Perfectly Reasonable (4 page)

Chapter 7

Two walls down and two to go. Plus, the wall of windows would be quick with only a strip across the top needing paint. She had made good time and could afford a break for lunch. Margo set her brush down and arched her back, stretching stiff muscles. “I’d love one of those muffins now.”

Trace indicated for her to sit and pushed the container of muffins closer. “Help yourself.”

She grabbed her lunch and sat down on the bar stool beside him. “I brought a salad if you’d like to share.” She reached for a muffin and peeled the paper wrapper off.

“Thanks. Mrs. Crombie sent over some pumpkin soup the other day. Would you like some with your salad?”

“Sounds delicious.”

Trace went into the kitchen and as she ate the muffin, she watched him pour the soup into a pot and heat it up. He ladled the steaming soup into two bowls, and her mouth watered. Could have been the warm scent of pumpkin and nutmeg filling the air, but his easy grace and relaxed movements did it, too. He may not cook, but he was smokin’ hot in the kitchen. He set the bowls down on the island.

She wrapped her hands around the warm bowl, leaned over it, closed her eyes, and sniffed deeply. “Mmmm . . . thank you.”

Trace looked at her with hungry eyes, and she faltered a moment, startled at the thought that he might be reading her mind. “My pleasure,” he said. “Here’s a spoon.” He held it out and when she reached for it, he leaned closer. “It’s good for spooning . . .”

She raised startled eyes to his.

“. . . soup,” he whispered. He chuckled as he walked around the island to join her, and Margo tried not to squirm in her seat.

Feigning nonchalance, she put a portion of her salad on a plate for Trace. Time to change the subject. “I invited Mrs. Crombie to help out at Breaking Bread, too. She’s such a great cook.”

Trace nodded. “She’d enjoy that. She misses cooking for a crowd, although I’m always happy to take any leftovers.”

“She kept me well fed for the two weeks I worked on her condo.” Margo pulled her salad closer and picked up her fork. “She said you gave her my name. I was curious about that because we’d never met.” She would have remembered.

“From my dad. You come highly recommended. He won’t let anyone else paint for him.”

Margo blinked. His dad was a client? “Your last name is Pearce?”

“No, that’s my maternal grandfather. My last name is Bennett. My dad is Brett Bennett.”

Margo’s hand stilled. “Bennett Homes.” The biggest developer in Rivermede.

Trace dug into the salad. “This is delicious. Yup. That’s him. As a matter of fact, he owns this building. I was only allowed to change the paint color if you did the job.”

She smiled weakly and her heart sank. She wondered if Brett Bennett would feel the same way if he knew her connection with his father-in-law. “That’s a compliment.”

“Something he doesn’t give lightly. He mentioned you’ll be busy this summer with his new development.”

That was the plan. Bennett Homes was going to be her major source of income from early spring all the way into the fall. It had been thrilling to win the contract, and it meant steady work for her and Chloe, her assistant.

She poked at her salad. “Thanks for the recommendation to Mrs. Crombie. I appreciate it.” She pushed her salad away.

“Not gonna eat that?” Trace asked.

She shook her head and handed it to him. He switched his empty plate for hers and polished it off. Then he started on the soup with the same gusto.

“How does your father feel about you applying to medicine?” she said, stirring her soup slowly.

“He’s totally on board. Thinks it’s a great idea.”

More incentive for her to help him. Maybe if Trace got into medicine, it would balance the wrong she’d done to his family. She took a few spoonfuls of soup, but her appetite was gone. “I should get back to work,” she said, standing.

He scraped the side of his bowl to get the last spoonful. “I have to get going, too. I’m playing squash this afternoon.” He gathered his plate and bowl. “With your old boyfriend,” he said, with a small smile.

Margo’s head jerked in surprise as she gathered her dishes. Medical school and a part-time job painting didn’t leave much time for boyfriends. But the mildly jealous tone was lovely. “Which one?” she drawled.

Trace laughed. “Daniel.”

Margo smiled with pleasure. She’d never dated Daniel, but would have. She had played a game or two of squash with him though. “Oh, good luck. He’s good competition.”

She took a step forward, her bowl in one hand and the plate in the other, expecting to follow Trace into the kitchen. But he turned and stood still at her comment. Her breasts brushed against his chest and his mesmerizing blue eyes looked into hers. She could smell the fresh scent of his skin, and her heart skipped a beat.

“Is he?” he asked.

