The Carlton Club Read Free Page B

She’s just not admitting it. Even to herself.
    “You’re an excellent historian, Mrs. Jordaine. I’ll give Dr. Brown a call once we get you settled upstairs.”
    “We were at a ball at the Fairmont,” Kathleen interjected. “We thought it best to come here rather than to drive all the way to Palo Alto. She usually gets admitted to Stanford Hospital.” Kathleen was as polite and gracious as her mother. They didn’t want to offend anyone, neither Virginia’s usual physician nor Mark.
    “You did exactly the right thing. We’ll keep Dr. Brown posted and transfer you to Stanford Hospital in day or two if you like.”
    “If my enzymes are normal you’ll just discharge me in two days anyway. So I might as well stay here.”
    Mark was a second year resident. He was a year ahead of Leslie and was her supervising resident. As his intern, Leslie assumed primary care of all patients admitted by Mark on his on call nights. Then they managed the patients together, Leslie as intern and Mark as supervisor.
    The morning after Halloween, Leslie became Virginia Jordaine’s intern. That afternoon the cardiac enzymes returned slightly elevated, and the electrocardiogram showed minor ST segment changes without Q waves.
    “She’s had a very small subendocardial MI. She probably had more than five minutes of discomfort even though she really insisted that was all. She was denying a little last night. I’m sure she’ll give you the whole story, Leslie,” Mark said to her. “No point pushing her because we have the diagnosis. But she needs to understand that whatever she felt and isn’t telling us about is an important warning signal.”
    Virginia Jordaine did tell Leslie. It wasn’t a confession. It was simply an amazed appreciation that the weakness she had felt all day long—weakness and heaviness without pain—was her heart.
    Kathleen stayed in her mother’s room as much as visiting hours would permit. Between visits she read in the waiting room. William Jordaine returned from New York at the news of his wife’s hospitalization. He visited mostly in the evenings.
    Mark decided that Kathleen looked even more beautiful in broad daylight, wearing soft silk blouses and tailored skirts and allowing her long black hair to fall free. Serene, understated, elegant beauty.
    Mark and Kathleen saw each other several times every day. Sometimes they would just wave at each other, she sitting in the waiting room and he rushing off to rounds, the ER, the ICU or Radiology. Whenever he could, even for a moment, he would stop to talk. Each day Mark and Leslie met with Kathleen and her parents to discuss Virginia’s progress and the plans. The Jordaines took the news of Virginia’s small heart attack calmly.
    “It’s a warning, Mother,” Kathleen said, her voice a little shaky. “You push too hard.”
    It was decided that Virginia would remain in the CCU at University Hospital in San Francisco for several days. Then, if stable, she would be transferred to Stanford for the balance of her ten day hospitalization.
    During that time Mark and Kathleen learned few facts about each other, but they both knew that they felt good—happy—every time they waved, every time they talked, every time they even caught a glimpse of each other. The warm happy feeling persisted while they were apart, and it was renewed, strengthened, the next time they saw each other.
    At eight o’clock the night before Virginia was to be transferred to Stanford, Mark found Kathleen in the visitors’ waiting room. He was on call again but not very busy, not too busy to stop for a moment.
    “Hi!” Kathleen smiled. Then a moment of worry flickered. “Is Mother all right?”
    “She’s fine. Rock stable. I just wanted to say hi. And goodbye. I may not see you in the morning.”
    “Oh,” Kathleen said, frowning slightly. Then she added, “You certainly work hard. You’re here all the time. It must be difficult for your wife.”
    Kathleen’s eyes drifted toward