The Broken Road

By Susan Lute

Dr. Dana Murphy has everything a physician can want. Everything except the one thing she can't get back. When she's diagnosed with a degenerative condition that threatens the career she loves, and her husband discovers he has a teenage daughter, it all begins to unravel. When her crazy mother and sister come to stay, in the chaos that follows, she scrambles to scotch tape her life back together and instead finds herself on the brink of losing everything she holds dear.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Susan Lute
• Release date: Dec 6, 2015
• ISBN: 9780984978441

Book preview

Chapter One

Her mask and booties in place, Dr. Dana Murphy scrubbed her hands at the basin sink. The smell of antiseptic soap lingering, she bumped the faucet with her elbow, held her dripping hands up, and joined Lori Klein in the sterile surgery suite.

Five hard hours later, pleased that all had gone as expected, she’d finished the first two cases and was standing at her next patient’s bedside.

A sudden thread of uneasiness fluttered in her chest. Any last questions for me?

I don’t think so.

Nervous?

Yes.

That makes two of us. Why?

Brushing off the unsettled chill she hadn't felt since residency, she patted Mrs. Swanks shoulder. Don’t worry. You’ll do fine. We both will. You’ll be in recovery before you know it. Is your husband in the waiting room?

Her hands fluttering against the sheet, the older woman nodded. With my daughter.

I’ll talk to them as soon as we’re done. Dana cradled Mrs. Swanks’ hands, gently unfurling her fingers. I promise everything will be all right.

The orderly came. Dana held Mrs. Swanks hand until she couldn’t anymore, and went one more time to the scrub station.

Looking back, she would always remember the exact moment when all that was perfect in her life shattered. It was halfway through Mrs Swanks' surgery.

Hand losing all feeling, the cautery she was using to obliterate the last of the adhesions slipped from her grasp. Landing with a loud clatter on the instrument tray, the noise clashing with the anesthesiologist’s classical music, the instrument bounced to the floor, narrowly missing the blue paper booties covering her feet.

Stunned, she looked up, directly into the intent gaze of Brian Sebastian, the new Chief of Surgery.

Pain shot down her back and arm. A whimpered yelp escaped lips tightened into a straight line.

She froze.

What’s the matter? Lori’s concern penetrated Dana’s panic.

By sheer force of will, she shifted her shoulder to ease the shrieking muscles holding her immobile. Pain settled into a dull roar.

Breaking away from Sebastian’s disapproving stare, she answered Lori. I can’t feel my fingers.

Putting aside the retractor she’d been using, Lori came around the foot of the surgery table to gingerly hold Dana's hand and manipulate numb fingers. Do you feel any of this?

Wincing, she refused to look in Sebastian’s direction. No. Maybe some tingling.

How is your other arm? Compassionate dark eyes studied Dana over Lori’s surgical mask.

She carefully rotated her shoulder. Fine.

Lori turned to the circulating nurse. Page Dr. Otto. He can help me finish up.

I can finish.

Dana, we’re almost done here. Go have that arm looked at.

Dana couldn’t make her feet move. Lori was one of those relentlessly cheerful sorts, she didn’t understand, but the older surgeon was a conscientious physician, semi-retired now, who’d been operating since God was in knee pants.

She could put up with a lot for the safety of her patients. Including listening to Lori hum tonelessly through hours of tiring surgery. And she’d promised Mrs. Swanks everything would be okay.

You’re right. Of course. I’ll go talk to the family.

Lori returned to her side of the table. Okay kids, let’s change my gloves.

Heart sinking, for the first time in her career, Dana left a patient’s bedside, job unfinished. Shortly after reassuring Mr. Swanks his wife was in the best hands and would be fine, she leaned her forehead against the cold surface of her locker in the doctor’s changing room, thinking longingly of the cup of Earl Grey Grady would have waiting for her.

The terrifying moment when she’d lost her grip on the surgical instrument refused to be tethered. What if it had landed on the patient? A nearly debilitating crackle of fear raced up her spine, lodging in her chest.

What was that?

Straightening, she faced her new boss. An accident that won’t happen again.

No, it won’t. Heavy brows raised in question deepened the lines of displeasure in an otherwise nice face. You would tell me if I had something to worry about, wouldn’t you Dr. Murphy?

