THE WIFE HE'S BEEN WAITING FOR
January, 2009

Excerpt:

"Everybody, out at the next stop," Doctor Michael Sloan ordered, as the dark-haired woman slumped against his chest. She wasn't unconscious yet, but he'd bet his medical license that would be the next thing to happen.

He noticed her when she got on. Pale, nervous. Panicked look on her face. Or maybe frightened. Whichever it was, she'd squeezed in and the instant the doors shut, he'd noticed her breathing. It was shallow, rapid. All indicators of someone who didn't want to be there. Panic attack, maybe. Or someone in some kind of real physical distress. Then she'd gone and slumped into him, right into his arms like she'd had it planned, and now, the only thing he could do was hold on to her until they could get off. Then he'd take a look, see what the problem was.

As the doors parted, the dozen or so people crammed into the elevator started to file off while he kept a tight hold on his new patient. He'd never before had one drop into his arms the way this one had. In fact, he couldn't recall that he'd ever had any woman swoon like this, whether or not she was sick. Too bad this one was sick, because he liked the way she smelled. Fresh, something fruity, he thought, as the last three people dashed out, leaving him enough room to lead her through the doors.

Yes, he definitely liked her scent. It wasn't the heavy, sickly-sweet scent of expensive perfume he smelled so often on the ship. Turning in the direction of the door, he prepared to exit. "Now, somebody, please hold open the door for me."

The woman with the monster purple hat wedged her ample body in the door opening to prevent it from closing, as Doctor Sloan started to assist his patient through the elevator doors, but after two steps, her full weight sagged against him, and he had no other recourse but to pick her up and carry her out.

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