Maggie had packed a pair of jeans to wear on the drive home but instead she showered, blew out her hair and put on her dress, the one she had worn to court. She knew it would please Phoebe. She called her mother and asked if they could meet at her club for brunch because she wanted to talk.
While Cal made breakfast, she checked her email. She thought there might be a couple—word travels fast in hospitals. “Holy shit,” she said. There were over fifty!
“What do they say?” he asked.
“Mostly congratulations, I think. It’s going to take me forever to read through them. I had no idea people were paying this much attention. People didn’t say much. Just things like good luck and it’ll be okay and tough break, Maggie—that sort of thing.”
“All doctors probably relate,” he said. “If you didn’t express a need to talk about it, they probably didn’t want to pry too much.”
“Would I have heard from them if I’d been beaten to a pulp instead?”
“How will you ever know?” he countered.
Maggie couldn’t help her doubts. Do they really like me? Respect me? Or only like and respect me if I win?
They ate a quick breakfast, Cal washed up the dishes while she read through email after email, then he quickly got out of her hair so she could read and answer as many as possible before it was time to drive to Golden.
There was one from Andrew.
Maggie, love. You’ve been on my mind since the day I last saw you. Before that, to tell the truth. I don’t blame you if you’re still angry with me—that was a stupid ass thing for me to do, telling you I couldn’t take it anymore, rejecting the idea of our baby. So now I hear the suit is over and your life can get back to some resemblance to normal, as much as lives like ours can. I just want you to know—I’m not over you. I’m sorry. I’m filled with regrets. I miss you and I’d do just about anything to have another chance. We can even revisit the idea of a child, the little matter that had us at each other’s throats. If it’s that important to you, let’s talk about it. At least think about it, will you? We were happy; we had a good time together despite the complications of our lives. I love you, Maggie. And I think you loved me. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it. Andrew.
She stopped herself before emailing back, Kiss my ass, Andrew. She’d think of something profound to say to him on her drive home.
There were emails from colleagues who wanted her to talk about possibly leasing office space, joining their practices, offers of part-time work on call, even suggestions of teaching assignments. Teaching? She thought she was a basket case, yet some surgeons thought she was stable enough to teach.
It was the first time in too long that she felt there were many wonderful possibilities ahead. She felt strong and above all, with Cal’s encouragement embracing her, she thought her future was bright. Their future had great potential. She vowed to consider all the offers and see if she could do that thing Walter had long ago advised—find out how to make her personal and professional goals match.
She drove to Golden with that on her mind.
*
Phoebe’s eyes lit up when she saw Maggie, all dressed up. She told her she looked beautiful and got a little misty-eyed.
“There was a hearing yesterday,” Maggie told Phoebe and Walter. “The judge threw out the lawsuit with prejudice, which means they can’t retry it or appeal it. He said he didn’t see a case. In fact, the judge said some very encouraging things, complimentary things. I’m going to try to get a copy of the hearing. If I do, I’ll share it with you.”
“Oh, thank God!” Phoebe said. “Then you’re coming back to Denver!”
“Mother, I have no practice,” she said.
“That’s a mere formality. You can work, I know you can. You can take a position with the hospital. Or the university medical school! Walter can ask around. You can figure out what to do about a practice and start seeing patients again. I know you wouldn’t waste that marvelous education and spectacular gift.”
Phoebe proceeded to stop people in the dining room of the club and announce, with great excitement, that Maggie’s lawsuit was over and she won! The ma?tre d’ brought champagne to the table.
“Now stop, Mother,” Maggie said firmly. “I didn’t actually win. I failed to lose.”
“So now you’ll go back to work, correct?” Phoebe said.
“I don’t have everything all sorted out just yet,” she said.
“What on earth is there to sort out?” she asked.
Maggie lifted her glass and took a sip of champagne. She put down the glass and looked at her mother. “Remember, way back when you were a young woman with a child living at the crossing? Remember, you hated it and one day you decided that wasn’t enough of a life for you?”