REFUSAL OF CARE
April 2005

Chicago, Illinois

There was an odd sort of tension in the conference room as Carter turned and poured coffee from the carafe. But maybe that feeling was entirely his fault. It was different, wielding all the power. To sit and have people on baited breath as they hope for your money. He was still trying to get used to it.

"So, John, if you're okay, we're ready to go to the contractors for bid."

The developer that had joined he and Kerry for the meeting leaned over the table and suggested, "I'm thinking... a hundred-fifty million is in the ballpark?"

Carter tipped his head up to the ceiling and smirked slightly, grateful his features weren't visible in this position. "That's a nice ballpark."

"A leadership gift from the Carter Foundation would help to get the ball rolling," Kerry explained as he joined them at the large oval table once more. "And we've drawn up a list of potential corporate donors... we were hoping that you could make some calls on the hospital's behalf."

It didn't take long for Carter to respond. He toyed absently with the silver band on his left hand, an action that didn't go unnoticed by Weaver. It was an odd, sort of overwhelming feeling — this man before them was confident, sure of himself and his capabilities, and oozed contentedness. Gracie was noticeably absent for this trip back to the old stomping grounds. "No thanks."

Kerry paused. "Your personal involvement would be very useful in contacting the—"

"We weren't happy with the idea of corporate sponsorship," Carter interrupted. The developer's shoulders sank slightly, as Kerry paused and tried to figure out another approach. Carter was a busy man lately; this meeting was just one in a million other things he had lined up during his visit to Chicago.

A pause. "So," Carter continued, "we would be interested in covering the construction costs."

Weaver looked dumbfounded. "The entire thing?"

Carter nodded. "Plus an endowment, to supply the center's annual budget to treat uninsured patients."

Amazed laughs. "This is an incredibly generous offer," the developer remarked. Carter merely raised his brows and lifted his cup of coffee to his lips, all too amazed himself at the ease with which he spoke. He had never believed he could hold this sort of power, not even after Gamma's constant hounding for him to do so. To be able to do it now and so well was a testament to the change he'd been through. To how different his life had become.

"We would appreciate a naming opportunity."

"Of course," the developer nodded, "do you have some suggestions?"

A pause. "I do, actually. But I would like to discuss it further with a few family members first."

The meeting ended on a positive note, with agreement to meet later in the week. Carter left the conference room looking almost relieved, Kerry hot on his heels as he absently loosened his tie. "I don't know what to say, John."

"Well, I've been looking for some time for the right thing to donate to," Carter shrugged as they walked together down the hall. "Seemed only fitting."

"Have you thought about any future role in the outpatient center?"

"Yeah," Carter took his stethoscope out of his pocket and looped it around his neck. "I'd like to sit on the board. And... I suppose I might see a few patients."

"But... you'd agree it'd be better to recruit someone with more experience as director?"

"Definitely."

Now Kerry looked relieved. Carter laughed as they waited for an elevator. "I don't want to run the place, Kerry. Too much paperwork."

"Good. I've identified four outstanding candidates." She handed him the stack of manila folders she had been carrying as they stepped into an open car.

"Well, I'd be happy to look over their CV's. But I've actually been talking to Todd Becker." The elevator doors closed, and their eyes met.

"Todd Becker from Stanford?"

"Well, he's at Columbia now. He set up a network of clinics in Harlem and South Bronx... he'd be perfect."

Silence. "Why are you doing this?"

Puzzlement. "Well... he'd be a great director."

"No," Kerry replied, "I mean the whole thing. The center, the hundred-fifty million... what's going on?"

She followed him as the elevator opened into the ER. Carter shrugged. "City needs it. There's no prevention, there's no primary care. The whole system's broken."

"Well, that's not new. Why now?"

Carter came to a pause outside of admit, facing the woman who had been more than a mentor and a boss, but a friend. His tone dropped. "Because for eleven years I've been here, patching up these people who fall through the cracks... and it hasn't been enough. I want to do more."

Her eyes returned to the ring on his finger. "How's Gracie?"

The change of subject seemed welcome. A smile graced his lips and he glanced toward a busy admit, including Pratt and Barnett with a patient coming down the hall. "She's... great. The baby's great. They're both..."

"Great?" Kerry suggested. Carter laughed and nodded. Sometimes, there were no appropriate words. "It would have been nice for her to come along, instead of you just bringing us pictures."

