Greydon

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Susannah shoved the crying baby into my arms as our son protested the absence of his mother’s embrace. Gently cradling him, I kissed his head and rubbed my cheek against the downy fuzz on top. I loved the softness of it and couldn’t help but notice the contrast between the two of us—my scruffy beard and slightly calloused hands and his soft, velvety skin. Inhaling his scent, I smiled, loving his baby scent.

“You sure you want to go? I mean isn’t this trip going to be tough on you.”

A soft chuckle came from the closet, where she’d disappeared. “You’re the one who’s going to have it tough.”

She was probably right. I’d be here with a four-month-old and our six-year-old daughter. It was a good thing my mother was coming to help. I was used to handling it with my daughter, but adding our four-month-old son would create a new spin on things.

“True, but traveling so soon after maternity leave. I mean that’s quite a bit to take on.”

She rushed out of the closet with her packed rolling bag and laughed. “Might as well get used to it. I did it after Kinsley. There’s no reason to think I can’t do it with Aaron too.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.”

She paused and gave me that look, the one with only one brow raised. I’d always wondered how she managed that. “Well?”

“I was only thinking that you’re jumping in too fast.”

“Come on, Grey. You know me better than that. I was off for twelve weeks and have been back for a month now. This is the first trip I’ll be taking. I usually travel once a week.”

She was right. “Yeah, I know. I guess I’ve gotten used to having you around.”

She walked up to me, grabbed my face, and planted a chaste kiss on my cheek. “I hope you didn’t get spoiled. You know staying home was never part of my plans.”

“True.” I was far from spoiled, but I didn’t mention that. Her career was important to her and one of the things that attracted me to her in the first place. Susannah exuded confidence in everything she did. She worked for one of the big hotel chains and had risen up the ranks. The problem was the rise brought a shit load of travel, which I wasn’t fond of. It took her away from the kids, even though I loved handling the home front. But I wanted to see her succeed and didn’t say a thing about it when it started happening. “It just seems like you can’t wait to get out of here. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were rushing off to meet someone.” I was joking, of course. I trusted her explicitly.

Her eyes avoided me as she let out a cackle and said, “Guess I’ll have to make it up to you when I get back.” She slid a manicured nail down my arm. Susannah was great at avoiding my comments.

“Hey, I’m holding you to that.”

Walking to the small desk in the corner of our expansive room, she quickly stuffed her laptop into a messenger bag and grabbed the charger putting it into the bag as well.

“You have your phone charger and mobile battery?” I asked.

“Yep, and I think that’s everything. I’ll text you when I land.”

I juggled Aaron in one arm and hugged her with the other. “I’ll miss you every minute you’re gone.”

“Same here, Grey. Love you.” She gave me a quick peck on the cheek, which was surprising, considering she’d be gone all week. I handed Aaron to her and carried her bag down to the waiting car that would take her to the airport. The car sped off as Aaron and I watched it go. Dawn hadn’t broken yet, but I would soon have to wake Kinsley up for school.

The morning was hectic, but I managed to make it to work on time for my first appointment.

As I walked into the back entrance of the building, my nurse asked, “Morning, Dr. West. How was your weekend?”

“Great Nicole. I hope yours was too.” I kept moving until I got to my private office. I donned my starched lab coat and checked my emails. Nothing urgent in there, so I quickly checked my investments when Nicole informed me what the day ahead held. Then I scanned the office computer to see the charts of my patients.

“Mr. Parton went to the ER last night. Chest pain. They admitted him. Dr. Goldsmith saw him since he was on call and they cathed him. He has another blockage. Looks like he’s going to need CABG.” CABG—coronary artery bypass graft—was a big surgery for someone with Mr. Parton’s debilitating health issues, which concerned me.

“Did Goldsmith call in this morning?” I asked.

“Yes, sir. He wants to talk to you ASAP.”

“He’s not coming in?” John Goldsmith was one of the partners in our cardiology practice.

“Not until around noon.”

“Okay, thanks, Nicole.”

I jumped on a call with Goldsmith. “John. What happened with Parton?”

“Oh, man. His LAD is ninety percent blocked. Not to mention he has restenosis with the stent he has. Five of his arteries are greater than sixty. He’s a train wreck.”

“Right, but he’s not a candidate for CABG. Have you looked at his total picture? I don’t think he’d survive the surgery.”

John began, “He’s older but …”

“Failing kidneys, post-stroke, and that’s only the beginning. If they graft him, they’ll never stabilize him afterward. He may survive the surgery, but the post-surgical arrhythmias would probably kill him.”

“Fuck, Grey, why wasn’t any of that charted?”

“It is. I’m looking at it on the computer now.”

“I didn’t see it and I combed through everything last night.”

“When you get to the office, check his chart. I’m not sure what’s being transferred via electronic medical records to the hospital, but it should all be in there.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Are you still at the hospital?” I asked.

“No. I’m home. Why?”

