GINA YAWNED AS SHE HEADED FOR THE DOCTORS lounge. A busy night at Lynnbrook. Sometimes she could catch a catnap during the shift. Not this time.
Not that she would have got much more sleep if she'd stayed home. What a state she was in. Worse than waiting to hear about her residency match. Almost as bad as the months waiting to hear if she'd been accepted into medical school.
She ran into Dr. Conway again.
"I see Mrs. Thompson finally went home. That must be a relief."
"I guess so. Everybody's making nice-nice now that they think I caved in. Actually, she made a dramatic turnaround. Almost miraculous. One day she's dragging around, next day she's chipper and demanding to go home." A warning bell sounded in the back of Gin's brain.
"When was that?"
"Wednesday."
"I wonder, ' Gin said uneasily. "I had a talk with her just the night before and she said she'd heard you were in trouble because of her. I remember her saying something like, I won't be a burden to anyone. I'll be out of here sooner than you think."
Conway stared at her. "Christ. That'd be just like her." He picked up the phone and called medical records. He got Mrs. Thompson's phone number and dialed. And listened. He redialed and listened again. Then he hung up.
"No answer. I'm going over there."
"She could be out," Gin said.
"At seven A. M.? A seventy-eight-year-old lady?"
"I'll go with you."
"You're on duty. I'll let you know how it goes."
Gin spent the next hour wondering what Conway would find. When she wasn't thinking about that, it was back to the committee. At one point she found herself dialing her apartment, readying to activate the remote playback on her answering machine.
What am I doing? she thought, and hung up.
It was too early. No one from a senator's office would be calling before ten. Before noon, more likely.
She was about to leave when she was paged by the emergency department.
Dr. Conway was asking for her assistance.
Gin found him standing by the x-ray box, studying a chest film. She took one look at the opacified right lung field and said, "Not Harriet, I hope." Conway nodded. "Found her on her back steps, barely conscious, a bunch of bread crusts in her hand. Looked like she'd gone out to feed the birds last night and collapsed."
"She was out all night?"
"Sure as hell looks that way. She's shocky, hypothermic, and hypoxemic, plus", he tapped the chest film, "three fractured ribs and I'll bet that's a hemothorax. I called in Fielding. He's going to intubate her and put her on a respirator, then it's up to ICU ." He snapped the film off the view box. "Damn! I never should have sent her home!"
"She told you she was fine. What else were you going to do?"
"I should have seen through that. I believed her because I wanted to. I was so damn glad to get the PRO and the rest of them off my back I jumped at the chance to discharge her."
"Don't be so hard on yourself," Gin said. "Where is she?"
Conway jerked a thumb over his shoulder at one of the curtained-off alcoves.
Gin wasn't sure which way to go until she saw Fielding, the pulmonologist, step through a set of curtains and approach the nurses station. She slipped behind the curtains.
Harriet Thompson was almost unrecognizable. The right side of her face was swollen and purple where it must have struck pavement. A ribbed plastic tube curved from the corner of her mouth, connected by a larger tube to a hissing and puffing respirator. Her eyes were half open but they weren't seeing anything. Gin gripped her hand and gave it a squeeze.
'"Hang in there, Harriet," she said. "You're in good hands." There wasn't much Gin could do. Between Conway and Fielding and the ICU staff, all bases were covered. When she came out, she patted Dr. Conway on the back and wished both him and Harriet good luck.
She got behind the wheel of her Sunbird and rubbed her burning eyes.
She was scheduled to assist Duncan this morning. Despite her fatigue, that had its up side, time would move faster. But first a shower.
She noticed the message light blinking on her answering machine. She hurried over to it but her finger hesitated, hovering above the replay button. Dread and anticipation swirled through her. Was this it? The big turndown?
She shook herself. She was going off the deep end. No way it could be Marsden's office.
She hit the button. It was Gerry. A rush of warmth filled her at the sound of his voice. He'd been so sympathetic yesterday.
