Susan Carlisle

The Surgeon's Cinderella


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age, but his skin was an ash gray. Beside him was a bank of machines with lights. There was a whish of air coming from one. A clear rubber tube circled both the man’s ears and came around to fit under his nose.

      “Mr. Wilcox, I brought you a visitor,” Tanner said.

      The man’s dull eyes brightened for a second as he looked at her.

      “Whitney Thomason, I’d like you to meet Jim Wilcox.”

      “Nice to meet you, young lady,” Mr. Wilcox wheezed as he raised a hand weakly toward her.

      “You too, Mr. Wilcox.” Whitney stepped closer to the bed.

      “So how’re you feeling?” Tanner asked, leaning forward, concern written on his face.

      Whitney was impressed with the lower timbre of his voice, which sounded as if he truly wished to know. She could grow to admire this Tanner.

      “Oh, about the same. This contraption—” Mr. Wilcox nodded toward the swishing machine beside him “—is keeping me alive but I’m still stuck in this bed.”

      “Well, maybe there’ll be a heart soon.”

      “That’s what you’ve been telling me for weeks now. I’m starting to think you’re holding out on me.” Mr. Wilcox offered a small smile and perked up when he looked at her. “At least you were kind enough today to bring me something pretty to look at.”

      Whitney blushed. “Thanks but—”

      “Aw, don’t start all that stuttering and blustering. I have a feeling your beauty goes more than skin deep.”

      Whitney really did feel heat in her cheeks then. “I think that might be the nicest compliment I’ve ever received.”

      Tanner’s eyes met hers and held. Did he agree with Mr. Wilcox? Did he see something that others didn’t?

      The older man cleared his throat.

      Tanner’s attention returned to him. “Okay, Romeo. I need to give you a listen.” He pulled his stethoscope from around his neck. “I might have done a bad thing by inviting Whitney in.”

      “If I promise to be nice, will you bring her back again?” Mr. Wilcox asked with enthusiasm in every word.

      Whitney touched the older man’s arm. “Don’t worry, he doesn’t have to invite me for me to come again.”

      She felt more than saw Tanner glance at her.

      “Then I’ll look forward to it. So tell me how you know this quack over here?” Mr. Wilcox indicated Tanner.

      Her gaze met Tanner’s. There was panic in his gaze. He probably didn’t want the man to know she was helping him find a wife. “Oh, we were in college together.”

      Tanner’s brows rose. He nodded as if he was pleased with her response.

      “Where’d you go?” Mr. Wilcox rasped.

      “Berkeley,” she told him.

      “Then you got a fine education.”

      Tanner interrupted them with, “So, are you having any chest pains?”

      Mr. Wilcox paused. “No.”

      “That’s good. You seem to be holding your own.” Tanner flipped through the chart he’d brought in with him and laid it on the bed tray. “You need to be eating more. You have to keep your energy up.”

      “I’ll try but nothing tastes good.” Mr. Wilcox pushed at the bed table as if there was something offensive on it.

      “Not even ice cream?” Tanner asked.

      “I’ve eaten all those little cups I can stand. I’d like a good old-fashioned banana split that I could share with someone like your young lady.”

      Tanner chuckled. “When you get your heart and are out of here I’ll see if I can get Whitney to come back and bring you a fat-free split.”

      “Fat-free,” he spat.

      “That’s it,” Tanner said with a grin.

      “Well, if Whitney shares it with me maybe I can live with it. She has nice eyes. Windows to the soul, they say.” Mr. Wilcox smiled.

      “That she does,” Tanner agreed.

      Whitney looked at Tanner. Did he really mean that? She’d had no indication that he’d noticed anything about her.

      “So is she your girlfriend?”

      “Just friends,” she and Tanner said at the same time.

      Whitney wasn’t sure that their professional association qualified as friendship. Tanner wanted his personal business kept private, so “friends” seemed the right thing to say. Could they be friends? She didn’t know. What she did recognize was that she liked the Tanner who was concerned enough about his patient’s loneliness to invite her to meet him just to cut the monotony of being in the hospital day after day. That was a Tanner she could find a match for. Sad that the other Tanner wouldn’t let this one show up more often.

      “Even behind that mask I can tell she’s pretty enough to be your girlfriend. You can always tell a special woman by her eyes. My wife, Milly, had beautiful eyes.”

      Tanner put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “I think we’d better be going.”

      Whitney touched Mr. Wilcox’s arm briefly. “I hope to see you again soon. It was nice to meet you.”

      He lifted a hand and waved as she reached the door. “You too. You’re welcome to my abode anytime.”

      Whitney smiled. She liked Mr. Wilcox. “Bye, now.”

      Tanner joined her. “See you soon, Mr. Wilcox.”

      “You too, Doc.”

      Whitney stepped out into the hall and Tanner followed, pulling the door closed behind him.

      As they removed their masks Tanner said, “I’m sorry if he made you feel uncomfortable in there or put you on the spot about being with me. Mr. Wilcox can be pretty cheeky.”

      “I didn’t mind. He seems like a nice guy who’s lonely.”

      “He is. As a doctor I’m not supposed to have favorites but I really like the man. He’s been waiting too long.”

      She watched for his reaction as she said, “That’s why you took me to see him. You knew he needed something to prick his interest. You didn’t mind him assuming I was your girlfriend because that would give him something to figure out, live for.”

      “Why, Ms. Thomason, you are smart.”

      Whitney couldn’t deny her pleasure at his praise. She also couldn’t help but ask, “I know you can’t tell me details, but what’s going on with Mr. Wilcox?”

      Tanner’s eyes took on a haunted look. “Most of it you heard. He’s waiting for a heart. He needs one pretty quickly.”

      “Or he’ll die,” she said quietly.

      Tanner’s eyes took on a shadowed look. “Yeah.”

      “You seem to take that in your stride.” She sounded as if she was condemning him even to her own ears.

      “It’s a part of what I do. Medical School 101. But that doesn’t mean I like it.” His retort was crisp. He started down the hall and she followed. At the desk he handed a nurse Mr. Wilcox’s chart and continued on. “My office is this way. I’m on call tonight.”

      Whitney had to hurry to keep up with him. They walked down a couple of hallways to a nondescript door. Again Tanner swiped his card. There was a click. He turned the doorknob and entered. She trailed him down a short hall to a small sterile-looking office. It became even smaller when Tanner stepped in.

      There