Inside, Dana cringed. The new boss knew her name, and the fact that he had the power to make her professional life miserable, didn’t ease the pressure in her chest. Yes. Of course.

Good. Before you step into the OR again, I want a neurology consult on my desk. The look in his storm-colored eyes said he’d be watching. Closely.

When he left the changing room, Dana’s chin sank to her chest.

Dear God. The numbness had slowly gotten worse over the last six months. Self diagnosis hadn’t worked in her favor, and she’d waited too long to have her primary doc take a look.

She stayed there, unmoving as she searched for a way out of forfeiting her surgical privileges. There was no solution but the obvious.

Finally Lori’s unwanted presence roused her. Do you want me to call someone?

No. She couldn’t look at the other doctor. Thanks.

Sure?

Yes. She grabbed her cell from the locker and dialed. Lori moved off to change out of her scrubs.

Dr. Chang’s office. Rebecca speaking. May I help you?

The formality cleared her mind. She had no other option.

This is Dr. Dana Murphy. I need to make an appointment with Dr. Chang.

Certainly, Doctor. I have an opening Friday morning at nine o’clock.

That would give her two days to see if there was anyway to prevent her life from turning upside down.

That’ll be fine. She snapped the cell closed.

Dr. Murphy? The soft Hispanic inflection intruded on her near hysteria. It was Maria Hernandez, who worked in medical records, and whose mother had been her first case that day. Do you need some water or something?

Thanks, Maria, no.

I wanted to say thank you. My mother would never have had the operation if you hadn’t been so kind to her. She’s afraid of the other doctors.

Uncomfortable with the sincerity ringing in Maria’s voice, Dana paused, her hands gripping the bottom of the scrub top she’d been about to pull off over her head. How’s she doing?

Very good. Already, she has gotten out of bed. Maria smiled.

Dana shifted uneasily, as always, uncomfortable with the deceptive hospital informality. She was much better with her patients than she was with their families.

She’s asking for you. I told her you were very busy, but she insists. She made a gift for you, and wants to give it to you herself.

I’ll stop in to see her as soon as I change.

I will tell her.

Thank you, Maria. The woman left and Dana finished changing, easing back her shoulder when she finally managed to change from the scrub top to the white coat that bore her name.

She paused on the brink of leaving the changing room. There it was again. That hint of nervousness she couldn’t quite tamp down.

What the hell was wrong with her? Other than being dead tired from a long day in surgery, and that stupid-assed mistake in the OR, she couldn’t think of a single reason why she should feel as though she were waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Chapter Two

It was dark by the time she climbed out of her car, ten leagues beyond exhausted, and made her way up the lighted front steps of the restored Victorian she shared with her husband. Over her arm draped the delicate, soft lap blanket Isabelle Hernandez had knitted for her.

Grady, tall and silent opened the front door before she could insert the key. Surprising light-blue eyes measured her fatigue, while slashes of concern bracketed each side of his strong, unsmiling mouth. A dimple carved out a sexy furrow in his chin. Dark blond hair stuck up in unruly, spiky wisps.

If she had the energy, she would have him on the nearest flat surface.

After all these years, it was gratifying that the man she’d married, and still loved – most of the time – could bring a rush to her senses with one look. Unfortunately, the look he sent her now was not meant to be provocative.

Long day? he asked in the husky voice that had first attracted her. He took her knapsack and the bag she carried back and forth to the office, placing them both on the table in the entryway.

Definitely.

Surgery days started at five in the morning. Hell, every day began at five. She’d never been able to sleep more than six hours at a time. No doubt a left over gift from the early days of her career when she was called to deliver babies in the middle of the night.

Dinner’s ready.

I’m not hungry.

How’s your arm?

She readily admitted Grady was a much better husband than she was a wife. More often than not lately, she was short with him, his constant hovering pressing buttons she wished she had under better control.

But it was late, and it wasn’t in her to massage the sharpness out of her voice. It’s fine.

Embarrassed at losing her temper, she spun on one heel and went upstairs to change into her sweats. By the time she got back, she’d recovered her ability to speak civilly.

Grady was in the kitchen removing a plate of chicken and rice from the microwave.

She made a face. One thing that could be said about her husband, he never gave up on her. Which was a good thing, since she could have been more careful with their relationship.

