Fatal Cure

7

Both the internal medicine department and the pathology department had small, informal ceremonies for that year's group of graduates, marking the end of their residencies. After collecting their diplomas, David and Angela passed up the parties scheduled for that afternoon and hurried home. This was the day they would leave Boston for their new home and careers in Bartlet, Vermont.

"Are you excited?" David asked Nikki.

"I'm excited to see Rusty," Nikki announced.

They'd rented a U-Haul truck to help make the move. It took quite a few trips up and down the stairs to get their possessions in the two vehicles. Once they were finally packed, Angela got in their station wagon and David got in the U-Haul. For the first half of the trip, Nikki elected to ride with her dad.

David used the time to talk with Nikki about starting at a new school and ask her if she'd miss her friends.

"Some of them I'll miss," Nikki said, "but others I won't. Anyway, I think I'll cope."

David smiled, promising himself that he would remember to tell Angela about Nikki's precocious comment.

Just south of the New Hampshire border, they stopped for lunch. Eager to arrive at their new home, they ate quickly.

"I feel wonderful about leaving the frantic, crime-filled city behind," Angela said as they left the restaurant and approached their vehicles. "At this point I don't care if I ever go back."

"I don't know," David joked. "I'm going to miss hearing sirens, gunshots, breaking glass, and cries for help. Country life is going to be so boring."

Both Nikki and Angela pummeled him in mock anger.

For the rest of the trip Nikki joined Angela in the station wagon.

As they drove north the weather improved. In Boston it had been hot, muggy, and hazy. By the time they crossed into Vermont it was still warm but clear and much less humid.

Bartlet appeared serene in the early summer heat. Flower-filled window boxes adorned almost every sill. Slowing down, the Wilsons' two-vehicle caravan crept through the lazy town. Few people were on the streets. It was as if everyone were napping.

"Can we stop and get Rusty?" Nikki asked as they neared Staley's Hardware Store.

"Let's get a bit settled first," Angela said. "We'll have to build something to keep him in until he gets housebroken."

David and Angela pulled into their driveway and parked side by side. Now that the house was officially theirs they felt even more awed than they had on their initial visit.

David climbed out of the truck, his eyes glued to the house. "The place is lovely," he said. "But it looks like it needs more attention than I realized."

Angela walked over to David and followed his line of sight. Some of the decorative dentil work had fallen from the cornice. "I'm not worried," she said. "That's why I married someone who is handy around the house."

David laughed. "I can see it'll take some effort to make a believer out of you."

"I'll try to keep an open mind," she teased.

With a key they had been sent in the mail, they opened the front door and stepped inside. It looked very different without furniture. When they'd seen it before it had been filled with the Hodgeses' belongings.

"It has a dance hail feel," David said.

"There's even an echo," Nikki said. She yelled "Hello" and the word reverberated.

"That's when you know you've arrived at your proper station in life," David said, affecting an English accent. "When your house has an echo."

The Wilsons slowly passed through the foyer. Now that there were no rugs, their heels clicked on the wide wooden flooring. They had forgotten their new home's enormity, especially in contrast to their Boston apartment. Aside from a few pieces of furniture they'd agreed Clara would leave behind-a stool, a kitchen table-the place was bare.

In the center hall just before the grand staircase an imposing chandelier hung. There was a library and dining room to the left and a huge living room to the right. A central hall led to a spacious country kitchen which stretched across the back of the house. Beyond the kitchen was the two-story clapboard addition that connected the house to the barn. It had a mud room, several storerooms, and a back staircase leading up to the second level.

Returning to the grand staircase, the Wilsons climbed up to the second story. There were two bedrooms with connecting baths on each side and a master suite over the kitchen area.

Opening a door off the central hallway next to the master suite, they climbed a narrow staircase up to the third level where there were four unheated rooms.

"Plenty of storage," David quipped.

"Which room will be my bedroom?" Nikki asked.

"Whatever room you want," Angela said.

"I want the room facing the frog pond," she said.

They went down to the second level and walked into the room Nikki wanted. They discussed where her furniture would go, including the desk she did not yet own.