“Wh–What?” she stammered.

“Competition?”

A tingle shimmered from her breasts to her belly. Good thing their hands were full. Neither of them needed this complication. “He’s very good at . . .” She swallowed. “. . . squash.”

Trace’s eyes smoldered. “You and I will have to play sometime so you’ll have something to compare.”

She felt her nipples harden. Her brain was bathed in hormone heaven and refused to think. “Okay.” Okay? She winced inside. This gorgeous specimen with the frosty eyes invites her to play and all she could muster was okay?

“Great.” Trace smiled broadly. “It’s a date.”

He turned and headed to the kitchen. Margo blew out a breath and wondered what she’d just agreed to. Trace set his dishes on the kitchen counter and disappeared down the hallway. Margo carried hers into the kitchen, rinsed them, and loaded the dishwasher.

She wandered back to the living room and Trace came out carrying a squash racket. She flipped the lid off a new paint can and stirred it, avoiding his eyes.

Trace came over and squatted down beside her. “Thanks for all your help. Will you still be here when I get back?”

Margo checked her watch. “I’ll probably be gone for today, but I’d like to come back tomorrow morning at about ten and finish up.”

Trace smiled. “No problem. See you then.” He leaned over and brushed her hair behind her ear. Before she could react, he pulled back. He stood and shrugged on a jacket. Whistling a tune, he let himself out of the condo.

Margo sat back on her heels. What had she gotten herself into?

Chapter 8

Later that night, cozy in her own apartment, Margo eased into the bathtub and lowered herself into the steaming water. Bubbles rose to cover her shoulders, and the soft scent of lavender surrounded her. The warmth seeped into her bones, and her mind slowed. As she settled back, she lifted her hand and blew the bubbles into the air. She let the water flow between her fingers.

Guilt tried to creep into the edges of her mind, but she let it swirl and flow away. There had been a day when it would have stayed and circled around endlessly. But she had given herself permission to make her bath a worry-free zone. Only happy thoughts, only positive images were allowed.

She tried to conjure up the image of her happiest moment. When had she been truly, deeply happy? Dance around the room and celebrate happy? She sighed. It had been a while. Probably three and a half years ago, she thought reluctantly.

Margo and Mikaela sat cross-legged facing each other on Margo’s bed, still in pajamas, their laptops closed on their laps.

“Are you ready to do this?” Mikaela asked with a lift of her eyebrow.

“No.” Margo wrung her hands. Her curly hair, never tame at the best of times, was pulled back in a loose pile on her head. She looked at Mikaela. Her best friend was cool as a cucumber and without the dark circles she was pretty sure she sported. “It would mean big change,” she pointed out.

Mikaela sighed. “I know. But good change. It’s what we want.”

Margo nodded. She wanted it desperately. That’s why it was so stressful. “Okay. Let’s open them together. And no holds barred. If one of us gets in, we celebrate, even if the other doesn’t.” They had talked about that. They wanted to be there for each other, good news or bad. They had to keep in mind that they’d only just finished second year and getting into medical school was a long shot.

Mikaela tucked her long brown hair behind her ear. “On the count of three. One, two, three.”

They opened their laptops and waited for their email to download. All the offers were supposed to be sent out at 8 a.m.

Margo held her breath as the icon whirred and an email downloaded.

Cantech University Congratulations! You have been accepted . . .

She gasped and covered her mouth with her hands, her heart leaping.

Mikaela sat still, watching her screen intently. Then she raised shining eyes to Margo. “I got in,” she said.

“Me too,” Margo breathed.

They screamed, jumped up, and hugged. They bounced around the room holding onto each other.

“I can’t believe it,” Margo said, shaking her head.

“I’m so happy, so happy.” Mikaela danced around the room.

Margo did a fast jog on the spot and ended with a twirl. “We did it. We actually did it!” She grinned from ear to ear. “This is the best day of my life.” Pure joy raced through her, and she pumped her arms and jumped three feet in the air.

Mikaela laughed. “I know. Woohoo!”

“I really didn’t think we’d get in.” She looked at Mikaela with wide eyes. “I hoped and crossed my fingers and toes.” She plopped down on the edge of the bed. “But I really didn’t think it would happen this year.”

Mikaela sat down beside her. “I’m glad we’ll be together. I’d be scared on my own.”

Margo wrapped her arm around Mikaela’s shoulders and squeezed. “Big scary change?”