I’m sorry. I’m tired. My arm’s a bit numb from the last surgery. She wasn’t going to tell Grady about the cautery incident. What he didn’t know would save her a needless argument.

As if he knew she was keeping secrets, his lips thinned. Wordlessly he carried two plates to the living room, where he placed one on a TV tray next to her recliner. A heating pad waited, draped over the back of the chair. A cup of steaming tea welcomed her.

Relief washed through Dana. Everything in this home they’d made together was exactly as it should be. She sank into the pale upholstery, flipped on the switch of the heating pad and positioned it on her cranky shoulder.

Before sitting with his own plate, Grady moved the tray so she could reach her food without dislodging the merciful heat.

She paid him back by being uber-cordial. How was your day?

I got an order for three sailboats, which means I’ll have to spend more time at the shop than usual.

Dana frowned, suddenly unable to do more than nibble at the food he’d prepared for her. Building sailboats had started out as a hobby for Grady. It’d been something to do while she was busy with her patients, but recently had turned into a growing business that took up more and more of his time. And, while she was glad he had work of his own to do, shamefully she liked having him available to keep her life running smoothly.

She was a selfish woman and knew it. The plain truth was, it took both of them to make her life work. Grady had been around long enough to know that.

I’m glad for you. She bit off the words in an effort to maintain the manners her husband prized so highly. Anyway, it wasn’t exactly a lie. She was happy for him.

Don’t you think it’s time you saw a doctor. Casting an uncompromising look in her direction, he set aside his plate and stalked to the kitchen.

She wiggled her fingers experimentally. The feeling was returning. Maybe.

She should tell him she’d already made an appointment. But when he returned, a small pair of nippers he used to trim the fading blooms from his favorite African Violet in hand, she couldn't bring herself to interrupt his ritual.

For as long as she’d known him, he’d had an ongoing love affair with the hardy little plant. This one, with its deep purple blooms, he kept on the coffee table where he insisted, it got the perfect amount of light.

Perfect. That was all she wanted. Her life to be exactly as she’d fashioned it over the last five years.

I’ll make an appointment with Cheryl for you.

A tense silence blew up between them. That’s not necessary.

The scissors making gentle snipping sounds, he glanced up, his usually open expression unreadable. He surprised her with a stern, "It is necessary. This is nothing to fool around with. You’ve let it go long enough."

Why was she fighting with him? Because she didn’t like someone else having a say in the life she’d made? A child had more sense than that.

She winced. Where had this chilling distance between them come from? Carefully she laid aside her fork, curled her fingers into a fist to stop the slight tremor there, and muttered wearily, I already have an appointment.

Before she made a fool of herself by doing something stupid, like making a mountain out of Grady’s molehill, she pushed aside the barely touched tray, rose with as much grace as she could manage and went upstairs to their bedroom.

Impatient with the emotions that refused to play nice, she brushed at the sudden moisture gathering in her eyes. She’d had a long, trying day. After a descent night’s sleep, everything would be fine.

Chapter Three

On Friday , Dana’s appointment with Cheryl Chang didn’t go as planned.

I shouldn’t have wasted your time. The numbness has completely gone.

Cheryl lowered Dana’s hand to her lap. Which is a good sign. But, by your own account, the symptoms lasted longer this time. How long has this been going on?

Dana considered her answer. She was only here to make Sebastian – and Grady – happy. Maybe six months. Not more than that, and not often at first. It’s only bad when I have long days in the OR.

Cheryl typed on the laptop sitting on the counter by the sink. I want you to have a MRI. My receptionist will make the appointment for you on your way out.

The MRI’s going to come back normal. She was absolutely certain of that.

You’re probably right, but indulge me. Cheryl looked up. Now tell me how you’re doing otherwise.

Dana thought about the other doctor’s question for all of thirty seconds. There was nothing to tell. The restlessness, anxiety or whatever it was that generally kept her company was an on and off again occurrence. She shrugged her good shoulder. No complaints.

Cheryl studied her for a moment, clearly inclined to question further, but then let it go and went back to typing information into her computerized chart.

Dana made good her escape after letting Cheryl’s receptionist make the MRI appointment for the next day. Her good will gesture to her husband, and the Chief of Surgery, taken care of, she went straight back to the office, where the quiet routine made sense.