Carter recalled his first shift back in the ER since arriving, when he had brought a plethora of pictures for the nurses to paw through — Chuny wouldn't have it any other way. Everyone agreed Joshua was precious. "Yeah," Carter sighed, a sharp pang of loneliness in his gut. He missed them already. "But Josh is too young to fly yet, we didn't want to risk it."

"Dr. Carter," Pratt called down the hall as they pushed the gurney past them towards the trauma rooms. "T2 trauma."

"MVC?"

"Fell down a flight of stairs."

"Chest and hip pain," Barnett added.

"Good vitals," their med student, Jake Scanlon, chimed in.

"'Kay, why don't you guys get started, I'll be right there."

The team disappeared, leaving Carter and Kerry in the hall once more. But Carter was already beginning to look distracted, ready to walk away, as if another agenda was on his mind. "So, you'll send me that file?" Weaver prodded.

"What's that?"

"The guy from Columbia."

"Todd Becker. You're gonna love him Kerry, I promise."

The question wasn't actually answered, but it was all Carter could offer before he walked away. There was a phone in the lounge that was of necessity.

And yet he never actually got to use it. The ER was full of constant distractions, and it wasn't until he arrived home at the townhouse that felt so empty without his family that he was able to find purchase. He listened to messages on the answering machine in the kitchen as he prepared to slice up an apple.

The first was the developer.

The second was a telemarketer.

The third was Gracie.

"Hey you," came her familiar voice from the tiny machine, and he couldn't help but turn and look, as if he expected to find her standing there. "'Bout six in the morning here. Just wanted to see how it's going. I'm up with Joshy—" That made sense. She had yet to return from maternity leave to her job at the clinic in Johannesburg. "—but we're meeting a friend of mine for breakfast soon. Love you."

She never forgot to say it anymore.

Carter paused, tossing the apple and paring knife down on the counter as he picked up the cordless. The messages from the machine ended as he dialed and wandered aimlessly, waiting for her to pick up.

"Hello?"

It felt like he was home again, just hearing her voice.

"Hey," Carter replied quickly. "Hi. I wasn't sure I was going to catch you guys."

A soft laugh came from her end, and it mixed with the amount of noise coming from the background. It sounded like Josh was fussing. "Yeah, we're running late," Gracie said, and it sounded like she was juggling the phone between her ear and her shoulder. "Someone here needs to eat, and then we'll be off."

So she was settling down for breastfeeding. The amount of noise made more sense, the way it sounded like his wife was juggling babies and phones, easing into a chair. The way Joshua's cries suddenly eased. "What are you up to?"

Carter eased himself into a chair at the counter. "Well, I just got home from work." The time difference felt disorienting. They belonged in the same zone.

"How was it?"

"It was good. I looked at the plans today."

Pauses came more easily between his words, as if he was trying to figure out just how best to express a thought on his mind. Gracie knew all about the plans. It was all he had been talking about in the days leading up to his flight out of Johannesburg. "Did you now? No more of those fast food monstrosities, I hope."

He ignored her. "And I've been thinking about a name for the building."

Silence. "Oh?"

Carter toyed with the apple he had set down. "Well, how would you feel about the... Joshua Carter Center?"

Even more silence. "After the baby?"

"Yeah, after the baby."

Gracie sounded choked up by the time she found the ability to reply. The silence had been easy — quietude was comfortable with them — but Carter felt much more soothed when he heard her voice, even if it was overwhelmed with emotion. "I think that's lovely, John," she remarked softly.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Miss you."

A soft breath came across the line. "I miss you, too," Gracie breathed, and he could hear a soft baby sigh as Josh nursed, and suddenly the ache in him was overwhelming. He wasn't sure why he had ever thought coming back to Chicago was a good idea, tying up loose ends be damned.

"Everyone won't stop talking about you. They want you to hop on webcam and say hello."

She chuckled, and the moment was saving from overwhelming loneliness. "I don't know if I really need to see County again, even if it is from a computer screen."

He scoffed jokingly. "You'll come crawling back."

"Have you seen Dave, yet?"

Carter shook his head before stupidly realizing he couldn't be seen. "I'm meeting him for lunch tomorrow. He'd rather see you, though."

A pause. "Maybe for Christmas."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I told you, there's no such thing as a white Christmas here."

"Doesn't matter where we are. As long as I have you and Josh."

Silence. "I should go, love."

He sighed. "Alright. Call you when I get up?"

"Of course."

"I love you."

"Ek is lief vir jou," Gracie breathed, and there were no sweeter words from her lips. There was a pause before they hung up the phone.

A month couldn't be so bad, could it?

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