Love on Call by Shirley Hailstock Page B

was coverage for them. But what about the coma patients? She needed access to them. She needed to talk to them. They were alone.
    Mallory was still angry when she pulled up in front of the house that, except for medical school and atwo-year period, she’d lived in all her life. Since her sister had moved to Atlantic City, Mallory occupied the four-bedroom, red-brick colonial alone. She left the car and started for the front door, but stopped short when she saw Dr. Clayton step out of his SUV.
    She stared at his silhouette. The streetlight behind him prevented her from seeing his face, but she recognized the lines of his body. At another time, Mallory would have been glad to see him, but after her meeting with the hospital administrator she never wanted to see him again. She had to pass him to get to her house. If she didn’t she would have ignored his presence.
    â€œWhat do you want?” she asked, hiding none of her hostility.
    â€œI came to tell you why I suggested you take some time off.”
    â€œYou’re not my father. I’m fine. I didn’t need any time off. And I don’t need your concern.” She tried to pass him, but his hand curled around her arm.
    â€œWhat is it, Mallory?”
    She yanked free. “It’s nothing. I don’t know why you thought there was a reason, but you’re wrong.”
    â€œThe nurses call you three times more often than the other residents and you’re always in the hospital. You’re wearing yourself out. You need some down-time.”
    â€œI don’t need you to be my keeper. I’m thirty-two years old, with enough brains to know when I’m in over my head.”
    She ran up the steps and pushed her key into thelock. As she’d done just three nights ago at his house, Brad followed her inside as if he were an invited guest.
    â€œIf you don’t need a keeper, explain what is going on,” he asked. “Why can you barely keep your eyes open some days and others you’re as bright as the sunshine?”
    Mallory went into her living room, keeping her back to Brad. “I do my job.” She flung the words over her shoulder.
    He stepped up behind her, took her shoulders and spun her around to face him. “Yes, you do, and you’re quite efficient at it, even when you’re tired. But how long do you think your body can keep going like this?”
    â€œAs long as it takes.” Mallory stepped back. Brad’s hands dropped to his sides. She felt a coldness invade the places they had been.
    â€œI didn’t come here to fight with you.” His voice was calm, devoid of any anger.
    Mallory wanted to tell him why she was tired. She wanted to explain everything to him, tell him about the patients in the coma wing, about herself and what had happened to her, but she couldn’t.
    â€œWhy did you come here, Dr. Clayton?”
    She watched him flinch, as if she’d hit him.
    â€œIt isn’t often that I intervene in the workings of the hospital, and since word was bound to get to you, I wanted to tell you myself.”
    â€œI’ve heard already.”
    â€œMallory, you need a rest.” He stepped forward, then stopped.
    â€œAll right, Doctor. I need a rest and thanks to you I’ll get it. Five days off. What would you suggest I do?” She turned from him and walked around her living room. This had been her parents’ house. She and her sister had grown up here and she was lucky to have gotten into a hospital that allowed her to stay at home. Houses died when people didn’t live in them. Hers had sat dormant for several years while no one tended to it. It had taken her ages to instill life back into it.
    â€œSoak in a hot bath and sleep until your body wakes you up,” Brad answered.
    She hadn’t really wanted medical advice.
    â€œYou’ve got dark circles under your eyes.” He waved a hand toward her face. “Sleep will make them go away.”
    His