Free The Good Doctor by Karen Rose Smith Page B

need to get back as soon as I can to make rounds at the hospital.”
    When Violet took the last of the take-out containers into the bathroom and threw them in the trash can there, Peter knew she was too quiet. He was concerned about her reaction to the diagnosis. He knew she cared for Ryan deeply and wasn’t just looking at his situation from a doctor’s perspective.
    After she picked up her purse, she gave Ryan a long, tight hug.
    Taking a card from his pocket, Peter placed it by the phone. “No matter what time it is, you can reach me. I’ll have my cell phone with me if I’m not in my room.”
    Ryan nodded at that, gratitude on his face. After he releasedViolet, she quickly walked to the door, opened it and stepped out into the hall.
    When Peter followed her, he asked, “Stairs or the elevator?”
    â€œStairs,” she decided in a quick tone and headed that way.
    Feeling the need for physical exertion, too, he was well aware a flight of stairs wouldn’t be nearly enough.
    At the door to Violet’s room, Peter noticed her rigid posture as she used her key card to open the door. His instincts urged him to follow her inside.
    The decor of Violet’s room was almost identical to his. The geometrically designed bedspread and drapes in navy, green and rust, the requisite dark wood dresser, entertainment center and chest, desk and table for two. Violet crossed to the table by the window and set her purse there. She didn’t turn around but rather stared out at the evening setting in, the traffic going by, the live oaks lining the perimeter of the motel property.
    Peter closed the door. When he came to stand behind her, he saw the quiver of her shoulders and heard the catch of her breath as she bowed her head.
    â€œViolet,” he said softly, knowing Ryan’s diagnosis was eating her up inside. She had to let it out. When she shook her head and swiped at her cheek, Peter couldn’t help putting his arm around her.
    â€œI have to be strong for him,” she murmured. “I have to be strong for my family. I can’t—” Her voice broke on the word and he held her tighter until she turned into his chest and let the tears fall.
    Guiding her to the bed, he sat beside her, his arm around her.
    When her tears wouldn’t slow, she held her face in her hands, covering it so he wouldn’t see. “I love him, Peter. He’s like a second dad. I just can’t believe this.”
    â€œI haven’t known him as long as you have, so I can’t say Iunderstand what you’re feeling. But I do know what it’s like to lose someone important to you.”
    â€œThat’s the problem, Peter, the losing. Don’t you get tired of it?”
    â€œI don’t always lose. Sometimes I win.”
    Already she was shaking her head. “Not often enough, at least not lately. Those two women I diagnosed with MS… One is a young mother of two. The other is earning her doctorate in African studies. She wants to work for the UN and help the children. Sure, there are better treatments now for conditions I diagnose, but at the end of the day, I can’t cure them.”
    She paused and finally added, “Then there was Anne.”
    Tears continued to slip down Violet’s cheeks and her voice was thick with emotion, remembrance and regret. “She was pregnant and I diagnosed an aneurysm. I suggested she see a neurosurgeon with whom we consulted. We advised her to have surgery because she was in her second trimester. She and her husband put their trust in us. On the operating table, the aneurysm burst and she bled out. We lost her and her baby.”
    It didn’t take long to see what kind of doctor Violet was. She cared, maybe too damn much, and she took responsibility over areas she couldn’t control. She hadn’t been in the operating room working on this Anne, the neurosurgeon had, yet she was accepting blame as if she had