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“Baby, you made that one way too easy. You can nip the top of my cone anytime. And it all goes on the list, because you want it there. You want me to take any excuse I can get to put you over my knee and get you writhing and wet.”
A shuddering breath. “Don’t do that to me right now, either.”
He cupped her neck, brought her face to his shoulder and spoke into her hair. “Be true to that big heart and steel backbone I know you have. No matter what shit is going down around you.”
“I haven’t shown you much of a steel backbone.”
“Yes, you sure as hell have. Part of my job is helping you handle the storms. It doesn’t mean I don’t know and respect how many you’ve handled on your own. I’m just not going to let you handle more than your share anymore.” He eased back to kiss her, tasted the nerves in the vibration of her lips. He squeezed her neck and made himself do what he’d done the night she’d arrived. Be tough.
She’d call it being “not nice.” Being a good Dom, a good partner, required that sometimes.
“Get in there and get it done. I’ll be waiting.”
When Les stepped into Dr. Portland’s office, her advisor rose from the chair. A mannish-looking woman with solid bone structure, ice-blond hair and brown eyes, she’d always looked to Les like a woman with a Viking warrior in her ancestry. Dr. Portland preferred neat slacks and short sleeved knit shirts. She also had a fingernail-sized tattoo of a sunflower on the curve of one breast. Since it was only revealed when the shirts had a neckline that could gap at the right moment to offer a quick glimpse, no one was brave enough to ask her for the story behind it.
She did smile, but it was tight around the edges. Les expected the tension was due to the occupant of one of her guest chairs, a man in a charcoal-colored suit, reviewing what looked like a detailed document on his phone.
“I’m glad you came in for the M&M today, Les,” Dr. Portland told her. “This is Martin Sully, from the hospital’s legal department. He wanted a few minutes before you and I talk. I can be present for that conversation, or you can choose to speak to him alone. The choice is yours.”
“I’m fine with you being here.” She’d prefer it, since Dr. Portland would understand the implications of what Mr. Sully was about to tell her, so that Les didn’t inflate—or de-emphasize—the importance.
“Miss Wilder.”
She shook Martin Sully’s hand, meeting shrewd and intelligent eyes. He had an attractive jaw and thick brown hair. His nails were buffed. His voice was as she’d remembered it, cordial and smooth, not unpleasant.
“Have a seat.” He took his chair after she and Dr. Portland did, a gentleman’s courtesy. “As Dr. Portland said, it’s good you came in for the M&M today. We look forward to you returning to your education and rotation. From what I’ve reviewed,” he gestured with the phone, “you’ve done strong academic and clinical work. Your evaluations prior to this incident have emphasized your work ethic and attention to detail, as well as how prudent you are about verifying courses of treatment with your residents or attendings. You make cautious, intuitive leaps, but you never go rogue. That’s useful for us in proceeding with the family.”
“Has it gone further than when you left your message?” Though she spoke the words without faltering, she knotted her fingers in her lap at Sully’s response.
“Their attorney has filed the preliminary paperwork for the suit. We’ve confirmed you will not be named, but your attending and resident for the incident are. As is the hospital, of course.”
Her heart thundered in her ears, her pulse rabbiting. But noting what she was sure was a paler expression, Martin Sully shook his head. “It’s a serious matter, Miss Wilder, but one we routinely deal with. People grieving often seek someone to blame. Not just in an unfortunate tragedy like this, but even when their loved one was suffering a terminal illness with an inevitable outcome. There are plenty of attorneys who search for people in these circumstances.”
He glanced at Dr. Portland, then back at Les. “I also want to make you aware a family member, an aunt, has contacted the media. A story about the incident was released on local networks. It hasn’t been picked up more widely, but if a suit does proceed, it’s possible that story may get more exposure. If it does, news outlets may bring your name into it.”
“Les, here. Drink.” Dr. Portland put a bottle of water on the desk before her.
While Les was embarrassed her distress was that obvious, she took a couple sips, trying to keep her hands from shaking. “What do I need to do?”
“Nothing,” Martin said firmly. “Or rather, what you’ve already been doing. Outside of the M&M, you speak to no one about the matter. We will keep you advised. Dr. Portland is suggesting you resume your rotation and normal class schedule next week, after the holiday. It gives you a little time but confirms no fault has been found with your performance.”
She didn’t know how to say, “I’m not sure I can come back,” no matter if they were saying she could. But she knew now wasn’t the time to say that.
She hated this. But when she met Dr. Portland’s gaze, she remembered what Beulah had said, what Brick had echoed. Every doctor dealt with this. All of them made mistakes.
All of them hated it.
She focused on what the lawyer was saying. “The Mortality and Morbidity conference, as you know, is not open to outside legal representation. In a court case, an attendee cannot be forced to reveal what’s discussed there. However, determined attorneys have sometimes obtained notes taken in those conferences.”
“Martin,” Dr. Portland said. “You might as well be telling her to censor her responses to the questions she’ll get.”
“I’m telling her the reality, Anne,” he said evenly. He brought his attention back to Les. “I meant what I said about your evaluations. The only real concern I’ve heard from your professors, attendings and residents is how deeply you take things to heart. How it affects your stress management, and the realities of becoming a doctor.”
While she supposed it was good that those overseeing her education were paying attention, it unnerved her to hear those things hadn’t escaped their notice. Sully’s sharp gaze remained on her. “When you’re in the M&M, my recommendation is short, precise answers on what you did or did not do, and listening attentively to feedback on what could have been done instead. Not making statements about what you feel like was your fault. Not being emotional. Do you understand?”
“Yes. I do.”
“All right.” He rose. “Dr. Portland’s point is valid. My intention isn’t to impact the M&M’s ability to improve patient care. But I also can’t gloss over the legal aspects. Here’s my card, should you have any future questions. Dr. Portland and I are the two people with whom you can safely discuss the details of this situation and case. It’s reasonable that you will want to share your emotions with someone, but I would be very selective in doing that. No one directly or incidentally involved in the situation, only with someone you trust, and only when your privacy is insured. Not the local college pub.”
