Sparky's Dad
Chapter 1: Acute

Copyright© 2018 by Uther Pendragon

Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1: Acute - Diane was a resident in a hospital which had never heard of the 13th amendment. Come July, she would have time for a life. Eric was a software mogul who had had a great life until his wife had died leaving him with a young daughter. They had nothing in common except that neither had time for romance. 18 chapters, the first 3 without sex. First time posted anywhere.

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Slow  

Diane Thibault eased herself into bed. She was on-call, which meant that she should get to sleep as early as possible. The odds on being awakened during the night were fairly high. Back in med school, a fellow student with dreams of going into research had laid it out:

“At Johns Hopkins, we read about the debilitating effects of high blood pressure, diabetes, and obesity. The debilitating effects of sleep deprivation, on the other hand, we study by the experimental method.”

Well, that had been in med school, which now seemed to be the good old days. With her pediatric residency, she spent twelve hours a day dealing with sick kids. Every other night, she stayed and slept at the hospital ready to be called in an emergency. And, since nurses couldn’t prescribe, a sleepless teen asking for a sleeping pill was an emergency.

Twelve hours out of forty-eight remained for getting a full night’s sleep, shopping, laundry, eating something other than hospital food, and social life. Somehow, she seldom got down that list as far as social life.

Still, she was a medical doctor, and she was independent. She loved her family in Minneapolis, but what she loved most about them was that they were in Minneapolis. Well, if they were scattered now, none of the rest of them had scattered to San Francisco. Her brother, Norm, claimed that she had been free from pressure as a girl not expected to go into the family business. But she had been in the orbit of her family all her life. Her home had been stifling with two older brothers supervising her social life.

She had felt free at first at Radcliffe, her own person able to make her own decisions and her own mistakes. If Vaughan had been a mistake, he had definitely been Diane’s mistake. But, then, she had realized that she had been admitted to Radcliffe as a legacy. She had so wanted to go to Radcliffe as Mom had. She had gone to Radcliffe, but not at all as her Mom, the scholarship student, had.

Med school admission had, at least, had nothing to do with her family. The tuition payments had, of course. Still, others got there by other routes. You couldn’t ask for a scholarship on the grounds that you wanted to be independent of the inheritance which was paying your way. Scholarships were for those who actually needed them.

Now, at last, she was paying her own way. The inherited stock was still paying dividends, but she only used those dividends to pay taxes and to buy gifts. The cost of the gifts to her brothers and sisters in law were influenced by the size of the dividends as much as the taxes were. She was her own woman. Okay, she was always at the hospital’s beck and call. At least she wasn’t her damned family’s woman.


Eric Barnes was just shutting off his alarm when his cell sounded. It was the particular ring tone of his housekeeper.

“Yes, Madeleine,” he said.

“Mr. Barnes, I’m with Sparky.” He could tell his daughter was listening. Madeleine always said “Val” unless Sparky was within hearing distance. “She is sick. I don’t think it’s malingering.”

“I’ll be there in minutes.” It was probably not even one minute before he was in Sparky’s room. “What seems to be wrong, darling?”

“Hurts.” Sparky pointed to her stomach. He opened her pajamas and looked. He couldn’t see any special sore or boil, but the abdomen looked rigid.

“Stay here a moment,” he said. Madeleine followed him out the door.

“She’s running a fever,” Madeleine told him when the door was shut and they were down the hall. “It may be nothing, but it might be appendicitis, too.”

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll go back in. You get dressed. When you’re ready to travel, come back and relieve me. Know when Dr. Kleinfeld gets to his office?”

“I think eight o’clock,” she said heading out the door. He was still carrying his cell, and he scrolled down to the Doctor immediately. He hit the number. The answering machine told him that Madeleine was right. This was one of his mornings in the office, too.

“This is Valerie Barnes’s father, Eric Barnes. We think that Valerie may have something serious. We’ll be at your office shortly after eight. We don’t have an appointment, but we would appreciate Dr. Kleinfeld seeing her long enough to make a diagnosis. It looks like appendicitis to two amateurs. The patient’s name is Valerie Barnes.” He spelled the last name. He didn’t leave his number; he would be in the car before the office got that message.

“I’m Sparky,” she said when he turned back to her. If her belly was sore, he shouldn’t hug her middle. He cuddled her head against his side instead.

“Yes, darling. But you are listed as ‘Valerie’ on their records. We want the good doctor to have all the information as easily as possible. After all, we are asking a favor of them. They would prefer us to make an appointment long in advance.” She didn’t even argue with that. That worried him as much as the temperature. Sparky was a sweet girl, but she did like to argue. And, as Murphy had asked him once, should he credit that to heredity or environment? Thinking of Murphy, he made another call. It was the direct land line, and he waited through the message.

“Murphy, it’s me. Sparky has a problem and we’re taking her to the doctor. I don’t know when I’ll be in. I don’t know whether.” Madeleine came back, and he went to dress.

Madeleine fixed breakfast for the two adults. Sparky wasn’t hungry, and they didn’t think it was wise to push her. Dr. Kleinfeld’s office was in a not-very-distant part of Sausalito, and he parked before eight and was in the office a few minutes later. Dr. Kleinfeld was already seeing a patient, but the nurse took Sparky into another examination room. She took her temperature, looked at the abdomen, and went out for a minute. When she came back, she took Sparky’s weight and blood pressure. He looked at her blankly, and she must have noticed.

“Well, the doctor will be in momentarily. This is routine for a visit. What else should I be doing?”

“Sorry,” he said. “Nerves.”

“Perfectly justified in this case. Oh, here’s the doctor.” Dr. Kleinfeld’s examination was very brief, though he touched Sparky’s belly so hard she winced.

“I want you to take her to Children’s hospital in San Francisco. I have admitting privileges, and I’ll call them and tell them that you’re coming. You came in your car?”

