She was an idiot to flee from Brant’s house the way she had. Childish. She’d raced out to the car as if ten- thousand devils were at her back, leaving a trail of clothing in her wake that she was going to have to replace, which seemed to include most of her underwear. What was he going to do? Force her to stay?

Make her listen to him?

That’s what she’d been running from. Words. Whatever words he could summon that would explain away engagements and actresses. Betrayals and lies.

And she knew she wasn’t strong enough to fight it. That, if she’d stayed so much as one more minute, she would have listened. And listening was the first step toward being convinced.

No. She didn’t want to be convinced. What would be the point? Sooner or later there would be another lie, another actress, another piece of perfection, unscarred and whole between them. Like ripping off a bandage, leaving now was a thing better off done and over with.

But if she was so righteous and honorable, why did she want so much to cry?

And why hadn’t she considered that maybe, just maybe, kissing some stupid Uber driver was going to give him the wrong idea?

Mel eyed the kid, who was driving with a pretty big grin on his face. It should’ve been obvious. The way she’d thrown herself into the car. The way she’d screamed at him to just drive and get her the hell out of there. Anyone with half a brain would know that that kiss had been staged from anger. But the driver was special.

Damn, but the grin that broke out on his face was as large as the Joker’s. Heath Ledger version.

“So where to?” he asked as they hit the street with a turn that sent her tumbling against the door. Mel scrambled for her seatbelt with shaking fingers.

“Get me to a decent hotel,” she said wearily, and closed her eyes. She could have sworn he was about to go through six lanes of traffic with the light in front of them quite obviously red.

“Ok, babe.” The car came to a halt, not of the crashing variety, thankfully, and she risked opening an eye long enough to see that he’d stopped at the light after. A nice sane maneuver that told Mel there was hope for him yet.

Until he turned left. From the far-right lane.

At least he waited for the arrow…

And what had he just called her?

“Babe?” She looked at him in the rearview mirror; he was grinning harder now. As a doctor, a part of Mel’s mind wondered if he was going to feel some pain later from his cheeks pulling back like that.

“What are you…” she started to ask. He was digging around for something, one hand on the steering wheel and no eyes on the road. He finally pulled up something from the ashtray, put it to his mouth. Bloomin’ breath spray. Minty Fresh.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake!” Mel dropped her face in her hands.

“What?”

“I want to be alone!” she wailed, ignoring the fact that she sounded like a bad Greta Garbo impersonation.

“Yeah, of course!” he agreed frantically. “No problem at all!”

Mel relaxed a little, confident that she’d misjudged him.

“Wait, does that mean you want me to leave my phone in the car? I am kinda at work…”

Seriously?

“NO!” Mel his. “Alone. By myself. Not with you. Not with anyone!”

“Oh.” He seemed to think for a moment. “That’s cool. I can understand.”

The car slowed perceptibly and Mel wanted to scream. Okay, she shouldn’t have used him to get Brant angry; it was childish and foolish and all that and more, but…what? Love made you stupid? “I’m sorry I kissed you, all right?”

He nodded silently.

After a moment he mumbled, “I’m not.”

“Not what?” Mel’s mind was already on Maria; she couldn’t just leave the girl. Whether she had any legal right to be her guardian, or if she worked at DI or not, she could NOT walk away from a scared little girl who needed her more than ever.

“I’m not sorry you kissed me,” he said quietly.

Mel sat back and closed her eyes. “Look, I didn’t mean anything by it; I was just angry and trying to…”

“Piss off your boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” she whispered, more to herself. It was too hard to explain, too new to not be painful, and this kid didn’t need the details.

He shrugged. “That’s okay.” He smiled in the rearview, meeting her eyes. He had nice eyes. Brown. “You’re a pretty good kisser.”

Mel stifled a laugh but gave him a smile, surprised that she still knew how.

“Thanks,” he said, meeting her eyes again. “For the kiss.”

“You’re welcome.”

How had she gotten to this point? The last two days had been completely surreal. Somehow, she’d gone from rejecting a rich doctor to ending up in the arms of an Uber driver barely out of high school. And then turning him down, too.

Oh, if this isn’t every girl’s dream.

The car came to a screeching halt and she realized that she was somewhere. A façade with a certain familiarity, no doorman. Nothing ornate or ostentatious, but a solid brand. A name she knew and could reasonably trust. Something that should be in her budget for a day or two.

It’s not like she needed it for very long. Just through the surgery. Then I can go…somewhere.

She glanced at the driver, who was waiting for her on the sidewalk. He already had her suitcase out of the back. Time to gather what was left of her belongings and her dignity and get on with her life. She shoved the clothes cascading out of her carryon back into its depths, and this time pulled the zipper across to keep them imprisoned within. “Thank you,” she said as she got out of the car, and handed him a generous tip.

