17. Lucy
17
LUCY
The news about Dr. Rivkin being dropped from the list of candidates for chief of staff is a relief. I’m thrilled, not just for Joel but for the entire hospital. Joel hasn’t said much about it. He’s always measured in moments like these, but I can tell he’s relieved too. His actions made this happen, his bravery in standing up for what’s right. I feel a surge of pride knowing that I’m part of his life, supporting him in ways I never thought I could.
With Joel tied up in meetings at the hospital, I decide to surprise the boys after school. Miles and Finn tumble into the car, their backpacks askew, and faces bright with the energy that only an eight- and six-year-old can muster after a full day of learning.
“Guess what?” I say, turning around in the driver’s seat to face them.
“What?” they chorus, eyes wide with curiosity.
“We’re going to the ice cream store. Your dad won’t be home until later, so I think we need ice cream, just us three.”
“Yes!” Miles pumps his fist in the air.
“Can I get sprinkles?” Finn asks, his face lighting up.
“Of course,” I say, laughing. “Sprinkles are a must.”
The ice cream shop is a quaint little spot on Main Street with pastel-colored walls and the scent of waffle cones wafting through the air. Finn insists on trying three different samples before deciding on chocolate with rainbow sprinkles, while Miles opts for a towering cone of mint chip. I settle for a small vanilla, content to watch them revel in their treat.
We sit by the window, the boys giggling as Finn’s cone starts to drip down his fingers. I hand him a napkin, smiling at the joy radiating from their faces. It’s moments like these that remind me how lucky I am to be a part of their lives. I may have come here to escape my own troubles, but these boys have given me a sense of purpose I didn’t know I needed.
As we finish up, my phone buzzes with a text from Joel.
Still at the hospital. How’s everything going?
I quickly reply: Great! Took the boys for ice cream. Also, Mrs. Harlow offered to babysit tonight. What do you think about a quick dinner out?
His response is almost immediate: Sounds perfect. Need to clear my head. Let’s do it.
By the time Joel gets home, the boys are fed and settled with Mrs. Harlow, who’s brought along a jigsaw puzzle to keep them entertained. Joel looks exhausted but determined, his tie loosened and his sleeves rolled up.
“You look nice,” he says, taking in my simple navy dress and the way I’ve styled my hair.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I reply, giving him a warm smile. “Ready?”
We head to a small restaurant a few blocks away, a cozy spot with low lighting and rustic charm. It’s the kind of place where everyone knows everyone, and tonight is no different. Several people wave as we walk in, and the hostess greets Joel by name before leading us to a corner table.
As we settle in, Joel’s shoulders seem to relax slightly. “I needed this,” he admits, glancing at me over the top of his menu.
“Me too,” I say. “It’s nice to have a moment to breathe.”
The evening starts out perfectly. We order simple dishes. Joel opts for steak while I go for pasta and we spend the first half of the meal talking about the boys, the hospital, and the small moments of our day that we rarely get to share.
But then, the atmosphere shifts.
I notice him first. Dr. Rivkin enters the restaurant, his presence commanding despite the unsteady way he carries himself. His face is flushed, and his movements are jerky as he scans the room. My stomach drops when his eyes land on us.
“Joel,” I whisper, my voice low. “He’s here.”
Joel follows my gaze, his expression hardening. “Stay calm,” he says quietly, his hand moving to rest on mine. “Let’s see what he does.”
What he does is march straight over to our table.
“Anderson,” Rivkin says, his voice loud enough to draw the attention of nearby diners. “Out celebrating your little victory, huh?”
Joel’s jaw tightens. “Dr. Rivkin, this isn’t the time or place.”
“Oh, I think it’s the perfect place,” Rivkin sneers. His words are slightly slurred, and I catch the sharp scent of alcohol as he leans closer. “You think you’re some kind of hero, don’t you? Going behind my back, spreading lies…”
“That’s enough,” Joel says firmly, his voice low but commanding. “You need to leave.”
