Ruth Ann And The Doctor

It was extremely quiet. The lights in the hall way of the hospital were dimmed a bit. Ruth Ann Newell sat and, for the thousandth time, regarded her uncle, small now and a bit shrunken on the bed. There were no tears now. The tears had been shed in abundance, once she realized that the stroke that he'd had was irreversible. She knew that the tears would come again but now it was time to keep the vigil, this vigil for Uncle Mike.

She realized that she'd not taken any opportunity to eat anything but wasn't sure if she was hungry at all either. She simply vowed to think about it.

"This is going to be difficult without his advice," she said to herself.

Her Uncle Mike had taken her in, when her parents were killed, had raised her, educated her, and brought her into his business. Gradually through the years, she'd taken over the business herself, and ran it more and more completely. The business was doing well; Uncle Mike wasn't, and that was the long and short of her situation.

At times she spoke to herself about turning 40 with no prospects of a man. But the business kept her so occupied that she didn't worry very much about her supposed 'love life'. Brief flings in college, a few dates, when she was a younger woman, and the occasional married man looking for a 'piece on the side', a thing that she vowed she'd never be, an invitation that she'd never give in to.

She was, she thought, fairly content with her lot, and managed it by simply not giving it much thought. It was on her mind now only because she had time now to do nothing but think and keep this long, lonely vigil with Uncle Mike.

But she knew, knew down deep that if it were her in the bed, incapacitated and, in reality, dying, Uncle Mike would never stir from her side. So, the vigil was hers to keep, and keep it she did.

She was at that moment a bit upset because she'd spilled some tea on her skirt and was trying to wash it out with a cloth from the sink in the bathroom. The skirt was red and matched the suit jacket. She had the skirt pulled up to her waist. She was not looking to flash the world; she was distracting herself.

She didn't even hear him come in, and, when she looked up, gave a kind of a startled squeak and didn't even think to push her skirt down right away. It was as though she willfully was sitting there displaying to the doctor in the doorway her legs and her pretty rose colored panties.

"Uh, Ms. Newell," he said, bringing her out of her reverie, "Your skirt."

"Ohhhhh," she said surprised and now embarrassed, "I'm sorry doctor; I was idly thinking, as I tried to get a stain out of my skirt."

"Well," he said, eyes twinkling as he spoke, "I could always say that I'm a doctor and have seen it all before but I'd be lying to you if I didn't admit that it was a pretty enough sight. I'm sorry to have snuck up on you like that, Mrs, Miss oh I guess Ms. Newell," he said.

"It's Miss Newell," she said, "Actually, doctor, it's Ruth Ann."

Then she went on:

"Dr. Grace, it's I who should have been looking out for what I was doing and not showing the world my underwear," she smiled a truly abashed smile, when she said it.

"Pretty though," he remarked. She blushed and he dropped the issue. Then he went on:

"You look so tired; Miss Newell, should you go and get some rest?"

"Please, it's Ruth Ann," she said.

He answered: "Cyrus, Cyrus Grace."

He noticed that she made a slight face and said:

"Yes, I know, my parents were enamored of the ancients. So, I'm named for Cyrus the Persian but it could have been worse, maybe Ashurbanipal or Shupi Lulliuma or one of those guys."

"Shupi who?" she asked, laughing

He laughed too and went on:

"But really, uh, Ruth Ann, can't you go and get some rest? I'm on for the night; I'll keep a good eye on him."

"My Uncle Mike," she said simply.

"On your Uncle Mike," he said.

"I don't think that I can leave him," was her simple statement, and she began to cry.

His instinct prompted him to go to her, and she met him with her own instinctive reaction; she leaned forward, still sitting and leaned against him, with her arms around him. He, with one hand, stroked her hair.

"I'm so sorry, Dr. Grace," she said.

"Not a bit of it!' he said quickly back to her.

He stepped back, neither of them was ashamed of the encounter, both of them noticed it, and simply turned from thoughts about it.

"When my Mom and Dad died, Uncle Mike took me in, and I was always his girl. He saw me through it all; I mean adolescence, my education; he brought me into the business and made sure that I learned it all. Now here he is with this . . .this stroke and I can't abandon him; no, won't abandon him."

"Of course not," Dr. Grace said. "Well, I'll look back in a little bit. If you need, I'm on this floor tonight."

Just as he got to the doorway, she said to him a very soft:

"Thank you, Dr. Grace!"