“Yes.”

“Go in through the emergency room. Miss Brand will give you the address.”

Everyone was talking in a calm voice, but when he got out his checkbook, Miss Brand said, “I’ll send a bill. You really want to get to the hospital as soon as possible.”

It was not the best time of day to cross the bridge, but they got to the hospital before nine. In the emergency room, he and Madeleine split duties. She went with Sparky, and he dealt with the desk about payment. He had his insurance card in his hand. He asked for a private room and agreed to pay a surcharge for that and anything that the insurance company didn’t pay. They didn’t take credit cards, but he displayed them to demonstrate his creditworthiness. Between Dr. Kleinfeld’s calling ahead, his insurance and his obvious willingness and ability to pay, and Sparky’s state, there wasn’t all that much delay. Still, every second had him boiling inside. Luckily, the nurses were taking Sparky’s blood pressure and not his.


Diane usually followed the admitting physician around and let him tell her about the patient. This one, though, had an admitting physician still stuck on the other side of the Bay seeing other patients. The girl, Valerie Barnes, was six from the chart and looked it. The diagnosis was acute appendicitis, and the girl didn’t look happy.

“Shall I call you Valerie or Val?” she began. There was so much out of the patients’ control -- where they were, what they wore, whether they were going to be put to sleep and have a perfect stranger slice their abdomens open -- that Diane tried to give them as much control as possible.

“Valerie, please.” A polite little girl.

“Pull up the gown please. I’d like to take another look at your tummy. How many people have looked at it already?” Yeah, it looked like appendicitis to her. She checked the heartbeat with her stethoscope. The girl was trying to look brave, but her heart was racing.

“What can you tell me?” asked a black woman followed her out of the room. “I’m Madeleine Grant, the Barnes’s housekeeper. Is it appendicitis?”

“It certainly looks like it. I imagine they will do more tests and operate tomorrow. This is fairly serious, Mrs. Grant. Miss Grant? Are the parents leaving it in your hands?” Some parents made you wonder why driving required a license and parenthood did not. She supposed that the children who had somebody else who cared were luckier than the others, and Valerie appeared to be one of these.

“Mrs. Grant, please. Mr. Barnes is dealing with the hospital bureaucracy. Mrs. Barnes died when Val was only two. Here he comes now.” And here he came, striding down the hall and glancing at room numbers. A good-looking man, taller than average and walking very erect. The glasses made him look vaguely scholarly.

“Madeleine. Doctor.” At least he didn’t take a woman doctor for a nurse. “Is there any news?”

“Dr. umm...” Mrs. Grant began.

“Thibault,” Diane supplied.

“Dr. Thibault says they’ll operate tomorrow.” Diane was about to emphasize that this was a guess, not a promise, when Mr. Barnes interrupted her train of thought.

“Tomorrow? Is today impossible? I know that it’s your field, not mine, but I thought that a ruptured appendix was a threat.” His voice was pleasant but his words raised red flags.

“Well, there are all sorts of preparations that have to be made. Certainly, delay introduces a few risks.” She wasn’t going to assure him that the appendix would not burst. That was unlikely before the operation, but the only thing impossible about the human body was understanding it. “But rushing things introduces its own risks. We still have to do an ultrasound to make certain it’s appendicitis.”

“Ultrasound?” he asked. “I’ll guarantee that her problem isn’t related to a pregnancy.” She smiled.

“They do ultrasounds for all sorts of conditions. It gives you a picture of the soft tissues of the body. It’s not just for pregnant women.”


Eric said, “Well, I still have her first tucked away somewhere. I’ll see her now if I may.” The door was open, and he ducked in.

“Daddy.”

“Sparky. Sorry I didn’t come up with you, but the hospital people wanted somebody to fill in some forms. You wouldn’t have enjoyed that, I promise you.”

Eric stayed with Sparky. There wasn’t much he could do with her, but she seemed to want his company. Since her middle was sore, he spent some time holding her feet rather than hugging her. When she needed to use the bathroom, he left her with Madeleine and went out to the hall to call Murphy. This time, he called her cell.

“How’s Val” she answered.

“In the hospital. They think it’s appendicitis. The doctor thinks they’ll operate tomorrow. Thing is, I’m out for the duration -- today, tomorrow, probably the next day. Deal with my appointments, will you? This is the highest priority. If the place catches fire, call 911, not me.”

“Sure. Give her my love.”

“Another thing. We’re here without her toys, and I don’t want to bring them here and then take them back from the hospital. There are germs here. So, do you think you could pick up something? I think one toy. Plush -- she’s kind of down. I’ll give you the address.”

“Sure.”

Sparky’s lunch was soup and Jell-O. Even though she hadn’t had any breakfast, she wasn’t very hungry. Between him and Madeleine, they persuaded her to eat most of it, and it didn’t come back up. He suggested shifts for lunch to Madeleine, and she went down to the cafeteria first. While she was gone, Murphy came by with the toy.

“Mrs. Darling,” Sparky said. She looked more interested in her than in what she was carrying.

“Hello, Sparky,” said Murphy, “I’m sorry to hear you’re not feeling well.”

“I’m feeling awful,” said Sparky. When Murphy had gone, however, Sparky got interested in the toy. It was a pink plush monkey. Then Madeleine came back and Eric went down for lunch. True to Dr. Thibault’s prediction, Sparky was taken away for an ultrasound soon after he came back. He stayed up on the floor by her room.

While he was there, he saw Dr. Thibault going from one room to another. The doctor was admittedly an easy sight to watch, but what he felt was merely aesthetic appreciation. He was a widower still wearing his ring. He’d been off the market since he’d met Laura. That was more than a decade.


Diane might despise parents who were too busy to visit their kids when those kids were hospitalized, but a visit was one thing and staying there was something else. She would never consider appendicitis trivial, but Valerie wasn’t one of the more serious cases in the hospital right now.