“Listen,” he said slowly as he pocketed the bill, “if you and he don’t—”

“It’s not going to happen!” Mel laughed. “Thanks for the offer, though.”

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained.” The kid grinned and handed the suitcase to her. “And hey, we’ve still got that kiss, right?”

Mel shook her head, and was still fighting a smile as he tore away. No doubt on his way to his next job.

As it turned out, being propositioned by an underage surfer from behind the wheel of a Jeep was the only bright spot of the last two days.

The hotel wasn’t actually in her price range despite the name brand. If this was where he’d normally take his conquests, she had to up-think how much a driver like that makes. She swallowed and handed over the credit card, with a soft whimper that she didn’t think anyone besides herself actually heard.

At least the accommodations were comfortable. After a long soak in the tub she wrapped up in the hotel bathrobe, flipping through three dozen channels to discover there was nothing she had any interest in watching. She had three books with her, mostly romantic trash that had left her thinking of him on the way to L.A. Now they seemed to mock her from the other side of the room, where they lay half-burying her phone.

The phone. It was still DI property even if she wasn’t. She might not be allowed to return to her precious clinic, but she could call it on their dime.

“Hello?” a familiar voice answered rather curtly.

“Carmen.” Mel’s throat constricted at the sound of her voice. She couldn’t believe Kenneth hadn’t screened the call first. “It’s Dr. Bell. How is everything there?”

“Apparently, we’re having some phone difficulty,” the woman cracked. “The reception keeps going out.”

“Oh?” Mel tried to understand. The woman had never been overtly friendly, but at least there hadn’t been any ill will between them. Mel had secretly harbored some illusion that the woman was fond of her. What gives?

“Yes,” Carmen snapped. “I keep getting lines crossed and other conversations intruding into official business. Just yesterday, while speaking to someone in the States, there was interference on the line, someone talking about a doctor who was no longer allowed to communicate with a clinic somewhere. I reported it to the phone company at once, of course.”

“Carmen…” Mel swallowed hard, touched beyond measure. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Doctor, but reporting problems with the phone is part of my job.”

“So it is.” Mel smiled and relaxed back against the pillows. “How is everyone?”

“The temporary doctor might know how to hold a stethoscope,” Carmen conceded reluctantly, “but management of a clinic isn’t in his training. Some of the staff have offered to lend a hand.”

“Meaning he’s screwing up and you’re running it behind his back?”

“See? That’s what I mean, right there. Did you hear that little snippet of conversation that has nothing to do with us?”

Mel laughed. “I’m glad you can handle it, Carmen, I really am.”

“Just until your return, Doctor,” she said in that clipped, efficient voice. Was that a shade of warmth? Either Carmen was softening or, after all these years, Mel was getting better at hearing between the lines.

“Well…I’m not sure…I might be bringing Maria home, but then again…I might not. It’s difficult to say.” She looked up as tears threatened to fall. She swallowed the lump in her throat and forced herself to talk. “I’m officially off the payroll.”

“I see.” Carmen sniffed, conveying several shades of haughtiness in that single noise. “I assume you’re running off with your rich doctor?”

Mel bit her lip, and willed herself not to cry. She fought to keep her voice steady. Noncommittal. “No.”

“Why the hell not? I would in a minute. What’s wrong with you?”

Leave it to Carmen to hear what Mel didn’t want her to.

“I…it’s a long story. Anyway, this has nothing to do with him. This is all about Doctors International. The head of the organization…”

“Ken Holdman?”

Mel was surprised. “You know him?”

“Doctor, it is surprisingly easy to run a clinic,” Carmen harrumphed, “once you know how to file the right paperwork. There are people to call for that. People who are familiar with all kinds of paperwork filed by other people.”

“Wait, Carmen; explain that.”

“When we started having phone problems, I thought it would be best to go through email for some items, just to be safe. I had a friend in the office send me some items to use as a template for filling out the right forms.” There was a pause. “One or two are not forms we would use normally. Or at all.”

“I see.” Mel didn’t.

“How about I forward them to you, so you can see what I’m looking at. It would be helpful to get a second opinion.”

“I’ll do what I can…”

“I know you will, Doctor,” Carmen said flatly. “I’ll see you in a few days then.” And the phone went dead.

Five minutes later, Mel ran from the hotel to max out her credit card on a laptop and printer.

 

* * *

 

She stood in the waiting room, drinking a three-dollar cup of coffee. Three dollars for a cup of coffee. If that was an indication of the cost of living in this place, maybe Brant wasn’t so rich after all. It would only take one or two runs to the coffee place in the hospital to wipe out the family fortune.

Well, he and his fiancée can have it.

