It was the best offer she’d had all morning. “I guess that would be alright,” she conceded.
She allowed him to check her pulse, listen to her heart, take her temperature and blood pressure. He had a very gentle touch – much nicer than Nurse Nancy’s. A little too nice, in fact. Mary felt the color rising in her cheeks when he checked her incisions. Thankfully, either he didn’t notice or he was too polite to say anything. She figured it was probably the latter. Any doc that looked like that had to be used to eliciting all kinds of involuntary responses from his female patients.
“Okay, Mary. Your incisions look good, but I’m going to give you some antibiotic cream to apply several times a day, alright? No showers for three days, but it’s okay to sit waist deep in a tub and use a sponge carefully.”
“You’re letting me go?”
“Yep,” he said, reaching into his pocket. He tossed the small packet of saltines on the bed tray. Then he reached into the other pocket and pulled out a small container of apple juice. “As soon as you eat those crackers and drink that juice.”
Mary narrowed her eyes at him. “If I throw up, I’m aiming right at you.”
“Duly noted.” He laughed. Mary found it was a lot harder to cop an attitude with him than with any of the others.
Thankfully, Mary managed to hold down the crackers and the juice. Michael went to grab the necessary papers while she got dressed. By the time he returned, she was feeling a little better.
True to his word, Michael did indeed push her wheelchair all the way down to the lobby. “Vicki tells me you refused chemo.”
“Vicki?”
“Sorry. Dr. Whitney.”
“Um, yeah.”
“Can I ask why?”
“I watched my husband suffer for five years, Dr. Callaghan,” she said quietly. “I think it would have been kinder to just let him go. I don’t want that.”
“What about the people who care about you, Mary? The ones you’d be leaving behind? Have you discussed this with them?”
Mary thought about her mother in Florida. Cat Murphy had been unable to deal with her husband’s illness, there was no way she would be able to handle Mary’s. There was Andrew, who would probably give her a good talking to, but he’d understand. And Max. Max would be crushed if anything happened to her, but he was probably the only one.
“No,” she whispered.
“Hmmm,” he hummed. She half expected him to argue with her, but he didn’t. Even more amazingly, he didn’t seem upset or disappointed by her choice. “Here we are. I wish you the best of luck, Mary.”
“Thanks, Dr. Callaghan,” Mary said sincerely. He was the first person to treat her as if she had the right to make the choices that would affect her own life.
“You’re welcome. Is there someone at home who can help you out for the next few days?”
Mary bit her lip, thinking about Max. “Yeah.”
“Dogs don’t count, Mary.” Her eyes widened and before she could ask if he was psychic, Michael laughed again, the sound deep and rich. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. You’ve really got to meet my Maggie sometime.”
“I’ll be okay, Doc.”
“Yeah, I think you will,” Michael said, his eyes intent on something just outside the lobby doors. The object of his attention became clear a minute later.
Aidan breezed through the lobby as if he owned the place. “Hey beautiful,” he said easily, leaning down to kiss Mary on the cheek. “You ready to go?”
Mary looked at Aidan in shock. “What are you doing here?”
“Didn’t Michael tell you? I’m your ride, baby.”
Mary looked at Michael, pinning him with as fierce a glare as she could muster. “No. He forgot to mention that.” Unfazed, he grinned unrepentantly.
“How’s she doing?” Aidan asked Michael over her head.
“She’s as stubborn as Maggie,” Michael said. “She’ll be just fine.”
“Tell me something I don’t know. Thanks, Michael. I owe you one.”
“My pleasure, Aidan. Nice meeting you, Mary,” he said with a wink.
Mary was a little unsteady when she got up out of the wheelchair. Aidan was beside her, keeping her from falling over. She grabbed on to his arm, wishing she didn’t have to but seeing it as the lesser of two evils. Feeling the strong, warm strength beneath her hands was preferable to taking a header at the main entrance and being forcibly carried back in.
“Thanks,” she said quietly. She was too worn out to summon enough pride not to. Her brief but exhausting battle with Nurse Nancy had sapped the last of her sass. Humility and gratitude came much easier to her than grudges and sarcasm, anyway.
Aidan seemed pleasantly surprised, as if he’d expected more of a fight. “You’re very welcome,” he replied.