“Or what?” Rivkin challenges, his tone mocking. “You’ll report me to the board? Oh, wait, you already did that.”
The tension at the table is suffocating. I can feel every eye in the restaurant on us, the weight of their stares making my skin crawl. Joel stays calm, but I can see the strain in his posture, the way his muscles are coiled like a spring.
“Dr. Rivkin,” Joel says, his voice steady but laced with steel. “You’re drunk. Let me call you a cab.”
Rivkin’s laugh is harsh and bitter. “You think you can dismiss me? Like I’m nothing? I’ve given my life to that hospital. Who the hell do you think you are?”
Joel stands, his height and calm demeanor a stark contrast to Rivkin’s unhinged aggression. “Let’s take this outside,” Joel says quietly. “There are families here. Let’s not make a scene.”
For a moment, I think Rivkin might refuse. His eyes dart around the room, taking in the silent, watchful faces of the other diners. Finally, he jerks his head to the side and stalks toward the door, Joel following a few steps behind.
I stay seated, my hands gripping the edge of the table as I fight to keep my breathing steady. The murmurs around me grow louder as the door swings shut behind them, the tension in the room crackling like static electricity.
Several agonizing minutes pass before Joel returns, his expression grim. He sits down across from me, running a hand through his hair.
“He’s gone,” he says. “I called him a cab. Told the driver to make sure he got home.”
I let out a shaky breath, the tightness in my chest easing slightly. “That was… intense.”
“Yeah,” Joel says, his voice heavy. “But maybe it’s a good thing. There were plenty of witnesses to his behavior tonight. If he tries to claim this is all some kind of conspiracy, this will only hurt his credibility.”
I nod, though the memory of Rivkin’s angry, unhinged gaze still lingers in my mind. “I’m just glad you stayed calm. I don’t know if I could have.”
Joel leans back in his chair, exhaling a long, measured breath. His hands, usually so steady, drum against the table. It's subtle, but I catch it. He’s trying to mask how rattled he is, but the cracks are showing.
“Joel,” I say softly, my voice trembling despite my attempt to sound steady. “What happens now? With him? With… everything?”
He doesn’t answer right away, his gaze fixed on a spot just over my shoulder. His jaw tightens, and I can see the gears turning in his head, calculating, strategizing. It’s the same look he gets when he’s diagnosing a tough case, but this isn’t the hospital. This is real life, and it’s messy, unpredictable.
“He’s a liability,” Joel finally says, his voice low. “I knew that already, but tonight just confirms it. If he doesn’t self-destruct first, someone’s going to make sure he does.”
The weight of his words sinks into me, heavy and unrelenting. “What do you mean? Someone?”
Joel’s eyes snap to mine, sharp and piercing. “This is about more than me, Lucy. Rivkin’s been making enemies for years. I’ve ignored a lot of his behavior for the sake of professionalism, but not everyone is as patient. And if he doesn’t back down, things could escalate.”
My stomach churns. “Escalate how? Are you saying he’s dangerous?”
Joel hesitates, the silence stretching thin between us. Finally, he leans forward, lowering his voice even further. “Rivkin’s desperate. Desperate people do reckless things. I don’t want to worry you, but…” His eyes search mine, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through his usually composed exterior. “Just be careful, okay? If anything seems off, at home, around town, tell me immediately.”
The thought sends a shiver down my spine. I try to swallow the lump forming in my throat. “Okay,” I manage to say, though my voice feels small, fragile.
Joel reaches across the table, his hand brushing mine in a brief, grounding touch. It’s enough to tether me, to remind me I’m not alone in this storm. “Let’s get out of here,” he says. “I think we’ve had enough drama for one night.”
We gather our things and make our way to the exit, the hushed murmurs of the other diners following us like shadows. Outside, the crisp night air hits me like a slap, sharp and sobering. Joel’s car is parked just a few steps away, but the short distance feels like a mile. My pulse quickens as I scan the street, half-expecting Rivkin to reappear, his anger renewed.