That guy looked like he was camped out at his daughter’s room. Didn’t he have a job to go to? She was careful not to look at him too often, partly because she could feel his eyes on her. At least, he wasn’t causing problems by being in the way or getting into conversations with medical personnel.

Then, his daughter came back from ultrasound, and he went back into her room. When Dr. Kleinfeld started making the rounds of his patients, she followed. Valerie Barnes was third on his list. He came in, greeted the girl, and looked at her chart and the ultrasound.

“Well,” he said to Barnes, “it’s appendicitis. We say it’s appendicitis, and we make a slew of tests, and then we say it’s appendicitis. You ask ‘Why the tests? Didn’t you already say that?’ Well...”

“Well,” Barnes said, “when we burst into your office, we had already said that. We wanted better judgment to confirm or refute. You wanted more information to confirm or refute. I’m never opposed to more information. Even I know what the treatment is. When?”

“We have surgery scheduled for late tomorrow morning. Nothing by mouth after midnight. Are you hungry, Valerie?”

“I’m Sparky,” the girl said.

“Okay, Sparky,” Dr. Kleinfeld said. “Are you hungry?”

“No. My tummy hurts.”

“Well, we’re going to do something about that tomorrow.”

“Will it stop hurting?” That was a good question, and Diane neither liked to lie to kids nor to tell them that they would have more pain before they had less.

“Well,” Mr. Barnes began before the doctors could, “first they are going to put you to sleep. It’s a special kind of sleep, and you won’t feel anything. Then, while you’re asleep, they will take out the thing which is making you hurt. That hurt will be gone when you wake up, but there will be other hurts there. It will really ache. It will get better, though, after that.”

“And,” Dr. Kleinfeld put in, “the nurses will be able to give you medicines to deal with that pain.” Barnes followed her and Dr. Kleinfeld out the door. Dr. Kleinfeld was first at the sanitizer dispenser, and she turned to Mr. Barnes.

“That was the best summary of what will happen in an operation I’ve ever heard. Do you have a medical background?” Well, it was the best summary for a kid.


Eric was complimented. Dr. Thibault’s manners were as pretty as her face.

“I’ve had an operation. I’m a programmer, not a medico. I try not to lie to Sparky. Tell me that nothing is going to go wrong.”

“I try not to lie to parents.” Hoist by his own petard! “This is a routine operation. Things are not likely to go wrong. On the other hand, they can.”

“You have an excellent surgeon,” Dr. Kleinfeld said. “And, if something does go wrong, you have Valerie in a first-class medical institution. They are equipped to deal with emergencies.”

“I’ll keep praying, but I’ll stop bugging you.” Barnes went back into his daughter’s room.

Eric was strangely reassured by the statement that things could go wrong. Was anyone more aware of that than he was? You could be driving down the street and have another car crash into you. Well, Sparky was in more danger through tomorrow than she was in the car, but it sounded like the doctors were taking what precautions they could.

“It hurts, Daddy,” Sparky said.

“I know it does honey,” he said. “It hurts because there is something wrong down there. They are going to fix that wrong thing tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Why not today?”

“They need to do some complicated things to fix it. They are setting up and getting the man to do that, the surgeon, ready. That’s why they’ll do it tomorrow.”

“I wish they would hurry,” she said.

“So do I, honey, but more than that I wish that they would do it right when they do it.” She didn’t seem to like that answer. She tried to hug the plush monkey. When that seemed to cause worse pain, she hugged it to her face. That took care of her top half, and he reached for her foot and held it.

They had TV in the room, and she started watching it. The controls were a little complicated, but she mastered them. She did a lot of channel surfing while he sat there. When dinner came, she ate a little. He didn’t know whether to urge her to finish it or not. When visiting hours were over, he couldn’t see a reason to fight them to let him stay. When he drove Madeleine home, she said that she would take her own car to the hospital in the morning.

“And, Mr. Barnes, the cleaners are due tomorrow.” There was more house than Madeleine could take care of by herself, well, more than she could take care of and tend to Sparky’s needs, too. There were two women who came in for one day a week to do the heavy cleaning. Madeleine took care of child care, meals, and the daily tasks.

“Well, Sparky will need you more. Can you call them tonight?”

“I called them when I heard about the operation,” she said. That’s what he liked, initiative. “Is it all right to pay them if they don’t work?”

“I would think. We contracted for their time; they are willing to supply it. Can they stretch a week before they get the check?”

“They didn’t raise that question. Laundry and stuff like that won’t get done, and I can’t take up the slack.”

“Prioritize,” he told her. “Sparky is hurting, and she wants you there. The house doesn’t matter in comparison.” Indeed, if he could trade the house to stop Sparky’s pain he would do it in an instant.

“I don’t even think I made your bed.”

“I should hope not. I’ve slept on floors and on a pair of desks shoved together. An unmade bed won’t kill me ... Can one, in fact, sleep in a made bed? Doesn’t the act of getting in it unmake it?” That wasn’t his priority, but Madeleine didn’t know any more about Sparky’s condition than he did. Any other subject was welcome.

“Well, you’ve slept on top of a made bed once or twice,” she said. That was once or twice since she had come to work for him and Laura. In his younger days, when he did real programming, he’d been that tired more often. He had never made the bed the next day. Madeleine always did.

He had read once that inside every fat man is a thin man trying to get out. Well inside the CEO of Dendarii Software with a house of his own and a housekeeper to keep it shipshape, there was a young programmer who had lived in single rooms without owning a vacuum cleaner. Sometimes, the young programmer wanted to get out. Then, he remembered that Sparky depended on the CEO. She certainly depended on the housekeeper. Then, too, the young programmer had Laura in his future then. If he couldn’t have Laura in his future, he would keep her in his memory.


