Dr. Stephanie Jones stood up from her desk and crossed her surgery consulting room to the window. She opened the blind, which was kept closed during surgery hours to protect patients' privacy, and stared out at the small parking lot. The tarmac shimmered in the heat of the summer day. It was hot inside, too, despite the air conditioning. She could feel the perspiration trickling down her back, making the white linen shirt cling to her skin. Once again, she was grateful for the fact that she wasn't wearing pantyhose or stockings. Pity about the shoes, though. She could have worn her multi-colored open beach sandals, but they wouldn't have been appropriate for the surgery. She sighed and stretched, easing tight neck muscles, then checked her wristwatch. It was exactly 1pm. She sighed again; no time for lunch before afternoon home visits. Perhaps she could grab a sandwich, eat on the run.
She walked out to the reception area, locking the consulting room door behind her. Alexandra, the receptionist, handed her the list of patients to visit. Stephanie was relieved to see that the list was short; she should be finished by mid-afternoon and then the rest of the day would be hers. She wasn't scheduled to be on duty for evening surgery. Stephanie had nothing planned. She never had.
Alexandra smiled. She was a lovely, motherly, woman; late middle aged yet still showing signs of the young beauty she had once been. That young beauty had evolved and developed into a mature loveliness. Four children hadn't made her any less desirable. Stephanie had seen the way the male patients of all ages looked at Alexandra. And she understood why. Yet Alexandra was never tempted: thirty years of marriage weren't about to be thrown away for a fling. And Alexandra loved her husband and family too much to leave them, Stephanie knew.
She returned the receptionist's smile.
"What will you do with your evening off?" Alexandra asked. Stephanie shrugged.
"Don't know," she said. "What I always do, I suppose. Read a book, watch a T.V. movie. It'll be really exciting, whatever it is." She laughed. She wasn't going to tell Alexandra how bored she felt. How alone she was. She didn't like to admit that to herself; she wasn't going to share it with others, no matter how kind they were.
"You should be out with some nice young man," Alexandra told her. "You shouldn't be sitting at home on your own watching a TV movie. At your age, if you're going to watch a movie, you should have some male company. A man to cuddle up to."
Stephanie just smiled to herself; a slightly bitter smile. At her age! Alexandra was quite right, of course. Alexandra was one of those remarkable women who were always right, especially when it came to summing up people. The trouble was, Stephanie hardly knew any men. And the men she did know, she wouldn't go on a date with. She'd had offers in the past, of course. She knew she was attractive: beautiful, even. Tall, slender, though her figure was full and curved where it ought to curve. Long, thick and glossy, her hair hung to just past her shoulders and curled over her forehead in a small fringe. And she wasn't a virgin. Within three months of starting med school, her virginity was a thing of the past. She'd played around, dating the college football stars, doing the rounds of the most eligible men. And none of the guys she'd been with had done anything for her. Gradually, her studies and her career had taken over until she achieved her ambition: a general practitioner in a busy surgery on the outskirts of a small yet bustling city. The place had the best of everything: not only was the surgery well-equipped, and great to work in, but open country was only twenty minutes' drive away and all the usual city attractions were easily accessible. Old Dr. Portman, the senior partner, was a joy to work for, and the other three doctors were friendly and fun But there was no-one to share her life with. Not even a cat.
She scanned the list as she picked up her medical bag and headed for the door. All routine calls. All but one were regulars: people who were rarely able to make it to the surgery. So the surgery came to them. The unknown patient wasn't serious, so she'd leave her to last. Stephanie was pleased: bored or not, she was in the mood for a nice quiet afternoon. A few elderly patients with aches and pains or hay fever; a chest infection or two. Nothing too complicated.
It was three-thirty by the time Stephanie reached her last patient. She checked the name and address again: she didn't know Mrs. Kathy Rose. And she didn't know this part of town. It wasn't exactly town, though. It was a few miles outside town. The small house stood alone at the end of an unpaved lane. Ruts that in the rains of autumn and winter would turn into mud-filled car traps were baked hard enough to threaten the life of a 4x 4's suspension, never mind Stephanie's ten year old saloon. She considered leaving her car and walking the rest of the way. But it was too hot and she knew she risked turning an ankle on the treacherous surface.
The house was old, though well cared for, and fronted by a couple of acres of what should have been pasture. The heat and lack of care and water had killed the grass, turning the ground into a dustbowl. Off to one side of the house was a stable block; the doors had been left open to show the present occupant: a small new SUV.
Stephanie knocked on the newly and brightly painted door.
"It's open, doctor, come on in!" The voice that called from inside was light and friendly. Stephanie pushed the door open and walked into the house. After the bright sunshine, the front hall felt gloomy, almost in twilight; but cool, fresh and welcoming at the same time.
"In here!" The voice came from a room at the back. She walked down the hall, then went through an open door into a bright, colorful sitting-room. Small-paned windows gave a view onto a courtyard garden that had been invisible from the front of the house; the windows were open to allow a fragrance of Frangipani, Lavender and Jasmine to flood the room. This area of land, at least, had been groomed and manicured into a beautiful little garden. A woman, probably in her late forties, sat on a small, floral-patterned two-seat sofa, her left leg resting on a footstool.
"Are you Mrs. Rose?" Stephanie asked. Even from the door, she could see that the woman's foot and ankle were swollen.
"In person," Kathy Rose said. "Please, come on in and sit down." She patted the space next to her on the sofa.
Stephanie sat on the sofa next to Kathy Rose and looked around the room. Oak bookshelves covered two walls and a third was hung with pictures: oils, watercolors, and framed photographs. All showed a preoccupation with light: the sun shining through trees and dappling the floor of a forest clearing; glints of gold in a young woman's hair. And they were all expertly done; the artist had real talent. Stephanie loved the room: the pictures, the books, the view of the garden. She turned her attention to the woman next to her. Her patient.
"What can I do for you today, Mrs. Rose?" Mrs. Kathy Rose looked puzzled.
"Are you Dr. Jones?," the woman asked. "I heard you were joining the surgery. I usually see Dr. Portman. Not that I'm complaining," she said hurriedly, smiling. "It's so lovely to meet you!"
Mrs. Kathy Rose was, like Stephanie, dressed for the weather, though less formally: a loose-fitting, almost baggy, though obviously expensive, peach-colored cotton pants suit. Her blonde hair was cut short and immaculately styled and her only jewellery was a gold necklace: a thin chain that seemed to glow against her satin skin.
"It's nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Rose," Stephanie said.
"No-one calls me Mrs. Rose anymore," the woman said. "Kathy will do just fine."
"Kathy it is, then," she replied.
"And what's your name?"
Stephanie hesitated. She thought it unprofessional to allow a patient, especially a patient she'd only just met, that level of informality. And yet there was something about Mrs. Kathy Rose that encouraged her to throw the rule book out of the window.
"My name's Stephanie," she said. Kathy Rose clapped her hands, pleased as a little girl who'd just won a prize.
"That's a lovely name," she said. "We're going to be great friends! But tell me: do you ever shorten it?"
"Shorten it?" Stephanie was puzzled. She didn't know what Kathy meant. Then she realized.
"Oh, you mean like Steph, or Stevie or something like that?" Kathy nodded her head, her golden hair catching the sunlight.
"That's what I mean."
"When I was at high school and at college, my friends called me Stevie. But my parents always call me Stephanie."
"Which do you prefer?"
"Well, I suppose Stephanie is more formal; better for talking to patients." Kathy gave her a sly little grin.
