Home To The Doctor. Mary Anne Wilson

and gray, and he could see the rain streaking the glass. He reached for the service button Jim had rigged on the side of the headboard, the button he’d been trying to get to last night when he’d passed out on the floor by the bed. He pressed it, then fell back into the bed and closed his eyes. His leg was throbbing steadily, and he felt confused. He hated both sensations, but more than that, he hated not knowing exactly what had happened the previous evening.

      In less than five minutes, James came striding into the guest house. The man was large, matching Ethan’s six-foot-two-inch frame, but outweighing him by a good thirty pounds. James wasn’t given to much physical activity unless it was a rousing game of chess, but he always wore running shoes. He was dressed as usual in a casual polo shirt, dark slacks and white sneakers. He brushed his prematurely gray hair straight back from his square face, and his pale blue eyes flicked over his boss as he came closer to the high bed.

      “Good morning, sunshine,” he said with a gusto that grated on Ethan’s frayed nerves. “How are we doing today? Or should I say, who are we doing today?” He didn’t wait for a response. “Ginnero is waiting on your decision on the money, and if you could, let Bruce know what you are going to do about approaching the Wakefield Group. He’s in Mexico now.” James was invaluable, never forgetting anything, yet dealing with the business in an almost offhanded manner. “You really need to put these people out of their misery, boss.”

      “Later,” Ethan murmured and gingerly pushed himself up, feeling a twinge in his leg when it slipped off the pillows that had been supporting it. He grimaced but kept moving to sit up against the headboard.

      James proceeded to stuff pillows behind Ethan’s back, then adjusted the ones that had been under his injured leg. “Good idea to elevate your leg,” he said as he stood back. “Isn’t that what the doctor said to do, along with resting as much as you can?”

      Yes, Dr. Perry had said that very thing, but it hadn’t been Ethan’s idea to do it. “Were you down here last night?”

      “Last night?” James asked. “No. I told you I was going to the city to see…a friend. Julie, the dental assistant.” Ethan nodded and James went on. “I took the first ferry back this morning. Just walked into my room when the bell went off and I came on down here. Why?”

      “I took a fall.”

      James frowned at Ethan. “What were you doing to fall?”

      “I was trying to walk. I went onto the deck, wondering why the hell I agreed to come here to recuperate at all. When I turned to come back in, the damn cast hit a potted plant. I ended up on my behind.”

      James was all business now. “I’ll call Dr. Perry, and then get Scooter to bring the helicopter over right away.”

      “No,” Ethan said quickly. “Forget that. I’m okay.” He was so sick of being sick and even sicker of doctors. At least, most doctors. “There was a doctor here already.”

      James looked confused now. “The local doctor?”

      “No,” he said, remembering Dr. Andrew Kelly from his childhood, a pleasant man with thinning sandy hair and a quiet manner. “No, it wasn’t Dr. Kelly. It was a woman.”

      “She checked you out?”

      “I think so,” Ethan said, but couldn’t remember her doing more than touching his forehead and being on top of him in the bed. “She got me settled,” he said, “and I guess she got my medication.” He glanced past James. “She must have picked up the mess I made over there, too.”

      “I thought you said you fell on the deck.”

      “I did, then I came in here, grabbed that chair by the door for balance, but I sent it over on its back with the side table and lamp.”

      “What lamp?” James asked, looking in the direction Ethan indicated.

      “The one I broke when it fell.”

      “Hurricane Ethan,” James muttered as he crossed to the French doors and opened them. “Well, you made a mess out here,” he said, then closed the door and walked over to the phone by the spiral staircase. After dialing four digits and asking someone to come clean up the guest house, he came back to Ethan. “How did you get the doctor to visit?”

      “I didn’t. I think she was on the beach and came up to…” He wasn’t sure why she’d come up or even if she actually had been there. The falls had been real, but maybe they’d knocked him senseless. Maybe he’d just imagined her being with him and her touch on his skin. Maybe the pills had conjured her up. He usually hated medication. “She was here,” he said as much to assure himself as to answer James’s question.

      “Are you sure you don’t want to check in with your own doctor?” James asked, either not noticing his uncertainty or not wanting to ignore it.

      “No, I’m okay.” He was. Although his leg was no better or no worse, his head was finally clear. He wouldn’t take any medication again unless he absolutely had to. Besides, he had work to take care of, and one more thing he wanted to do. “Find out who the doctor is for me, will you?”

      “Sure,” James said, before changing the subject. “Want me to check your faxes and e-mails?”

      “I’ll do it,” Ethan muttered. “I hate being out of the loop like this.”

      “Out of the loop? How? You’ve got every modern convenience in this place from the fax, to the high-speed Internet connection and four computers, which are never turned off.” He shook his head. “Your receptionist is keeping your office in the city going, and keeping you going out here. And isn’t Natalie going to show up sooner or later?” His grin turned a bit mischievous. “At least as soon as you’re up for her visit.”

      Ethan had had enough. “Natalie’s going to come for the wedding reception, then stick around. And my receptionist is earning her pay. And my assortment of methods to keep in contact just don’t cut it. I never should have agreed to come here in the first place.”

      “Well, you did. So suck it up, heal and get out of here,” James said with a flippancy that no other employee would get away with. “And quit falling over your cast. Now, are you getting up, and do you need help dressing?”

      “I’m getting up and I’m going to do just fine putting on fresh shorts myself.”

      James glanced at Ethan’s sole clothing, the beige shorts he’d had on the day before. “Well, you might have had a doctor in here, but she didn’t get you in your jammies, did she?”

      “Oh, knock it off,” Ethan said and let his friend pull him up and out of the bed. He stood there, carefully getting his balance, then waved off James’s support as he grabbed the single crutch he hated using and made his way across the room to the bathroom. “I’ll be damn glad to have a real shower when this thing comes off,” he said.

      “You’re telling me,” James said with an exaggerated sniff. “I have to be around you.”

      Ethan laughed harshly at that attempt at a joke. When he got into the bathroom, James retrieved the protective plastic sleeve and bootie that fit over the cast so Ethan could at least get in the shower, but keep the bottom part of his right leg dry. James fitted it for him, then turned on the shower. “Take your time,” he said, closing the door behind him as he left.

      “James?” Ethan said quickly.

      The man peeked back in at him. “What now?”

      “Don’t forget to find out who the lady doctor was.”

      “Sure,” he said, leaving.

      Ethan got his shorts off, then limped into the shower stall and, keeping his right leg out of the direct stream of water, let the spray wash over his face. Closing his eyes, an oddly clear image of the lady doctor came to him. The red hair, the blue eyes. Then it blurred and was gone.

      By the time Ethan was out of the shower, dried and had stripped off the plastic protection