Chapter Fifty-Three

Leah busied herself stacking boxes near the door of her apartment. She had packed almost everything, and was taking her time with her breakables and keepsakes. She organized her jewelry in several leather jewelry carriers and placed those in bag she would carry with her. The only thing left that she needed was the promised help. When he was an hour late, she called the hospital.

"Gloria, hi. This is Leah Haverty. Have you seen Dr. McIntyre?"

"Well, yes. He's in surgery. He was on his way out when Dr. Riverside stopped him to help with some car accident victims."

"I don't suppose you know how long he'll be, do you?"

"I know he's finished one surgery, and he's working on his second. If you'll hold, I'll call and see if there's any news."

"Thanks, Gloria."

Just as Trapper came out of the operating room, the nurse at the surgical desk, called after him. "Dr. McIntyre, you have a phone call."

"McIntyre."

"Trapper, I have Leah on hold. What should I tell her?"

"Damn," he said under his breath. "Gloria, can you transfer her here?" He waited and listened to the clicks of the transfer. "Leah? I'm sorry. It was an emergency."

"Don't apologize. I understand. But are you finished?

"I'm on my way to the shower."

"Can you get here quickly? Marilyn will be here any minute, and I'm supposed to be out of here."

"I need to clean up first."

"No you don't. Come in your greens and bring your clothes with you. You can take a shower at my place."

"All right then. I'm on my way."

Trapper ran from the stairs to the Jeep, taking a box out of Leah's hands. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I was unloading a box to take into the pool house. What do you think you're doing?"

"I thought we agreed you'd work up to things," he said, frowning.

"Exercise, yes. Moving, no." She crossed her arms. "You have to stop treating me like an invalid."

"I'm not..." he started defensively, but cut his remark off at the sight of her glare. Though he did worry about her physical condition, he was the first person who told her she should be able to live a normal life. He passed the box back to her with a concessible smile, and then lifted the last two out of the back of the Jeep. Leading the way down the stairs to the pool house, Trapper stopped at the open sliding door for Leah to pass him. As he set the boxes down, he took his first good look around the large single room. "It's smaller than your last apartment, but," he chuckled, "it's very well-designed."

The bed sat on a dais two steps up from the main floor on the left side of a semi-circular room. In the middle was the kitchen area with gourmet conveniences and in front and to the left of the kitchen were a leather sofa and two chairs along with modern-styled tables. The only windows in the main room were the sliding doors that followed the curve of the building and went from one side of the room to the other, opening to a narrow deck that was cantilevered over the cliff. The second room in the pool house was what Trapper considered to be a luxury bathroom on the right side of the small building that lead to a large walk-in closet and a laundry room. The separate shower and bath occupied an ocean side glass wall. A small door on the far side opened to the end of the narrow deck where the area was enclosed in privacy fencing higher than the rails for privacy. The only traditional element in the pool house was the light-stained wood plank floor. Everything else in the room was covered or upholstered in white or was stainless steel.

Trapper stood in the middle of the main room, shaking his head. "There has to be a catch. This rivals The Mark." Smiling, Leah took a stack of folded clothes toward the bathroom without comment. He followed, standing against the door frame as she tucked clothes in the drawers of the organizers in the large closet. "What are you not telling me?"

"Trapper, believe it or not, I do function quite well on my own. Any problems that might arise will be taken care of…by me, not you."

Opening his mouth to argue, he stopped at a "hello" coming from the main room. Leah breezed by him. "Mrs. Murphy, how are you?"

"I'm well, my dear. I just wanted to see how you were coming along."

"Well, I'm officially moved in. Mrs. Murphy, this is the gentleman I told you about, Dr. John McIntyre."

"Dr. McIntyre, I understand you're the Chief of Surgery at San Francisco Memorial," Mrs. Murphy said, holding out her hand.

He took it and bowed. "Mrs. Murphy, it's a delight to meet you."

"Do you always go around in your surgery clothes?"

"No. I volunteered to help Leah move out of her former apartment, but I had to go into surgery unexpectedly, so I was late getting there," he replied with a charming smile.