Diane was aching in every bone by the time she got off the floor. She left the hospital immediately, and stopped in a Thai restaurant. She wanted to go home and drop into bed, and she needed to buy Christmas presents for her brothers and sisters-in-law soon. This was laundry night, however. She went back to the apartment, got the dirty clothes into two bundles and took them to the coin laundry. She did get a nap sitting down while the washer was going. She went back to the apartment and made her bed with another set of sheets while the dryer was going. As soon as she got the laundry back to the apartment, she went to bed.

In the morning, she showered, dressed, and dumped the laundry bag out on her bed. She would sort it out when she came back in two days. She got breakfast at her usual diner and got to the hospital at quarter ‘til. That gave her plenty of time to drop off her coat and reach the floor by six.

Tracy Reynolds, who had been getting better for days, now had a raging fever again. Diane added an order for sed rate on the -- otherwise routine -- blood test on her own initiative.

Valerie Barnes was scheduled for her appendectomy at 10:00. Which meant that the operation would be any time after that that the operating room was free and the team available? When she stopped at her room, Valerie was understandably nervous. Mrs. Grant was trying to soothe her, but Barnes was on pins and needles. That might be understandable, too, but it was not helping his daughter. She gave him full disclosure for what he was permitting. Barnes wanted to sign it without hearing it, but that wasn’t permitted.

“Look,” Barnes said after he had signed the forms, “they say I can’t be with Sparky during the operation.”

“Yeah. Those are the rules. Could you step outside?” He followed her out of the room. Diane closed the door and walked a few feet further down, leaving Mrs. Grant with Valerie. “Look. There will be a team in there with sharp knives slicing your daughters belly open.” He blinked at that statement. “Then they are going to remove one little bit of her intestines without, they hope, slicing into any other part of them. Now, do you want all their attention on what they are doing?”

“Well, yes.”

“So do I,” she said. “So do they. So does the hospital. That’s why we don’t want anybody but the patient and the surgical team in there. We don’t want the tiniest distraction. Now as soon as she goes in, you can wait outside in the area for family. When she comes out, they will take her to a recovery room, and you’ll be in there with her before she wakes up. We think this is medically best for her.”

“Okay. You think I’m being selfish?”

“I think you’re being a concerned parent. I wouldn’t fault your motivation for one second. On the other hand, her nervousness is going to complicate the anesthesiologist’s work. And the more nervousness you show the more nervousness she will develop.”

“So it’s better for her if I sit on it?” he asked.

“I really think so.”

“Then I had better sit on it,” he said. “Thanks.” He went back in the room, leaving the door open. She went to the sanitizer dispenser and washed her hands before seeing the next patient.

Diane told Dr. Chan about ordering the sed rate for Tracy Reynolds when he came on the floor.

“Very well,” Chan said. He saw residents as his students not as threatening usurpers. “You think that the temperature spike may be a resurgence of the infection?”

“I think it might be. It might be something relating to the insult her system has received this past few days. It might be something totally unrelated. Still...”

“Still, since we don’t know, more information will make my decisions better informed guesses. Don’t tell the parents I said that. If she were your patient, what would you do?” That was always Chan’s question.

“I’d order a culture of her next stool.”

“You think that this might be another infection?”

“Well,” she said. “The previously identified bacillus may have staged a come-back, and that might be a newly-developed resistance to the antibiotic.”

“Or,” Chan added, “for some reason, the antibiotic, which is administered orally, might not have reached the site. The pill could have passed through. She might have vomited it up.” A nurse, could, of course, have failed to give Tracy the pill, although there were elaborate checks to prevent that. Neither of them would mention that possibility.

“Or,” she said, “It just might be that there was another bug hiding in her intestines. When we killed the first one, the second one had a clear field. If so, the second one has to be immune to the antibiotic we’re using.”

“You’re starting to see the possibilities. I’ll order that culture. We won’t have to wait long for a stool sample.” Tracy was suffering from diarrhea among other symptoms. “The likelihood that it will show anything new is small, and the likelihood that the insurance company will bitch is huge. You know, the practice of medicine would be so much simpler if we weren’t doing it on humans.”

She smiled. That was Chan’s favorite joke. However often he repeated it, it was still true.


Eric saw that the waiting room outside the operating theaters was already occupied when he got there with Madeleine. The seats interfered with any pacing opportunities. Once Eric saw the faces of the other people waiting, he decided to restrain himself. Sparky wasn’t the only kid going under the knife, and he wasn’t the only worried parent.

When they told them that Sparky was in the recovery room, they suggested that only one person be with her at one time. Madeleine yielded to him. He stopped the woman -- nurse? -- who was leaving.

“How did it go,” he asked.

“Go? It was a routine appendectomy. Nothing went wrong, if that’s what you mean. Anyway, she’s starting to come out from under already, but she isn’t awake yet. She’ll be logy for a while. Call me if anything looks wrong.”

“Can I hold her hand?”

“Sure,” the nurse answered. “She’s all sewed up. Asepsis is over.” So he held Sparky’s hand. Staring at her face didn’t reveal anything. He decided to watch the wall as long as he could and only then look at her face. Her hand would occasionally twitch in his hand. When it did, he would look at her hand, look at her face, and decide that twitching was a normal part of coming out of anesthesia. After all, he didn’t think that those motions would be noticeable if he weren’t holding her hand. At one twitch, her eyes seemed open when he looked at her face.

“Daddy’s here, sweetheart,” he said. “The operation is over. We have to wait until you’re more awake. Then we’ll go up back up where you were before, and you can hug the monkey that Mrs. Darling bought for you.” She didn’t respond, but he kept talking so she would know that she was with her family.

She woke up further. She got to the point that she didn’t want her hand in his and took it out. Then the nurse came back in and decided that she had recovered enough to send her back upstairs. They were almost a parade: the big bed with the little girl, the guy pushing it, Madeleine, and him.