"Okay, you guys," Angela commanded. "Enough procrastination. Time to unload."

David gave her a military salute.

Returning to the vehicles, they began to bring their belongings into the house and put them into the appropriate rooms. The couch, the bedding, and the heavy boxes of books made it quite a struggle. When they were finished David and Angela stood beneath the archway leading into the living room.

"It would be funny if it wasn't so pathetic," Angela said. The rug that had been almost wall to wall in their apartment seemed little better than a doormat in the middle of the expansive room. Their threadbare couch, two armchairs, and coffee table looked like they had been rescued from a garage sale.

"Understated elegance," David said. "Minimalist decor. If it were in Architectural Digest, everyone would be trying to imitate it."

"What about Rusty?" Nikki asked.

"Let's go get him," David said. "You've been a good sport and a big help. You want to come, Angela?"

"No thanks," Angela said. "I'll stay and get more organized, especially in the kitchen."

"I assumed we'd eat down at the inn tonight," David said.

"No, I want to eat here in our new home," Angela answered.

While David and Nikki went to town, Angela unpacked a few of the boxes in the kitchen including their pots, pans, dishes, and flatware. She also figured out how to work the stove and got the refrigerator running.

Nikki returned carrying the adorable puppy with its wrinkled face and floppy ears. She had the dog pressed against her chest. He'd grown considerably since they'd seen him last. His feet were the size of Nikki's fists.

"He's going to be a big dog," David said.

While Nikki and David fashioned a pen for Rusty in the mud room, Angela made dinner for Nikki. Nikki wasn't happy about eating before her parents, but she was too tired to complain. After she'd eaten and done some postural drainage, she and Rusty, both exhausted, were put to bed.

"Now I have a little surprise for you," Angela said as she and David descended from Nikki's room. She took him by the hand and led him into the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator, she pulled out a bottle of Chardonnay.

"Wow," David exclaimed, inspecting the label. "This isn't our usual cheap stuff."

"Hardly," Angela said. Reaching back into the refrigerator, she took out a dish covered with a paper towel. Lifting the towel she exposed two thick veal chops.

"I have the feeling we're in for a feast," David said.

"You'd better believe it," Angela said. "Salad, artichokes, wild rice, and veal chops. Plus the best Chardonnay I could buy."

David cooked the meat on an outdoor barbecue built into the side of the terrace off the library. By the time he came in Angela had the rest of the food on the table in the dining room.

Night had descended softly, filling the house with shadow. In the darkness the glow from the two candles that formed the centerpiece on the table only illuminated the immediate area. The disarray of the rest of the house was hidden.

They sat at opposite ends of the table. They didn't speak. Instead they merely gazed at each other as they ate. Both of them were moved by the romantic atmosphere, realizing that romance had been missing from their lives over the last years; the demands of their respective residencies and Nikki's ongoing health problems had taken precedence.

Long after they'd finished eating they continued to sit and stare at each other while a symphony of sounds of a Vermont summer night drifted in through the open windows. The candle flames flickered sensuously as the clean, cool air wafted across the room and caressed their faces. It was a magical moment they both wanted to savor.

Mutual desire drove them from the dining room into the dark living room. They fell onto the couch, their lips meeting as they enveloped each other in a warm embrace. They removed their clothing, each eagerly aiding the other. With a chorus of crickets in the background, they made love in their new home.

Morning brought mass confusion. With the dog barking to be fed and Nikki whining that she couldn't find her favorite jeans, Angela felt her patience was at an end. David was no help. He couldn't find the list he'd made of what was in each of the dozens of boxes left to be unpacked.

"All right, that's enough," Angela shouted. "I don't want to hear any more whining or barking."

For the moment, even Rusty quieted down.

"Calm down, dear," David said. "Getting upset isn't going to solve anything."

"And don't you tell me not to get upset," Angela cried.

"All right," David said calmly. "I'll go get the babysitter."

"I'm not a baby," Nikki whined.

"Oh, save me," Angela said with her face raised to the ceiling.

