The Doctor's Wife Read online

  Facing life with courage and determination was a challenge from which she had never shrunk, and she would not stop now at this momentous event in her life.

  “So now the broad is pregnant and you want to do the right thing…that’s it, isn’t it? I see now, Don, that you are a very weak man. I would not have believed that of you, the man I loved.”

  For himself, Don was not really certain when he had become attracted to the thirty-year-old nurse. Somehow the admiration and deference she showed him helped ease the daily tension in the work situation. She seemed able to help solve patient problems, make certain that the countless drug representatives did not pester him, screened out the ones she knew he did not want to see.

  After weeks of having morning coffee and/or afternoon tea with Alisha, he astonished himself by telling her, “I’m attending a medical convention in Pittsburg next month…”

  “Oh, my God, Dr. Matthews! I’m planning to visit my parents there next month. I’d planned to ask you for time off today!”

  “How about that! I didn’t know you were from there.”

  “Yes, I am. My folks are still there. Maybe you could come to dinner one night…know they would love to meet you.”

  “That would be nice.”

  “I was a staff nurse at Magee Woman’s Hospital at the University of Pittsburgh. Worked there for several years.”

  Don Matthews had no idea that his assistant had fabricated a part of her story. She was from Pittsburgh, her parents did live there, but the part about the intended visit to them was made up on the news of Don’s medical meeting. When she had first seen it on his calendar, her plans were about to be put into place.

  * * *

  Sharla Boxford reached for the bill the server had placed on their table, but Leanne’s hand closed over it.

  “Uh-uh, child. I’m paying for this lunch. You drove us here, and with the price of gas it’s only fair that I pick up the tab.”

  “You know you don’t have to do that, Lee. I invited you, remember?”

  “Glad you did, girlfriend. Sure good to get together again. Been so long…”

  “I know. We both lead busy lives. Is Don coming home tonight?”

  “Yes, ma’am!”

  Leanne’s quick response made Sharla shake her head. Grinning as she said, “You sure do love that man! Where did he go this week?”

  “To Pittsburgh. Some national conference on stem-cell research. Girl, I can’t wait for him to come home! And, yes, I love that man until the day I die!”

  “Don’t I know it! Never forget the day you two got married. I was there, you know.”

  She reached across the table and grasped her friend’s hand.

  “I was your maid of honor, and when I saw how you looked at Donovan, as if you couldn’t believe what was happening, I knew right then that you were deeply in love. Could see it on your face. Believe me, kid, I was one jealous maid of honor, wishing I were in your shoes.”

  “But you and Anderson have a wonderful marriage. Done all right by each other.”

  “Oh, sure, we’re like two peas in a pod, and we are happy. Settled in our ways, living in the afterglow of a serene, comfortable relationship.”

  “Nothing wrong with that, Sharla.”

  “No, of course not, but, well, between you and Don there’s a magical spark that makes everyone envious.”

  “Tell you the truth, my friend, sometimes I do get to wondering myself why I got so lucky, and…do I really deserve to be so happy?”

  Sharla gave Leanne’s hand a quick squeeze and started to rise from her chair.

  “Honey, don’t knock the blessing. Just be happy!”

  CHAPTER 4

  The two friends left the restaurant together, Sharla heading to her car in the parking lot and Leanne hailing a passing cab to take her to the dealership. Her car had been recalled, she intended to pick it up and then drive to Green Airport in Providence to meet her husband’s three-thirty arrival.

  Leanne settled back in the cab as the driver took her to Allston to the dealer’s shop. She hoped and prayed that Don’s flight would be on time and they could get home to Norwood without too much traffic on Route 95. Thank God it wasn’t football season, so going past the football stadium would not be a problem.

  She had already prepared Don’s favorite: sirloin tips with mushroom gravy, rice, salad, and strawberry shortcake. His favorite wine was in the refrigerator. She had set the table beforehand, the children were away at college, so they would have the house to themselves. She felt her face flush as she drove to the airport. It had been twenty-five years since that glorious day that Sharla brought to mind, and she remembered it clearly.

