Standard disclaimers applied. See Chapter 1 for further details.

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay in this posting. I have been in and out of doctors' offices for the past two weeks and getting a bunch of tests done. On top of everything, my computer has been acting up, needless to say that it just hasn't been a good last couple of days.

CHAPTER 6: To Cry Over Love

She often denied that she was the moping type; she was too practical by nature and a realist. Not to mention, she was too stubborn to say otherwise. She was really her own worst enemy. For two months, she held onto denial and guilt. She waved off any attempts at comfort. "Really, I'm fine," became her mantra. Nobody was convinced, including herself.

Today, she was working the day shift. A sudden lull in the ER and she found herself alone in the lounge room. Tapping her fingers on the table, she waited for the electric kettle to heat up water for her tea. The rhythmic sounds were both distracting and comforting. There wasn't a specific thought in her mind but she was concentrating so hard that she didn't hear the door opening, until somebody behind her spoke up.

"Honey?"

She stopped breathing for a moment as she heard the endearment. Her mind flashed back to a similar moment in this very staff lounge. He had asked for honey in the literal sense, but even then, the double entendre wasn't lost on her.

She turned slowly but was surprised to see Dr. Kevin Moretti behind her. He was holding his own coffee mug. Her surprise was evident as Moretti studied her and said, "I asked you if it's ready?"

"What? Oh!," the tattletale signs of the whistling kettle reminded her of her task. She unplugged the contraption and began pouring herself a cup. Moretti came up next to her and she offered to do the same. He waved off her offer and insisted, "That's alright, I'll manage."

Neela took a moment to compose herself by stirring sugar into her tea. Her hands hovered over the bottle of honey but finally decided to forgo it this time; her previous mistake was still on the forefront of her mind.

"So, I am assuming that you're the reason for Dusty's recent cases of bowel obstructions."

"What?" she turned sharply at the new Chief of Residents.

Moretti glanced back at her and replied in his usual bluntness, "Dusty, but I believe that you known him as Dr. Crenshaw. Dusty only gets himself this worked up when he's dealing with incompetence."

She said nothing; her performance of late had not been her best work. Dr. Crenshaw had already let his 'disapproval' known to anybody and everybody on the staff.

"Oh good, you didn't give me some second rate excuse. Bravo, Dr. Ragostra. Now, this Dr. Barnett must be quite a phenomenon, if his absence singlehandedly brings down the entire morale of my ER."

If Moretti was looking for a reaction, he got one from this statement. Neela looked up brusquely and rather curtly stated, "You don't know anything about Ray."

"No, I don't, hence my comment about him being a phenomenon. I am a firm believer in doing what's right for the patients, but that only happens through the collaboration of the entire staff. If there is a break in the chain, then it is the patients who ultimately bear the grunt of that fallout. So, here's what I have observed during my short reign in the ER. The resignation of Dr. Ray Barnett has left a weakness in this tight knitted ER camaraderie. I don't care for the cause and it really doesn't matter to me who and what was involved. But somehow, the lack of action on your part, Dr. Ragostra, is putting my patients in jeopardy and to me, that's unacceptable. Here's what I am proposing, I have already talked with Lucien and he has agreed with me to give you time off. Go and figure yourself out before you come back and figure out my patients."

oOoOo

Surprised and shock didn't begin to describe how she felt at the moment. Her first thought was to jump onto a plane and flying down to Baton Rouge, but when practicality set it, she detracted from those initial thoughts and found herself at Arlington National Cemetery.

Row upon row, white glistening tombstones sparkled in the sunlight. Her husband, Michael Gallant was buried here along with so many others before him who had fought bravely in Iraq. There were times that she felt angry for Michael's choice; he chose the war over her and their future. He loved her less and chose to fight for his country. Other times, she felt guilty for those thoughts. Michael had many loves: for medicine, for the military, for the people around him including herself. The amalgamation of a being a doctor, a husband, a military personnel, a son and a friend was what made him the person that she came to love and respect.

Certainly, the ambivalence was always there after his death. Ray was her confidante, her roommate, her best friend, and he was part of a life that was before Michael. On the surface, everything with Ray was simple but the under currents, were like the rise and fall of the tides, always reaching and receding from the shores.

Fingering the markings on the tombstone, she didn't realize that she was crying until she felt the wetness on her arm.

"I think he would have uhh ... wanted you to be happy. You know ... not crying ...but I'm not saying that crying is a bad thing ... it's just that ... "

She looked up and almost fell over at the sight of a stranger. It was a young boy who couldn't be more than eighteen.

He continued stuttering to get his point across, "You know what uhh... I'm sorry, you don't know me and uhhh I'm prolly intruding, ma'am."

"No, it's fine! I'm fine, really. You just caught me off guard. Who are you and what are you doing here?"

He said that his name was Matt Saracen and he was here with his grandma and his best friend, Landry. His father was fighting in Iraq right now, but every year, they made a trip up here to the Cemetery to pay their respects to David Patrick Saracen, Matt's grandpa who also served in the army.

"What about you? Are you going to serve as well?"

Matt shook his head. "I don't think ... I'm still in high school. It's just ..." He didn't have time to continue when somebody called his name, "Matt? Matt."

"Here, Grandma."

Neela saw an older woman being led by another young teen. 'It must be Landry,' she thought. Matt's grandma was a sweet lady who immediately took a hand of her hands and said, "Oh sweety, why are you crying?"

Tears came where no words won't but it didn't matter. Matt's grandma only said, "It's love, honey and it's ok to cry over love."

End of Chapter 6