While David was off fetching Alice Doherty, Dorothy Weymouth's older sister, Angela was able to regain control of herself. She realized that it had been a mistake to tell their respective employers that they would be willing to start on July first. They should have given themselves a few days to get settled.

Alice turned out to be a godsend. She looked quite grandmotherly with her warm caring face, a twinkle in her eye, and snow-white hair. She had an engaging manner and surprising energy for a woman of seventy-nine. She also had the compassion and patience a chronically ill, willful child like Nikki required. Best of all, she loved Rusty which immediately endeared her to Nikki.

The first thing Angela did was show her how to do Nikki's respiratory therapy. It was important for Alice to learn the procedure, and she proved to be a quick study.

"Don't you two worry about a thing," Alice called to David and Angela as they went out the back door. Nikki was holding Rusty, and she waved the dog's paw to say goodbye.

"I want to ride my bike," David announced once he and Angela got outside.

"Are you serious?" Angela asked.

"Absolutely," David said.

"Suit yourself," Angela said as she climbed into the Volvo and started the engine. She waved once to David as she descended the long drive and turned right toward town.

Although Angela was confident about her professional capabilities, she still felt nervous about starting her first real job.

Mustering her courage and reminding herself that first-day jitters were natural, she reported to Michael Caldwell's office. Caldwell immediately took her to meet Helen Beaton, the president of the hospital. Beaton happened to be in conference with Dr. Delbert Cantor, the chief of the professional staff, but she interrupted the meeting to welcome Angela. She invited Angela into her office and introduced her to Dr. Cantor as well.

While shaking her hand, Dr. Cantor unabashedly looked Angela up and down. She had chosen to wear one of her best silk dresses for her first day. "My, my," he said. "You certainly don't look like the few girls in my medical school class. They were all dogs." He laughed heartily.

Angela smiled. She felt like saying her class was just the opposite-the few men were all dogs-but she held her tongue. She found Dr. Cantor instantly offensive. He was clearly part of the old-school minority that still wasn't comfortable with women in the medical profession.

"We are so glad to have you join the Bartlet Community Hospital family," Beaton said as she escorted Angela to the door. "I'm confident you'll find the experience both challenging and rewarding."

Leaving the administration area, Caldwell took Angela to the clinical lab. As soon as Dr. Wadley saw her he leaped up from his desk and even gave her a hug as if they were old friends.

"Welcome to the team," Dr. Wadley said with a warm smile, his hands still gripping Angela's arms. "I've been anticipating this day for weeks."

"I'll be off," Caldwell said to Angela. "I can see you're in good hands here."

"Great job recruiting this talented pathologist," Wadley told Caldwell. "You're to be commended."

Caldwell beamed.

"A good man," Wadley said, watching him leave.

Angela nodded, but she was thinking about Wadley. Although she was again aware of how much the man reminded her of her father, now she was equally aware of their differences. Wadley's enthusiastic fervor was a welcome change from her father's aloof reserve. Angela was even charmed by Wadley's demonstrative welcome. It was reassuring to feel so wanted on her first day.

"First things first," Wadley said, rubbing his hands together. His green eyes shone with child-like excitement. "Let me show you your office."

He pushed open a connecting door from his own office into another that looked as though it had been recently decorated. The room was entirely white: the walls, the desk, everything.

"Like it?" Wadley asked.

"It's wonderful," Angela said.

Wadley pointed back toward the connecting door. "That will always be open," he said. "Literally and figuratively."

"Wonderful," Angela repeated.

"Now let's tour the lab again," Wadley said. "I know you saw it once, but I want to introduce you to the staff." He took a long, crisp, professional white coat from a hook and put it on.

For the next fifteen minutes Angela met more people than she could hope to remember. After circling the lab, they stopped at a windowless office next to the microbiology section. The office belonged to Dr. Paul Darnell, Angela's fellow pathologist.

In contrast to Wadley, Darnell was a short man whose clothing was rumpled and whose white coat was spotted haphazardly with stains used in preparing pathological slides. He seemed agreeable but plain and retiring, almost the antithesis of the affable and flamboyant Wadley.

After the tour was over, Wadley escorted Angela back to his office where he explained her duties and responsibilities. "I'm going to try to make you one of the best pathologists in the country," he said with a true mentor's enthusiasm.

