The Doctor Delivers. Judy Christenberry

      She nodded, relieved that finally someone was listening to her.

      “Look, Ms. Colton, I know you don’t want to stay here, but at least let us give you some fluids and check things out. Only for an hour or two.”

      As he finished speaking, the nurse returned with a plastic bag of fluid.

      “If you’ll at least let us do that, you’ll feel a lot better,” he assured her, that deep voice sounding very soothing.

      “Have to—call…cancel tonight,” she muttered, each word paining her.

      “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. What theater are you performing in?”

      She managed to get out the name of the prestigious theater.

      Even though he listened, he also motioned to the nurse. She placed something in his hand. He came around to the side of the bed where the IV was hung. “Just rest for a little while. I’ll be back shortly,” he assured her.

      Liza saw him inject a syringe into a juncture in the tube. She tried to ask what he was giving her, but suddenly even her raspy whisper was impossible. Her tongue wouldn’t move and her eyelids drifted closed. The sleep that had eluded her for so long was making up for lost time.

      “I want her admitted,” Nick told his colleague.

      “But she said she didn’t want to be here,” the E.R. doctor said cautiously. “We can’t hold her against her will.”

      “Do you want to ask her now?”

      “Well, no, I mean, you’ve sedated her, but—”

      “She agreed to stay a few hours so we could check her out. I suspect she’s either on some radical diet or may even have recently become bulimic. You know how these entertainers are.” He turned to the nurse. “Have her taken upstairs and admitted. Tell the nurse on duty that at the first sign of her waking up, she’s to call me at once.”

      “Yes, Doctor.”

      With a nod of thanks, he strode out of the emergency room to make the short drive back to his office. He’d left patients waiting while he attended to the mysterious Ms. Colton. The beautiful Ms. Colton.

      Not that he was interested, of course, he assured himself. First of all, he never had personal relationships with his patients. And secondly, he’d been married to a beautiful, wealthy woman. He’d never commit such a mistake again.

      Not that Liza Colton resembled his ex-wife, Daphne, in any way other than her wealth. Daphne was a neon sign and Liza Colton was moonlight. Daphne was a curvaceous blonde who used every trick in the book to catch a man’s eye. Liza Colton was a slender brunette, almost too slender, her dark hair cut in a pixie that made her green eyes look huge. She had that fragile, graceful appearance of Winona Ryder or, maybe even more, Audrey Hepburn.

      He shook off such thoughts. It wasn’t like him to linger on a patient’s appearance. His job was to treat the woman and send her on her way.

      The rest of the afternoon he tended to patients, calmly and efficiently. But he couldn’t keep his thoughts away from Liza Colton. He had his nurse call the hospital midway through the afternoon to check with the nurse on duty.

      Ms. Colton was still sleeping.

      He hadn’t given her that strong a sedative. He’d expected her to awaken after a couple of hours.

      As soon as he saw his last patient, he stripped off his lab coat and grabbed his jacket. “I’m going to the hospital, Missy. You can reach me there if anything comes up before you go home.”

      “Are you going to see Liza Colton? ‘Cause I’d love her autograph!”

      “She’s sick, Missy. I can’t bother her with that kind of request,” he chided, smiling at his young nurse.

      Missy’s face fell. “I guess not.”

      Nick half smiled. “I’ll see how she’s feeling. Maybe I’ll ask her, but I’m not promising anything.” Missy was a good nurse who worked hard. Surely one autograph wouldn’t be too much to ask from the diva.

      He was rewarded by Missy’s brilliant smile and her thanks. With a wave, he hurried to his car.

      Once he reached the hospital, he went straight to the second floor where Liza Colton was. “Any change?” he asked the floor nurse.

      “On Miss Colton? No, she’s sleeping.”

      With a frown, he walked to her room. Just as the nurse had reported, she was sleeping soundly after four hours. Unless she had a bad reaction to the sedative, or she hadn’t slept in a while, she shouldn’t still be asleep.

      He lifted her delicate hand and held her wrist. Pulse was normal. He listened to her heart. No problem there.

      Reluctantly, he decided to awaken her.

      “Ms. Colton? Can you hear me, Ms. Colton?” He patted her hand as he called her name, but she didn’t stir. Finally he took her by her shoulders and gently shook her. “Liza? Liza, open your eyes.”

      Very slowly, her dark lashes swept up, and she stared at him blankly.

      “Do you remember me? I’m Dr. Hathaway. You came to see me about your throat.”

      After staring at him with confusion, she finally nodded, then let her eyelids drift down again.

      “Don’t go back to sleep. I need to ask you some questions.”

      He grabbed the pillow from the next bed and pulled her forward, to slip the extra pillow behind her. He wasn’t happy to realize he liked holding her in his arms. What was wrong with him suddenly?

      He backed away from the bed and went to the foot of it, adjusting the upper part of it a little higher.

      “Ms. Colton? Liza? Open your eyes.”

      “So tired,” she whispered, even as her eyes flickered.

      “Haven’t you been sleeping well?”

      “No,” she said, her voice still raspy. “Couldn’t.”

      “Why not?”

      “Em—” Before she could finish that word, whatever it might’ve been, she came fully awake and sent a panicked look his way.

      “What is it? What’s wrong?” he asked, growing more intrigued by the moment. He went to the side of the bed.

      “Have to go,” she muttered, the words paining her if her face was any indication.

      “You’re not well, Ms. Colton. When’s the last time you ate?”

      With her gaze flickering around the room, as if looking for an escape, she shrugged her shoulders.

      “Young lady, I need a better answer than that. If you’re on some ridiculous, totally unnecessary diet, I need to know. It could be affecting your voice.”

      She lifted one thin hand to rub her forehead. “No,” she replied, though he wasn’t sure what she was saying.

      “You’re not on a diet?”

      She shook her head, though not vigorously.

      He leaned forward and pushed the call button. “Nurse? I want two dinner trays brought to room 226 ASAP.”

      “Yes, Doctor.”

      He sat on the edge of the bed. When she stared at him in confusion, he said, “I’m starving. I thought I’d keep you company, even though it’s a little early for dinner.”

      He wanted to see her eat. And keep the food down. If she was bulimic, he’d have to stay for several hours. But he hadn’t really seen any signs of bulimia.

      “Must go,” she said, her raspy voice holding panic.

      “I called