Side Effects Read Online Free PDF Page B

freezing. Still, some show of indignation was called for. But not this, she realized quickly. At the moment she accepted the absurdity of her gesture and decided to turn back, she heard the distinctive rev of the MG behind her. There could be no retreat now. It was a game between them, but not a game. Their scenarios were often carefully staged, but they were Page 13
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    life all the same; actions and reactions, spontaneous or not, that provided the dynamics unique to their relationship. There had been no such dynamics in her first marriage. Put simply, Arthur Everett decreed and his dutiful wife Kathryn acquiesced. For two destructive years it had been that way. Her childhood programming offered no alternatives, and she had been too frightened, too insecure, to question. Even now there were times, though gradually fewer and farther between, when dreams of the farmhouse and the children, the well-stocked, sunlit kitchen and the pipe smoke wafting out from the study, dominated her thoughts.
    They were, she knew, nothing more than the vestiges--the reincarnations--of that childhood programming.
    Unfortunately, much of Jared's programming was continually being reinforced, thanks largely to a father who remained convinced that God's plan for women was quite different from His plan for men.
    "You have a wonderful behind, do you know that?"
    Jared's voice startled her. He was driving alongside her, studying her anatomy through a pair of binoculars.
    "Yes, I know that." She stiffened enough to be sure he could notice and walked on. Please don't get hurt, she thought. Put those silly binoculars down and watch where you're going.
    "And your face. Have I told you lately about your face?"
    "No, but go ahead if you must."
    "It is the blue ribbon, gold medal, face-of the-decade face, that's what."
    "You tried to get me killed in there." Kate slowed, but did not stop.
    "It was childish."
    "And ... ?"
    "And it was dumb."
    "And ... ?"
    "And it didn't work."
    "Jared!"
    "And I'm sorry. I really am. The devil made me do it, but I went and let 'im." He opened the door. She stopped, hesitated the obligatory few seconds, and got in. The scenario was over.
    Through it, a dram of purulence had been drained from their marriage before it could fester. Energy no longer enmeshed in their anger would now be rechanneled, perhaps to a joint attack today on the pile of unsplit wood in the yard and later to a battle with the Times crossword puzzle. As likely as not, before the afternoon was through, they would make love.
    Eyes closed, Kate settled back in her seat, savoring what she had just heard. I'm sorry. He had actually said it.
    Apologizing has been bred out of Samuels men was yet another teaching from the philosophy of J. Winfield Samuels. Kate had suffered the pain of that one on more than one occasion. She thought about Jared's vehement reaction to the possibility of her taking over the chairmanship of her department. The morning, she had decided, had been a draw: Dad 1. Wife 1.
    #. /'
    "Now, Dr. Engleson, you may proceed with your report."
    Tom Engleson's groan was not as inaudible as he would have liked. "Your patient is still bleeding, sir. That's my report." During his year and a half of residency on the ' Ashburton Service at Metropolitan Hospital of Boston, Engleson had had enough dealings with D.K. Bartholomew to know that he would be lucky to escape with anything less than a fifteen-minute conversation. Dr. Donald K. Bartholomew held the receiver in his left hand, adjusted the notepad in front of him, and straightened his posture. "And what is her blood count?"
    "Twenty-five. Her crit is down to twenty-five from twenty-eight." Engleson pictured the numbers being shakily reproduced in black felt tip. "She has had a total of five units transfused in the last twenty-four hours, two of whole blood, one of packed cells, and two of fresh frozen plasma." He closed his eyes