She trembled in my arms. and I held her and kissed her again and then gently led her to her bed, where she lay back on the pillow and looked up at me with that wonderful soft smile that melted any resistance in my heart. I knelt at her side and stroked her hair.
"This is so wrong of me," I told her. "I am a man of logic, but I cannot explain, much less justify, my actions. All I know is you rarely leave my thoughts. I see you everywhere. Grace. I hear your voice in every quiet moment, and even when others are speaking to me, my ears shut down and your voice is the one I hear. I, of all people, know what obsessions are. This is not simply some obsession. Grace, something that might be mitigated or cured. It's more. I feel certain of that. For the first time. I think I understand the power of love, for I am in love, and Grace, no one can cure me of that or lessen it because I want it with all my soul."
"Except for my father, no man has ever told me he loves me, not like that." she said. "My stepfather Winston was very, very fond of me, but it was truly a father-daughter affection. Until now I never knew love like the love I feel for you." She laughed. "I was going to say Doctor. What should I call you?"
"Call me Claude, of course." I said. smiling. I couldn't stop petting her and bringing my lips to her cheeks, her eyes, her lips.
"I won't call you that unless we're alone," she said.
This complicates everything, Grace. I promise you that if I come to believe it will hurt you. I will not be your therapist any longer. Promise me you will understand. Please," I begged her.
She promised, but it was one of those promises both people knew was impossible to keep. They make it just to get temporary peace.
I remained beside her, speaking softly to her, kissing her but doing no more. Finally I told her good night,
"Now I know I can sleep," I said. "I'm not keeping it all bottled up inside me. I have followed the advice I give to my patients."
She said nothing. I was afraid I had
overwhelmed her. After I slipped out of her room. I started quickly down the corridor. Nadine Gordon stepped out of Sandy's room just as I had passed it and called to me. When I turned, she approached, her forehead creased as she brought her eyebrows together with her puzzled look.
"I looked everywhere for you, Dr. De Beers. Is everything all right?"
"Yes. Ms. Gordon. Everything is all right. How is Sandy?"
"She's sleeping better, but that is about all the improvement I've noticed." she replied curtly. "I think she might require more of your time. Doctor. Perhaps it was not so wise to reassign her to Dr. Price."
"I think he and I will be the best judges of that. Nadine," I said. Whenever she did get to me, annoy me, or displease me in any way. I referred to her by her first name. It was something I know wasn't lost on her.
"Of course. I'm just giving you my most professional opinion, but only to assist you. Doctor, and certainly not to be critical." she added.
I could never tell if Nadine Gordon liked me or disliked me during those earlier days. Sometimes I could actually feel her critical eyes looking over my shoulders, even when she wasn't in the room. No one lived more by the book than she did. I often would wonder what her personal life was like. To me she didn't seem to have any. All I knew was she lived in a single bedroom apartment, had no family in the state, and was unmarried with no prospects lurking in the wings.
She did little to make herself attractive on the job. Her hair was always severely tied back to the point where her skin looked stretched. She had faint freckles over her forehead and very tiny patches of them along her temples with a few dripping down to the crests of her cheeks. Her hair was a shade darker than rust, and her lips were more toward orange than red. I never saw her in anything but her uniform, even when we had a small cocktail party far some dignitaries a year after we began the clinic. She was a full-figured woman with hips a bit too large and hands that were somewhat puffy. Because of her thick shoulders. Ralston joked that she was a man in drag, despite her abundant bosom.
"Thank you. I'll confer with Dr. Price tomorrow," I told her.
As you wish," she said. She glanced back toward Grace's room and then narrowed her eyes a bit when she turned to say good night to me.
I could feel her staring after me, and as ashamed as I am to admit it. Willow. I walked faster. Imagine, the head doctor being terrorized by his nurse. You'll understand a bit more after you read more.
Miles was waiting for me outside. Alberta was right about his history with me, of course. He had been a patient of mine, thrown into a serious depression after he had caused a car accident that had resulted in the death of his daughter. He had been drunk and was unable to forgive himself. I never told Alberta the full extent of his problems, how many times and in how many different ways he had attempted suicide. but I was confident that he was well enough to take on responsibilities, and he and I had developed an unspoken, almost brotherly trust.
"You all right, Dr. De Beers?" he asked after I had gotten into the car and we had started away from the clinic.
"Yes, fine. Miles."
This was the first time I had asked him to drive me back to the clinic this late in the evening. He was a man of few words now, but he didn't require much conversation to communicate. He watched over me far better than I watched over myself and knew my moods, my emotional status, better than anyone. Certainly, he knew me better than Alberta.
"I heard you lecturing that young Dr. Wheeler the other day," he said. For Miles, that was truly a mouthful,
"Oh?"
"That business about getting so involved with your patient's problems, how you could take them onto yourself almost like a contagious disease."
I laughed, "You were listening carefully, Miles. I am impressed."
"You're not guilty of doing what you warned him about doing, now are you. Dr. De Beers?"