She wasn’t going to come today. She’d debated even as she got up this morning. Halfway through her shower she’d decided it would be better to stay at the hotel and wait for updates there. But by the time she’d hit breakfast she knew she had to come. For Maria’s sake, if not her own. Even though the last place she wanted to be was standing in a hospital waiting room, the same waiting room she’d been in yesterday when she’d lost everything.

Remember that. It’s for Maria. It’s important to be here for her. We’ve come all this way. Not for me. For her. You have a responsibility. You’re her guardian. DI or not. Mel sighed and sipped the sludge that cost like liquid gold and tasted like warm motor oil, and stared out of the window at waving palm trees, and waited.

“Pardon me,” a voice said behind her, “are you Dr. Melissa Bell?”

Mel half-turned, and stared blankly at the old man with the cane. He had kind eyes. Deferential manners. No cameras.

Where had she seen him before?

“Yes. I’m Dr. Bell.”

“Please allow me to introduce myself,” he said, and handed her a card. The cardboard was heavy, with embossed lettering and gilt edges and very little text.

BERTRAM HASTINGS, M.D.

“You’re part of Brant’s former office, aren’t you?” Mel remembered him now. The angry man, stomping through the reception room. He’d been part of that meeting.

“Retired.” He bowed slightly and smiled. “And Brant is still officially a member in good standing for as long as the hospital needs him to be. I took care of that.”

“So, then, he’s the one doing the surgery after all?”

Dr. Hastings nodded.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. The idea of some stranger in there with that child had been tormenting her all morning, yet no one had been able to tell her a thing about who was operating. “And after the surgery?”

“That is what I would like to discuss with you,” he said, motioning her over to the couch. The grandfatherly grin returned.

 

* * *

 

The nice thing about hospital coffee was that it didn’t cost three bucks a cup. The bad thing about hospital coffee was that it was hospital coffee. Mel swigged her second cup of the stuff, chasing the over-priced one she’d purchased on the way to the hospital.

She scolded herself that this would be the last one. Any more than this and she’d turn into a hummingbird. She glanced at her purse for the thousandth time. At least another hour of surgery. Dr. Hastings had been sweet. She wasn’t sure what he’d said was true, but after Maria was well enough to go home it wouldn’t matter.

“Set up over here!” a voice called as men and equipment crashed through the waiting room doors and shattered her reverie. “This is perfect. Well, well, well…not who I was expecting to see, I must say!”

Mel grew suddenly cold. The coffee slipped from her nerveless fingers and hit the floor, sending up a wash of hot liquid against her leg. She didn’t feel it. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t remember that she was supposed to breathe. “Kenneth?”

“Never mind her, gentlemen…” he was saying but the cameras were already in her face, the lights blinding her, and two men began peppering her with questions.

“Dr. Bell, is it true that you’re living with Dr. Layton?”

“Dr. Bell, are you aware of the engagement between Dr. Layton and Gloria Shaffer?”

“Dr. Bell, are you—”

“GENTLEMEN!” Kenneth yelled while she was still trying to get her bearings. “Gentlemen, a moment, please.” Kenneth pushed past them and pulled her to one side, almost pinning her to the wall.

“Melissa, you know it’s not too late. You can go back to your clinic, back to your cozy life, back to Belize with…the girl.”

“Maria!” Mel hissed. “Learn ‘the girl’s’ name at the very least. It’s MARIA!”

He paid no attention, but then when had he ever paid attention to anything she’d said? “You don’t have to quit under these circumstances; you can still be a valued member of the Doctors International family.”

Mel shook off his hand, not liking that he was still holding her arm, that he’d trapped her like this. That the only way out of this waiting room was through a film crew that had to be against hospital policy somehow, yet where was security? For that matter, where was any staff at all? This wing had gone eerily silent.

“All I have to do is throw Maria under a bus?” she said, pushing past him, needing space even if there was nowhere to go.

He followed her, leaning in so that his mouth was inches from her ear. She could smell his breath laced with onions and felt sick. “Just be a part of the team, Mel. You don’t have to trot her out, just tell them how proud you are of her and how proud you are of DI for making this all possible.”

“Kenneth, I learned a few things…” Mel turned, facing him. She wondered if she grabbed his arm and pressed him against the wall, if it would make HIM listen to HER the way he’d tried to bully her moments before. Better not. He’d probably like it.

“I know, I know, all is forgiven, really. You’re always welcomed back into the family, and once this is all over no one will bother you again. You can go back to your quiet life. Even the first part of the proceeds can go to your clinic, new equipment, better staff—think about it.” He shot a glance over his shoulder, all smiles for the camera. Reminding her that they were being watched.

Mel closed her eyes. Counted to ten. “She’s going to be in recovery for several hours, Kenneth.”

“Of course, of course…” He patted the air, when he’d been aiming for her arm. Placating nothing, as she’d sidestepped him again, though it was getting harder to keep up this dance. There were too many chairs and end tables. Not enough room.