Hi, Gin. It's about eleven now. I forgot you were moonlighting tonight, so you probably won't hear this till tomorrow morning. But I want to remind you to call me as soon as you hear from Marsden's office. the . It's a good bet you'll be hearing early. When you get word, call me at home. I won't be leaving till around nine. Good luck, but it'll be their good luck to get you. Bye.
How sweet, she thought, smiling as she hit the erase button. And how naive. She wouldn't be hearing early from anyone.
Funny, though, how sure Gerry seemed about the early call. And he was anything but naive.
Gin heard the phone ringing as she stepped out of the shower. Still dripping, she wrapped a towel around herself and rushed to the bedroom to grab it. It was Alicia Downs.
"You're in, Gin." Gin was stunned, speechless for a moment.
"Hello?" Alicia said. "You still there?"
"Yes. I'm here. I just can't believe this. I'm in?"
"You are. I heard Blair telling one of the secretaries to call you and give you the word. I'm doing it for her."
"But how?"
"Don't ask me. I put in my vote for you. I don't know about Blair. All I know is that sometime between last night and this morning the senator made up his mind. You're our new legislative assistant on medical affairs."
She felt weak. "This . . . this is wonderful. Thanks for the call. And for your support."
"Don't thank me. I mean, I think you're a nice person and bright and I'm sure you'll do a good job and all, but I want you for other reasons. You'll be a good PR asset."
"An asset. Wow." Alicia laughed.
"Hey, you're not just a doctor, you're a bright, attractive, female doctor fresh out of training. You're not Washington. An outsider, no connections to the bureaucracy. You're now. Your presence shows the senator's got a mind open to fresh ideas from the medical profession." Gin felt herself going cold, and not from the water dripping down her legs.
"Look, if I'm just going to be window dressing, you can tell,"
"No way. Not with this senator. He wants you for your medical expertise. I'm the one who's concerned with appearances."
"That's a relief. I think."
She laughed again. "Relax, Gin. You're in. And you're in with one of the good guys. I've been earning my living up here for twenty years now, and Senator Marsden is the first guy in a long time to restore my faith in the electoral process. I can't tell you what a joy it is to polish the image of a guy you really like."
"That's good to hear. Really good."
"Then I take it you accept?"
"Of course I do." Great. Our staff is meeting here tomorrow at ten A. M. sharp. I hope you don't have any major plans for the weekend."
"Well, nothing firm." She'd been hoping she and Gerry might get together.
"Good. With the hearings opening next week, you can expect to work through the weekend. Welcome aboard. See you tomorrow." Gin hung up and stood in the center of her bedroom, grinning foolishly, absently toweling herself off as she let the reality sink in.
"I'm in. I . . . am . . . in! " She pumped her fist into the air.
"Yes!" As she dried her hair, she began to dance around, shuffling into the front room, blindly turning, gyrating, undulating her hips in time to a regge tune on the radio.
Here she is, ladies and gentlemen! The latest, the greatest, the hottest legislative assistant in the nation's capital, dancing under her stage name, Pasta Primavera, with her own exclusive interpretation of the Hill Rat Hustle!
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Gin lowered the towel from her hair and found herself in front of the bay window, standing nude as a jaybird over Kalorama Road.
"Whoa!" She ducked away and hurried back to her room. As she pulled open her underwear drawer she caught sight of herself in the full-length mirror.
She turned to give her body a closer look, twisting this way and that to get different angles on her breasts and hips.
The hips were a little more generous than she liked. But her abdomen was nice and flat. She ran her hand lightly over the puckered scar of her old incision, then traced a fine line of hair down to the dark tangle over her pubes. Time for another bikini wax.
Not too bad, she thought. Not too bad at all for an old broad looking thirty in the eye.
She had two careers now. Why not go for a third as Pasta Primavera, exotic dancer? No . . . there was another term for it, a Duncan word. What was it . . . ?
Ecdysiast flashed into her mind.
Right. Regina Panzella, doctor, legislative assistant, and ecdysiast.