He grinned: "It's Cyrus, but you might not want to use that."

She flashed him a smile and said: "I don't know, I kind of like Cyrus."

"Hmm," he answered, "Fan club of one!"

"One's a beginning," she said.

"Later," was his answer, and still smiling, he left the room.

"He's a nice one, Uncle Mike," Ruth Ann said, as soon as the doctor was out the door.

Cyrus Grace did look in a bit later and found Ruth Ann still working on the spot on her skirt.

"Coming out?" he asked this time.

She looked up in surprise again.

"I promise that I'll stop doing that," he said.

"Dr. Grace, it is a hospital and you're the doctor; you shouldn't have to worry about entering a room, if I'd just mind my manners and keep my skirt down."

He received a smile from her with the communication.

His smile in return was warm and he said:

"At least not as high this time."

She grinned and said: "Thank goodness."

"I was more thinking 'darn it!" was his reply.

She hid her mouth with her hand and giggled behind her hand.

"You're terrible!" she said.

"On the contrary," was his falsely stilted reply, "I'm very observant."

"I guess so," was her reply.

He went to the bed then to check Uncle Mike's vitals.

"Anything?" she asked.

"No, I'm afraid not," he answered. "About the same."

He excused himself and went away then but came back fairly quickly with a cup of coffee for Ruth Ann.

"Oh, thank you," she said, and looked at him and the mischievous look on his face.

"Say it!" she said with an overly loud 'resigned' smile.

"Shall I?" he asked, the look never leaving his face.

"I guess you should or I guess you'll burst instead," was her reply.

They both laughed and he asked:

"Do you need to undress to drink that?"

She covered her mouth with her hand again and said, behind the hand, "Terrible!"

He got a serious look then and said:

"Miss Newell, uh, Ruth Ann, I don't mean to be speaking out of line here. I'm just having fun with you."

"Don't you dare mention it, Dr. Grace; it's the only cheer that I've had since Uncle Mike had the stroke. You make a girl feel fairly light headed."

Cyrus Grace grinned at that and said:

"Well, good for me!"

He checked Uncle Mike again and said:

"I'm off to give everyone a good look over."

She giggled.

"Now who's doing it!?" he said severely to her but she still giggled some more.

"Women!" he said in a mock disgusted tone and said:

"Ruth Ann, I will be back."

"Thank you, Cyrus," was her reply.

He did come back later and found her sleeping. It was late. She had her arms wrapped around herself and had her head leaning against the back of the chair.

He moved forward, after retrieving a blanket from the room's storage closet and pulled the foot rest of the chair up for her. He wrapped the blanket around her.

She, still mostly asleep, kissed his hand and said: "Thank you, honey!"

Then she woke and said:

"Oh, I apologize! Uncle Mike would often do that kind of thing for me; I'm sorry."

"I'm not!" Cyrus said. "I kind of liked it."

She smiled, as she was about to close her eyes again, and, just as he tucked the blanket in around her, kissed his hand again. This time accompanied by a soft smile.

"Thank you," she said.

"Rest now, Ruth Ann," were his words.

It was a fairly restless night for her. She woke after a while and he seemed to know it, and brought for her some fruit and yogurt, with some bread.

"Hospital food!" he said grimly.

"A lovely gesture," she replied and began to eat what he'd brought her.

They talked companionably, while she ate what he'd brought for her. When she was finished, she stretched and he said to her:

"Why don't you at least take a few turns around the halls; get a little exercise. I'll sit with him, while you're gone."

"Will you?" she asked gratefully.

"Of course," was his reply.

Ruth Ann, reached up and kissed Cyrus' cheek and went for a walk around the halls of the hospital but she came back fairly quickly, not wanting to tie up his time.

"Say," he said, before leaving, "We have some stain remover at the desk with the supplies. I'll get you a packet of it."

"Are you going to demand to watch me use it?" she asked, her eyes twinkling.

"You are a hard boiled one," was his reply and he slipped away to get the stain remover.

When he came back he said to her: "We encounter all sorts of stains and have to be ready to deal with them."

"Thank you, Cyrus," she replied, "But no show this time!"

"Darn!" he said in an exaggerated fashion. "I guess twice is my allotment."

"It is indeed," she replied, as he left.

She spent the night with Uncle Mike, who didn't show signs of improving or of getting immediately worse.

