see you tomorrow at ten. I’ll be done with rounds by then,” he said as he got into his Range Rover.
“I’ll have the releases you requested ready and the therapy plans, too. ’Bye,” she said and turned without another word.
He jammed the SUV into Drive and gravel spit from his tires.
* * *
AS HELEN, HIS office manager, laid out the medication and instruments he requested, she said, “A doctor who makes house calls? Wait till I tell your other patients, they’ll be lining up.”
“Thank you,” Payson said, giving her an aggravated look.
“Oooh, the Dr. Mac evil eye. I’m so scared,” she said and laughed. “Based on what’s being said in the halls, I’m guessing this has to do with Jessie?” Her voice had gone from joking to aggravated.
“The grapevine is pretty quick,” Payson said. He was irked that he and Jessie were being discussed, but it was a hospital. There was no way to stop the rumors. He needed to stay focused on his final goal: becoming director of pediatrics. It had been made clear to him that moving up at the hospital now depended on the success of the program. He and his team were expected to bring Hope’s Ride into compliance with the hospital’s goals and policies.
“It’s a practical thing,” he explained to Helen. “She’s got to be at a hundred percent if I want to get her program integrated with ours.” He saw Helen start to open her mouth and he looked at her from beneath slightly lowered brows. That one gesture had been known to quiet children in a full tantrum. “She injured her knee saving Alex Suarez. Even you have to agree that examining her is the least I can do as a doctor. I’m sure she doesn’t have very good insurance. Plus, I need to speak with her about the hospital’s requirements.”
“I would guess that there are hundreds of doctors in the greater Phoenix area who would treat her,” Helen said. She straightened the stacks of paper on his desk, her mouth tight and disapproving. Payson imagined it was how a mother would look when her child had acted up. His own mother had always let the nanny or school take care of it when Payson or his brother misbehaved.
“I’ve got to finish up,” Helen said. “My son has a lacrosse game this afternoon.”
When she left, Payson focused on the consult he’d just had and the endless paperwork for his other patients. He knew that, as director of pediatrics, most of his day would be filled with paperwork like this. That was the downside. As he’d told Helen again and again, he could be more effective in helping care for children as director. What he would never admit was that by becoming an administrator and sacrificing what he really loved—performing surgery—he might finally make up for not being able to save the one small life that had mattered more to him than any other.
* * *
JESSIE SAT STIFFLY in her office chair as Payson pressed and poked her knee. She’d only agreed to let him check the joint after he’d refused to continue the evaluation of Hope’s Ride until she let him examine her. She wanted to squirm away but felt stupid because he didn’t seem affected by nearly lying in her lap as he prodded the knee. Her skin prickled with awareness and she ground her teeth against the moan...of pain. Definitely pain.
“When are you going to have this knee replaced?” he asked as he sat back on his heels.
She relaxed a little. “I’m not. At least, not until I’m ninety.”
“You’re dreaming. I’m sure the surgeon told you that this reconstruction was temporary at best. That knee will need to be replaced. Probably sooner rather than later,” Payson said as he put away his instruments and kept his back to her.
“It works fine for what I do now. I just tweaked it helping Alex. Now, can we get started? The kids are waiting for us,” she said. She went to the door, trying hard not to limp.
Payson followed her outdoors, where children were preparing to mount up. The pony, Molly, trotted around the ring, herding stragglers toward the volunteers and caregivers. The hospital observers stood clear of all the commotion. It took a good fifteen minutes to get the children settled and the therapy started. Even so, there were stops for tears and more than one potty break.
“Is this how the program usually operates? I don’t remember observing this sort of chaos previously,” Payson asked.
“More or less. We’re careful to not push the children too hard. They are fairly new to riding. We don’t want to make them hate it before they discover the joy,” Jessie said.
“There definitely needs to be more structure,” he said as he made a notation.
“I understand why you may think that, but I am trained, you know. I’ve found that—”
“I understand that you took, what, a one-year course?” Payson asked without looking up.
He made it sound as if she didn’t know what she was doing, just like when they’d been married.
He went on as he closed his notebook and looked her in the eye. “I wanted to let you know that I had a meeting this morning before I came out here. There are additional concerns about the program and the affiliation.”
“You mean concerns that you brought up. I should have known there was no way you would give the program a fair evaluation.”
“I’m not any more thrilled about this situation than you are. It has been made completely clear to me that to become director of pediatrics, I’ve got to work with you to get this program ready for an affiliation with the hospital.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Jessie, language.”
“I only swear when you’re around.”
“I doubt that,” he said and looked out over the ring. The youngsters rode slowly with big grins on their faces. “I gave a brief report this morning to the committee, and they decided that their involvement needs to be more extensive.”
“Than what? You’re here with who knows how many others. I lost count,” Jessie said.
“I’m going to bottom-line it. The hospital will be overseeing the program while all of the departments do their evaluations and make their recommendations for changes and upgrades to increase efficiency and effectiveness.”
“Payson, please follow me,” Jessie said tightly. She could not have this conversation anywhere near the children because she was going to be yelling and possibly committing murder. When they were fifty feet from the corral, she turned to him. “This is my program. I know I contacted you, but just to ask who I should talk to at the hospital. I never asked for you to take over. You always have to be the one in control, don’t you? You can’t let me do this on my own. It’s just like when we were married. You were always trying to improve things—like telling me I should go to college and diagramming the most economical way to do laundry.”
“Jessie, if I want to be named the director I’ve got to make this program work for the hospital. It’ll be good for you, too. There are a number of departments that are chomping at the bit—pardon the pun—to use your program. It doesn’t hurt that, according to the public relations guy, Hope’s Ride will make the hospital look ‘progressive and forward thinking.’”