She tried a little bump and grind before the mirror.
Pretty lame.
Ah, well.
She turned away and began picking through her underwear.
Once she was dressed, her high spirits were brought down by the thought of Harriet Thompson. She called the Lynnbrook ICU and learned she was stable. Okay.
Then she called Gerry. He seemed genuinely happy for her, but not as surprised as she'd expected.
"See," she told him. "Sometimes things work out. It doesn't do you any good to be cynical all the time Hard work and persistence still pay off."
"I knew all along you were the best person for the job. Now I guess this guy Blair and the senator know it too. But what's really great is that it means you'll be down in my neighborhood a lot more often."
"That's right, isn't it?" She hadn't thought of that. "I'm glad of that too." She liked Gerry more each time she saw him.
Maybe an FBI agent wasn't as glamorous as a high-powered internist like Peter, but she sensed something deeply caring in Gerry. If this kept up . . .
"By the way," he said. "I located a death certificate on Lisa Lathram in Fairfax County."
Gin felt her breath catch. One part of her wanted to tell him never mind, leave the dead alone, another part wouldn't rest until all her questions were answered. She tried to keep her tone casual.
"That was quick. What does it say?"
"It's on its way. I'll let you know when I get it."
"Thanks, Gerry. You're becoming indispensable."
"I hope so."
"I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut back some of my hours . . . here."
She and Duncan were halfway through a tummy tuck. Gin had a wide retractor hooked around a six-inch layer of abdominal wall and was positioning it where Duncan could resect the redundant layers of yellow fat. She hadn't planned to tell him until the surgery was over, but he'd begun talking about tomorrow's surgery schedule and it had simply popped out.
"Oh?" he said. "And why's that?"
"I . . . I got the job on Senator Marsden's staff." There. I said it.
She watched him closely, remembering his explosion last time. How was he going to react this time?
His blue eyes glanced up at her for a second or two, then returned to the surgical field.
"Congratulations. When do you start?" Gin didn't answer immediately. She'd been steeled for anger. This quiet acceptance was almost as intimidating.
"Uh, this weekend."
"So you're leaving us high and dry."
"Cassidy said he'd fill in."
"I hope you'll still find some time for medicine."
"I'll have to cut back, but I don't want to quit."
"Good. I don't want to lose you. Your work here has been excellent."
"Thank you," she said, basking in the rare praise.
"The Hill will be educational for you," Duncan said. "Give you a chance to see the kakistocracy at work. You'll witness firsthand the rampant sophistry of the congressional solipsists. They'll,"
Marie the anesthetist groaned. "Oh, no. Here we go."
Joanna glared at Gin in mock anger. "We were breezing along here. Did you have to get him started?"
"Sorry, " Gin said.
"All right, all right," Duncan said, glancing around and smiling behind his mask. The skin around his eyes crinkled with amusement. "Despite your bumptious insubordination, I'll spare you all a lecture this time. But let me just say this," Marie groaned again.
"Wait now," Duncan said. "All I'm going to say, and I want you all to listen and remember that you heard it here first, I predict Gin will not last a year on the Hill before she throws her hands up in disgust."
"There's always a chance of that, " Gin said, thinking of Joe Blair, "but I know these hearings are going to be interesting. I can't wait till they begin."
Duncan glanced up at her." Neither can I, my dear. Neither can I."
Gin stared back at him. Something in those bright blue eyes . . . something almost feral, reminding her of how he looked on the Capitol portico with Congressman Allard. An icy tendril traced a chill up her spine.
Gin left the Lathram office early and put in another call to the ICU when she got back to the apartment.
"She's having some BP problems," the charge nurse said. "Real shocky. Dr. Conway's here. Want to talk to him?"
"No. Don't bother him. Just tell him I was asking about her." Gin hung up. Damn. That didn't sound good.
She called her folks next. Her mother answered and Gin told her the good news.
"Is this what you want, Gin?" Mama said.
Why did everybody ask her that?