The good news was she had no surgeries scheduled until after she came back from New York. But several days later, after an awesome weekend where she and Grady tiptoed around each other, she was happy to be heading back to work.

He’d already left for the day when she woke up, alone in their bed. The house felt eerily empty, magnified by the fact that they weren’t getting along all that well.

Ever since she’d walked out on their last argument, he’d made himself pretty damn scarce. It wasn’t like the man to hold a grudge. This was something new. Unreasonably, she missed him and his harping that she take better care of herself.

Her pager went off. The number flashing on the small screen was Cheryl’s. Grabbing the phone off the counter, she dialed, looking forward to telling Grady her test results were normal.

Dr. Chang here.

Cheryl. It’s Dana. I got your page.

Yes. I have the results of your MRI. You have a severe case of compression of your spinal cord at C-four through seven.

Dana sank onto a stool at the kitchen counter. Are you sure?

Positive. You need to see a neurologist. Until you do, I want you to cut back on your surgeries. The more you over use your arm and shoulder, the worse your condition is going to get.

She didn’t mention the Chief of Surgery had already issued the same order.

My condition– Her heart pounding, she swallowed hard, not quite able to take in what Cheryl was saying. When Grady and I get back from New York, I’m booked back-to-back with surgeries for the next month and a half.

She’d planned the long weekend to Manhattan as an anniversary present for Grady. That should qualify as the break Cheryl was ordering, right?

You'll have to reschedule half of them.

Fighting the disquiet boiling in her chest, Dana pictured the practice she’d built and the patients who depended upon her. Who do you recommend?

Brian Sebastian. I want you to see him as soon as possible. He’s the best neurosurgeon in town. He can give you the differential diagnosis and explain all your options.

A roiling stomach joined the burning cauldron in her chest. The new Chief of Surgery? That Brian Sebastian?

Yes. I’ve done some work with him at the Mayo Clinic. He’s the best there is for this kind of thing.

A fine sweat broke out between Dana’s breasts. Not from hormone fluctuations either. Surgery seems kind of extreme. I don’t–

Dana. Don't put this off. Cheryl’s tone allowed no argument.

I’ll think about it. A lie, since what other choice did she have?

You’d better do more than think about it. If you don’t take care of this, your symptoms will get worse. You could lose complete mobility in your arm. Is that what you want?

Leaning weakly against the counter, she recognized the stern warning. It was the same one she used with her own patients who weren’t willing to hear the truth.

Chapter Four

Grady fought the anger making it difficult to breathe. Half a week after Dana’s appointment to see her doctor, from the doorway into the living room, he watched his wife sleep.

He was tired. The kind of tired that bordered on anger and weighed heavily on his shoulders.

She looked relaxed. At peace. An illusion he was familiar with. The lamplight cast a soft glow on her face as she lay stretched out in her recliner, the heating pad listing crookedly behind her back. The sight of her resting comfortably didn’t soothe his flayed feelings any.

She hadn’t wanted to tell him about the MRI. In typical Dr. Dana fashion she hadn’t said a word about the ramifications, only glossing over the results. But he’d been married to the woman, and at the fringes of the medical profession long enough to know something terrible was wrong.

He uncurled his fists.

She wasn’t interested in his opinion on the matter of her health. It was so ironic that the woman who would move heaven and earth to take care of her patients, was reluctant as hell to do anything for herself. It was one of the things he loved about her and the one thing that burned him up faster than a flame put to dry tinder.

Today, he’d been too long at the shop, and missed making it home before she’d drifted off. A cup of milky tea he hadn’t made sat untouched on the tray beside her, as was the plate of food he’d left in the fridge before going to work.

When he’d first met her, Dana was an intense medical student. He’d been fascinated with her inability to cook without burning whatever she was making. And, her complete lack of interest, or talent for that matter, with anything having to do with the domestic side of her life.

It hadn’t mattered, because he could do all the things she had no time for, and there had been no walking away from the feelings squeezing his chest every time he looked at her.

She’d love him back. He was certain of that. Until, they’d lost the one thing they both held more dear than even their marriage.

Grady’s mind skittered away from the images he carried close to his heart. Of Dana laughing, playing with their baby daughter. Happy as he’d never