patients.”
Chapter 10
Ce que je fais?
Guy paced back and forth in his office. The one good thing about the night shift was that it was less busy. That was also a bad thing. It was that night, at least. Guy’s mind had already been filled to near-overflowing from the funeral. He did not know what to do after learning about Charlotte.
His patient. That was all Myles had told him. Technically, he should not have even said that, but he was concerned for his patient and his friend, concerned Guy had no idea what he was getting himself into and that Charlotte would only be hurt. His pacing increased, taking him back and forth across the tiny room at a frenzied pace. Myles did not need to say much more in order to send Guy crashing. He was an oncologist. His patients all had cancer. Charlotte was his patient. Was she dying?
He could not take it any longer. It was late, nearly midnight, but he dialed anyway.
“Guy?” Vance asked sleepily. “Are you okay?”
“ Non, je veux dire, oui. J'ai besoin de votre aide. Je ne sais pas quoi faire. ” It all came tumbling out at once, leaving Guy breathing hard, desperate for an answer.
“Guy, English, please. I only caught three or four words of that.”
“ Je suis …sorry,” Guy apologized. “Vance, can you come to the hospital?”
“Is everything all right?”
“ Oui , but I cannot leave. I need to talk. I do not know what to do.”
“About Patricia?” he questioned. “I’m not sure what…”
“ Non , about Charlotte,” Guy said impatiently.
Vance’s sigh echoed over the phone. “I’ll be there in twenty.” He ended the call a moment later, leaving Guy to go back to his pacing. Every minute felt like an eternity. He was scowling, frustrated at everything, by the time Vance finally knocked on his office door. He yanked the door open with an impatient growl.
“Simmer down, Guy,” Vance grumbled.
“What?” Now was not the time for stupid American phrases!
“It means calm yourself.” Vance rolled his eyes. “You’re the one who dragged me out of bed in the middle of the night to talk. You could at least make sense when you call so I know what I’m racing here for.”
Guy glared at him. “You told me to call you tonight if I needed to talk.”
“Yeah, and I meant it, but I thought we’d be discussing Patricia’s funeral, not whatever is going on with some woman you’ve only spoken to a few times!”
Collapsing into his office chair, Guy tried to rein in his turbulent thoughts and emotions. Vance stood watching him for a few more seconds before giving in and taking the extra chair. He was barely settled before Guy started talking.
“I was wrong about Charlotte.”
“In what way?” Vance asked.
Guy ran his hands through his hair. The sudden frown on Vance’s face said he did not miss how they were shaking. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Guy stared at his desk. “She does not work here. She is a patient. One of Myles’ patients.”
Vance worked with individuals recovering from traumatic experiences in his practice, but he knew Myles because they had all done rotations in the oncology ward during medical school. His posture changed. Instead of being almost hostile toward his friend, his shoulders sagged. “Guy, I’m sorry. Do you know what type of cancer it is?”
He shook his head. “Myles could not tell me anything. I would have to ask Charlotte.”
“Are you going to?”
Guy lifted his hands in defeat. “I do not know.” He shook his head. “If she had wanted me to know, she would have told me, oui ?”
“Or,” Vance said, “it may be that you two barely know each other and a cancer diagnosis isn’t the first thing you tell someone.” Vance’s voice was sympathetic, but he seemed confused by the situation and by Guy’s reaction. “How did you find out about this anyway? I can’t imagine Myles would just offer up information like that in a casual conversation. He
Chapter 10
Ce que je fais?
Guy paced back and forth in his office. The one good thing about the night shift was that it was less busy. That was also a bad thing. It was that night, at least. Guy’s mind had already been filled to near-overflowing from the funeral. He did not know what to do after learning about Charlotte.
His patient. That was all Myles had told him. Technically, he should not have even said that, but he was concerned for his patient and his friend, concerned Guy had no idea what he was getting himself into and that Charlotte would only be hurt. His pacing increased, taking him back and forth across the tiny room at a frenzied pace. Myles did not need to say much more in order to send Guy crashing. He was an oncologist. His patients all had cancer. Charlotte was his patient. Was she dying?
He could not take it any longer. It was late, nearly midnight, but he dialed anyway.
“Guy?” Vance asked sleepily. “Are you okay?”
“ Non, je veux dire, oui. J'ai besoin de votre aide. Je ne sais pas quoi faire. ” It all came tumbling out at once, leaving Guy breathing hard, desperate for an answer.
“Guy, English, please. I only caught three or four words of that.”
“ Je suis …sorry,” Guy apologized. “Vance, can you come to the hospital?”
“Is everything all right?”
“ Oui , but I cannot leave. I need to talk. I do not know what to do.”
“About Patricia?” he questioned. “I’m not sure what…”
“ Non , about Charlotte,” Guy said impatiently.
Vance’s sigh echoed over the phone. “I’ll be there in twenty.” He ended the call a moment later, leaving Guy to go back to his pacing. Every minute felt like an eternity. He was scowling, frustrated at everything, by the time Vance finally knocked on his office door. He yanked the door open with an impatient growl.
“Simmer down, Guy,” Vance grumbled.
“What?” Now was not the time for stupid American phrases!
“It means calm yourself.” Vance rolled his eyes. “You’re the one who dragged me out of bed in the middle of the night to talk. You could at least make sense when you call so I know what I’m racing here for.”
Guy glared at him. “You told me to call you tonight if I needed to talk.”
“Yeah, and I meant it, but I thought we’d be discussing Patricia’s funeral, not whatever is going on with some woman you’ve only spoken to a few times!”
Collapsing into his office chair, Guy tried to rein in his turbulent thoughts and emotions. Vance stood watching him for a few more seconds before giving in and taking the extra chair. He was barely settled before Guy started talking.
“I was wrong about Charlotte.”
“In what way?” Vance asked.
Guy ran his hands through his hair. The sudden frown on Vance’s face said he did not miss how they were shaking. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Guy stared at his desk. “She does not work here. She is a patient. One of Myles’ patients.”
Vance worked with individuals recovering from traumatic experiences in his practice, but he knew Myles because they had all done rotations in the oncology ward during medical school. His posture changed. Instead of being almost hostile toward his friend, his shoulders sagged. “Guy, I’m sorry. Do you know what type of cancer it is?”
He shook his head. “Myles could not tell me anything. I would have to ask Charlotte.”
“Are you going to?”
Guy lifted his hands in defeat. “I do not know.” He shook his head. “If she had wanted me to know, she would have told me, oui ?”
“Or,” Vance said, “it may be that you two barely know each other and a cancer diagnosis isn’t the first thing you tell someone.” Vance’s voice was sympathetic, but he seemed confused by the situation and by Guy’s reaction. “How did you find out about this anyway? I can’t imagine Myles would just offer up information like that in a casual conversation. He
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