Dr. Knight: A Billionaire Holiday Romance

I chuckle. “I’m pretty sure that’s not a word.”

“Well, I say it is.”

She puts the snow globe back, then joins me on the faux fur rug between the couch and the coffee table. Outside, the snow continues falling, though not as hard as last night. The fire crackles.

Ellis wraps her fingers around her second cup of cocoa. She finished the first before breakfast.

“Was your mother a doctor, too?”

“Yes. She was in obstetrics. She loved babies. At least, she loved delivering them.”

That’s when they’re perfect – when you hold them in your hands for the first time. But when they get out of the hospital, once they start crying every hour and crawling all over the carpet, they become a nuisance to be handed over to nannies. That was what she did to her own children.

“And your father was a doctor, too, right? A surgeon?”

“River Knight. I’m sure you’ve heard of him.”

Ellis nods. “Is that why you decided to be a doctor, too?”

“No.” I shake my head. “My parents wanted me to be one for as long as I can remember, but I didn’t. I wanted to be an astronaut when I was a kid.”

“Cool.”

“Then I wanted to be an archaeologist, then a soldier. My mom was very much against that.”

“I can’t blame her.”

“Finally, I set my mind on working with computers. I went to MIT.”

“Then?”

I draw a deep breath before proceeding with the climax of the story. “I was involved in a plane crash.”

“No.” Ellis puts down her mug and touches my arm.

“I was,” I tell her. “The plane crash landed in Quebec, deep in the woods. There was nothing but trees and wild animals all around. Half the people died in the crash. In the next several days, the rest fought to survive. Most succumbed to their wounds one by one. Others died of hypothermia, hunger, dehydration, poisoning from eating things they shouldn’t have. As our numbers dwindled and we grew weaker, the animals closed in. A wolf nearly killed me…”

Ellis gasps.

“…but a man saved me. James Mitchell. He saved my life and a few others. Even those who died, he helped die a peaceful death. He told them stories, cracked jokes, sang to them. And he never once lost hope. He was so optimistic it made some people angry. He didn’t care. He just kept trying to make things better for everyone.”

“He sounds like a really good man,” Ellis gasps. “Where is he now?”

“Gone,” I answer.

She gives another gasp. “He didn’t survive?”

“Oh, it wasn’t the plane crash that killed him. He had been diagnosed with a brain tumor. He was on the plane because he was looking for the daughter he gave up a long time ago. He wanted to see her one last time.”

“And did he?”

I shake my head. “After we were rescued, we were all brought to a hospital. He never left. He went into a coma and never woke up. I thought that was unfair. If there was any person who deserved to live, it was him. Even with cancer, he was selfless and he just had so much faith in people.”

“So you honored his memory by becoming a neurosurgeon.”

“Yes. He saved my life. I wanted to live it doing what he would have done if he were still alive – helping others, especially those with brain tumors.”

Ellis puts her hand over mine and smiles. “I’m sure he’s proud of you.”

“Good. I want him to be, which is strange because I never thought of making my dad proud. Then again, he already had a lot to be proud of.”

“Oh, shush,” Ellis scolds me. “No matter how much a person has achieved on his own, nothing can bring him more pride than seeing his child successful and happy.”

Maybe, but if my father has ever been proud of what I’ve become, he’s never showed it. I’ve never felt it. He thinks I’m a good doctor. I know that. And he trusts me enough that he let me open and run a branch of the Knight Hospital. But is he proud of me? Nope. I’ve never had that impression.

Ellis rests her head on my shoulder. “I bet James Mitchell would be even prouder if you also did a few pro bono surgeries during the Christmas season.”

I look at her with narrowed eyes. “Are you trying to talk me into doing that surgery on Howard Keaton?”

She purses her lips.

I straighten my back against the edge of the couch. “Let me make this clear, Ellis Smithson.”

She moves away. “Ooh. Scary.”

“I am not against pro bono surgeries,” I tell her. “I am against helping people who don’t want my help. And here’s why. Three years ago, I operated on a patient with a large and complex brain tumor. He was exhibiting changes in behavior and having problems with his memory. I removed the tumor, thinking that he’d not only live longer but have a better life if I did. And he did go back to normal. But did he thank me? No. His wife and kids had already left him. He had done some things in the past he couldn’t live with. He claimed I didn’t explain the surgery to him and he filed a malpractice case against me. Can you imagine that? I saved his life, and to repay me, he wanted to put me in jail.”