A Matter of the Heart

“You’re a good reporter, Dale. People open up to you. You could charm the U.S. Mint out of its gold and my grandmother out of her secret mincemeat pie recipe, but your trouble is that you prefer to see the good in people. You didn’t dig deep enough.”

“Overseas it was so black and white. We were the good guys, they were the bad guys.”

“That’s your army mentality speaking. You aren’t a soldier anymore. Your obligation is to report all sides of a story, even when it casts some of our servicemen or women in a poor light. The truth needs to be told, even when it hurts. That’s what journalism is.”

Looking down, Rob shoved his free hand into his front jean pocket. “Am I fired?”

“I’ve given Carter a monthlong trial assignment in our Middle East bureau. If he does well, I may make it permanent. I haven’t decided yet.”

“Then there’s a chance I can go back?”

“All I’m going to say is dig deeper, Rob. Make every story important. Use your instincts. Don’t make me regret giving you this job.”

Derrick hung up, and after a second Rob closed his own phone. He stuffed it in his front pocket but didn’t move from his place outside the surgical waiting room.

How could he have missed that his buddies at Memdelholm were involved in something shady? The fact that he had been so easily deceived was hard to swallow.

Derrick’s right. I wasn’t looking hard enough. I thought it was a simple piece and I blew it.

When he had been among the soldiers and marines on the front lines, the best stories had all but fallen into his lap. Over there, his gut instincts were never wrong. He knew that world inside and out.

He needed to be back there, but that wasn’t going to happen now. Not until he proved to Derrick Mitchell that he had what it took to get to the bottom of any story.

Lord, I failed to make the most of Your gift. It won’t happen again. You sent me here for a reason. I don’t know what that reason is, but I’m going to keep looking until I find it.

He glanced toward the surgery doors. His gut told him that Dr. Nora Blake was more than a woman who didn’t grant interviews. He had no idea what a woman like her might be hiding, but he was going to find out. He intended to dig deep.

Chapter Two

“Y ou can’t be serious!”

In stunned disbelief, Nora sat in the black leather chair in front of Willard Branson, the CEO and chief administrator of Mercy Medical Center, and stared openmouthed at her boss. In the chair beside hers, Rob Dale sat with a smile on his face that wasn’t quite a self-satisfied smirk, but it was close.

She had hoped that their confrontation outside of surgery the day before yesterday would have convinced the reporter to leave her alone. Apparently, it hadn’t.

His audacity provoked a slow burn of irritation, but it didn’t prevent her from noticing how attractive he looked in charcoal slacks, a sage dress shirt that accentuated his lean, athletic body and a tasteful silk tie that made her wonder if a wife or girlfriend had picked it out for him.

“I’m perfectly serious, Dr. Blake,” Willard replied, drawing her attention back to him. “You are free to donate as much time and energy as you wish to Children of the Day, and I applaud your dedication to the organization, but the hospital must weigh the pros and cons of each case. We have already donated many hours of the staff’s time and much of our limited resources to helping your cause. It’s time we got something back.”

“Saving the lives of needy children isn’t enough payback for you?” She didn’t bother hiding her sarcasm.

Steepling his fingers together, Willard leaned forward on his wide mahogany desk. “I hired you because you had a reputation for being the brightest new pediatric cardiologist to come out of the Cleveland Clinic in years. I hired you because I wanted someone who could grow our program.”

“Haven’t I done that?”

“You have to an extent. Your surgical success rate is impressive, but the publicity generated by a series of articles like Mr. Dale is proposing could very well increase the number of patients referred to this facility. Patients you will operate on.

“It might even generate substantial donations to us and to Children of the Day. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that Liberty and Justice is an international and very well-respected paper. Frankly, I don’t understand why you aren’t jumping at this opportunity.”

Everything Willard said was true, but Nora couldn’t abide the thought of someone poking about in her life and in her work.

She tried one last avenue. “I’m sure Dr. Kent would be delighted to have Mr. Dale shadow him on a day-to-day basis.”

“But he doesn’t do volunteer work for Children of the Day,” Rob interjected.

She glared at him. “Dr. Kent has aided me a number of times. If you’re so interested in the organization, I suggest you spend your time with Anna Terenkov. She is the founder of Children of the Day. I’m certain she will answer any questions you have.”

“I’ve already spoken to Ms. Terenkov. She’s the one who pointed out how frequently your expertise has been utilized even before little Ali Willis’s case was brought to their attention.”

He pulled a small notebook from his shirt pocket, flipped it open and began to read. “And I quote, ‘Dr. Blake is personally responsible for saving the lives of a dozen children in the past year who would otherwise have died of their congenital heart defects in war-torn third world countries.

“‘Besides doing these surgeries without compensation, she has been instrumental in convincing Mercy Medical Center to provide the additional care needed at a greatly reduced fee. She oversees the donated medical supplies and has convinced numerous drug companies to donate badly needed medications—medicines that families in these countries would otherwise have to buy on the black market at exorbitant prices.’”

He paused and looked up. “Shall I continue? There’s a lot more. Like the fact that you also work part-time at Fort Bonnell Medical Center and have even traveled overseas on a medical mission for Children of the Day. It must be difficult to maintain any kind of private life with this much on your plate.”

“I’m well aware of my workload, and my private life is off-limits. Is that understood?”

His eyes brightened. “Then you’ll allow me to tag along with you for Ali’s surgery?”

She glanced at Willard, the man responsible for hiring her and approving the amount of charity work Mercy did. He nodded slightly. She closed her eyes in resignation. “It seems I have little choice.”

“You won’t regret it, I promise,” Rob quickly assured her.

“Strange, but I already do.” She looked at Willard. “Are we done here? I have rounds to make.”

She hated confrontations, especially when she didn’t emerge the winner.

“We’re done, Dr. Blake. Mr. Dale, when would you like to start?”

“There’s no time like the present. Care to show me around, Dr. Blake? May I call you Nora?”

She rose to her feet already uncomfortable with his close scrutiny. How was she going to tolerate having him around for days? She had to see that he kept his distance. Cool professionalism was the key.

“You may address me as Dr. Blake. Ali’s surgery isn’t scheduled for another two weeks. I see no reason for you to hound me until then.”

He tucked his pad and pen back in his shirt pocket. “I’ll need some background information about how heart surgery is carried out, and the best way would be for me to see a few surgeries for myself.”

“I’m not taking you into the operating room.”

Turning on her heel, Nora left the CEO’s office and walked quickly toward the elevators. She knew Rob was following without looking back.

“Now, Nora, I know that you have students and visiting physicians who observe your surgeries. It won’t be any different having me in the room.”

For some reason, she knew it would. She was aware of him on a level that she had never experienced before. The last thing she wanted was him disturbing her concentration while she was operating.

At the end of the hall, she punched the down arrow and the elevator doors immediately slid open. The car was empty. Why couldn’t it have been crowded? She stepped inside and turned to face the opening. Rob slipped in behind her. The doors closed, shutting them in together.

Music played softly overhead. She could see a blurred reflection of herself and Rob in the brightly polished metal panels. The simple white blouse and fitted navy skirt that she had picked out that morning made her look like a schoolgirl instead of a thirty-five-year-old woman with a demanding career.