Unfinished Business - Nora Roberts Page 0,35
get this reaction?”
She closed her eyes. Why didn’t he just go and leave her alone? “I suppose.”
“Do you get gnawing aches, here, under the breastbone?”
“Sometimes.”
“And in your stomach?”
“It’s more of a grinding, I guess.”
“Like acute hunger pangs.”
“Yes.” The accuracy of his description made her frown. “It passes.”
“What are you taking for it?”
“Just over-the-counter stuff.” And enough was enough. “Brady, becoming a doctor’s obviously gone to your head. You’re making a case out of nothing. I’ll take a couple of antacids and be fine.”
“You don’t treat an ulcer with antacids.”
“I don’t have an ulcer. That’s ridiculous. I’m never sick.”
“You listen to me.” He propped a hand on either side of her head. “You’re going into the hospital for tests—X rays, an upper G.I. And you’re going to do what I tell you.”
“I’m not going to the hospital.” The very idea of it made her remember the horror of her father’s last days. “You’re not my doctor.”
He swore at her richly.
“Nice bedside manner. Now get out of my way.”
“You stay right here. And I mean right here.”
She obeyed, only because she didn’t know if she could manage to stand. Why now? she wondered as she fought against the pain. Why here? She’d had nasty attacks like this before, but she’d always been alone, and she’d always been able to weather them. And she would weather it this time. Just as she was struggling to sit up, Brady came back with his father.
“Now, what’s all this?” Ham said.
“Brady overreacting.” She managed to smile, and would have swung her legs off the bed if Brady hadn’t stopped her.
“She doubled up with pain when we were outside. There’s burning in the abdomen, acute tenderness under the breastbone.”
Ham sat on the bed and began his own gentle probing. His questions ran along the same lines as Brady’s, and his face became more and more sober at her answers. At last he sat back.
“Now what’s a young girl like you doing with an ulcer?”
“I don’t have an ulcer.”
“You’ve got two doctors telling you different. I assume that’s your diagnosis, Brady.”
“It is.”
“Well, you’re both wrong.” Vanessa struggled to push herself up. Ham merely shifted the pillows behind her and eased her back. With a nod, he looked back at his son.
“Of course, we’ll confirm it with X rays and tests.”
“I’m not going in the hospital.” She was desperately hanging on to one small bit of control. “Ulcers are for Wall Street brokers and CEOs. I’m a musician, for God’s sake. I’m not a compulsive worrier, or someone who lets tension rule my life.”
“I’ll tell you what you are,” Brady said, anger shimmering in his voice. “You’re a woman who hasn’t bothered to take care of herself, who’s too damn stubborn to sit back and admit when she’s taken on too much. And you’re going to the hospital if I have to hog-tie you.”
“Easy there, Dr. Tucker,” Ham said mildly. “Van, have you had any vomiting, any traces of blood?”
“No, of course not. It’s just a little stress, maybe a little overwork—”
“A little ulcer,” he told her firmly. “But I think we can treat it with medication if you’re going to hang tough about the hospital.”
“I am. And I don’t see that I need medication, or two doctors hovering over me.”
“Testy,” Ham commented. “You’ll have medication or the hospital, young lady. Remember, I’m the one who treated you for damn near everything, starting with diaper rash. I think a cimetidine might clear this up,” he said to Brady. “As long as she stays away from spicy food and alcohol for the length of the treatment.”
“I’d like it better if she had the tests.”
“So would I,” he agreed. “But short of dosing her with morphine and dragging her in, I think this is the cleanest way to treat it.”
“Let me think about the morphine,” Brady grumbled, and made his father chuckle.
“I’m going to write you a prescription,” he told Vanessa. “You get it filled tonight. You have twenty minutes before the pharmacy in Boonsboro closes.”
“I’m not sick,” she said, pouting.
“Just humor your soon-to-be-stepfather. I’ve got my bag downstairs. Brady, why don’t you come along with me?”
Outside the door, Ham took his son’s arm and pulled him to the head of the stairs. “If the medication doesn’t clear it up within three or four days, we’ll put some pressure on her to have the tests. Meanwhile, I think the less stress the better.”
“I want to know what caused it.” Fury vibrated through his voice as he stared at the closed bedroom