fingers crossed he works out, won’t we?”
Anne heaved a dubious sigh. “Hannah married a real softie. You know that, don’t you?”
Jason blushed. “You do know that no one else on my staff talks to me the way you do?”
“Family prerogative. Besides, she’s confined to bed until she delivers, so, as your wife’s twin sister, older by eight minutes, might I remind you, it’s up to me to make sure things are running the way they should.”
Anne was an internist who’d earned an additional PhD in psychology, and turned her medical practice into one that specialized in post-traumatic stress disorder. Her sister, an ear specialist, worked with combat vets who’d suffered hearing loss due to trauma. And Jason was also a radiologist who oversaw all the X-rays generated in his clinic.
Jason overexaggerated a wince. “A daughter. Between you two and her, I’ll never be able to win an argument.”
“Poor Jason,” Anne teased.
“Poor Jason is right. Speaking of which, our new hire, Marc Rousseau …”
“Do we have to talk about the man?”
“Not if you don’t want to. But since your office is going to be close to his, I was hoping you’d show him some consideration.”
“Consideration?” she asked. “If you mean taking him on as a case …”
“Not as a case. As a colleague who, like you, started over. It wasn’t easy for you. Remember? Anyway, he comes with glowing references as a doctor and miserable mentions as a human being. He admits his anger. Almost embraces it. But to get his skills, we take the whole package. That’s all there is. Promise. No underhanded scheme to try and fix him or anything like that. Just be his friend. Make him aware that he’s welcome here.”
“Why did you hire him, Jason, when you’ve got so many doubts?”
“Because he can unquestionably do the job. That’s my first consideration. And I’m also thinking that he’s one of the soldiers who got overlooked in the process. It happens every day, Anne, and you know that better than anybody else. We get the worst ones, the ones who can’t function, for whatever reason. With one in every eight soldiers suffering from PTSD and only about thirty percent of those ever getting help, the rest are living in a personal hell.
“They could benefit from what we do here, and I happen to think Marc Rousseau might be great at spotting troubling issues others have missed. He’s perceptive.” He raised teasing eyebrows. “And who better to put a man in his place if he needs it than you?”
She winced. “All it takes is a bad marriage. Want to hear my opinions on that?”
Jason smiled sympathetically. “Ah, Bill. The vanquished husband. I could go beat him up if that makes you feel any better.”
“I’m sounding like the one with the rotten attitude, aren’t I?”
“You’ve been through your share of misery.”
“And come through it wiser than I was.”
“Look, I know the divorce was tough, but you never let it affect your work when you were going through the various aspects of it. I gave you the benefit of the doubt and hired you pretty much untested in PTSD because I believed in you, and I’d hope you’d do the same for Marc. Give him the same chance I gave you.”
“Tough divorce is an understatement. It was devastating, discovering how many times Bill cheated on me when I was overseas.”
“And you’re better off being rid of him.”
“I am, but still …” She shrugged. “Look, I know Rousseau by the reputation that precedes him, but I wouldn’t recognize him if he walked right by me, and I’m still a little on edge.”
“Then you don’t know?” Jason frowned. “I’d assumed since you knew he was a returning wounded soldier …”
“Know what?”
“Marc Rousseau is a paraplegic. Incomplete, lower injury. Full sensation, but not enough muscle recovery to get his legs back under him.”
Anne’s eyes widened. “Bad attitude and disabled?”
“Well, for sure, if you can survive working with him, you’ll regain some of the self-confidence you lost in the divorce mess. But the man is worth saving because he’s a damned good doctor and I want him to work out here, Anne. We need him as much as he needs us. So, besides your self-confidence, I’ll give you a trophy or something for enduring him.”
“Damn the disability …”
Jason laughed. “It gets you in the soft spot every time, doesn’t it?”
“How did it happen?”
“He was a medic, got hit by shrapnel … nails, wire, that kind of stuff … from an IED. Was a pretty bad injury, touch and go for a while. But luckily—if you can call anything about it lucky—his injury could have been worse. He’s pretty independent. In fact, the only thing he can’t do is walk.”
“And that’s not going to happen?”
Jason shook his head. “He’s in the chair for the count.”
“With a lot of anger issues you’re attributing to PTSD.”
“He