Diane saw Valerie coming back. She didn’t have to ask if everything had gone okay. Barnes’s smile could have lit the hall. She visited Valerie some time later.

“Happy?” she asked. Barnes smiled and started to say he was. Valerie interrupted him.

“Hurts.”

“Yes,” she said, “but that pain will be less tomorrow, and you can have another shot in...” She consulted the chart and the clock on the wall. “another hour.” It was less than that, but Valerie wouldn’t complain if it were early. Barnes winced at that promise. When she left, he followed her out.

“Look,” he said as she was sanitizing her hands, “I certainly don’t enjoy Sparky’s -- Valerie’s -- pain. Are these shots safe? I keep imagining addiction.” Well, at least this was one overconcerned parent who wouldn’t be nagging them for more pain medication than was safe.

“Well, addiction is one reason that she doesn’t get enough shots to keep her totally out of pain. She’ll get pain pills later, but pills are contraindicated right after abdominal surgery. They have to be absorbed in the intestines, and we just messed around with her intestines. Then, too, the pain pills that are effective can be addictive, too.”

“At this age,” she continued, “injections have two advantages over oral administration. The dose can be adjusted for weight. We could give her half the pill we would give you, but she weighs less than half as much. Then, too, when she goes home, you will take pain pills with you. Having them in the household is a poisoning risk. No six-year-old is going to give herself an injection.”

“You keep saying that you’re doing dangerous things.” He laid his hand on her arm as he said it. It wasn’t an inappropriate gesture, but her response was totally inappropriate. She felt a rush. The radius isn’t an erogenous zone, she told herself, and this is a concerned parent, not a lover. Well the forearm felt like an erogenous zone when he touched it. Luckily, he took his hand away and she could answer coolly.

“Yeah. Nothing that we do in medicine is safe. The problem is that the alternatives are worse. Now, if you’ll excuse me...” She hurried away. She did have other patients to see, but she was really running away from that touch.

“Yeah,” he said. “You have a building full of patients to care for, and I only worry about one of them.” He gave her a sort of salute.


Eric was dazed. He was ogling her hips as she walked away, and that was wrong. Dr. Thibault was Sparky’s doctor, and she came into his orbit because she was caring for his daughter. Coming on to her was even worse than making a pass at a DSI employee. That touch had definitely turned him on, and she must have noticed it. She had stiffened. If he shouldn’t even be in the room when the operation was going on lest he distract the surgeons, he sure shouldn’t let his lust interfere with the doctor’s treatment.

He heard the TV, and Sparky had that and Madeleine. Sparky could spare him for a few minutes. He called Murphy.

“How’s she doing?” Murphy answered.

“She’s out of surgery, and everything went well. She’s in pain, of course, but we have to expect that. Look, I owe the staff here something. Could you buy them some kind of fancy candy or something? They see more than enough flowers. When you bring it, stop in and see Sparky. She’d enjoy that.”

“Will do. Shall I tell the people here that she’s doing well?”

“If you would.”


Diane came on the floor two days later. She asked Natalie Pritchett, the head nurse of the day shift, how things were going.

“We’re running out of beds. That school food poisoning sent several kids in here.”

“Didn’t I see an empty bed in 723?” Diane asked. “Little Valerie is looking good. She doesn’t need isolation. I’m surprised they gave her that for appendicitis.”

“Who’s they?” Natalie asked. “Her insurance pays for a double room, and her dad asked it to be upgraded. He’s paying for it, and the hospital guaranteed it. I asked, and billing says I can’t change the room.”

“Well, he can. I’ll try.” She went to 723. Barnes was there, but Mrs. Grant wasn’t. Valerie was watching TV. Ever since that touch, she had been attracted to Barnes. She tried to keep a professional demeanor if not a professional attitude, and she appeared to be succeeding.

“Mr. Barnes,” she asked, “might I speak to you?” He followed her out.

“Now,” she began, “you asked for a single room, but is this best for Valerie now? Don’t you think she would be happier in the ward with other girls to talk to?”

“Do you think so?” He looked intrigued by the idea. “I’ll admit that she is damned bored with Daddy. I don’t spend enough time with her generally, but this has been like an awfully long weekend, and she has had to be inactive, too. Her belly hurts when she moves, but her imagination hurts when she doesn’t.”

“I really think so.” And she did. As he hadn’t asked whether she were suggesting it because it would be better for other patients, she didn’t feel the need to answer that question.

“Well, let’s ask her.” They went back into the room. “Bored, Darling?” he asked.

“Bored.” Valerie drew it out as long as her breath lasted.

“Dr. Thibault thinks you might be less bored if you were out there with some other boys and girls. What do you think?”

“Can I?” asked Valerie.

“I’ll try to arrange it,” Diane said. “It’s only other girls, though. We have the girls and the boys in different wards. It will be a while.”

“Hurry,” said Valerie. And she went out to Natalie with the change, and the stated reason.

“And talking of Barnes,” Natalie said. She brought out a box of Lady Godiva chocolates.

“They brought another one?” she asked. She had seen a box days before.

“The administrative assistant brought three boxes when she came. I stashed two away. She said her boss was more grateful than that.”

When she went through the ward later, Valerie seemed -- if not happy -- engaged in conversation with the other girls. She was showing off her scar, and Diane had to tape it up again. It was a good scar, though, for a different reason than Valerie thought. There was no suppuration. The wound was clean.


Eric, who had gone on shifts with Madeleine a day earlier, was overjoyed with the change. Sparky still watched TV, but she had other girls who watched the same shows to discuss them with her. He stopped in morning, afternoon, and after work, but he spent only a little more than an hour a day with Sparky. Since he had let a good deal of work pile up and since there was now nothing to go home to but a bed, he went back to the office after visiting hours at the hospital.

