Mid-morning Claire saw Jason escort an older woman past her office door. His arm was on her shoulder, and he wore a concerned expression. “Mrs. Lewis, I’m sending you to the best surgeon in Santa Barbara. We caught the lump early…”
This from the grumpiest guy she’d ever met? Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all, and perhaps now was the perfect time to approach him.
She stood at her desk and waited for him to return. Her aromatherapy blend of lavender and ylang-ylang had been on the warmer all morning.
She used her hands to push the scent out her door, then rolled her eyes. This really was nuts—the markings of a desperate woman. The two things she needed to do to make him happy were to stay out of his way, and take care of every patient to the best of her abilities. But helping his outlook along with a little relaxing aromatherapy couldn’t hurt, could it? Without his knowing, she might successfully change his sour mood and lift his spirits under the guise of helping their patients. And if it didn’t work, no harm would be done.
She heard footsteps coming up the stairs and scrambled to her desk.
Jason slowed and hesitated outside her door. He turned his head and mumbled, “Morning.”
Better late than never. Her mouth almost dropped open. Was he trying to be friendly?
“Good morning!” she said.
“What’s that smell?” he asked.
Here was her chance. She popped up from her desk chair. “I was going to wait for you to get settled in and then tell…I mean ask you about this idea I got after we had our…uh…discussion yesterday. I mean last night. It came to me last night. The idea…I mean…
“You’re babbling, Claire. Get on with it.”
OK, so he wasn’t trying to be friendly, and she was babbling. At least he’d called her Claire.
“You’ve heard of white coat syndrome, right?”
“Of course.” In his favor, he didn’t look impatient.
“I was thinking about helping our patients relax while they’re in the waiting room before their appointments by using a couple of essential oils that are known to calm people down. Would that be OK with you?”
He gave her the most curious look, as if she might be from an alien planet, but to her surprise he nodded his approval, then walked to his door and shut it soundly. She could have sworn she heard him mumble, “Whatever.”
Claire ran behind on her morning appointments, and finished entering her last progress notes into the computer at quarter to one. She hustled down the stairs and into the kitchen to find it empty, except for Jason Rogers heating something in the microwave. She almost turned around and headed out the door, but he lifted his head, glanced at her and nodded.
Jason used a tissue to wipe his nose while he waited for his lunch to warm. “I needed to get out of my office. My eyes have been bothering me all morning, and now my nose is stuffed up.”
The lavender and ylang-ylang? Claire widened her eyes, but caught herself from reacting too obviously. “Spring is just around the corner. Are you allergic to pollens?”
“Not that I know of.” The microwave dinged and he reached for his lunch.
OK, so they proved they could have a semi-civil conversation.
Great idea, Albright. Instead of making him relax with aromatherapy, you gave him a headache and a stuffed-up nose. Maybe she should add some rosemary drops to the mix to help with decongestion.
She left the kitchen and ran up the stairs to turn off the aromatherapy diffuser in the waiting room. Maybe she’d overdone it, but none of her patients had complained. In fact, a couple of them had lower than usual blood pressures during their appointments that morning. She’d definitely add the rosemary drops tomorrow. Maybe his reaction had nothing to do with the aromatherapy.
She returned to the kitchen just as Jason was exiting. He glanced briefly at her when he passed, but didn’t say another word. Could he have thought she was avoiding him when she’d run out of the room so quickly? And, just when they’d made a mini step toward progress, too. She wanted to throw up her hands. Instead of easing the tension between them, she’d succeeded in irritating his nose and giving him the impression she couldn’t stand being in the same room with him.
Things were not going well.
Two of the nurses had arrived back from picking up takeout food, and sat chatting happily at the table. She nodded to them and pointed to the back door.
“It’s so lovely out today. I think I’ll eat in the garden.”
One of the nice extras about having a Victorian mansion as a medical building was the well kept back yard and garden, complete with arbor, gazing globe, and fairy statues. English and painted daisies, camellias, bleeding hearts and crocus in pinks, whites and purples, and many other perennial spring flowers she didn’t have a clue about, were so pleasing to her eyes in the garden, she couldn’t resist eating outdoors. And though it was sunny and warm today, and she needed to avoid the sun because of her Lupus, the yard provided a huge ash tree for shade and a convenient bench beneath it.
She sat and inhaled to help her relax. Maybe she should have set up the ylang-ylang and lavender for herself. She rolled her shoulders and watched a couple of robins hopping around the verdant grass in search of food as she unwound. High in the tree, other birds called their greetings to one another and rustled the leaves as they flapped away into the sky.
This was the place she needed to be at this exact moment in her life. In this garden. At this medical clinic. She’d do anything she could to keep her job, even if it meant putting up with Jason Rogers. She took a bite of her grilled veggies and hummus sandwich and chewed contentedly…until…she noticed the bee.
Back in his office, Jason needed to consult his drug formulary and went to his bookcase to retrieve it. From his upstairs window he noticed Claire on the bench in the garden eating her lunch.
She’d worn a sunflower-yellow dress today, and had taken off her lab coat before she’d taken her lunch break. And she’d worn her hair down again. He liked how it settled on her shoulders in waves. For someone who took herself so seriously, she certainly dressed in fanciful colors. Purple yesterday, bright yellow today. It said something about her, he didn’t have a clue what, yet he found it curiously appealing and he felt drawn to her lively spirit. That disturbed him, made the hair on his neck stand on end.
He glanced at the picture of Jessica and Hanna on his bookcase that he kept out of view of others. Mother and child posed perfectly for the camera on one of their many vacations…so many years ago. God, he missed them. Was he being unfaithful to Jessica’s memory by feeling a distant attraction to this new woman?
It wasn’t purely about Claire being a good-looking woman, or the fact that it had been ages since he’d been intimate with anyone. No. And he definitely wasn’t looking for anyone to become involved with. But Claire had guts and had stood up to him when he’d used his bully pulpit yesterday to call her out for trying new treatments. He respected her for standing up for what she believed in, no matter how off the mark she’d been. Table salt. Hah.
But really, what harm could a massage do to a depressed person? Had it been necessary for him to take such offense? First and foremost in the Hippocratic Oath he’d taken when he’d become a doctor was—Do No Harm. And Mrs. Crandall had sounded so hopeful in her message.
What did he know about hope anymore?
He shook his head, replaced the photograph on the shelf, and watched Claire as she bit into her sandwich.
Suddenly, she sprung up and her sandwich went flying as she jogged around in a circle flailing her arms. She flung her head around and frantically used her hands to brush her hair away. Over and over. With a contorted face, she danced in spasms and bent over, shaking her head, and swiped through her hair as if it were on fire. Again and again.