David had enjoyed his three-and-a-half-mile bicycle ride immensely. The clean, crisp morning air had been delicious, and the bird life even more abundant than he'd imagined. He'd spotted several hummingbirds along the way. To top it off, he caught a fleeting glimpse of several deer across a dew-laden field just after crossing the Roaring River.

Arriving at the professional building, David discovered he was too early. Charles Kelley didn't show up until almost nine.

"My word, you are eager!" Kelley said when he spotted David perusing magazines in the CMV waiting area. "Come on in."

David followed Kelley into his office where Kelley had him fill out a few routine forms. "You're joining a crackerjack team," Kelley said while David worked. "You're going to love it here: great facilities, superbly trained colleagues. What else could you want?"

"I can't think of anything," David admitted.

When the paperwork was completed and after Kelley explained some of the ground rules, he accompanied David to his new office. As Kelley opened the office suite door and entered, David stopped to admire his nameplate that had already been installed in the slot on the outside of the door. He was surprised to see the name "Dr. Kevin Yansen" above his.

"Is this the same suite?" David asked in a lowered voice after catching up with Kelley. There were six patients in the waiting room.

"Same one," Kelley said. He knocked on the mirror, and after it had slid open, he introduced David to the receptionist he would be sharing with Dr. Yansen.

"Glad to meet you," Anne Withington said in a heavy South Boston accent, She cracked her gum, and David winced.

"Come in to see your private office," Kelley said. Over his shoulder he told Anne to send Dr. Yansen in to meet Dr. Wilson when he appeared between patients.

David was confused. He followed Kelley into what had been Dr. Portland's office. The walls had been repainted a light gray, and new gray-green carpet had been installed.

"What do you think?" Kelley asked, beaming.

"I think it's fine," David said. "Where did Dr. Portland go?"

Before Kelley could respond, Dr. Yansen appeared at the doorway and whisked into the room with his hand outstretched. Ignoring Kelley, he introduced himself to David, telling David to call him Kevin. He then slapped David on the back. "Welcome! Good to have you join the squad," he said. "You play basketball or tennis?"

"A little of both," David said, "but none recently."

"We'll have to get you back in the swing," Kevin said.

"Are you an orthopedist?" David asked as he looked at his new suitemate. He was a squarely built man with an aggressive-looking face. A mildly hooked nose supported thick glasses. He was four inches shorter than David, and standing next to Kelley, he appeared diminutive.

"Orthopedist?" Kevin laughed scornfully. "Hardly! I'm at the opposite end of the operative spectrum. I'm an ophthalmologist."

"Where's Dr. Portland?" David asked again.

Kevin looked at Kelley. "You haven't told him yet?"

"Haven't had a chance," Kelley said, spreading his hands, palms up. "He just got here."

"I'm afraid Dr. Portland is no longer with us," Kevin said.

"He's left the group?" David asked.

"In a manner of speaking," Kevin said with a wry smile.

"I'm afraid Dr. Portland committed suicide back in May," Kelley said.

"Right here in this room," Kevin said. "Sitting there at that desk." He pointed at the desk. Then Kevin formed his hand into a pistol with his index finger serving as the barrel, and pointed it at his forehead. "Bam!" he said. "Shot himself right through the forehead out the back. That's why the walls had to be painted and the carpet changed."

David's mouth went bone-dry. He gazed at the blank wall behind the desk and tried not to imagine what it had looked like after the incident. "How awful," David said. "Was he married?"

"Unfortunately," Dr. Yansen said with a nod. "Wife and two young boys. A real tragedy. I knew something was wrong. All of a sudden he stopped playing basketball on Saturday mornings."

"He didn't look good the last time I saw him," David said. "Was he ill? He'd looked as if he'd lost a lot of weight."

"Depressed," Kelley said.

David sighed. "Boy, you never know!"

"Let's move on to a happier subject," Kelley said after he'd cleared his throat. "I took you at your word, Dr. Wilson. We've scheduled patients for you this morning. Are you up to it?"

"Absolutely," David said.

