The Doctor's Undoing. Gina Wilkins

He liked to tease her about being the perky “cheerleader” of the group, a moniker he used whenever she tried to convince him to take their studies more seriously. It frustrated her that his stated motto had always been, “If it doesn’t work out, walk away.” Her own had always been, “If at first you don’t succeed, keep at it until you do.”

      Those opposing viewpoints had led more than once to nervous sniping. Fortunately, they had cleared the air between them a couple months ago, and they’d been getting along much better since. She could say honestly that she considered him one of her closest friends.

      Pulling her notebook out of one of the stuffed pockets of her pristine white coat, she concentrated on typing her notes. SOAP notes, they were called. S for subjective, or what the patient said about his condition overnight. O for objective, which included readings of vital signs, lab work and physical exams. A for assessment, a brief statement of the patients’ descriptions and conditions. And P for plan, the recommended course of treatment as prescribed by the resident physician.

      A wadded sheet of paper hit her in the back of the head and tumbled to the floor. She didn’t even look around. “Stop it, Ron. I’m running out of time.”

      He laughed softly. Despite her irritation with him, her lips twitched in a wannabe smile. It was a common response to his—okay, she would admit it—his sexy, low laugh. Acknowledging his appeal didn’t mean she was particularly susceptible to it, she assured herself, as she had on more than one occasion during the past two years. Ron Gibson was a walking heartbreak if she’d ever met one, and she was too smart and too busy to let herself fall into that trap.

      “You know you’ll be ready for rounds,” he said as he gathered his own notes to stuff into the pocket of his slightly crumpled white coat. “You’re a resident’s dream of a med student.”

      It was the student’s job to make the resident look good in front of the attending, and Haley acknowledged that she always tried her best to do so. That was her nature—Ron could call it “cheerleader” if he liked, but it was important to her to see others succeed, just as it was for her to do well, herself.

      “I try.”

      “Yes, you certainly do.”

      Was that a dig? She shot a suspicious look over her shoulder, but couldn’t tell anything from his bland demeanor. “It would be better for you if you didn’t always have to be the class clown. Your resident spends the whole time during rounds worrying about what you’re going to say in front of the attending.”

      His expression turned instantly innocent. “I’ve been perfectly well behaved during my presentations.”

      “Mmm. Doesn’t prevent everyone from worrying about when you’re going to stop being perfectly well behaved and let your real self show,” she muttered, returning to her notes.

      He laughed again as he ambled out of the room. “See you on rounds.”

      Even as she concentrated on finishing her work, she dwelled on thoughts of Ron during the next few minutes. She found it ironic that out of their entire study group, she and Ron were the only two who’d ended up on the same rotation, so they saw each other every day during rounds and lectures.

      She’d hoped to share the experience with her best friend, Anne Easton. But Anne was on surgical rotation—a demanding, time-consuming block—in addition to starting a new life with her husband, who now made his home with his wife here in Little Rock when he wasn’t traveling for his job. Haley and Anne hardly had a chance to see each other lately. Nor had Haley seen much of Connor or James, their other two study partners. Connor and James were on a separate semester schedule, meaning she wouldn’t do any of her rotations with them this year.

      She couldn’t say she missed the mind-numbing overload of lectures and exams that had taken up the first two years of medical school, but she did miss her friends. Which, perhaps, explained why she was always happy to see Ron every morning, despite her frequent annoyance with him.

      Funny how conflicted her feelings were about Ron, she mused, folding her notes into the patient history and physicals—commonly referred to as H & Ps—and slipping them into her pocket. Anne had once commented that Haley and Ron were like squabbling siblings—and yet that description had never felt quite right to Haley. She refused to concede that the sparks she and Ron set off were at all sexual—but “sisterly” wasn’t the word she’d have chosen, either. She’d settled for thinking of him as an attractive, interesting, complicated and often annoying friend.

      She supposed that was close enough to the truth.

      Rounds began promptly at 8:00 a.m. The residents and students were always relieved when the attending physician showed up either on time or a few minutes late. Having the attending show up early caused panicky, last-minute completions of notes and charts. No one wanted to be caught unprepared.

      Though this was Ron’s first rotation, and first real experience with hospital rounds, he felt more comfortable with the process than he might have expected. He liked the attending quite a bit. Dr. Cudahy was a seasoned hospitalist who was cordial and considerate to her patients and associates. Her first lecture to the three students on this team—Ron, Haley and Hardik Bhatnagar—had included a reminder that all the patients they would see in this facility had spent time serving their country and in return deserved to be treated with gratitude and respect, no matter what unhealthy lifestyle choices they might have made.

      Along with his two classmates, three residents, Dr. Cudahy and her nurse, Ron entered the room of the first patient they would be seeing—Haley’s flirtatious Mr. Eddington. The thin, wan man winked at Haley, who stood beside his bed to begin her presentation. A warm, answering smile reflected in her amber eyes when she spoke to the assembled group.

      Haley was good at presenting, Ron thought with a touch of pride for her. She looked comfortable and confident as she gave a brief summary of Mr. Eddington’s condition, his experiences during the night and the resident’s plan for continued treatment. She was able to answer the attending’s questions with only a glance at her notes, which made both her and her resident look good. Ron gave her a surreptitious thumbs-up when they left the room to move to the next.

      Hardik sailed through his presentation of his first patient, but stumbled during his second stop. He’d forgotten to note the new antibiotic that had been started during the night, and as a result, his resident had to step in to answer the attending’s questions, leaving Hardik embarrassed. It happened to all of them, of course; Dr. Cudahy even deliberately tried to stump them at times, just to keep them humble and on their toes. Ron still felt bad for his classmate—and hoped he didn’t make the same mistakes with his own patients.

      Ron kept his presentations brief and to the point, despite his urge to crack a few jokes to make everyone laugh. Which, of course, made him think of Haley’s comment that everyone was just waiting for him to display his “real” self during rounds. Had she only been teasing? Or did she really believe the serious and proficient side of him was only an act?

      Haley looked good today, he mused, watching her present her final patient. Georgia McMillan, an sixty-eight-year-old retired Air Force nurse, was being treated for pneumonia in addition to emphysema and congestive heart failure, all common to this facility’s population. Many of the veterans had been or were still heavy smokers, leading to a high incidence of lung and heart diseases among other smoking-related ailments.

      Letting Haley’s presentation drift past him, Ron concentrated instead on how fresh and professional she looked in her spotless, short white coat over a melon-colored top with tan pants. Her collar-length, honey-colored hair was neatly restrained with a brown headband, and her makeup was flawless and understated—not that her pretty, girl-next-door face needed much enhancement.

      He realized abruptly that the group was moving toward the door, leaving him gazing rather stupidly at Haley. He recovered quickly, sending a smile of gratitude toward the patient who allowed the students to gawk at her and learn from her suffering. Ms. McMillan batted her eyes at him in return, making him chuckle as he stepped out of the room.

      When