"Yes, Mama," she said patiently. "For the time being."
"Then good. I'm happy for you. We'll expect you about six."
"Expect me where?"
"Here, of course. We'll celebrate. We'll open some spumante, and I'll make you your favorites, stuffed shells and three-cheese lasagna."
Gin's mouth began to water. But she was so tired. And this was the stuff that had turned little Regina into big fat Pasta Panzella.
"I'm really beat, Mama. I was up,"
"Gin, Gin, ' she said in that voice that always got to her. "You haven't been here in so long. You live a few minutes away and yet you never visit your family. Are you going to forget your Mama and Papa?"
Gin repressed a sigh. "What time again?"
"Your father will be home by six. Get some sleep and we'll see you then." Gin collapsed on the bed and let sleep take her.
15
FAMILY
GINA PULLED UP IN FRONT OF THE FAMILY HOME IN Arlington and stared at its aged brick front. During the first dozen years of her life it had been a two-story brick box sitting on a rise along with all the other brick boxes in this little postwar development. She remembered learning to ride a bike on that gently sloped driveway, watching the cars go by from her bedroom window up there on the second floor, helping Papa pull dandelions from the lawn every spring. Papa and his lawn, she thought, looking at the flawlessly green, precisely manicured front yard. Still perfect.
As Papa's butcher shop grew to an Italian specialty food store, and a little money was left over to play with, they added a screened porch to the front, enlarged the kitchen and master bedroom in the rear, and built on a deck. A nice, roomy, comfortable house now. Thirty years her folks had lived here, and probably intended to stay another thirty.
They weren't exactly into change.
Gin shook her head. Change? They were both born in America, her father was barely into his fifties now, her mother just fifty last April, yet they were old-world Italian in so many ways. Attitude-wise, they were barely into the twentieth century.
They'd actually arranged a marriage for her when she was two. Thank God that hadn't been mentioned in years. Apparently the fits both she and her intended had pitched during their adolescence had caused both families to reconsider.
She climbed the two steps to the front
door and walked in without knocking. The delicious odor of sauteing garlic enveloped her. God, she loved that smell.
Her father sprang from his chair in front of the TV. He was only an inch taller than Gin, with broad shoulders and muscular arms, his full head of black hair was a little grayer every time she saw him, but he still had the vitality of a twenty-year-old.
"Gin!" He wrapped her in his bear arms and twirled her around. "How's my little scswngzle?"
She hugged him around the neck and kissed each cheek. "Fine, Papa."
He released her and held her at arm's length. "So, being a doctor's not enough for you, eh? Now a politician too?"
"I'm not,"
"Gin! " It was Mama, wiping her hands on her apron as she trotted in from the kitchen. More hugs and kisses.
It was always this way. Gin came home for dinner and family affairs every two or three weeks, but each time they acted as if she'd been away for a year. She supposed an only child had to expect that.
Soon the three of them were standing around in the kitchen, sipping spumante, sneaking pieces of bread into Mama's sauce, laughing, reminiscing, talking about the future.
So good to be here. Times like this made her wish she visited more often. She loved the warmth, the security. She'd be taken care of here. She didn't have to prove anything here, she wouldn't be so tired all the time, she wouldn't have to be running in four different directions trying to do too many things, trying to learn where she fit, trying to make her life matter.
She fit here. She mattered here.
And she knew it was a velvet trap. As much as she loved her folks, she knew she'd go crazy here. Despite all the hustle and running and stress of her life now, she knew deep down she wouldn't want it any other way.
But the main thing was that her folks still didn't quite get it. As proud as they were of her, Gin knew they wondered when she was going to have time to give them grandchildren, bambinos to bounce on their knees.
She knew in the backs of their minds they felt their daughter would be better off being married to a doctor than being one, a nice Italian doctor, of course.
They knew something about Peter, but had no idea that they'd been living together.
Oh, God. Peter. She should have called him and told him about her new job. She'd have to do that first thing when she got home.