Kevin wished David well and headed back to one of the examining rooms. Kelley introduced David to Susan Beardslee, the nurse he'd be working with. Susan was an attractive woman in her mid-twenties, with dark hair cut short to frame her face. What David immediately liked about her was her lively, enthusiastic personality.

"Your first patient is already in the examining room," Susan said cheerfully. She handed him the chart. "When you need me, just buzz. I'll be getting the next patient ready." She disappeared into the second examining room.

"I think this is where I leave," Kelley said. "Good luck, David. If there are any questions or problems, just holler."

David flipped open the cover of the chart and read the name: Marjorie Kleber, aged thirty-nine. The complaint was chest pain. He was about to knock on the examining room door when he read the diagnostic summary: breast cancer treated with surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation. The cancer had been diagnosed four years previously at age thirty-five. At the time of the discovery, the cancer had spread to the lymph nodes.

David quickly scanned the rest of the chart. He was mildly unnerved and needed a moment to prepare himself. A patient with breast cancer that had metastasized, or spread from the breast to other areas of the body, was a serious case with which to begin his medical career. Happily Marjorie had been doing well.

David knocked on the door and entered. Marjorie Kleber was sitting patiently on the examining table dressed in an examining gown. She looked up at David with large, sad, intelligent eyes. Her smile was the kind of smile that warmed his heart.

David introduced himself and was about to ask about her current complaint when she reached out and took one of his hands in hers. She squeezed it and held it to her chest at the base of her neck.

"Thank you for coming to Bartlet," she said. "You'll never know how much I have prayed for someone like you to come here. I'm truly overjoyed."

"I'm happy to be here," David stammered.

"Prior to your corning, I've had to wait up to four weeks to be seen," she said as she finally released David's hand. "That's the way it's been since the school's health-care coverage was switched to CMV. And every time it's been a different doctor. Now I've been told that you will be my doctor. It's so reassuring."

"I'm honored to be your doctor," David said.

"Waiting four weeks to be seen was so scary," Marjorie continued. "Last winter I had the flu so bad that I thought it was pneumonia. Luckily, by the time I was seen I was over the worst of it."

"Maybe you should have gone to the emergency room," David suggested.

"I wish I could have," Marjorie said. "But we're not allowed. I did go once the winter before last, but CMV refused to pay because it turned out to be the flu. Unless my problem is life-threatening, I have to come here to the office. I can't go to the emergency room without prior approval from a CMV physician. If I do, they won't pay."

"But that's absurd," David said. "How can you know in advance if your problem is life-threatening?"

Marjorie shrugged. "That's the same question I asked, but they didn't have an answer. They just reiterated the rule. Anyway, I'm glad you're here. If I have a problem I'll call you."

"Please do," David said. "Now let's start talking about your health. Who is following you in regard to your cancer?"

"You are," Marjorie said.

"You don't have an oncologist?" David asked.

"CMV doesn't have an oncologist," Marjorie said. "I'm to see you routinely and Dr. Mieslich, the oncologist, when you think it is necessary. Dr. Mieslich is not a CMV physician. I can't see him unless you order it."

David nodded, recognizing that there were realities about his new practice that would take time to learn. He also knew he'd have to spend considerable time going over Marjorie's chart in detail.

For the next fifteen minutes, David applied himself to the process of "working up" Marjorie's chest pain. While listening to her chest and in between her deep breathing, he asked her what she did at the school.

"I'm a teacher," Marjorie said.

"What grade?" he asked. He took his stethoscope from his ears and began preparations to run an EKG.

"Third grade," she said proudly. "I taught second grade for a number of years, but I much prefer third. The children are really blossoming then."

"My daughter is to start the third grade in the fall," David said.

"How wonderful," Marjorie said. "Then she'll be in my class."

"Do you have a family?" David asked.

"My word, yes!" Marjorie said. "My husband, Lloyd, works at the computer software company. He's a programmer. We have two children: a boy in high school and a girl in the sixth grade."

Half an hour later David felt confident enough to reassure Marjorie that her chest pain was not at all serious and that it had nothing to do with either her heart or her cancer, Marjorie's two chief concerns. She thanked him profusely once again for coming to Bartlet before he stepped out of the room.