“He needs to have stents. We can’t risk him having an MI.” A myocardial infarction spelled certain death for Mr. Parton.

“You’re right. How’s your patient load this morning?”

“Heavy. Let me see who’s on call to do it. Thanks, man.”

Electronic medical records were supposed to solve all the problems of missing medical information. It sure did miss the mark on Mr. Parton.

All morning I was swamped but finally broke away for a fifteen-minute lunch. I checked my emails while I scarfed down a sandwich. One was from an Allie Gordon, but I ignored it because I didn’t really have time. I was back in the saddle until three, when George called. He was the other partner on call.

“Update on Parton for you. We’ve got him stabilized after the stents. That LAD was dicey, man. He’s stable now but there’s no guarantee with it. You know what I’m saying?”

“I do. He’s lucky though. With that kind of blockage, he could’ve had the big one.”

John agreed. “They don’t call it the widow maker for nothing.”

I was finally winding down the day, dismissing my last patient, when Nicole, met me in the hall.

Grabbing my arm, she tugged me to the side and said, “Uh, there’s a woman in the waiting room. She says it’s urgent and needs to see you. She looks really upset. Says it’s a personal matter. Linda tried to turn her away, but she started crying.”

Linda was the front desk receptionist and was great at handling people. If this woman was still here, Linda must’ve thought it was important enough for her to see me.

“Did she leave a name?”

“Yes. Allie Gordon.”

“Okay. Send her to my office. I’ll be there in a second.”

After a quick bathroom break, I headed to my office. A woman close to my age sat there. Her eyes were red and swollen making it obvious she’d been crying.

“Can I help you?”

“Hi, I’m Allie Gordon.”

“Grey West.”

“Yes, we’ve met. Our spouses work together.”

As soon as those words left her mouth, she sobbed. Shit, what the hell was going on?

“Mrs. Gordon, are you okay? Can I get you some water?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t know what else to do, but I knew you ought to know the truth. Here.” She handed me a large, thick manila envelope. I stared at it, unclear as to what it was. “You should probably open it. It will make more sense when you do.”

I tore it open to solve the mystery. The first thing I saw was a letter. It was from Allie to me. So I read it.

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Dear Dr. West:

For months I suspected my husband was having an affair. After many unanswered questions, I decided to hire a private investigator. He uncovered much more than I ever imagined. Since our spouses work together and after learning what I did, I thought it was only fair you should know too. I hired him a year ago. He uncovered things from over two years ago. Evidently, this has been going on for quite some time.

I am deeply sorry.

Allie Gordon

---

Inside were pictures, lots of them, and a thumb drive. I was not prepared in the least for what I was about to see. The pictures were damning. Susannah and Allie’s husband were embracing, kissing, doing things that punched me straight in the sternum, stomping the air out of me. My hands shook as I held the stack of them. They would’ve brought me to my knees if I hadn’t been sitting.

I cleared my throat, forcing the bile back down into my gut. “You said over two years?” I hardly recognized my voice.

“Yes.”

My tone was dead, lifeless as I asked, “Does your husband travel?”

“He left this morning for the week. I assume your wife did too.” She dabbed her eyes with a tissue.

I nodded, numb with pain. A blade of fire ripped through my heart, but it didn’t stop there. It was gutting me wide open, leaving me to bleed all over the damn place.

And then I stopped. “We have a four-month-old.” The words rasped through my lips like desert air. I dropped my head in mortification. Oh shit. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. Aaron could be his son.

“I know.” I raised my head and gazed into watery eyes filled with pity.

Two hands fisted my hair. I stifled the urge to scream in fury … and frustration.

Mrs. Gordon asked if I was okay.

“Fuck no, I’m not okay,” I moaned.

Her mouth briefly hung open before it slammed shut. Then she asked, “Is there anything I can do? I know exactly how you feel.”

She was trying to help, to be kind, but I was lost in another dimension. I only shook my head in response. My emotions were an amalgamation of disgust, hurt, mortification, and fury. How could Susannah possibly have done this to our family … our children? Hadn’t she stopped to consider the ramifications it would have on them? I already knew the answer to that.

Gathering all the evidence on my desk, I tore off my lab coat and without another word to Mrs. Gordon, I stormed out and headed for home. I needed to speak to my attorney and fast. Plans had to be made. Drastic ones. My cheating wife was going to learn what it felt like to be financially ruined. By the time she returned home on Friday, the locks would be changed on the house, and our bank accounts would be emptied. She fucked over the wrong guy.

Only that’s not what happened. Little did I know those plans wouldn’t be necessary.

Later that night I received a phone call that changed everything. Susannah and her co-worker, her lover, never made it to their final destination. Karma is a cruel bitch. Their plane crashed somewhere over the Pacific on its final approach into Seattle. There were no survivors. I never got the chance to vent my anger … to tell her the affair she’d been having for over two years had been exposed. I never had the opportunity to question why she had done such a terrible thing to our family and marriage. And I never had the chance see her expression when I asked her whether or not Aaron was my son.