conversations and he who had given curt replies? Maybe his nose wasn’t all that had changed.
Having a sudden need to move away from him, she reached for the intercom and asked the receptionist to send the first patient in for halter monitor application. While she waited, she continued to avoid his gaze by pretending to read the patient’s chart. She couldn’t decipher a single word.
“Hello, Mrs. Drake.” Amanda stood and gestured for the patient to sit at the chair in front of her desk. “Are you ready to wear the halter all night?”
“Will it get really irritating when I try to sleep?”
“Maybe a little, but you’ll survive.”
“Okay, I’ll give it a shot,” the round, middle-aged lady replied cheerfully.
Amanda assisted the woman by applying the EKG leads after the patient had opened her blouse. She removed the monitor from its portable pocket and unwrapped the wires, before connecting it to the leads on Mrs. Drake, then she put the device back into its halter pocket for easy traveling. She’d analyze the findings tomorrow, along with all of the others.
Demonstrating his somewhat improved caregiver skills, Hunter removed Sophie’s bottle of formula from the portable bottle warmer—which Mandy had helped him set up—and checked the contents for heat level on the inside of his wrist, as previously instructed by Mandy, before giving it to his niece. Amanda tried her best not to notice, but the office was so small.
While she received her next patient, and the baby gulped her meal, he quietly packed up all of his paraphernalia, picked up Sophie, and left the clinic without so much as a nod or a goodbye.
Amanda refused to be affected. Would she expect anything more from any other colleague? After all, she’d been busy with a patient. If Dr. Beiderman had become her mentor and had left without saying goodbye, would she feel slighted? Not at all. Business associates had schedules to keep regardless of social niceties. That was the frame of mind she must keep while dealing with Hunter—strictly professional.
So what was this empty feeling settling into the center of her chest? And why did the office seem so dead and lifeless now?
She shook her head, refusing to go down that old and familiar road. Instead, she decided that if she were going to survive the Mending Hearts Club program, she’d need rules. Rules to keep things in perspective. She called for her next patient and while she waited scribbled a short list, just like she used to do. She planned to run it by Hunter tomorrow.
Hunter tossed his briefcase on his desk, slid into the cushy leather chair and rubbed his neck. The freeway drive back to Mercy Hospital had been bumper to bumper, and Sophie had wailed most of the way. This time music hadn’t calmed her down. He felt the tension right…there. Ah.
Thankfully Sophie had slept for the last part of the drive, but how long would she tolerate being cooped up in her car seat on a daily basis? And when he was finally able to contact Jade, how would he explain his three-hour round-trip commute? She would not approve.
If there’d been any way to avoid taking on his niece, he would have suggested it. But Jade would never have considered leaving her baby with their mother, and Hunter would never expect her to. He ground his teeth, wishing Jade had at least one girlfriend she trusted as much as him.
For now his medical assistant, Maria, a short, plump woman with a gentle spirit, a contagious smile and a penchant for babies, had Sophie at her workstation while he prepared for his jam-packed afternoon clinic. He’d never be able to thank her enough. She bounced the baby on her knee until Hunter heard his niece’s hearty belly laugh. It should have made him smile.
He bored a hole into the dark mahogany wood with his stare while he rubbed his temples and tried not to think about Mandy.
The commute had zapped his energy, too. Instinctively he reached for his earphones and plugged them in. He’d listen to Wagner’s Ride of the Valkyries for a quick boost of energy.
Three months ago he’d taken Jade to music therapy for her depression. It hadn’t helped her one iota, but through music he’d gotten in touch with his deepest feelings and, though shocking at first, had discovered his true gifts as a doctor.
The music therapy instructor had said he was a wounded healer, intuitive and caring. Yeah, he’d thought, with a wry smile, next he’d be reading his horoscope. Truth was, with the help of carefully chosen music, he’d noticed he could change Sophie’s moods as much as his own. And if he could calm a baby down with music, wouldn’t daily music and relaxation be beneficial for the heart study patients, too? He wondered if it might have helped his father.
Already Mandy’s project mattered to him. He wanted to be useful, not a distraction for her. Maybe if she could put the past aside and see how sincere he was in wanting to help, they could pull this project off. But if their being thrown together felt one- tenth as hard for her as it did for him, he knew it wouldn’t be easy.
Maria tapped on his door and, with Sophie contentedly resting on her hip, handed him his first afternoon appointment chart. She should be getting double salary for helping out, but after today he’d be out of the clinic until the Mending Hearts Club study was over, and she’d be working for Dr. Jimenez.
Fifteen minutes later, Hunter palpated his patient’s left lower quadrant and determined that he no longer had tenderness from his diverticulitis flare-up. Last week the same patient had been doubled over in pain and begging to be hospitalized. A forty- eight-hour clear liquid diet and two different antibiotics had helped his condition miraculously in one short week.
He glanced at the patient’s wife. She’d accompanied her husband last week for the visit, but Hunter had been totally preoccupied with his sick patient. He squinted, and looked at her again.
“Are you aware your thyroid is enlarged?” Why hadn’t he noticed that slight asymmetry before?
Her hand flew to her neck, as if to check for herself.
“You can get dressed now,” Hunter said to the man. “But take every single pill until they’re gone, in order not to have rebound diverticulitis or to develop a drug-resistant strain of infection.”
The patient nodded.
Hunter washed his hands. “Let me take a look,” he said, turning to the wife.
Using his fingertips, he lightly palpated the area overlying her larynx and found a small but firm nodule. “Does this hurt?”
She shook her head, but alarm registered in her stare.
“Swallow?”
She complied. The nodule was fixed to the right lobe of the thyroid.
He felt for nearby enlarged lymph nodes, but didn’t find any. A good sign. “Have you been feeling any different?”
“No.”
“I’m going to order some lab work today, and a thyroid scan as soon as possible.”
“What’s wrong with me?”
“You have a small mass on your thyroid. It could be nothing, but it’s best to check it out. I’ll be out of the clinic for the next few weeks, but my colleague, Dr. Jimenez, will follow up on the lab results. If anything shows up on the scan, I’ll