One problem at the hospital was that he kept looking for Dr. Thibault. Sometimes he saw her, but he really had nothing he could say to her when he did. ‘I am one more old lecher attracted to a young, vibrant woman like yourself, but you have to deal with me because my daughter is your patient,’ didn’t seem the promising start of a conversation.

His problem was an oversupply of libido, and he had a little stash of pictures at home to take care of that. He had been neglecting them while worrying about Sparky and her illness. Using his stash at night, however, didn’t decrease his preoccupation with Dr. Thibault during the day, although it probably made his response less obvious to any observer.

This was the first time since Laura that his sexual interest in a woman had persisted when he didn’t see her. Even when he tried to recall one of the most erotic pictures of his collection, he seldom was aroused enough unless it was before his eyes. Now, the image of a fully clothed woman walking away from him interposed itself over the photograph of a naked woman pleasuring herself.

He felt a little guilty toward Laura, although the vow was “until death do us part,” and death definitely had. He felt a lot more guilty toward Dr. Thibault. She was a young, beautiful woman, a highly skilled professional on the threshold of her career. He was a tired, old man who had once been a good programmer but was now an administrator. He had taken another woman’s youth once, but he had traded his own youth for it. Now, he hadn’t anything to compensate Dr. Thibault. All he had was money and need. She wasn’t the sort to take money, and she had given him loads of comfort for his legitimate needs.

He took to putting his hands behind his back when they were both near Sparky, sometimes even when he passed her in the hall of the hospital. He wasn’t going to be guilty of touching her again.


Diane figured that she should be happy about Valerie Barnes. Valerie had come through the surgery just fine, and she was happy socializing in the ward. She had fewer interactions with Valerie’s father, which, considering how frightened she had been by that touch, should have been another plus. Somehow, though, it wasn’t. He had shared his anxiety with her before the operation. Why couldn’t he share his pleasure over the recovery? When she saw him, however, he seemed to avoid contact as much as he had sought it when he was worrying over Valerie. That was just as well, probably. She had enough worries over the patients who were suffering. Then Dr. Kleinfeld decided to discharge Valerie.

“She’ll have excellent care at home, and the incision is healing nicely,” he said.

“And we don’t want the insurance to get antsy,” she added.

“In this case, I wouldn’t worry about that. If I told Barnes that I thought Valerie should stay another day but the insurance company wouldn’t pay for it, he’d write a check immediately. Whether the insurance company would get a renewal of the policy is another question entirely.”

“You know something about him?”

“Something, not much,” Kleinfeld said. “He’s CEO of his company, and that and his daughter are his life. He lost his wife years ago. She used to bring Valerie in for appointments. Now it’s just the housekeeper, unless Barnes brings her in himself.”

“He doesn’t dress like a CEO.” He wore dress shirts without ties and khakis.

“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong. He dresses to please himself, and only CEOs can afford to do that.”

She laughed. Barnes came in later, ready to take Valerie home. She had a stuffed animal and a game of Uno. He was trying to persuade her to leave them.

“We’ll buy you new cards,” he said, “and you have all sorts of animals at home.”

“But he’ll be lonely.” Valerie was holding the monkey.

“No he won’t. Dr. Thibault will find another girl to love him as much as you do. Won’t you?” he asked Diane.

“Sure,” she said. They got shipments of refurbished toys from a local group, but this plush monkey looked new.

“Promise?” Valerie asked.

“I promise.” It was an easy promise to make. Valerie looked a little old for the toy, but Diane saw four-year-olds every day who would adore this toy.

“Wave bye-bye,” Barnes said. “I’m so grateful for what you’ve done for her.” Transportation wheeled Valerie out, and she waved -- perhaps including Diane, but certainly intending the other girls.

And so that was the last she’d see of Mr. Barnes. Well, she was a little old for crushes, anyway.


Eric got Sparky home and ensconced in her room with permission to watch TV for more than her usual two-hour-a-night limit. As she had all of “My Little Pony” on DVDs, she should have been happy. Instead, she reminded him that he had left her Uno deck in the hospital.

“New one. You promised.” And so he had. He drove to a store -- Madeleine knew where it could be purchased -- and got one for her immediately.

As Dr. Kleinfeld had said that the incision wasn’t quite ready for immersion yet, Madeleine gave Sparky a good sponge bath and got all her clothes into the hamper. Dinner was pizza as a treat, and they were more-or-less on their regular schedule. Sparky fought against her bedtime, but that was really part of the normal day’s activities. Madeleine went to her room, where she could hear the baby monitor if Sparky needed her. He went down to the computer room off the library.

Well, Dr. Thibault was no longer Sparky’s physician. She could avoid him without endangering a patient. Asking her out to dinner once wouldn’t be harassment. She would say no. Probably, indeed, she wouldn’t answer at all. But he wouldn’t have waved good bye without some attempt at seeing her more.

The letter he produced was one of the hardest he had ever written. It took him two hours before he spell-checked it and printed it out. He put a plain envelope through the printer, and sealed the letter in it.

The next morning, he kissed Sparky goodbye. At work, he dealt with the backlog for an hour before calling Murphy in.

“Remember when you took that candy to the hospital? Well, they did a great job with Sparky. Could you take them some more? And while you’re at it, this is a thank-you note to the resident there, Dr. Thibault. Could you see if they could give it to her?”

When Murphy went on her errand, he reset his cell so that it rang when some strange number called. Usually, strange numbers were vibrate-only, and he ignored those. Sparky, Madeleine, and Murphy each had distinctive ring tones, but the only way to contact Dr. Thibault was to give her his cell number.

Diane was using the sanitizer outside a room when a pretty blonde dressed for the office came up to her.

“Pardon me. Are you Dr. Thibault?”

“Why yes, and you’re?”

“Linda Murphy Darling. I work for Eric Barnes. He asked me to give you this letter.” She handed her an envelope with “Dr. Thibault” typed on the outside.

“How did you find me?” Diane asked. She wasn’t anywhere near either Valerie’s first room or the ward she’d later occupied.

