“I did some computer searches yesterday while you were with your study group. Burnout in the latter part of the second year is very common.”
“I’m not burned out,” she said immediately, defensively. “It’s just difficult to get through all the material.”
He didn’t respond directly to her denial. “Medical students tend to be overachievers, you know. Most were top of their class in high school and college, and it’s a shock for some to be among evenly matched classmates. Students who were accustomed to being ranked among the top ten percent or higher are suddenly faced with being in the middle of their class—or even lower. That’s a serious blow to the ego.”
“I’m still in the top ten percent of my class.” Her defensiveness seemed to be increasing as he spoke.
“That’s great. But you know the old joke. What do they call the student who graduates lowest in his medical school class? Doctor.”
He could feel her muscles start to tighten again. “I have to stay high in my class rankings to get into the most competitive surgical residencies.”
“You haven’t even started rotations yet. How do you know surgery is what you want to do?” He’d never thought she’d shown any real enthusiasm for that highly demanding specialty. He suspected her family of surgeons had heavily influenced her decision. “Maybe you’ll like pediatrics. Or family practice. Or dermatology or psychiatry. Shouldn’t you keep an open mind at this point?”
“I’ve always intended to be a surgeon. I’m considering neurosurgery,” she added somewhat defiantly.
Which would add years to her training, he mused grimly. But wouldn’t that impress Daddy?
He didn’t point out that she said she’d always intended to be a surgeon. Not that she had always wanted to be. Maybe this wasn’t the right time for this particular conversation.
Sensing his massage was no longer effective, Liam returned to his own seat and glanced down at the sheet of sample questions. “What are the two basic clinical presentations of shigellosis?”
Looking relieved the personal conversation was over, she seized on the question, answering with a renewed confidence. He wondered how much of that was feigned. It bothered him that she wouldn’t allow herself to talk about her fears and doubts even with him. Her demanding, perfectionist family had really done a number on her, he thought with a slight shake of his head.
He had probably come as close as anyone to breaking through Anne’s deeply ingrained Easton reserve. Yet he was aware there was still a part of herself she hadn’t allowed even him to see. He wondered if he ever would—and if he would ever be completely satisfied with not having all of her.
Anne had been studying on her own for another three hours, after she’d convinced Liam to stop quizzing her and go concentrate on his own work, when her telephone interrupted her. Recognizing the ring tone she had assigned to her mother, she answered without glancing at the ID screen. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, sweetie. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
She pushed away the notebook in which she’d been scribbling key words for sequences she needed to remember. “I need a break, anyway. What’s going on?”
“Nothing in particular. I just wanted to say hello.”
“I’m glad you called. How was church this morning?”
“Very nice. Jenny Patterson was there. She said to tell you hello. Said she hasn’t seen you in months.”
“I should give her a call sometime. I’m afraid I’ve lost touch with a lot of my old friends.”
“That’s understandable. I told her you’ve been very busy. She said she understood. She’s pregnant again. Did you know?”
“Again? Didn’t she just have a baby?”
“Their little Anthony is a year old now. He’ll be almost two when the next one comes along. Close together, of course, but Jenny said they planned it this way.”
Several of her friends from high school were either expecting or already had children now, Anne mused. She couldn’t imagine being responsible for a child yet. Nor could she envision a time in the next ten years or so when she would be in a position to become a mother.
“Annie, where do you—”
Holding the phone closer to her ear, she motioned frantically to Liam to be quiet when he entered the room talking. He grimaced when he saw the phone in her hand, and mouthed an apology, freezing rather humorously in midstep.
“Anne? Did I hear someone speak? Is your study group meeting there this afternoon? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You didn’t interrupt anything, Mom. I told you, I was ready for a break.” She didn’t specifically lie about her study group, she told herself, though she was aware that choosing not to correct her mother’s mistaken assumption was a deception in itself. “I always enjoy hearing from you. You know that.”
“I’ll let you get back to your studies.”
“Okay. I’ll talk to you later. Thanks for calling.”