  * * *

  Angela Bright never varied in her morning routine. Teeth brushing first, then her shower, body lotion applied, then getting dressed. Once fully clothed, she would sit in front of her dressing table and apply her makeup. First a light foundation applied to her face, then a dusting of blush on her cheeks, then eyeshadow and lip gloss.

  She went to her cousin’s hair salon in Providence for hair weaving extensions. She returned often to have the necessary treatments needed to maintain proper care.

  The extensions were long, silky and black, framing her olive-tinted skin. Her exotic, round, dark eyes and high cheekbones made people question her racial identity. Many thought she was from India. In fact, on hearing her clipped Jamaican accent, one physician at the medical building exclaimed, “Ms. Bright, you look like you could be a relative of mine!”

  As a phlebotomist, she moved about the medical center drawing blood from patients. As she brushed her hair, she wondered what, if anything, she should do about the couple she had seen on her last trip to the Providence hairdresser two weeks ago.

  Early for her appointment, she had decided to have a salad and a cup of tea at a nearby café. Her hair treatment would take hours. It would be late when she drove back to Boston, so something to eat to sustain her would be a good idea.

  “I’ll be right back with your order, ma’am,” the middle-aged woman told her. Watching the woman walk towards the open kitchen at the rear of the restaurant, Alisha saw that her gait was faulty, as if she had pains in her feet. Probably works all day. Could be a single mother supporting her family, like her very own mother had done. Her eyes stung with unshed tears as she recalled her own mother, now dead, who had worked so hard to give Angela and her brother a decent life.

  She brushed the mist from her eyes and reached into her briefcase, glad that she’d brought a book along. It would be comforting to have something to read while she waited for her lunch. It was a John Grisham novel, and she had found it to be an “unputdownable” read.

  Opening her book, she glanced out of the nearby window and noticed the parking lot filling up. She realized she was lucky to have been able to get a parking space. Then she spied a couple, a older man and a young woman, walking by, talking animatedly to each other.

  She stared at the man. God, it was Dr. Matthews, and he was with Alisha Morton! She quickly returned to her book, bent her head over it. Would she be spotted by the couple when they passed by her booth? Forty miles from Boston, this lunch date must have been planned. I saw his wife in the building last week, believe someone said he was taking his wife to lunch to celebrate her being named Realtor of the Year. Angela had heard all about the occasion later.

  Her friend, Gretchen, who also worked in the lab, told her all about it. She had heard about it from a coworker.

  “Imagine,” Gretchen said, waving her arms in an expansive gesture, “your husband takes you shopping, buys you a French designer bag with matching shoes, a Hermes scarf, and a set of pearl earrings. Then he takes you to a spa for a full massage, body wrap, mineral bath, facial, manicure, pedicure…the works?”

  “Oh, my God,” Angela gasped.

  “Hey, wait, that’s not all! After all that, he takes you to the Ritz Carlton for dinner and you spend the night in the penthouse suite!”

  Gretchen’s e
yes narrowed when she saw Angela’s astonished reaction to her news.

  “Can you imagine someone, anyone, spending that much money on you?”

  “Can’t say I know anyone like that. He must love her to death…”

  “Or have a guilty conscience!”

  CHAPTER 5

  Dealing with the children’s “acting out” behavior was one of Leanne’s most vexing problems. Jane was particularly angry and hostile towards her mother, blaming her for not loving Don enough.

  “You care more about your real estate business than you do about Dad!”

  “You’re wrong, my dear. I have always put your father first, even before you children, and you both know I’d give my life for you. This is just something that has happened. I don’t have the answers, but your father does love both of you. You can be sure of that.”

  “Well,” Jane scowled, “I still think it has something to do with you…to make him look at another woman…and,” her voice choked, “to want to leave us and marry someone else! I’ll never forgive him!”