“Asking around. By the way, there’s more chocolate at the desk by where Sparky Barnes used to be. They said that they couldn’t accept mail for you. I’d already given them the candy before asking.”

“A fourth box? Didn’t you give us three before?”

“Three more boxes. I paid for parking at the candy store and for parking here. He might as well get a decent amount of candy for the expenditure.”

She read the letter at lunch. That wasn’t until 2:30 because she was running late.

| Dear Dr. Thibault,

the letter read.

| I’m Eric Barnes, the father of Valerie Barnes who was in your
| care until quite recently. The girl with the appendectomy whom
| you kept interested during her recovery by moving her out to
| the ward. I remain grateful for the care you gave her, and would
| like to express that gratitude by taking you to dinner. Realizing
| that residents have time restraints, I won’t specify a particular
| day or time, but I would appreciate a response to this by calling
| my cell.

He gave the number.

Well, she wasn’t on call this night, but she had too many tasks bunched up. She rushed through them but didn’t get back to the apartment until almost nine o’clock. She still hadn’t contacted Barnes, but she was now in shape to accept a dinner for the next night off. She dialed his number.

“Eric Barnes.”

“Mr. Barnes, this is Diane Thibault.” He was supposedly a parent grateful to Dr. Thibault for the treatment his daughter had received. Well she didn’t want that relationship, weird as a dinner was as an expression of gratitude. If they were going to have a dinner worth her giving up an evening off, she was going to be Diane to him.

“Then you got my note. Do you think you could come for dinner?”

“Well, not tomorrow night. I’m on call. By the way, did I call too late?”

“Not at all,” he said. “Feel free. Another night then? How about the night after next?”

“I’d be delighted.” Indeed, she had rushed through two evening’s work and was now missing sleep to hold this conversation just for this opportunity.

“Shall I pick you up at the hospital? If so, tell me the entrance. I’ve used two myself, and I don’t think either one is what you use.”

“They aren’t.” Although she didn’t know which entrances he’d used. Emergency maybe. “But not at the hospital. I have an apartment.” She gave him the address.

“And what time?”

“Would seven be too early?” She got off at six -- at six if there were no last-minute problems. She would have to get home, make herself pretty, and get dressed. An hour wasn’t much time for that. On the other hand, she was used to waking at five. Late nights would not only mess up her next day, they would leave her looking like a sleep-walker on her dinner date.

“Seven o’clock at your place,” he said. “Is your name on some bell or should I call you from the car. Is this your cell number?” he asked.

“Yeah. Either one.” She was tempted to ask him about where he planned to take her, but she didn’t push it. She would wear her best dress and the coat not the parka. The CEO who delivered his messages by sending them through his secretary wasn’t going to ask her out for a hot dog. Besides, he was tall enough for her to wear heels, and she needed a dress that went with heels.


Eric was quite proud of his last question. He now had her phone number, and he assigned her a category, social. Each category should be assigned its own ring tone, and he had one ring tone for each of the three persons -- four now -- whom he had given his cell number to. He put the fifth ringtone -- all other calls -- back to silent.

It was late for doing business, but he called a fancy restaurant to make a reservation for 7:30 for the day after tomorrow. Murphy usually made his few dinner reservations, but he had made some when she was engaged to Pete Darling. He took the two of them out once or twice and having her make the reservations had seemed inappropriate.

The next day, he got a haircut. That night at dinner, he told Sparky and Madeleine that he wouldn’t be there the next night. Sparky wasn’t going to school yet, but she was supposed to make up what learning she could do at home. As might be expected, she was sulky about that.

For the actual day, he took in a complete change of clothes to work. He had a bathroom with a shower in his office. He locked the door to his office before 5:30. He showered, shaved, used aftershave, and dressed in the outfit he had brought, a good suit.

He got to her place, found a parking space a little too far away. Well, some things were beyond his control. He then drummed his fingers for ten minutes before calling her. It was still five-’til.

“This is Diane.” Well? Diane!

“And this is Eric Barnes. I’m a little down the street, the closest parking space I could find. If everything is okay, I’ll meet you at the outer door.”

“Thanks. I’ll be down.”

So he got out and went to the apartment. They had a series of two doors and even the outer one was locked. He watched until she came through the inner one and then waved. She came out and opened the outer door. He took it and opened it wide -- rather comically -- for her to come out.

“Down this way,” he said. “The dark blue Rover. I’m sorry it is so far.”


Diane thought the walk, less than half a block, was nothing to someone who spent most of a twelve-hour day standing and walked miles of hospital corridors in that time. Barnes opened the door and helped her in. It seemed that the elbow was also an erogenous zone. Either that or the guy was just sexy.

“Dr. Thibault,” he began.

“Diane.”

“Then I’m Eric,” he said. There, that had been easy.

“Eric, how is Valerie?” That was a safe question, and she was interested. You saw so many half-way to recovery, but you didn’t see them again unless the recovery was unsuccessful.

“Well, she is feeling rambunctious, now. We’re trying to re-impose the old rules, and she is resisting. I suppose that’s good news. I remember when the appendicitis struck. I called Dr. Kleinfeld’s office and told them that Valerie Barnes was sick. She pointed out that she was Sparky. When I told her that she was Valerie on their records, she didn’t give me an argument. Her not arguing was my first notice of how sick she really was.”

“She told me to call her Valerie.”

“She tends to pick and choose,” Barnes -- Eric! -- said. “I told her that it was only polite to call people what they wanted to be called, she pushed it to an extreme. And that’s Sparky. My assistant, Murphy, suggests that her stubbornness is inherited from me. Anyway, you’ve heard of ‘My Little Pony’?”

“Yeah.”

“Professionally, I hope. Anyway, Sparky was a character on the show or on one of the spin-offs. Valerie decided that she would be Sparky.” She heard a lullaby just then. It was weirdly congruent to the discussion. Then she realized it was coming from his cell phone.


