The Doctor's Undoing (Doctors in Training 3)

Chapter Five

The class tailgate party was held on the third Saturday in September. Haley and the other officers had worked hard putting it together; maybe she’d worked just a little harder than the others, she acknowledged privately, but she hadn’t really minded the extra duties. She thought it would be fun to have the whole class together again after they’d been separated in rotations for almost three months now, half the class on one semester schedule, the remaining half on the other.

She didn’t want to admit she’d deliberately stayed so busy to avoid spending time with anyone in particular—or to put off analyzing her feelings about that particular someone.

The class had reserved a grassy area outside the stadium, where they’d set up an awning. Charcoal grills donated by class members were already smoking, the fragrant aromas of charcoal and roasting meat mingling with the scents of beer and lingering summer heat. Wearing jeans and the requisite red-and-white shirt of the home football team, Haley had arrived early, zipping from spot to spot to make sure the tables were ready for the potluck dishes steadily arriving, that the disposable plates and utensils and napkins were conveniently arranged, that the red-and-white decorations fluttered invitingly from every available surface.

Other tailgate parties were going on all through the parking lot and spilling onto the golf course that abutted the stadium. A red-and-white circus was taking place around them; at this point, the upcoming game was only a secondary consideration to the fun. The med-school class had staked out a good-sized patch of grass for their festivities, and already it was filling with classmates in lawn chairs and children dashing frantically underfoot.

As more people arrived, she had help with her chores. Connor brought Mia and his daughter, Alexis, each bearing plates of food to contribute. Alexis was soon romping with the other kids, playing with the Frisbees and foam footballs and other toys that had been provided for them. At eight, she was older than most of the other classmates’ children, but she seemed happy to play patiently with the littler ones, who adored having the attention of a “big kid.”

Visibly pleased that Liam was in town to join them, Anne accompanied her husband from the parking lot. She carried a potluck dish; Liam bore a couple of stadium cushions for

the game that followed. James arrived soon afterward, bringing cookies probably made by his housekeeper. The study group was fully represented when Ron arrived just barely on time, ruefully contributing bakery brownies to the spread.

Haley was delighted with the turnout. Almost two-thirds of the class had shown up, which was a very good showing compared to some past events. Considering that there were quite a few who weren’t able to get away from their hospital chores, and a few others who just weren’t interested in socializing with their classmates, it was a great success.

She’d already been by the hospital that morning and gotten her responsibilities out of the way, so she was able to concentrate on her class officer duties. She mingled among the crowd, chatting, catching up, finding out how everyone was doing in their rotations. It was especially nice to see the ones on the opposite semester schedule. She ran into the ones on her semester schedule during lectures, but rarely crossed paths with the other classmates anymore, and she missed them. She’d spent two years sitting for hours a day in the same classroom with all these people, and that experience created a bond even among the ones who didn’t know each other well.

Stacks of food were consumed; beer, water and soft drinks downed thirstily. Adults laughed and chattered and mingled; children played and squealed and cried. One little boy fell and scraped his knees. Fifty aspiring doctors gathered to proclaim him okay, to Haley’s amusement.

An impromptu game of touch football for the adults began after everyone had eaten all they could hold. They were somewhat limited in the grassy area provided for them, but they made the most of the space they had. Only twenty or so were interested in playing; the others gathered around to corral the children and cheer on the players.

Joining the group preparing to play, Haley noticed that “Margo the Magnificent,” as she and Anne had dubbed their class president, was staying far away from the playing field. Margo was as immaculately dressed as always, not a bleached hair out of place, as she moved through the crowd accepting accolades for how well the event had turned out. Though Haley was well aware Margo had done little more than assign responsibilities to others in the class, she didn’t resent the attention the other woman received. Margo really was an exceptional student; delegation was just one of Margo’s many talents, she thought with a wry smile.

The study group made sure they were on the same team, though Anne was content to stay on the bench most of the time. Mia and Alexis stood on the sidelines, clapping and cheering when Connor—the former high school coach—made impressive plays. It got pretty silly—partially because everyone was enjoying a rare day of play and relaxation and partially due to the beer that had flowed so freely that afternoon. Haley hadn’t laughed so much in a long time.

At one point, she found the ball in her hands. While she wondered how she’d ended up with it, her teammates screamed at her to run for the makeshift goal line. She ran. Her teammates surrounded her, blocking the other team’s attempts to stop her. Giggling, she evaded an outstretched hand. Ron threw himself on the ground behind her, tripping anyone who tried to get past him.

“Go, Haley! Save yourself!” he shouted dramatically.

Laughing, she crossed the goal line.

Since no one had actually been keeping score, she had no idea if her touchdown put their team ahead, but they celebrated, anyway.

“Let’s see your TD dance,” Ron ordered, brushing grass from his red shirt as he ran toward her.

Grinning, she wiggled her hips a little.

Ron blew a raspberry in disgust. “That’s not a victory dance. This is a victory dance.”

Swinging his arms wildly, he mimicked a pro football player’s touchdown celebration, adding a few flourishes of his own. After tossing the football to someone else, she punched Ron’s arm. “You are such a ham.”

He threw the oft-abused arm loosely around her shoulders, giving her a hug that might have been almost brotherly, except for the way it made her heart race. Her face was flushed when he dropped his arm and turned to answer something Connor said. She hoped everyone would blame that on the exertion of the game.

Turning toward the drinks table, she found herself face-to-face with Anne, who was studying her much too closely for comfort.

She glanced around at her other friends and classmates, wondering how many were speculating about whatever might be developing between her and Ron. Or was she only imagining that anyone thought about them at all?

This was getting much too complicated. And if she had any sense at all, she’d put a stop to it now, before she and Ron strayed any deeper into dangerous waters. But something told her she was already caught in a current that she wouldn’t escape completely unscathed.

She busied herself with clearing away the remains of the party, trying to push any musings about Ron to the back of her mind for now. But like the man, himself, her thoughts of him had a way of grabbing and holding her full attention.

Ron knew by his second week on the children’s hematology and oncology ward that he’d found his medical calling. He was fascinated by the practice, though he didn’t immediately tell anyone he wanted to continue in it. More than a few people would be surprised if he expressed an interest in that specialty, he theorized as he sat in a hospital coffee shop late Thursday afternoon, nursing a cappuccino and biscotti and contemplating his future. Pedi hem-onc was a challenging and competitive specialty, requiring a great deal of dedication, meticulous attention to detail, and total commitment—none of which he was known for to this point.

Yet still he could see himself in the practice. He liked the fact that the hem-onc doctors developed one-on-one relationships with their patients. That they had so much interaction with the families. That they had the opportunity to provide futures for children diagnosed with potentially devastating diseases.

The children’s suffering and their parents’ anguish were heart wrenching. He’d already lost one brave little patient; a sweet-faced little girl had quietly slipped away Monday afternoon while her parents, the attending, the resident and Ron had been present. He’d thought of Haley’s grief over her Mr. Eddington as he’d fought tears of his own in the solitude of his apartment that evening. You couldn’t take it home with you—but as she’d said, it would require a heart of stone not to be affected by the human tragedies physicians dealt with on a daily basis. He never wanted to get to a point where such a sad loss didn’t disturb him at all.