The Doctor Delivers. Judy Christenberry

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      “I’m doing what I can.”

      “I want her on that stage tonight, do you hear me? I will not allow her to screw up her reputation by missing concerts. People will start to whisper about drugs.”

      “She can’t—”

      “Give her whatever is necessary for her to sing! Tell her I said she has no choice!”

      “You’re wrong. She’s an adult.” Even as he said those words, he stared at his patient. He’d assumed she was. He couldn’t remember her age on the chart and she certainly looked young. When the woman on the phone didn’t contradict him, he continued, “She will choose whether or not she sings or remains my patient.”

      “You uncooperative— I’ll find another doctor. Get out of her room!”

      Big green eyes were fixed on his face and he smiled, hoping to reassure her. “As I said, Mrs. Colton, that’s not your decision.”

      “I’m her manager, damn you! Her career is my business. No two-bit country doctor is going to tell me what to do!”

      Nick did something he’d never done before. He hung up on a family member of a patient. Because of her, he had a lot more sympathy for Liza Colton. Her mother/manager had never asked how Liza felt, if she was being well taken care of, or even if she was breathing. All she wanted was for her daughter to perform, whether she could or not.

      “Your mother,” he said, looking at Liza.

      “Sorry,” Liza whispered.

      The nurse brought in a new tray and picked up the old one. Nick had slid it away from the bed when she’d gotten sick. “Thanks, Mary.”

      She left and he smiled down at Liza. “Let’s try this again with something a little easier on your system.” He lifted a spoon to dip into the chicken broth when the phone rang again.

      He had no doubt who was calling. Picking up the phone he said, “Yes?”

      “Don’t you hang up on me or I’m going to report you.”

      “Feel free. Want a number to call?”

      “I want to talk to my daughter!”

      “I’m sorry, that’s not possible tonight. You can try again tomorrow. She might be available then.”

      “Tomorrow is too late! I want her on that stage tonight!”

      “Mrs. Colton, I’ve already canceled her performance tonight. Any attempt to perform could do irreparable damage to her vocal cords. Is that what you want?”

      “How qualified are you?”

      “I’m an ear, nose and throat specialist with advanced degrees. I’ve been practicing in Saratoga Springs for eight years. I’m on the board here at the hospital and I consult around the state.”

      “So you’ll guarantee she’ll only miss tonight?”

      “I’ll do no such thing. She’ll have to rest for two weeks. Then we’ll see.” He knew his words were going to set her off again, so he held the receiver away from his ear. Liza had closed her eyes, but as her mother’s voice echoed from the receiver, she looked up at him, a sad expression on her face.

      “I have to go now, Mrs. Colton. Thank you for calling.” He didn’t wait for her to respond, but he decided she couldn’t really say he’d hung up on her again since he’d politely said goodbye. At least her call had shed a little more light on her daughter’s emotional state, if nothing else.

      He lifted the spoon half-filled with chicken broth to her lips and she slowly sipped. Then she tried to speak. “I can—” She reached for the spoon.

      Though he allowed her to feed herself, he sat beside her until she’d eaten at least half the broth. “Want some of this tasty red Jell-O?” he asked, nudging the other bowl forward.

      She frowned at the Jell-O, as if suspicious of it, but she finally slipped a trembly cube of it into her mouth. Lying back, she seemed to let it melt.

      “Has your mother been pushing you to lose weight?” He couldn’t imagine why the woman would want that. He thought Liza was too thin, but stage mothers could be crazy.

      She shook her head and closed her eyes, as if hiding something.

      “You know you’ve been playing a dangerous game not only with your health, but also your voice. The vocal cords are dependent on your overall health.”

      She nodded, but looked away.

      “Try to eat a little more.” When she picked up the spoon again, relief filled him. He was always concerned with his patients’ recovery, but Liza Colton had grabbed his heart. Maybe it was the abusive mother. Or the sadness in her eyes. Or her overall fragility.

      Several minutes later, she put down the spoon. “No more,” she muttered, adding a small smile, as if to reward him.

      “You did pretty well, considering that was your first meal in a while.”

      Liza could feel herself coming to depend on that sexy smile of the doctor’s. And she was fascinated with the cleft in his chin. The urge to trace it with her finger was crazy, but it was there all the same.

      She frowned, hoping to erase those thoughts and convince the doctor she was serious. “Must go.”

      Pushing the tray back, she tried to swing her legs off the bed, but he was blocking her way.

      “I don’t think so. Look, just give me twenty-four hours. We can—”

      He broke off when she vigorously shook her head. And got dizzy.

      “At least until the morning? I’ll come to your room before you have breakfast. That will give you a night’s rest, at least.”

      That plan sounded so tempting, she paused to give it some consideration. But Emily— “Call hotel,” she whispered. “Messages.”

      She received a level stare for her words. “I’ll call for your messages,” he said. “They wouldn’t understand you anyway.”

      She knew none of the family would leave any inappropriate messages for strangers to hear, so she nodded and gave him the name of the hotel. Tensely she waited for him to report back to her after his brief conversation.

      “Your mother called half an hour ago, shortly before she reached you here. And a few minutes ago a Mrs. Tremble called.”

      Liza frowned. She wasn’t surprised by her mother’s calls. But Mrs. Tremble? Somehow that name rang a bell but— Suddenly she sat straight up in bed and grabbed the doctor’s wrist.

      “What is it? Are you in pain?” he asked at once, leaning close to her.

      Too close. She drew a deep breath and subsided against the pillow. “Mrs. Tremble’s message?”

      He looked at the pad he’d written СКАЧАТЬ