The Brooding Surgeon's Baby Bombshell - Page 16

The next morning he left another note.

Thanks for the cookies. They hit the spot.

Note-passing wasn’t as satisfying as seeing Zoe, but at least they weren’t ignoring each other.

How good her cookies were was on his mind as he started his rounds just after noon. The first patient he planned to see was Mr. Luther. Gabe had contacted Mr. Luther’s physician, Dr. Patel, and they had agreed that he should be transferred to Gabe’s care. Mr. Luther’s health had deteriorated to the point where a transplant was the only option. The hepatitis C had taken its toll. Following Dr. Patel’s instructions, Mr. Luther was admitted to National Hospital for an evaluation before being placed on the liver transplant list.

Gabe rapped his knuckles on the door.

A gruff voice called, “Come in.”

Gabe pushed the door open. “Mr. Luther, I’m...” He stopped short. Zoe stood at the bedside of a grizzly man who obviously hadn’t shaved in a number of days.

“Gab—uh... Dr. Marks, hello.” Zoe’s smile was cautious.

His heart gave a little extra beat. “I hadn’t expected to see you.”

“I wasn’t sure if I’d see you either.” She looked at him shyly.

“Thanks for the cookies. They were great.”

She glanced toward their patient, who was looking from one of them to the other with curiosity, and said to Gabe, “It’s part of my job to keep tabs on Mr. Luther.”

The older man pointed first at Gabe then at her and back again. “I’m guessing you two know each other, him eating your cookies and all.”

Gabe nodded, stepping forward and extending his hand. “I’m Dr. Marks. Dr. Patel has thoroughly reviewed your case with me.”

“So you’re why I’m in one of these dang uncomfortable beds again.” He didn’t sound happy but shook Gabe’s hand.

Zoe placed her hand on the man’s other arm. “Mr. Luther, Dr. Marks is going to help you. If you want to blame someone, it should be me. I asked him to see you.”

Gabe couldn’t believe how big a heart Zoe had. She was emotionally invested in her patient far more than was required by her job. Was Mr. Luther an exception to her rule or did she, as Gabe suspected, care deeply about all her patients, and Mr. Luther in particular? What would it be like to be under her umbrella of loving concern? Focus on your patient, Gabe sternly ordered himself. “She did ask me, and the first thing I need to do is examine you. Then we’ll run some tests.”

“More of them, you mean,” the man grunted.

Gabe shrugged and removed his stethoscope from around his neck. “Now, would you lean forward for me?”

The man did as he asked and Gabe listened to his heart. He then had him breathe deeply as he checked out his lungs. “I’m going to turn this overhead light on. I need to look at your eyes.”

The switch was on Zoe’s side of the bed and she flipped it on.

“I’ve not spoken to his nurse yet, so I don’t know his vitals, Zoe. Would you mind getting his BP for me? Check his pulse points?” Gabe placed his stethoscope around his neck and removed a penlight from his pocket.

She laid the folder in her hand on a chair and went to work.

Gabe looked at the man. “I understand you were diagnosed with hepatitis a number of years ago.”

“Yeah.” Mr. Luther nodded.

“When did you first seek help for it?” Gabe looked into his eyes.

“Maybe six months ago.”

“He was referred to the Liver Alliance by Dr. Patel three months ago,” Zoe said, as she placed the cuff on the patient’s arm. She pumped the cuff then listened through her stethoscope for his pulse. Done, she looked at him. “One-thirty over ninety.”

Gabe nodded. “Not perfect but not as bad as I expected. Mr. Luther, have you been a heavy drinker in the past?”

The man glared at him. “I’ve drunk.”

Gabe gave him a pointed look in return. “You do understand that there can be no drinking again if you have a transplant.”

“I’m not even sure I want a transplant,” the man grumbled.

Zoe looked up from where she was checking Mr. Luther’s pulses on his feet. “Mr. Luther, you need to think hard about that. Without it you’ll die.”

“Gonna die one day anyway.”

Gabe slipped his penlight back into his pocket. “That’s true, but without a new liver you have at best a couple of years and you’ll get increasingly sicker. There won’t be much quality to your life. We’re going to do the workup on you to consider listing you for a transplant, but you need to know that your attitude will affect the decision-making. New livers are hard to come by. If you’re not going to do your part to keep a new liver healthy, you’ll not be listed.”

“Yeah.” The man picked up the TV remote. “I’ll think about it.” He nodded toward Zoe. “I’d better not hear that you’ve been giving Avery here a hard time or you’ll answer to me.”

“Noted.” Gabe made eye contact with Zoe and nodded toward the door. She gave the man a concerned look and followed him out.

Zoe closed the door behind her and looked at him with such hope. “So what do you think?”

Gabe shook his head slightly. “I’m really concerned about his compliance. He’s a gruff bear, I know, but to be listed, the committee must know he’ll do what he’s supposed to do.”

“I’ll talk to him. Make it clear.”

“He has to want this,” Gabe stated emphatically. “You have done all you can do for him by bringing him to my attention.”

Zoe glared at him. “I know that.”

“Even if he does agree to cooperate, I can’t guarantee he’ll be a candidate. I’m just one person on a committee of eight.”

She touched his arm. “I appreciate you trying.”

Gabe nodded. He hated that he couldn’t give her more encouragement. “I have to go. I have other patients to visit.”

* * *

That evening, Gabe found a note from Zoe waiting on the counter.

There’s supper in the refrigerator if you’re interested. Thanks for a

ll you’re doing for Mr. Luther.

He felt himself smiling, unable to contain his satisfaction. Why was this particular patient so important to her? Even though he’d not given Zoe much reassurance on Mr. Luther’s prognosis, she was expressing her gratitude by cooking for him.

He’d not eaten since lunch, so he was tickled to have a home-cooked meal. His day had been so exhausting he’d not even bothered to get drive-through. Zoe’s cooking, even though it would be rewarmed, was heaven sent. He could get used to this treatment.

Gabe had just sat down at the table when the patter of feet drew his attention. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Zoe. He smiled, glad to see her. Her appearance, on top of her meal, was totally unexpected.

She wore a short fleece robe tied above the rise of her belly. His gut clenched with pride. That bump was his child. Had he ever seen a more beautiful sight? Zoe’s hair was mussed as if she had been running her fingers through it in angst. Was she nervous about approaching him? Why should she be? She’d recovered her self-control the moment the doorbell had interrupted their bathroom interlude.

“Hey,” Gabe said. “Thanks for the meal.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Sorry if I woke you.” He picked up his fork, ready to take a bite.

Zoe said softly, “I’ve been waiting up for you.”

She had? Hope, warm as a fire, welled in his chest. “Really?”

“I wanted to talk to you about my rent.”

Disappointment smothered his anticipation. She wanted to talk about that now? Shaking his head in refusal, he turned back to the food. “I’ve had a long day. Make that a week. I’m in no mood to talk business now.”

Zoe moved around the table, facing him. “I have to pay for my mother’s housing, so I need to know what my budget will be.”

That made perfect sense, but it didn’t give him the energy to hash out her rent right this minute. “Then make it a dollar for this month. When I get time, I’ll figure something out.”

She leaned toward him slightly, giving him an amazing view of cleavage. Her breasts were larger than he remembered. Pregnancy had changed her there as well.

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