“I kind of thought you might end up being the doctor who is seeing to Dante Sinclair’s injuries when he gets here.” Elsie raised an eyebrow with a sly look on her face. “It’s not like we have very many doctors here.”
Sarah shook her head, focusing her attention on her patient. “Even if I was his doctor, Elsie, I couldn’t tell you. Patient confidentiality.” And thank God for that. Being a doctor gave Sarah a good excuse to clam up when Elsie asked any questions about other residents.
“So are you saying you are going to be this Dante Sinclair’s doctor?” Elsie said shrewdly, shooting Sarah a calculating stare. “But you can’t tell me because of medical ethics?”
“No. I didn’t say that at all.” Elsie wasn’t trapping her into admitting anything. “I was just reminding you that no physician can gossip about any of their patients,” Sarah said firmly, knowing if she gave Elsie an inch, she was likely to take way more than a mile. The determined elderly woman would drag her across the whole country to get an answer.
“He’s very rich, you know. Single and a hero. He threw himself in front of his partner to try to save his life, and killed the shooter so no one else got hurt. He’d be a good one for you, honey,” Elsie told her thoughtfully. “Beatrice and I were just talking about you two this morning.”
Oh, God. Just the thought of Elsie talking to Beatrice Gardener about her destiny was a terrifying thought for Sarah. Beatrice was the second-biggest gossip in Amesport and considered herself the town matchmaker. Around the same age, the two women were absolutely lethal together. “I’m not looking for a man,” she told the older woman hurriedly, her voice almost desperate.
Elsie opened her mouth to argue, but there was a tap on the door before she could say whatever it was she wanted to say.
“Come in,” Sarah called eagerly. Please, please come in.
Kristin, her cheerful, redheaded office manager and medical assistant, popped her head in the door. “All ready to get your blood work, Elsie.” Kristin opened the door completely and motioned for Elsie to come with her.
“Thank you,” Sarah mouthed silently to Kristin as Elsie’s lips turned down in an irritated frown. Elsie was obviously unhappy that she hadn’t achieved her objective but started heading reluctantly toward the door. Sarah called out to Elsie, “Have a good day. I’ll see you again in a few weeks to go over your blood tests.”
“Remember what I said,” Elsie called over her dainty shoulder. “Beatrice and I are rarely wrong. You two are perfect for each other. Beatrice is having one of her hunches about you two.”
“Okay,” Sarah answered weakly, breathing a sigh of relief as Elsie exited. Kristin shot her a knowing wink as she closed the door, leaving Sarah blissfully alone.
Thank God.
It wasn’t that Sarah didn’t like her patients, and most of the time she could have a lively conversation with Elsie about other things that didn’t revolve around the Amesport gossip. But her patient had definitely been on an information mission today, and Sarah had been afraid she’d inadvertently give away something in her expression because she was a lousy liar. In fact, she sucked at it.
Probably because I never really had any friends to lie to before I came here.
She’d never had any need or reason to lie. When one dealt with scientific data, lying was generally unnecessary.
Dante Sinclair was going to be her patient. She’d already studied all of his medical records, knew he was flying in today from Los Angeles. She’d spoken with his attending physician at length and his department psychologist as well. Last night she’d studied his injuries and read his history, poring over all of the notes on both his medical condition and the incident that had gotten him injured in the first place.
He lost his partner. It had to have been a horrific experience for him. Yet he was still able to kill a serial killer, even after he’d been hit several times. And he did it while shielding his partner, who had already taken a fatal hit.
Sarah couldn’t deny that Dante Sinclair was a hero, but judging by some of the psychological records, he wasn’t taking the death of his partner well and was exhibiting some self-destructive behavior.
Survivor’s guilt.
Even though Sarah wasn’t a psychologist, and honestly didn’t completely understand emotional behavior herself, it made sense to her in a rather convoluted way.
Survivor’s guilt is a mental condition that occurs when a person perceives themselves to have done wrong by surviving a traumatic event when others did not.