Mrs. Murphy smiled and turned back to Leah. "I wanted you to know that we've replaced the warning signs on the stairs coming up from the beach. We haven't had a problem in the last few days, and since you're going to install a monitored alarm system, new locks and a gate on your stairs, I would think the young people who've been coming up from the beach will get the message." She walked back toward the door with Leah following. "Now, if you have any problems, you make sure you call the main house."

"I will, Mrs. Murphy. Thank you for stopping by." At the junction of the stairs going up to the driveway, Mrs. Murphy turned and waved her fingers, prompting Leah to do the same from the edge of the deck. When she came back into the house, she met Trapper standing with his arms crossed and a displeased look on his face. Leah took a deep breath and walked on by him.

"New locks? New gate? A monitored alarm system? Young people coming up from the beach? You didn't tell me you were moving into a problem house."

"It won't be a problem when it's all done," she said, taking another armload of clothes to the closet.

"And what happens in the meantime?" he shouted to be heard from the main room.

She slowly rolled from the bedroom wall around the door frame and stopped, leaning on it. "Trapper," she started, but folded her lips, looking for the right words. "I'm not looking for your approval or protection. My living situation is my decision."

Trapper's smile was forced, his nostrils flared, and he sucked in a breath as he bowed his head, looking at her from under his brow. "Then I'll leave you with your decision."

She stopped him as he walked briskly to the door. "Trapper, wait. I didn't say that very well."

"You came in loud and clear," he said, continuing to the door.

"Trapper," she called, but he was already out the door. She hesitated only a moment, but when she ran after him, he was already at the street gate. By the time she ran up the stairs and up the sidewalk to the gate, he was in his car. Pushing the gate open, she stood on the sidewalk, yelling after him as he pulled out. Her jaw dropped as she watched his car disappear around a corner, and for a moment, she was frozen in place, wondering how it had gotten so bad so fast. Then she got angry, and spun around, kicking the gate with her bare foot. Yelping, she fell to the ground holding her foot, her toe bloody from the impact with the gate.

Trapper noticed Leah's Jeep wasn't in the parking lot when he arrived at the hospital the following morning, and he was running late, so she should've already been there. He hadn't slept at all, remembering Leah standing on the sidewalk yelling after him. But taking that pool house knowing there were problems…. Surely she knew by now how he felt. Apparently, she wasn't in this relationship as deeply as he was.

Leah had taken a cab to work because her foot was so swollen she couldn't get her shoe on, much less push the clutch of her Jeep. In fact, she could barely walk, so she hobbled slowly on her socked foot to the main floor elevator and went straight to the basement. As quietly as possible, she limped to her desk, breathing a sigh of relief when she finally made it into her chair. As she wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead, she picked up the receiver of her phone and dialed. "Gloria, it's Leah. I need a favor. Would you ask Dr. Gates to come down to my office in the basement? It's important. And don't…don't let Trapper find out, please. Oh. Oh hi, Dr. Gates."

"What is it I'm not supposed to tell Trapper? And why did you call me Dr. Gates?"

"It just sounds…odd…calling my doctor Gonzo."

"So this is an official request. What did you do?"

"Well…I hurt my foot yesterday, and it's swollen. I can barely walk on it."

"I'll be right down."

She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped when she heard a click and looked at the receiver before she put it back in the cradle. It wasn't five minutes before Gonzo showed up in her cube with a wheelchair.

"I thought we could be a little more discreet than that," she said, eyeing the chair.

"How did you hurt your foot?"

"I'd rather not say," she said, looking away.

Kneeling down behind the desk, Gonzo put her foot on his bent leg and gently pulled off her sock. When he saw the dark purple coloring over half her foot, he whistled. "What'd you kick?"

"How do you know I kicked something?"

"The end of your big toe and your toenail have exploded. That kind of injury only comes from an impact…like you'd get if you kicked something…maybe barefoot?" he said, glancing up at her. "And based on your request not to tell Trapper, it must have involved him." She let out a plaintive sigh. "That bad, huh?"

"It was awful."

Gonzo gingerly slipped her sock back on and pulled her up out of the chair. "Can you put any weight on it?"

"A little, but it hurts."

Bending, he scooped her up and placed her in the wheelchair. "We're going to get your toe cleaned up, and then, we're going to x-ray. Based on the bruising, you just might have broken a bone."