Joel must sense my unease because he steps closer, pulling his arm around me like a protective shield. “He’s not coming back,” he says, his tone firm. “I made sure of it.”
I nod, but the knot in my stomach doesn’t loosen. As we drive back to Joel’s house, the silence between us feels heavier than usual, filled with unspoken fears and lingering tension.
When we get home, the boys are already asleep, we thank Mrs. Harlow and Joel walks her to her house down the block. A few hours later, I find myself standing in the kitchen, staring out the window into the dark expanse of the backyard. Joel’s words replay in my mind, their weight pressing down on me like a physical force.
Desperate people do reckless things.
I shiver, wrapping my arms around myself despite the warmth of the room. The thought of Rivkin lurking somewhere in the shadows, plotting his next move, sends a chill down my spine. I don’t want to be paranoid, but it’s hard not to be.
The sound of footsteps pulls me from my thoughts. I turn to see Joel standing in the doorway, his tie loosened, his sleeves rolled up. He looks tired, the events of the evening etched into the lines of his face.
“Can’t sleep?” he asks, his voice soft.
I shake my head. “Too much on my mind.”
Joel steps into the room, his presence grounding as he leans against the counter across from me. “I get it. Tonight was… a lot.”
I let out a hollow laugh. “That’s an understatement.”
For a moment, neither of us speaks. The silence is heavy but not uncomfortable, a shared understanding passing between us. Finally, Joel pushes off the counter and closes the distance between us.
“Lucy,” he says, his voice low and serious. “I know tonight scared you. Hell, it scared me, too. But I need you to trust me. I’ll handle Rivkin. I’ll protect you and the boys. Always.”
The sincerity in his eyes makes my breath catch. I’m unable to find the words to respond. Joel reaches out, his hand brushing my cheek in a gesture so tender it makes my heart ache.
But before I can say anything, the sound of his phone buzzing on the counter breaks the moment. Joel sighs, pulling back as he reaches for the device. His expression darkens as he glances at the screen.
“It’s the hospital,” he says, his tone sharp.
“Do you need to go in?” I ask, already bracing myself for the answer.
Joel shakes his head, frowning as he reads the message. “It’s not that. It’s…” He trails off, his eyes narrowing as he types out a quick reply.
“What is it?” I press, my anxiety spiking.
Joel hesitates, his jaw tightening. “Rivkin. He showed up at the ER. Security had to escort him out.”
My blood runs cold. “Is he okay?”
Joel’s expression hardens. “He’s fine. Drunk and belligerent, but fine. The problem is, he’s pushing boundaries. Showing up at the hospital like that? It’s a power move. He’s trying to make a statement.”
“What kind of statement?” I ask, my voice trembling.
Joel meets my gaze, his eyes dark and unyielding. “That he’s not going down without a fight, but all he is doing is making things worse for himself.”
The weight of his words settles over me like a suffocating blanket. Before I can respond, Joel’s phone buzzes again. He glances at the screen, his expression shifting from frustration to something more serious.
“Stay here,” he says suddenly, his tone sharp.
“Joel…”
“Stay here, Lucy,” he repeats, already moving toward the front door.
I follow him despite his command, my heart pounding in my chest. “What’s going on?”
Joel doesn’t answer. He steps outside, his eyes scanning the darkened street. I peek out behind him, my pulse racing as I try to understand what he’s looking for.
And then I see it.
A car parked just down the street, its engine idling. The figure inside is obscured by shadows, but I can feel the weight of their gaze, their presence oppressive and menacing.
“Go inside,” Joel says, his voice low and urgent.
“Joel, I…”
“Lucy. Go. Inside.”
The steel in his voice leaves no room for argument. I step back into the house, my hands shaking as I lock the door behind me. Through the window, I watch as Joel approaches the car, his shoulders squared, his stance tense.
The figure in the car doesn’t move, but the air feels charged, like the moment before a lightning strike. My breath catches in my throat as Joel reaches the driver’s side window, his expression unreadable.
And then the car door opens.