David ducked into his private office with a sense of exuberance. If all his patients were as warm and appreciative as Marjorie, he could count on a rewarding career in Bartlet. He put her chart on his desk for further study.

Taking the file from its holder on the second examining room door, David perused his next patient's chart. The diagnostic summary read: leukemia treated with massive chemotherapy. David inwardly groaned; it was another difficult case that would require more "homework." The patient's name was John Tarlow. He was a forty-eight-year-old man who'd been under treatment for three and a half years.

Stepping into the room, David introduced himself. John Tarlow was a handsome, friendly man whose face reflected intelligence and warmth equal to Marjorie's. Despite his complicated history, John's complaint of insomnia was both easier and quicker to deal with than Marjorie's chest pain. After a short conversation it was clear to David that the problem was an understandable psychological reaction to a death in the family. David gave him a prescription for some sleeping medication that he was certain would help John get back to his usual routine.

After he was through with John, David added his chart to Marjorie's for further review. Then he searched for Susan. He found her in the tiny lab used for simple, routine tests.

"Are there a lot of oncology patients in the practice?" David asked hesitantly.

David very much admired the sort of people who chose to go into oncology. He knew himself well enough to know that he was not suited for the specialty. So it was with some trepidation that he discovered his first two CMV patients were both dealing with cancer.

Susan assured him that there were only a few such patients. David wanted to believe her. When he went back to get the chart out of the box on examining room one, he felt reassured. It wasn't an oncological problem; the case concerned diabetes.

David's morning passed quickly and happily. The patients had been a delight. They'd all been affable, attentive to what David had to say, and, in contrast to the non-compliant patients he'd dealt with during his residency, eager to follow his recommendations. All of them had also expressed appreciation for David's arrival, not as fervently as Marjorie, but enough to make David feel good about his reception.

For lunch, David met Angela at the coffee shop run by the volunteers. Over sandwiches, they discussed their morning.

"Dr. Wadley is terrific," Angela said. "He's very helpful and interested in teaching. The more I see him, the less he reminds me of my father. He's far more demonstrative than my father ever would be-far more enthusiastic and affectionate. He even gave me a hug when I arrived this morning. My father would die before he'd do that."

David told Angela about the patients he'd seen. She was particularly touched to hear about Marjorie Kleber's reaction to David's arrival.

"She's a teacher," David added. "In fact she teaches the third grade so she'll be Nikki's teacher."

"What a coincidence," Angela said. "What's she like?"

"She seems warm, giving, and intelligent," David said. "I'd guess she's a marvelous teacher. The problem is she's had metastatic breast cancer."

"Oh, dear," Angela said.

"But she's been doing fine," David said. "I don't think she's had any recurrence yet, but I haven't gone over her chart in detail."

"It's a bad disease," Angela said, thinking how many times she'd worried about it herself.

"The only complaint I have so far about the practice is that I've seen too many oncology patients," David said.

"I know that's not your cup of tea," Angela said.

"The nurse says it was just a coincidence that I started with two in a row," David said. "I'll have to keep my fingers crossed."

"Now don't get depressed," Angela said. "I'm sure your nurse was right." Angela remembered all too well David's response to the deaths of several oncology patients when he'd been a junior resident.

"Talk about depression," David said. He leaned closer and whispered. "Did you hear about Dr. Portland?"

Angela shook her head.

"He committed suicide," David said. "He shot himself in the office that I'm now using."

"That's terrible," Angela said. "Do you have to stay there? Maybe you can move to a different suite."

"Don't be ridiculous," David said. "What am I going to say to Kelley? I'm superstitious about death and suicide? I can't do that. Besides, they repainted the walls and recarpeted the floor." David shrugged. "It'll be okay."

"Why did he do it?" Angela asked.

"Depression," David said.

"I knew it," Angela said. "I knew he was depressed. I even said it. Remember?"

"I didn't say he wasn't depressed," David said. "I said he looked ill. Anyway, he must have killed himself soon after we met him because Charles Kelley said he'd done it in May."