Cyrus did stop in briefly, in the early morning, as light was beginning to creep up to the windows.

"Work?" he said.

"Yes," was her reply, "I need to get going."

"Driving?" he asked.

"No, I taxied, yesterday after work."

"Please let me drive you," he said softly, "Maybe breakfast? What you had wasn't much."

"What I had was what you gave me," she said, and then she said: "Yes, I'd like that breakfast and a ride."

He collected her at the front door of the hospital.

"Hey," he said, when she got into the car, "No stain."

"No, I'm not going to raise my skirt up to see, you bad man!" she said, plaintively, and grinning.

"Who can blame a fellow!" he said.

"Why would you even bother," she said wistfully. "Look at me, rumpled, yesterday's clothes, no shower no . . .well, you know."

"Well this time I will beg your pardon first but then proceed to say that you, Ruth Ann, right now are lovely of lovely."

She blushed.

He said right away: "I do apologize for making you blush."

"Oh, don't apologize for saying one of the nicest things that I've heard in a long, long time," she said to him. He smiled.

Breakfast was lovely for her. She talked to him about her and Uncle Mike. She found Cyrus Grace very easy to talk to. She also asked him about himself and discovered that he was just starting out in his career and was about to establish his own practice.

They were quite friends by the end of the breakfast.

He dropped her off at her house and promised to look in tonight.

The day was hectic enough but her attention was constantly divided. There was the continual overwhelming worry about Uncle Mike, though she knew and understood the prognosis. And there was the continual replaying of mental tapes that were all marked "Dr Cyrus Grace." She couldn't get him out of her mind.

She blushed off and on all day long thinking of the first meeting of the two of them with her cleaning the spot and at the same time, showing the doctor her panties.

After work, she took a cab to the hospital, again not wanting to park her car there over night. She had been there only a short while, when Dr. Grace entered the room to take a look at Uncle Mike.

Ruth Ann gave him a soft, welcoming smile.

"Dr. Grace," she said, unsure of herself tonight.

"Cyrus," he said to her kindly. "Remember we've shared breakfast, saw each other all night and you flashed me twice."

"You're terrible!" she said giggling behind her hand. Then she asked:

"How is he?"

"About the same," Cyrus said. "Seems to be weakening a little."

"Ohh," she said in a sad voice.

They established a kind of pattern in those hospital visits. Most nights Dr. Grace was on duty, coming to the end of that period of his preparation. She ceased to worry about taking care of herself. She knew that Dr. Grace was going to do that. He made sure that she had things to drink, that she ate, that she was comfortable. She couldn't stay every night, but when she did, he made sure that she was as comfortable as possible.

His good humor tended to keep Ruth Ann in decent spirits. From the very first, he kept a certain kind of pressure on her.

"Are you sure you don't want any tea, Ruth Ann?" he asked, and had asked persistently enough that she finally took his meaning.

She put her hand over her mouth and giggled into her hand.

"You're terrible!" she said.

"No, I'm a doctor trying to use his best bedside manner to see if the lovely lady wanted any tea," he what he came back with.

"Even if the lovely lady wants tea," she said, "She probably isn't going to spill any of the tea in her lap."

"We'll see about that!" he said.

"Is that a threat?" she asked, barely masking her glee.

"Promise!" he said as he walked from the room.

Their banter was welcome, for it had the effect of keeping Ruth in good spirits and also sparking her interest. His asking her for tea became a kind of a sign between them. They certainly hadn't shared much but he let her know that he was impressed with what that sharing had been.

He was also there for the crisis. It came one night, fairly late, and unexpected, for Uncle Mike had been going along for a number of days. But that night the monitor started to make alarming noises and help came running.

Cyrus was one of the first in the room and worked with a will and efficiency that was immediately impressive. He asked one of the nurses to please escort Ms. Newell outside for a bit. Ruth Ann could barely breathe, when he didi that.

She waited outside the room in great fear, and dread; she knew what was coming. In a bit, Cyrus came out of the room and his face told her all.

She simply started crying and availed herself of the only consolation that she knew would mean anything. She went into his arms.

He said to her, kissing the top of her head:

"If I could spare you any of this in any way, I would; he was too weak. The stroke took too much out of him."

She looked at him with a tear strewn face and said a very quiet:

"Thank you, Dr. Grace."

It was formal but the situation called for a bit of formality. Then he spoke to her again:

"He must have truly been a magnificent man to have a woman as wonderful as you, grieving for him so."

