He got the beer and then he set up the chess board on the dining room table. “I just want to say that I’m sorry to hear about Ms. Mason.”
My gut clenched.
“I’m sure you did all you could.” His blue eyes were kind as they looked at me.
I nodded, and wasn’t sure what to say.
“I heard you delivered a baby too. That means you also brought life into the world.”
I like how Jim made a point to see the good in the world.
“That delivery went smoothly,” I said.
“That doesn’t mean she didn’t need a good doctor.”
I shrugged. The truth was, Ms. Mason had needed me more and I wasn’t there.
We spent the afternoon playing chess, which I lost, as usual. “You have the mind of a general,” I said to him as he took my queen again.
“You always have to think two or three moves ahead,” he said with a smile.
“Is that the secret?” I put my pieces back on the board.
“That, and protect your queen. You’re sometimes reckless with her.”
I swallowed as another wave of guilt filled me. Had I been reckless with Ms. Mason? Should I have arranged to have another doctor called in to deliver the baby? Or a midwife? I shook my head. The baby was crowning. There hadn’t been time.
I checked my watch. “I should get going.” Eli would likely come by soon and I didn’t want to be there when he did. Jim never said anything, but I suspected he didn’t want to have to explain my being there either.
“We’ll have to have a rematch.”
I shook my head. “Maybe we can play something else? Rummy?”
Jim laughed. “Sure. Did I tell you I’m good at cards too? Ask anyone at the senior center.”
“I don’t doubt it.” I was glad to hear he got out of the house and with other people. Good for Eli for making that happen.
When I got in my car, my phone rang. “Dr. Foster,” I said picking it up without checking the caller ID.
“Dr. Foster, this is Carly Chapman with the Goldrush Gazette.”
Fuck. “Yes?”
“I was calling to ask you about Ms. Mason’s death.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t make any comments about her treatment. That’s confidential.”
“Do you feel guilty?”
I closed my eyes guilt filled my chest, making it hard to breath. Of course, I felt guilty, but I was smart enough to know I couldn’t say that. The hospital would see that as an admission of wrongdoing. On the other hand, I couldn’t say I didn’t feel guilty as it would come of as being callous.
“I can’t comment.” I poked the off button, and swore, knowing the paper would likely print something suggesting I didn’t feel bad or that I had a God complex. Sitting in the car, I decided it was time to listen to the messages on my voicemail. There were a couple that expressed sympathy, but most were angry that I hadn’t been able to save the beloved teacher. There were two that unsettled me. Both made comments that they’d like to see me in the morgue. One was descriptive on how they’d like to put me there. I couldn’t be the only one getting calls like this. The hospital had to be getting them as well.
I drove over to Mia’s condo, and waited the twenty minutes until she was home after work.
“Nick,” she said when I met her at her car. “What’s wrong?”
“I want to know the fallout from Ms. Mason’s death.”
She studied me for a moment. “Fallout?”
“Have there been calls? Threats?”
“Threats?” Her brows rose. “Why don’t you come up.”
I followed her up to her condo. She had a good unit with a view of the lake. The space was sparse in décor. Boxes were stacked along a wall.
“Still not unpacked?” I asked.
“It’s slow going. Can I get you something to drink? I don’t have beer but I have wine.”
“Wine is good, thanks.” I sat on her couch, wondering if she’d finish unpacking or settling in. I knew she’d be here for her dad, but that didn’t mean she’d ever fully settle into life here. Another reason to not want to pursue a relationship with her again.
She exited the little kitchen with two glasses. She handed me one and then took a seat on a chair across from me. I suppose that was a good thing. Yesterday she’d sat next to me on the couch and we ended up fucking.
“What is this about threats?” she asked.
“I have two messages from people who want to put me in the morgue.”
Her expression grew concerned. “You should call the police.”
“They’re just angry about Ms. Mason. But if they’re calling me, they’re probably calling the hospital.”
She shook her head. “I haven’t heard that.”
“What have you heard?” I took a sip of the wine. It was good, but I could have used something stronger.
“Nothing.”
“Am I going to be sued? Fired?”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. Actually, if you have a little time, perhaps you can tell me from your perspective.”
I sat back, closing my eyes for a moment to get the strength to go through it again. “She came in saying she felt like her batteries were running out.”
“Her batteries?”
“I took that meant she was low on energy. She was clammy and had a temperature. I thought she probably had the flu, but her blood pressure and heart rate were up and her legs were swollen, so I wanted to rule out a heart or lung issues.”
“Did you ask her questions about heart or lung issues?” she asked.
I nodded. “Yes.” I took a moment to think back. “I never got a straight answer. During the exam, she talked a lot about being my teacher. But she never indicated any chest pain or shortness of breath. That I do remember.”
“Yet you still ordered tests.”
“Like I said, the blood pressure and heart rate, along with swollen legs, made me