Mikaela nodded. “We’ll share a place again?”

“Absolutely.” Margo flopped back on the bed. “Oh man. This is amazing. I really wanted this, but I was afraid to hope.”

Mikaela smiled at her. “Life is good,” she said with a laugh. “I need to call my parents.” She stood. “Are you going to call your mom?”

“Eventually,” Margo said with a sigh. “I think I’ll bask a little longer.”

“She’ll be proud, you know.”

“Yeah, maybe. But I just want to savor this sweet moment a little while longer before she rains on my parade.”

Some of the light dimmed from Mikaela’s face.

“Don’t you worry about my mom. It’ll be fine,” She waved Mikaela away. “Go. Call your parents and let them in on the excitement. They’ll be thrilled.”

Mikaela grinned. “They will.” She leaned over and squeezed Margo’s hand. “I’m so glad we’ll be in this together.”

“Definitely a celebration tonight. Tomorrow we’ll plan.”

Mikaela skipped out of the room to call her parents. Margo picked up her phone, and after debating a moment, slowly punched in her mother’s number.

She wiggled her toes in the water and swirled the bubbles around. That was probably the happiest moment.

Unfortunately brief, but intense.

The phone call to her mother had been what she had expected. Yes, tuition was going to be expensive. Yes, she would find the money herself. No, she wouldn’t expect a handout. Yes, it would be another three years before she graduated.

Stop.

Margo took a deep cleansing breath and focused on the bubbles. Noticed how the light split into a rainbow of color on each surface, how the bubbles stacked into a pyramid when she scooped them lazily together, and how they swirled in the water as she stirred the surface. She inhaled the perfume in a deep breath and blew it out slowly.

Focus. Happy thoughts.

Mikaela made her happy. Mikaela’s parents had thrown a huge party. Of course, they loved entertaining and were always looking for a reason to celebrate. All of Palent, Mikaela’s father’s company, was invited. Fancy duds, fancy food, in a fancy five-star hotel. She was invited too and basked in the overflow of well-wishing and pride. Mikaela’s parents were the absolute best. So different from her own.

Well, her mom, anyway. The only memory of her dad was from the photograph on her nightstand, cuddled on his lap when she was three. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t bring him to life. Maybe that’s why her mom seemed so distant. Maybe losing your husband to heart disease and carrying the weight of raising a young child on your own took its toll.

Margo shivered in the tepid water and pulled the plug. Why did focusing on the positive take so much energy?

She stood, stepped out of the tub, quickly dried off in the cool air, and belted a thick terry robe around her waist. She didn’t need to clear the steam from the mirror as she pulled out the clip holding her curls and poked a pik through her hair. Trying to tame the curls after a bath was impossible.

Her bed looked inviting with the flannel sheets and fluffy duvet. She crawled in, pulled the covers to her chin, and leaned back against the pillows.

It was time to change the color on the walls. The olive green was soothing and quiet, and matched her mood a year ago, but she was ready for a little bit of happy. An orange-yellow maybe – the heat of the Mexican sun mixed with a relaxing siesta. Or the purple of Mardi Gras. Not too bright, though. Maybe a subtle mauve, with a little white to make it pop. She could do that.

Or blue. For a bit of divine luck, she thought with a small smile.

Heaven knows she needed it.

She wanted her life to be settled, to go a day without guilt. To be content with the decisions she made and the path she chose.

She opened the drawer of her nightstand and reached for her journal. It was a journal entry kind of day. If she could write it down, maybe she could convince herself to let it go. At least for eight hours of sleep.

She hesitated, then pushed aside the bright orange and yellow flowered one, and lifted out the well-worn book underneath.

She ran her hand over the cover, brushing the nap of the velour. It was a deep magenta. Because pink helps you think, she remembered telling herself. Her heart felt heavy as she stared at the cover. On the first day of medical school, a wizened old clinician had suggested keeping a journal. She had lapped up every suggestion and had bought it that day at the bookstore, not really understanding why it would be so valuable.

She opened the cover. Three years ago her writing had been a lot easier to read.

Aug. 23, 2010 First day

Still floating on cloud nine. Can’t believe I’m here. I looked around the classroom today at eighty other smiling faces. They put the stethoscope around my neck and I vowed to listen to the patient. Hard to do with all that singing and celebrating going on in my head!

Aug. 24, 2010

First full day of classes. They don’t fool around. 9 to 5 every day. Figured out why all the notes are online — 200 pages of notes just from the lectures today! Hoping my brain is big enough.