  “Don’t talk like that, honey. He will always be your dad, the only one you’ll ever have.”

  With Curtis, it was somewhat different. He was angry, furious at what he called his father’s irrational weakness for having abandoned his mother for another woman.

  “I don’t know how you can put up with his behavior, Mom. He has no right to do this to you.”

  “Curtis, it’s his life and he has a right to live it as he chooses.”

  But Curtis interrupted her, unloosing a string of epithets. “He’s a coward, a wimp and a cheat. And I don’t want to have anything to do with him! Ever!”

  “For your sake and mine, I do wish you wouldn’t feel that way. As I told Jane, he is still your father and that is forever.”

  “Not anymore! Not like you, Mom. You’re a real, honest-to-goodness trooper.”

  She hugged him.

  “That’s what your father called me the night you were born. ‘A real trooper.’ I’ll never forget that. Curtis, don’t judge him. He is your dad, no matter what. Always will be.”

  Don had been staying at the residents’ quarters at the hospital for two weeks and had not contacted Leanne. However, her lawyer had called her. Leanne had made an appointment with him for advice on the divorce procedure.

  “Leanne? This is Alan Spencer. How are you?”

  “Oh, I guess I’m all right. I’m still trying to put one foot in front of the other. But I’m keeping busy. The children are back at their respective schools and I’m still trying to sell houses, counsel newlyweds on the vagaries of buying their first house. And I’m seeing more and more empty nesters in their declining years trying to hold onto their homes, and even helping first-time buyers. So, yes, my days are filled. The nights…well, you know.”

  “It’s very hard, I’m sure, but I want you to know I’m going to try to do my best to help you get through this.”

  “I appreciate your support, Alan, I really do.”

  “So, anyway, because of your combined salaries, the support and education of the children, the assets such as the houses, offices and all investments, I’ve assembled a panel to go over the agreements of the divorce.”

  “A panel, Alan?”

  “Yes, I’ve pulled together a group that is experienced in divorces such as yours and Don’s. They’ve proven to be effective in handling situations like yours.”

  “You do know that all I want from Don is half of the house sale, the Cape cottage, and for him to continue paying for the children’s education. I don’t want any alimony,” she said.

  “Well, Leanne, I intend to discuss all the matters relevant to considering your future, as well as the children’s. Have you thought about their health care, insurance, that sort of thing?”

  “To be truthful, Alan, I have not. I was so blindsided, shocked. I’m still reeling and haven’t been able to focus on anything except my business. I don’t know what to think, or how to think, if that makes any sense.” She sighed audibly.

  “Not to worry. We all have your best interests at heart.”

  An appointment was made and Leanne sat for a moment, her hand resting on the receiver. She jumped, startled when the phone rang.

  “Mrs. Matthews?”

  “This is Mrs. Matthews.”

  “My name is Becky Long.”

  “Oh, yes, Don’s receptionist. I didn’t recognize your voice at first.”

  “That’s okay. Mrs. Matthews, and may I say I’m sorry about your…uh, situation. And I hope this call is not too much of an intrusion.”

  “Thank you, Becky.”

  “But I’m calling because Dr. Matthews wants you to know he’d like to stop by to pick up some clothes, personal items, and wondered what would be a good time for you.”

  Leanne felt her face redden with anger. The bastard couldn’t call me himself! she thought. But then she willed herself to sound unruffled by this display of rank insensitivity, deliberately forcing any trace of anger from her voice. After all, she told herself, Becky was just a reluctant messenger. It was her husband’s cowardice that had placed his receptionist in this uncomfortable position. She took a deep breath before answering, hoping that she would not sound too emotional.

  “Becky, Don knows my schedule. I’m in my office from nine to five. He may come whenever he chooses.”

  “I’ll tell him, Mrs. Matthews. Take care.”