She looked at him then, and just from her eyes, he could tell that she heard what he'd said and appreciated it.

"Thank you, he was," was her simple statement.

A nurse came out of the room at that point and simply nodded to him.

"You can go in now, Ruth Ann," he said.

She looked at him and her face was pleading. She said:

"Cyrus, will you please come with me? I'm afraid that I'll feel so lonely."

"Of course, love," he said, and her eyes blinked at what he'd called her.

But neither of them thought to dwell on these little endearments at the time at all.

She stood by the bed, and sought for and held his hand. She squeezed his hand and cried for her Uncle Mike. She kissed Mike a fond goodbye and then turned to Cyrus and buried her face in the lapel of his white lab coat and cried.

Cyrus Grace said nothing; he held her and let her cry out her love for the father figure that she'd just lost. He stayed with her for a while and then had to go back to work.

She didn't stay at the hospital very long after that but went home, taking a cab, in order to begin to make the arrangements that were needed.

The funeral was quite large; he had many friends and associates. Not so many went to the grave site for the final burial. Ruth Ann was working almost as an automaton during the funeral. She saw Cyrus in the crowd but was unable to do anything more than nod her head in greeting.

She kept her composure during the funeral at the church, the church where Uncle Mike had been a member of the parish council. She kept the composure through the removal of the body from the church and the long ride to the cemetery.

But then at the grave side, when it was finally finished, and the casket lowered into the ground, as was Uncle Mike's wish, she was suddenly lost, almost unhinged by a sense of loss and loneliness. Not knowing what to do, where to turn, what was next. The feeling was overwhelming.

He was there, he saw and he knew.

The next thing that Ruth Ann knew was that Cyrus was standing in front of her, and to the surprise of many of the by standers, who were all concerned for Ruth, when they saw her obvious pain and loss, he simply held out his arms and she went into the safety of them.

She cried against his chest for many long minutes, as people drifted away.

"Don't leave me," she said in barely a whisper into his chest.

"I have no intention to," was his answer. Nor did he. He stayed with her for the remainder of the necessities of the day.

Some intimate friends gathered at her house and were introduced to 'her friend' Dr. Grace, with Ruth Ann telling all and sundry that he'd been so good in working with Uncle Mike and in comforting her.

The friends and some fairly distant relatives greeted him with warmth and thanked him for helping Ruth Ann, when she was so obviously in need of the help.

After they'd been at her house for a while, Cyrus went up to Ruth Ann, who gave him a huge and welcoming smile, and he said:

"I have to go to work; I'm on at the hospital tonight."

"Must you?" she said but then right away she answered her own question:

"Of course you must," she said.

"I only work tonight until 11 PM; may I, shall I come by then?" he wanted to know.

"Would you please?" she asked.

"I will also bring something with me to help you to sleep," he said.

"I think that maybe all that I need to help me sleep tonight might be you," she said softly.

"Wonderful woman!" he said, kissing her lightly, a brush of her lips before he left.

He returned to an empty house and a weepy woman. She'd told the last of the friends that she would be fine. She sat, was drinking a glass of wine and simply thinking her thoughts, when the doorbell rang.

She knew or at least hoped she knew who it was. She opened the door and it was Cyrus standing there.

"Hi, Ruth Ann," he said softly.

"Oh, you came back," she said the pleasure sound in her voice obvious.

"I said I would," he said simply.

"Yes, and I knew, knew you would," was her response. "Thank you, thank you." She clung to him as she said this.

"I know that I'm being the weepy woman but the man took me in; he became as much of a father as I ever had. I was never wanting for love and support. He was a good, good man! And I'm going to miss him."

"You get to be the weepy woman, or anything else that you want, lovely Ruth Ann," Cyrus said, "Your loss is grievous; your devotion to him, following his stroke was absolutely wonderful. It shows you as a woman who cares and puts the care into action. I really admire that."

She set the wine aside and said: "I think that I've had enough." Then she looked at him and said:

"How long can you stay?"

Cyrus chuckled and said: "Ruth Ann, I'm not going anywhere."

"Oh, you are so special," she said in a soft and wondering voice.

"So tell me," he said, "Are you ready to get some rest?"

"I think that I'm ready to collapse," was her response.

"Here's the plan," he said, "I'm going to give you something to make you sleep and then I'll stay."