Aug. 28, 2010

Went out for a drink with the class. A few strange ones, making note of their names so family members can avoid. Thank goodness for Mikaela (again). Some random guy at the bar found out I was a medical student and showed me his rash. Doesn’t he realize I know NOTHING?? Except maybe detailed minutiae of arm anatomy.

Aug. 31, 2010

Went to bank to sort out loan. Healthy bank account from summer and a few jobs lined up on weekends, but tuition is sick. The nonchalant ‘of course we can start a whopping big credit line for you,’ no questions asked, was a glimpse into the elite world. Wonder if it would work at Tim Hortons??? Free java for a good cause.

Sept. 21, 2010

Studying anatomy of the pelvis. Books, online 3D images, models, lots of resources, but just not getting it. Felt like biggest dummy, until we dissected out the layers in the cadaver lab. Smell of formaldehyde aside, best learning experience ever. Deepest gratitude. Came home and signed my donor card.

Sept. 27, 2010

Aha! moment: maybe fingerprints are unique, but insides are exactly the same! Organs, muscles, arteries, nerves—same place in EVERY body. How cool is that! Even if I’m halfway across the world, can’t speak the language, don’t have to worry that they won’t find my appendix! Makes me want to travel more.

Aug. 8, 2011

Managed to sneak into second year. Decent marks (maybe they mixed up my exam with someone else’s???)

Oct. 14, 2011

Fear my brain will explode. Not sure where all the information is going, but hoping the retrieval system will be in place when I actually need all this.

Nov. 9, 2011

Pop quiz scare today. One classmate got up and walked out (if she didn’t write it, there’d be no mark). Turns out it was an endocrinology lesson on adrenalin and the flight or fight response. The professor thought it went well.

Dec. 12, 2011

Getting used to examining patients. Whole new ballgame with the male genital exam. Lotta blood flow when the spotlight is focused there. Outward calm, inward panic.

Jan. 10, 2012

Aunt Pauline asking about fever and diarrhea post-Caribbean holiday. Still know NOTHING.

March 8, 2012

How does anyone stay healthy? Soooo many things can go wrong . . .

April 17, 2012

Scary day tomorrow. Clerkship Day 1. Eighty new ‘holy cow you’re relying on us to actually do something’ invade the hospital. Not a good day to be sick.

May 26, 2012

End of resp rotation. NEVER SMOKE. Don’t think about smoking. Stay away from smoky bars/restaurants. Don’t marry/date/one-night-stand with a smoker. Don’t even listen to ‘You Light Up My Life.’ No lungs = oxygen in a backpack = *shudder*

June 30, 2012

Ruled out doing pediatrics. Poor Olivia. Two years old and yet another transfusion. She screamed the whole time the IV was in. I know she needs it, but heartbreaking just the same. At the delivery of a stillborn – 22 weeks. Baptized the baby for the mom. Diagnosed diabetes in a five-year-old. Needles for life. Hard day.

Sept. 24, 2012

Called to a delivery. Where was the staff??? The cord was around the baby’s neck and snapped when I tried to remove it. Baby alive but anemic. Mom has huge tear. Resident (who sauntered in LATE) told me to suture it, but just looked like a huge bloody mess. There are layers?? I didn’t see layers. Had visions of creating track into rectum, sewing vaginal walls together. Couldn’t do it. Resident not very happy with me. (That’s okay, I’m not very happy with me either.)

Oct. 10, 2012

Met Clarisse. I’ll be following her through the year. Five foot seven inches and one hundred pounds. Very scary. Super nice teenager, but adamant won’t be admitted. Quiet, but seems to want help. Screening tests done for anorexia. Hooked her up with dietician and food bank. First goal – gain some weight.

Dec. 9, 2012

Family medicine not what I thought. Hordes of the weak and dizzy, unsolvable problems. Does no one take ownership of their health??

Dec. 25, 2012

On call

Jan. 11, 2013

Meeting Clarisse weekly. Weight now 104 lb. She’s still not out of the woods for risk of cardiac event, but on the right path. I don’t really understand how she got to this point. What questions should I be asking?

Feb. 2, 2013

On call 1 in 3. Sleep, work all day and night, stay until noon, sleep, repeat. Haven’t read a newspaper, listened to the radio. Way behind in ‘Breaking Bad.’

April 3, 2013

Too tired to care.