~ Be Still, My Heart! ~

by

Carol McPhee

"So, this is where you are, instead of meeting with me!" The voice boomed from the doorway. Andrea glanced down at her watch. Ten thirty!

"Hello, Doug." Braeden’s tone softened when he acknowledged his patient, effectively disguising his anger. "I hope you don’t mind if I take the dietitian away from you for a few moments. We have a matter to discuss."

Not waiting for a reply, the doctor firmly escorted Andrea by her elbow into the hallway. Expecting him to stop there, she didn’t resist, but he steered her toward a supply room past the nursing station. A gathering of nurses stared as she and Braeden marched by them. Andrea could imagine what they were thinking as he forcibly shoved her into the enclosure. Her elbow joint pulsed under his firm grip. He kicked the door shut and spun her around to face him.

A strong odor of rubbing alcohol overpowered the air. Finding it difficult to breathe, Andrea fought to keep her wits about her.

"What’s the idea of having me waste a half-hour waiting for you to put in an appearance, Miss Martin? Did it ever occur to you that I have a busy schedule, which doesn’t allow for lost moments of waiting for no-shows?" His eyes shot daggers; a little shiver ran down her back. "Have you no sense of responsibility, or professionalism?" The snarlish tone broadcast his anger through the door. She twisted in such a frantic manner that he had no choice but to let her go. He blocked the exit; she backed against the wall.

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

Fighting for control of her words she remained speechless, then stepped toward him, her forehead almost touching his chin, her hands clenched into fists.

Dazed at his outburst, she couldn’t talk.

"Well?" Dr. Landry’s cold stare penetrated deep into her hopes for self-preservation. Her mind functioned only enough to know that at this particular instant, if she lashed back, she’d regret it. She wanted to cringe like a trapped animal, but she managed to hold onto her dignity. Her body’s stance must have signalled strength because she noticed a change in Dr. Landry’s expression. The irritation in his eyes softened. The aroma of his cologne filled the room, dissipating the alcohol’s smell.

Her breath caught in her lungs when she saw his mouth lower slowly toward hers. She should have side-stepped his advance, but rooted to the floor as she was, she couldn’t. He placed his hands on her shoulders, yet not with a power grip. She could have brushed them away. Mesmerized by his seduction, her paralyzed limbs couldn’t move any more than she could protest.

The clock on the wall ticked noisily, matched by the quickened beat of her mutinous heart. Helpless because of her lack of will to escape, she waited. The crowded surroundings faded into nothingness as she became aware only of his presence, of his dark dissecting eyes. His kiss, when it landed, smouldered on her lips. And she responded in kind. The exquisite pressure of his mouth on hers and the erotic touch of his hands as they gently skimmed down her bare arms, blindsided any reason for defense. Her breathing became shallow as she struggled for sanity amidst the enchantment. A few thundering seconds later, the doctor released his hold, but his eyes never left her face.

Andrea’s fingertips flew to a mouth now bereft of his divine touch. A sudden compulsion overtook her brain, pushing out his intimidation. Without thinking or caring, she reached up and dragged his head down to her level again, angled her mouth, and planted her lips on top of his.

Whether the plunder was meant as punishment or expressed desire never entered her mind--the effect was the same. She realized he’d gotten into the spirit and encouraged her action with passion. The lingering kiss ended, the crinkled lines around his eyes deepened like crevices in an earthquake zone. She staggered backward.

"Well, Miss Martin, you surprise me. Now I understand why the patients go wild for you." His forefinger brushed back a stray tendril from in front of her ear. The smirk on his face as he departed accentuated his scornful impression and bored into her psyche with lightning speed. An invisible punch slammed into her chest and raced down her left arm. Plunging her right hand into her lab coat in a search for the small container that defined her life, she sprayed a shot of nitro-glycerin under her tongue. As she slid into a wheelchair, parked by the wall, the medication performed its wizardry by opening her arteries, setting her free.

As she sat in the silence of the room, she tried to make sense of the situation. She could no longer trust her body where Dr. Landry was concerned; it had double-crossed her. Respect could go to hell. The mighty surgeon had taken a terrible risk in what he’d done.

Nancy Wilson barged into the room and stood stunned at Andrea’s appearance. "My God, what did he do to you? What did you do to him?" She kneeled and scrutinized Andrea’s eyes. "I’ve never seen Dr. Landry look so infuriated in all the years I’ve known him."

"Furious? He was gloating when he left here."

Wayward tears trickled down Andrea’s cheeks. Trembling, as she leaned into Nancy’s comforting arms, in halting terms she relayed what had happened, excluding any mention of her need for medication. The nurse made no attempt to offer smothering platitudes. Once the waterworks stopped, she wiped Andrea’s face with a towel from the shelf.

"You could take him to court for this, Andrea. That’s blatant sexual harassment. I’ve never known Dr. Landry to force himself on a woman. He doesn’t have to. They flock to him like sheep."

"He didn’t force himself on me. I’m as much to blame as he, Nance. His career could be damaged if word of this gets out. You mustn’t tell."