“Send me his number and I will call him after I see my patients. If he calls back, let him know I’m working.”
“Should I let him know you’ll call him later?”
“Genie, stop getting that starry look in your eyes and give me his number. I’ll let him know not to bother anyone again.”
“Don’t do that! We don’t mind. It’s no bother.”
“I mind.”
I didn’t wait for a response. Stepping back into Mrs. Anthony’s room, I told her to call my office to make her follow-up appointment and narrowly escaped another fix-up request, before heading to see my consults.
Wren
Later, I was finishing up looking at an X-ray, trying to ignore the task of reaching out to Daniel Campbell, when Regina turned up, rambling.
“Sorry, sorry, I told him you would call later, like you wanted. But once he heard you knew he was calling, he said, ‘Och, help a guy out and see if she’ll talk now. It’s urgent.’ I couldn’t help hearing him say it was urgent, so please take his call… He really sounded desperate…and sexy.” Motioning to my phone, Genie said, “I’ll send the call to your phone.”
While I used my hand to shoo Regina out of the X-ray room, it didn’t take long for her to rush out and transfer the call.
“This is Dr. Bianchi,” I spoke softly.
If there was one thing I’d learned since graduating college and medical school and finally saying screw you to my parents, it was boundaries. I was Dr. Bianchi, and whoever was on the otherside of the line needed to know. Problem was that the person on the other side of this call knew all of this—all too well.
The truth was, I’d wanted to be a veterinarian, and I wasn’t. The moment I’d finished my medical residency, I made a promise to keep my limits firmly in place. Until now, and a brief visit from the past had shattered all my hard emotional work.
“Birdie?”
It was gruff and coarse, and for a quick second I thought I’d heard wrong.
“Hey, Birdie?”
There it was again, still gritty, but I was correct. Hearing the nickname—the one he’d used for me—tossed all of my restrictions, limits, and tight boundaries out the hospital’s eighth floor window. Standing there, unable to speak, my mind went into a tailspin.
What does he want?
He cleared his throat into the phone. “Wren? Are you there?”
My actual name shook me out of the spiral I’d collapsed into. “Daniel, why are you harassing my staff, demanding to talk with me?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to harass anyone. I needed to speak with you…”
“After…let’s see, what’s it been? Sixteen, seventeen years?”
“Closer to twenty. It’s been a long time.”
“I’d say. Now, while you’re dancing around why you called, I have a patient sitting in an exam room waiting for me, so get on with it.”
“It’s so good to hear your voice. You’re a hard person to get a hold of—”
“Daniel, now speak up. What do you need?”
I resisted taunting him, suggesting his dad could buy whatever it was he wanted. But our parents were older, and whoknew how his dad was or if he was alive. I might be impatient and have a short fuse, but I wasn’t callous.
“I can feel your brain churning over the line, probably wishing I’d run back to Scotland with my daddy. I didn’t…”
“I know. We may not have spoken for close to two decades, but I know.” I repeated myself, tripping over my own words.
“I need a favor.” He said it matter-of-factly, as if he deserved one.