Eric said, “I have to take this.” He found the nearest spot, which was an alley, and pulled into it. “Daddy was driving,” he said when he had the phone to his ear.

“Why were you driving?” Sparky asked. Before he could think up a good answer, she was going on. “Maddie is trying to make me go to bed now. It’s much too early. I hate her.”

“You know who is really monstrous? It’s the guy who told her to get you back on schedule. Who do you think that was?”

“Then I hate you, too.” Sparky was too cranky to play the obvious guessing game.

“Well,” he said, “I love you too.” Sparky closed her phone.

“Sorry,” he said to Dr. Thibault, or -- rather -- to Diane, as he backed out of the alley and went on to the restaurant. “I’m treading on your ground, now, but what I figure is that Sparky is going to fight over any bedtime. We could set it at two a.m. and she would kick and scream. So I set it at seven thirty, with the aim of having her in bed by eight. Some day she is going to figure out that we schedule her tantrums into the bedtime time line. I just hope it’s before she turns eighteen.”


Diane smiled at the picture of a high-school senior throwing a tantrum over her bedtime. Now, the curfew on date nights, that was another issue. She wasn’t an expert on child psychology. She was more an expert on children’s sicknesses, and not all that expert. This was why she was serving in a residency.

“In the hospital, I had labeled you as a sucker for your daughter,” she said. “Apparently you’re not.”

Eric said, “Well, she needs some things, and she wants some things. I try to give her what she needs, and only as much of what she wants as is good for her. Still, I’ll admit, I’d rather see her happy.” They got to the restaurant, and he helped Diane out and handed the valet the keys. He had to be careful about touching her; he might become addicted.

Diane was discovering that her hand was an erogenous zone, too. By the time Eric let go of her, her own hand was burning.


Eric took her coat and gave it and his own to the check girl. Then he turned to look at Diane out of uniform. She looked delicious. That was not a word he could use, however.

“You look stunning in that dress.”

“Why thank you.” She ordered the broached salmon. He took the boeuf bourgignon.


“Wine?” Eric asked. He was driving and shouldn’t. That was no reason that she should abstain, however.

“Please.” He ordered Chablis, a real Chablis from France, not a California wine. He was on his best behavior. The waiter brought it and poured a little in his glass. He tasted it and approved it. Then the waiter poured both glasses full.

“That was entirely a hoax,” he confessed. I’m no wine connoisseur. That’s neither water nor vinegar. Aside from that, I give you no guarantee.”


Diane wasn’t a wine connoisseur either, but it tasted good. She was under the impression, though, that people who went to these kinds of restaurants wanted red wine with beef. Eric didn’t seem to be drinking his. She might be a Cliffy, and a Cliffy legacy to boot, but she wasn’t the type of person who served the proper wine with the particular course. Diet coke with pizza was more her speed.

“So,” she asked, “Does your daughter make a habit of calling you up when you go out on a date?” There, she had used the word ‘date’ and nobody had thrown her out of the restaurant. The excuse of thanking her for Valerie’s treatment never seemed convincing. The candy as thanks, that she could believe. It went to the people providing the care, mostly the nurses who provided most of the care. She hadn’t even been in the theater when the surgeon operated, and the surgeon wasn’t here.

“Well,” Eric said, “a hundred percent of the time so far. Look, my daughter fascinates me. You, on the other hand, probably spend as much time dealing with kids as you care to. What is it, twelve hours a day?”

“Something like. Those are my hours on the hospital floor, not counting being on call. Some of that is dealing with children; a lot of it is dealing with paper. Then, too, I get as much as half an hour break to eat lunch. Those lunches are nothing like this.”

“Well, enjoy yourself. What I was going to ask is where you’re from. East of here by your accent, but, then, everything is east of San Francisco.”

“Well, Minneapolis,” she said. “Suburb of Minneapolis, really, but you haven’t heard of it. And you?”

“Mostly outside of Denver. Not quite a suburb, more an exurb.”

“Oh? I have a brother in Boulder. That’s not the same, I know.”

“It’s not, really,” Eric said. “We aren’t as bad as Los Angeles and San Francisco, though. Is he connected to the university?”

“Yes. Archeology. Mostly the ancestors of the Indians.” They went on from there, comparing family and experiences.

The conversation was easy, the meal delicious, the dessert sinful. Diane said that she shouldn’t, but she finished every bite.

“What is it about lovely women,” Eric asked, “that they all worry about their weight?” Well, that was an implied compliment. She couldn’t say that worrying about their weight was how they stayed lovely. She wasn’t going to imply that she was one of them, and, really, despite the effort she had put into her makeup, she wasn’t.

When he helped her into her coat, his hands brushed her shoulders and her neck. She shivered. Then he put his own coat on, and they walked to the door. It was past her bedtime when he drove her to her apartment building. He parked and came around to her side to help her out. The touch was as electrifying as ever. When he offered his arm for the walk to her building, she took it. Now she was holding his arm instead of his holding hers. It still sent tingles through her.

“Walk me to the inside door,” she said when she had the outside door open. At the inside door, she turned instead of using her key. “Thanks for the meal,” she said. Eric took the hint and kissed her.

Her lips tingled at the first touch of his. Then he pulled her against him and licked her lips. She sagged into his hug and opened her mouth. When their tongues touched, she was helpless. His arm on her back was holding her up, and his chest was pressing into her breasts. His tongue explored her mouth, bringing electric tingles everywhere it touched.

When some other couple came in the door, Eric let her go. He had to hold her arm until she got her balance. She put the key into the door and got inside. If Eric had followed her, she would have led him up to her apartment. Instead, she had to make that trip alone. She hung up her best dress and washed off her makeup. Then she went back into her room, stripped, put on her nightie, and dropped into bed.

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