Kenneth followed her, staying too close. “No need to involve the girl at this stage; besides, she’s going to be all swollen and nasty for a week or more, and no one wants to see that! Plenty of time to trot her out later, when she’s pretty again, or as pretty as she gets. Just get her to say sweet things about DI and it’s all over!”

Mel looked at that fatuous smile and the blubbery lips. She looked to the reporters, who looked bored silly, like they’d rather be anywhere else. On a real story, not some human-interest piece. Whatever five minutes of fame she’d had moments ago was already forgotten when she’d refused to play nice. “All right,” she said to them, not to Kenneth. “I’m ready.”

Heads turned. The cameras came up again. Reporters came to life.

“Start rolling; I’ll make a statement.”

“Let me get out of the way,” Kenneth chortled and raised his hands in a ‘don’t notice me’ gesture that ensured he was the center of attention.

Giving Mel just the opportunity she needed.

She decked him.

Kenneth lay on the floor at the feet of the camera crew. No one said a word. Cameras rolled.

“You want a statement?” she asked the shocked reporters. “Let’s try using words like GRAFT. How about EMBEZZLEMENT?” She ran to her purse and pulled out the folded printouts she’d made the night before. “How about a requisition for a DAMN YACHT?” She waved that paper in the air and handed it to one of the news crew. “The Pinta no less! Of all the stupid names…bought and paid for by the Foundation. Docked right here in L.A. and fully owned and operated by the director of DI!”

Kenneth stared wide-eyed and stuttering, attempting to sit up, attempting to grab at the papers that the reporters held just out of reach.

“How about a $3-million-a-year clinic in South America that doesn’t exist? How’s that for a statement, Kenneth? How about jail time? How about losing everything?”

Mell handed the rest of the papers over and looked down. Kenneth had quit trying to get up. He lay full length on the floor, blood trickling from his nose making a line across his cheek. His eyes were glazed over in shock, she noted. She looked up at the cameras. “He likely needs medical attention.”

She’d had enough of doctoring him for one day. Mel stepped over him and hit the nurse call button on the wall, noticing just how suddenly Kenneth had gone from fearsome monster to something rather pathetic and frail. Suddenly, she felt weary. There were only two reporters, two camera men, one…she guessed sound? Production? Five in total, but they were making enough noise, yammering at each other and talking on cell phones to ring off the walls of the little room.

One reporter was practically wetting himself at being handed the story of the year.

Mel collapsed in a nearby chair and sighed. Her energy was drained, the righteous anger that had fueled her for the past 24 hours was gone. She was tired, bone-tired, soul-tired, and even the coffee couldn’t fight against the lassitude that consumed her.

She had never felt more alone in her life.

She said nothing as the papers were examined. Nothing as the reporters hurled question after question at her. Nothing as the cameramen demanded she look to them, give them a profile, give them a statement, give them a sound bite, give them, give them, give them.

She said nothing when armed guards came and ushered the whole group out, Kenneth getting a wheelchair and a trip to the ER to pack his nose.

She stayed where she was despite the way hospital staff looked at her, in impotent rage that the sanctity of their waiting room was so violated by the noise of a man’s life crumbling.

She had seen the look on Kenneth’s face. The look of horror, of betrayal. She wanted to feel sorry for him. Except she couldn’t.

“Don’t fuck with the ones I love, Kenneth,” she whispered as he was wheeled out with the rest. She turned her back on him and curled up on the couch, picking at the vinyl, tracing lines in the contours. Betrayal. It was a look she knew well. It was a look she’d been wearing for some time now.

Nothing made sense, though. What was she? A low-end doctor from a jungle clinic? A busted woman, hiding in the middle of Belize—Belize for Pete’s sake. Maybe Brant would find himself alone and stranded somewhere else someday, and carve another notch into the handle of his scalpel with a girl like her. The reality was she had been there, she spoke English…and she put out.

But all the rest? The emails, the texts, the phone calls arching into the predawn when they both realized they needed to be seeing patients in a few hours—how did that fit with a playboy millionaire? Or billionaire?

Yet, despite all her imaginings, the emotions still felt real. As did her breaking heart.

I only need to stay a little longer. Make sure Maria is fine. Then what?

She didn’t know. With DI crumbling, what came next for Maria? For the clinic? For herself?

Mel stuffed her purse under her head for a pillow and curled into a fetal position. What if she had killed Doctors International? They had done good work, they had noble goals, they funded a lot of important clinics like hers. Kenneth needed to fall; she couldn’t feel sorry for that. But at what cost? How many clinics would close, how many people would get no health care because of him? Because of her?

Oh shit…

She felt a sob. Then another.

No. She wasn’t going to cry here.

Instead she reached for sleep, for answers.

In her dreams, she reached for Brant.

Except he was no longer there.