The Best Medicine by Dellani Oakes – Part 21

Davida is so happy with Morgan, for helping relieve Tanya's stress, she gives him a kiss.

Morgan stared at her, totally confused. "Wait. I did something right?"

"Oh, you precious man! She was killing herself in that dark, little room." She looked around to see if they were alone. Leaning over conspiratorially, she whispered in his ear. "So, did you make her scream?" She wiggled with anticipation.

Morgan fought a smile, but his lip quirked up into a half grin. "I beg your pardon, Dr. Davidson. Is that appropriate subject matter for two professionals to discuss?" His eyes glittered as he winked at her.

Davida glared at him, her eyes dangerous. "I know you didn't just say that to me."

Morgan's smile grew more secretive as he sipped his coffee, making her wait for his answer.

"Well?" She was going to hit him if he played her too much longer.

"Well, what?"

"You heard me. I don't stutter." Her stance was dangerous.

Morgan looked smugly at her over his coffee cup. "Why—yes." His lips pouted playfully.

Davida kissed him again and hugged him to her, nearly choking the life out of him. "I knew it, I knew it!" Without another word, she strutted out of the lounge and down to the elevator.

"That was one of the weirdest conversations I've ever had," he admitted to the empty room.

The rest of the shift went quietly. Morgan checked on his patients and Tanya depleted a stack of films, she strongly suspected had been left for her to handle. She'd discovered that the other residents, and some of the attendings, didn't actually like to work when on shift. They did as little as possible. Tanya's work ethic, ingrained since birth, made it impossible for her to do that. She worked hard her entire shift, getting more work done than any of the other doctors.

At the end of shift, Grace came down to get her. "Morgan's here asking about you. Ready?"

Tanya nodded as she clicked off the viewers.

"Grace, you aren't related to him too, are you? I'm beginning to think half the town is."

Grace chuckled. "Actually, I'm his aunt. His mother was my younger sister. Now scoot, or I'll put you back to work."

"Yes, Ma'am. I'm going!" She laughed all the way to the front door. Morgan was waiting for her and walked her out to her car.

"You're in a good mood."

"Aunt Grace and I had a talk," she smiled. "I don't suppose you and Melinda are cousins or something, are you?"

"No. Just good friends. We didn't even date, honest." He held up his hands as if surrendering.

They stopped by her car, kissing for several minutes. Tanya hoped he'd suggest another night together, but wasn't sure what to expect. It had been a long shift and he was probably tired.

"So," Morgan said casually. "Want to come over? You've never seen my home."

"I'd like that." She smiled happily, glad he knew what she wanted.

"I live over on Jupiter Lane," he said. "Follow me."

He made sure she was in her car before he walked to his and started out of the parking lot. He drove more slowly than usual, waiting patiently for her to catch up. It was no more than a fifteen minute drive, slightly closer than her house.

Where her house was old, staid and cozy, his was ultra modern and sleek. It reminded Tanya of a mine shaft with lots of metal and odd, acute angles. Over ninety percent of it was glass and she wondered what it cost to heat and cool the place.

Morgan opened an automatic garage door and gestured for her to pull in and park next to him. His garage could easily have held four cars, but half of it was taken up with boxes and crates. He hopped out of his car, closing the door with the remote and walked over to help her out of her car.

"You like it?" He gestured around them. "I just bought it a couple months ago. I'm still getting settled. I've got all that crap to put away, but I haven't had the initiative. Come in and see the place!"

The garage opened into the kitchen which was also ultra-modern. It had a slate tile floor and stainless steel appliances. There was a gas stove top on an island in the middle, with a grill next to it. It was set up for entertaining, with lots of counter tops for serving, as well as a wet bar and smaller island with stools around it. He looked expectantly at her.

"It's the best kitchen ever!"

"Isn't it? This is what sold me on the house. I told the agent the rest of the house could be a hovel and I'd still buy it. Of course, it isn't." He grabbed her hand, excitedly dragging her to the living room.

The floors throughout the house were the same slate tile. The living room was really more of a great room that swung easily into a dining area, TV area and office area.

The different sections were delineated by furniture groups and decorations. In the middle of the living room, there was an amazing bronze sculpture of a Native American warrior. He was gazing into the distance, his hair and clothing blowing in a stiff wind. The artist had used only the head and shoulders of his model, but he had captured the loneliness and sorrow of an entire race in the simple piece.

"That's magnificent! Where did you get such a thing? If you tell me you made it, I'm going to sit right down and cry."

"Me? No! I'm not that talented. I came across it in this little studio in New Orleans a number of years ago. They didn't want to part with it, but I persuaded them to."

© 2020 Dellani Oakes

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