Page 79 of Prognosis Bad Timing

Carrie sighed. She didn’t want to know this. She didn’t want to listen to this. She wanted him gone. Before she did something stupid, like throw herself at him.

‘I really don’t want to rehash this, Charlie. If that’s what you came for, you might as well just leave.’

Charlie could see the dark smudges under her eyes. She obviously hadn’t been sleeping. Now, there he could relate. She looked like she was out of patience and he knew that trying to convince her of his love tonight was the wrong move.

‘I want you to help me save the centre.’

‘What?’

Bingo! ‘Have you completed your report?’

‘Today.’

‘Have you submitted it?’

She shook her head. ‘Tomorrow.’ Along with her resignation.

‘Don’t.’

Carrie shot him an exasperated look. ‘I hope you didn’t come to persuade me to interfere with my investigation.’ She loved him but she wouldn’t do that.

‘No.’ He shook his head vehemently. ‘Of course not. I’m just asking you to...delay it a little.’

‘Charlie...’

He put his hands up in a silencing gesture. ‘Just hear me out, OK? You know the centre’s finances backwards. You know how it got broken. You must know how it can be fixed. I have a bunch of ideas I’ve been working on —’ He thrust a folder towards her ‘To make the expansion and the clinic viable. And I know you can do the rest.’

‘Charlie...’

Couldn’t he see she just wanted to get on with her life? She didn’t want any more involvement with him. It would be hard enough loving him and never seeing him again. But having to work with him to save the centre?

She’d never survive it.

‘I know you care about the centre. You go on about the bottom line but I’ve seen the change in you over the last few weeks. And the centre did that. It gave you back your love of medicine.’

Hot tears well in her eyes. ‘No, Charlie. You gave me back my love of medicine.’

He shrugged. ‘I am the centre.’

She nodded. He was right. Every patient, every basketball game, every ding in the walls was his. He’d built it up. His personal stamp was everywhere. Every corner, every piece of furniture had a story. And he could relay each one.

‘I know you care what happens to my community. To people. I could see that in you that night you knelt on the road beside me.’

He walked towards her slowly until he was so close he could hear her uneven breathing. He stroked a hand down the side of her neck and rubbed his thumb over the pulse that was beating frantically at the base of her throat.

‘You were scared rigid but you helped anyway. I need your help again, Carrie.’

She swallowed. The man she loved was standing before her, touching her, asking her for help. Did she have the power to deny him? My community, he had said. His community. Could she turn her back on a bunch of people who needed Charlie and his centre?

People who in a few short weeks had also entered her affections?

‘I’ll look...’ She stopped and coughed to clear the huskiness from her voice. ‘Look over it and let you know,’ she acquiesced, taking the folder.

‘Thank you.’

Carrie nodded, not trusting her voice. He reached out for her and she took a step back, shaking her head, impossibly weary.

He had to go before she completely broke down.

---