"The poor man," Angela said. "Did he have a family?"

"A wife and two young boys."

Angela shook her head. Suicide among doctors was an issue of which she was well aware. One of her resident colleagues had killed herself.

"On a lighter note," David said, "Charles Kelley told me that there's a bonus plan to reward me for keeping hospitalization at a minimum. The less I hospitalize the more I get paid. I can even win a trip to the Bahamas. Can you believe it?"

"I've heard of that kind of incentive plan," Angela said. "It's a ploy health maintenance organizations use to reduce costs."

David shook his head in disbelief. "Some of the realities of this 'managed care' and 'managed competition' stuff are really mind-boggling. I personally find it insulting."

"Well, on a lighter note of my own, Dr. Wadley's invited us to his home for dinner tonight. I told him I'd have to ask you. What do you think?"

"Do you want to go?" David asked.

"I know we have a lot to do at home, but I think we should go. He's being so thoughtful and generous. I don't want to appear ungrateful."

"What about Nikki?" David asked.

"That's another piece of good news," Angela said. "I found out from one of the lab technicians that Barton Sherwood has a daughter in high school who does a lot of sitting. They are our closest neighbors. I called and she's eager to come over."

"Think Nikki will mind?" David asked.

"I already asked her," Angela said. "She said she didn't care and that she's looking forward to meeting Karen Sherwood. She's one of the cheerleaders."

"Then let's go," David said.

Just before seven Karen Sherwood arrived. David let her in. He wouldn't have guessed she was a cheerleader. She was a thin, quiet young woman who unfortunately looked a lot like her father. Yet she was pleasant and intuitive. When she was introduced to Nikki she was smart enough to say she loved dogs, especially puppies.

While David drove Angela finished putting on her makeup. David could tell she was tense, and he tried to reassure her that everything would be fine and that she looked terrific. When they pulled up to the Wadley home, both were impressed. The house wasn't as grand as theirs, but it was in far better condition and the grounds were immaculate.

"Welcome," Wadley said as he threw open his front door to greet the Wilsons.

The inside of the house was even more impressive than the outside. Every detail had been attended to. Antique furniture stood on thick oriental carpets. Pastoral nineteenth-century paintings adorned the walls.

Gertrude Wadley and her courtly husband were significantly different people, lending credence to the saying "opposites attract." She was a retiring, mousy woman who had little to say. It was as if she'd been submerged by her husband's personality.

Their teenage daughter, Cassandra, seemed more like her mother initially, but as the evening progressed, she became more like her outgoing father.

But it was Wadley who dominated the evening. He pontificated on a number of subjects. And he clearly doted on Angela. At one point he looked skyward and thanked the fates that he had been rewarded with such a competent team now that Angela had arrived.

"One thing is for sure," David said as they drove home, "Dr. Wadley is thrilled with you. Of course, I can't blame him."

Angela snuggled up to her husband.

Arriving home, David accompanied Karen across the fields to her home, even though she insisted she'd be fine. When David got back, Angela met him at the door in lingerie she hadn't worn since their honeymoon.

"It looks better now when I'm not pregnant," Angela said. "Don't you agree?"

"It looked great then and it looks great now."

Stealing into the semi-dark living room, they lowered themselves onto the couch. Slowly and tenderly they made love again. Without the frenzy of the previous evening, it was even more satisfying and fulfilling.

Once they were through, they held each other and listened to the symphony of chirping crickets and croaking frogs.

"We've made love more here in the last two days than in the previous two months in Boston," Angela said with a sigh.

"We've been under a lot of stress."

"It makes me wonder about another child," Angela said.

David moved so that he could make out Angela's profile in the darkness. "Really?" he asked.

"With a house this size, we could have a litter," Angela said with a little laugh.

"We'd want to know if the child had cystic fibrosis. I suppose we could always rely on amniocentesis."

"I suppose," Angela said without enthusiasm. "But what would we do if it were positive?"

"I don't know," David said. "It's scary. It's hard to know what the right thing to do is."

"Well, like Scarlett O'Hara said, let's think about it tomorrow."