  * * *

  Since the awful night Don had demanded a divorce, Leanne had not slept in their room.

  As soon as he had picked up his bag and headed for the front door, the reality of her situation hit her with crushing force and she had screamed, “Go! Get out! I never want to see you again! You…you bastard!”

  She had raced up the stairs as she heard the front door slam. The tears streaming from her eyes had nearly blinded her. She had stumbled into the bedroom, where just the night before she had experienced unbelievable happiness in the arms of the man she loved. The memory of that happiness now mocked her. The sight of the bed had unleashed more tears.

  Her knees weakened and she had fallen to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably at the foot of the queen-sized bed. She had clutched the bedspread, pulling it toward her, trying to wrap it around her trembling body. Smelling Don’s cologne on the bedding, she had yanked the coverlet off her body as if it were contaminated with a toxic substance.

  She did not know how long she had been on the floor, but she remembered rising to her feet, still shaky. But her anger rose, too, unbidden, as she began to tear the bed apart.

  Pillows, sheets, blankets formed a disorderly pile on the floor. Impulsively, she began to stomp on the pile, she began to see Don’s face amid the bedclothes. “Son of a bitch!” she sobbed. “How could you do this to me!”

  That night she knew if she had owned a gun, she might have used it. On whom, she did not know, but surely someone. She felt she was at the end of her life.

  CHAPTER 6

  Leanne never again slept in the master bedroom. She removed everything that belonged to her to the guest room at the opposite end of the second floor. She had a full bath near the room, which had been designed to meet the needs of her parents’ use when they would visit. Now they were dead, she had only her siblings, but they all lived out of state. There was no one.

  After the call from Becky Long she was glad that she had abandoned the bedroom. Let Don see the chaos, the confusion he has brought to my life.

  She felt unable to face the world. She was losing weight, having difficulty sleeping and was constantly trying to make sure what had happened to her marriage. She still had to deal with periods of anger and hate at being left behind, not understanding how one could love and hate someone at the same time.

  The day after the divorce bombshell, telling her secretary, she had called in to her office, “Sick with the flu. Anything important, please fax or e-mail me.”

  “Of course. Hope you feel better. Anything I can do, let me know.”


  “Thank you. I’m just not able to come to the office right now,” she said, coughing. “Don’t want to infect anyone.”

  * * *

  “All I ever wanted was for him to love me,” Leanne sobbed in Sharla’s arms.

  “Girlfriend, why didn’t you let me know? I’d have been here straight away!”

  “I know, Sharla, I know. But I’ve been in such a state.”

  “You never knew he was involved with someone?”

  “That’s why I’m so upset! Don never changed toward me or the children! The only thing, now that I look back on it, was he seemed to be attending a lot more conferences…you know, medical meetings out of town. But he always came home, was enthusiastic about the new things he’d learned…but…”

  “You don’t need to spell it out, honey. I get the picture.”

  “Sharla, who told you?”

  “It was Curtis. He called me, asked me to check on you, is worried about you.”

  “I might have known. He has always been concerned about me. Don always said he was more my son than his, although they always got along well together. That is ‘til now. Curtis is furious at his dad.”

  “So he told me, Leanne, and he is really worried. You know you’ve lost weight?”

  “ ’Bout twenty pounds, I guess.”

  “And from the dark circles under your eyes,” Sharla observed, “you’re not sleeping well, either.”

  “Sharla,” Leanne said to her friend as they sat together at the kitchen table sharing coffee and the blueberry muffins Sharla had brought.

  “Yes, hon?”

  “How is it that I can still love Don as well as hate him? I don’t understand the mixed emotions I’m feeling.”

  “I’m not sure. Think somewhere I read that romantic love and hate are somehow linked in the brain. I’m not sure, but I do believe it is possible.”

  “I can tell you one thing, going back and forth between the two feelings is really hard. And, you know, I lived longer with Don—twenty-five years—than I did with my parents. Left home at eighteen for college.”