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‘Yes, a break. No, I usually don’t leave. I get to be the adult in the building after Desi clocks out.’
I could keep pushing for details, but maybe I should just say what I want to say.
‘Would it be okay if I brought you dinner tonight? And ate with you on your break?’
‘That would be very okay. I’d love it. Thank you.’
If I go into the next few appointments with a bigger smile than usual, nobody complains.
At a lull in patient appointments, I sit on the corner of Kimberly’s desk. “Guess how close I came to being hit by lightning last night.”
She looks up from her monitor. “Is this a serious command? You want me to guess?”
I lean my shoulders against the wall. “Not really, because I didn’t measure. But I was standing under a tree that got struck. It was crazy.”
“Are you all right?” She reaches up to touch my forehead, as if being close to the storm might have given me a fever.
“I’m perfectly all right, thanks. We had a scare, and then we recovered.”
Her eyebrows go up into her hair. “Is this the royal we, or were you not alone?”
Apparently I wanted her to ask, or I wouldn’t have said that. But now that she’s asking, I’m not sure how much to tell.
“Not alone,” I say, buying myself about a second and a half of processing time.
“Sage Whitney?” she asks.
I nod. And I feel myself grinning again. Sage, even in conversation, seems to have this effect on me.
“Was she okay? I bet being that close to an act of nature would have panicked her.”
“Little bit. Okay, a lot. We came here and I treated her for shock.”
I think she’s going to laugh at this, because it’s pretty crazy, but she looks concerned.
“She’s fine now,” I say.
Kimberly shakes her head, just a little. “I’m not sure you should be treating her while you’re dating her.”
I slump a little. I was not expecting this, not from her. And I’ve been over the issue in my mind way too many times. “I’m the campus doctor. She’s on campus. If I can’t date anyone I see in the office, I’m destined to die alone.”
Kimberly chuckles. “Does the doctor feel a bit dramatic today? I only mean that while you’re on an actual date, your ability to separate your mind and your heart might be compromised.”
She’s not wrong. She’s also not finished. “And if this relationship turns into more, you might need to consider if you’re the best caregiver for her.”
I shake my head, ready to bring all kinds of data to the table. “You’re married to a doctor. He was your primary care physician for years.”
“True, but we were married before he was a doctor, so that’s different. There were also lines we didn’t cross. I’d never let him put an IV in my hand or take my blood. He didn’t deliver our babies. And I spent a lot of time getting second opinions and seeing specialists for anything unusual.”
I’m sure she’s right about all of this, and her experience is valuable. She’s older. She’s been through more of life. But after her comment about babies? Now I can’t think about anything but delivering babies. Sage’s babies. Our babies? My brain starts spinning.
I think Kimberly can tell she lost me. She pats my knee and waits for me to look at her. “You are extremely competent. And caring. And you’re a very good doctor and a first-rate person. Just maybe reconsider healthcare activities on your dates.”
I nod, feeling a tiny bit chastised and a whole lot supported. “Will do.”
“Now tell me about this lightning thing.”
The rest of the day goes by quickly, lots of flu shots, lots of strep tests. A few self-diagnosed cases of ADHD (thank you, internet) and a couple of kids I need to refer to specialists. I send Brenda home after the last appointment and I call Nate Markham.
