Gabe speed dialed Rachelle on his Blackberry five times and each time ended the call before it rang.
He had been gone four days and hadn’t heard from his wife. He was so angry he felt like canceling her credit cards. She wouldn’t stay gone long with no money.
He wanted to tell her that, but since she was the one with the attitude problem, she should be calling to set things straight. He didn’t have time to be tracking her down. Time was money.
But today he couldn’t help it. He had to know whether she’d gone back home after she snuck out of the house Wednesday afternoon. He had smashed a glass against a kitchen cabinet when he picked up her voice mail message. If Rachelle hadn’t returned and fixed the mess, Helen would wonder what had happened when she arrived to clean the house this week.
Surely, though, Rachelle wasn’t going to be stupid. She couldn’t be planning to leave for good and give up her lifestyle.
But her complaint about “things” not being enough troubled him. He worked hard, provided well for her and the kids, afforded her nice vacations and entrée into circles of influence most women only fantasized about joining. His work was demanding and sometimes inconvenient, but he made it home for dinner often enough. What else did he have to give? Women could be so needy.
Gabe hadn’t called the house all day, assuming he would reach Rachelle on her cell. But maybe she had come to her senses. He tried their home number, and that call went straight to voice mail.
“I know Rachelle is not still at some hotel,” he said under his breath and glanced at his watch. He had another session in an hour and would be flying home later that afternoon. Dinner and a massage would be the perfect way to make up.
This time when he dialed her cell number, he didn’t hang up. Relief coursed through him when she answered, but it was quickly replaced by anger.
Clearly she had been expecting to hear from someone else. When he asked where she was, she had remained silent long enough for him to fear that she might hang up. He also heard voices in the background.
“Where are you?” he asked again. “Have your hormones settled down yet? Hello?”
“Yes, Gabe, I’m here,” she finally responded. “What’s with the interrogation?”
“What are you talking about?” he said. “I haven’t heard from you since I left Houston. Don’t I have a right to know where my wife is? Until the past month, I never had to ask—you made it your job to keep me informed. Why are you tripping all of a sudden?”
Gabe felt his voice rising, along with his blood pressure. He sat in the hotel lounge and tried to appear nonchalant. A pretty doctor he had met at dinner the night before walked past him and waved.
I should have gone to my room for this conversation, he thought. Rachelle wasn’t going to cut him any slack.
“Listen to you,” she said. “You’re right—we haven’t talked in four days, and what’s the first question you ask me? Are my hormones normal. Then you tell me I’m tripping. That’s why I ‘tripped’ right out the door on Wednesday.”
What had gotten into her? Gabe took a deep breath and pressed his lips together to keep from fueling her fire.
“I’m in Jubilant, visiting Aunt Irene and Uncle Charles,” she finally said.
Gabe felt sucker-punched. He sat forward in the sofa chair and tried to remain calm as groups of physicians swirled past him. “How long have you been there? Are they having a party or something? When are you coming home?”
The questions flew from his mouth as rapidly as they formed in his mind. Better get them out now before he said something else to anger her.
Lyle Stevens, his surgery partner, stepped off the elevator. He pointed at his watch and Gabe checked the time on his own. Forty minutes until their presentation. Gabe gave him a thumbs-up.
He wasn’t getting off the phone with Rachelle, though, until he had some answers.
“I went to San Diego on Friday to visit Jillian and flew into Houston this morning,” Rachelle said. “Gabe, she’s dying. She had a party to tell her closest friends goodbye.”
So that was it. Her childhood and college friend was dying. Now it all made sense. “I’m sorry to hear that, Rachelle,” Gabe said. He knew how to handle patients who were struggling with difficult diagnoses. He did it all the time and always received glowing reviews for bedside manner.
“I know this is difficult,” he said. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why didn’t you tell me you were going to California?”
He heard a heavy sigh and suspected she was crying. Gabe settled back into his seat. “This must be traumatic for you, especially with Jillian being so young. I’m so sorry.”
Silence permeated the airwaves.
“You know what, Gabe?”
He could tell that Rachelle was clinching her teeth.
“I am insulted,” she said. “I’ve heard you assume this same tone hundreds of times when you’ve had to make difficult calls to your patients or their relatives. I would think that you’d have some real empathy to share with your wife, not some canned method you honed in med school.”
Gabe winced. He had underestimated her.
“What do you want anyway?” Rachelle asked.
This was it. The moment to get everything back on track. “Look, Rachelle, I’m sorry about everything that I’ve said or done over the past few days to upset you,” Gabe said as softly as he could, hoping that the doctors, who had begun to meet in the lobby for the upcoming sessions, weren’t listening. “Just come home so we can figure it out, okay? I’m taking a flight out tonight and will be there by seven p.m. Can you get to Houston by then and pick me up from the airport?”
Rachelle’s laugh was short and dry. He wished he could see her face; she sounded so unlike herself.
“Do I have ‘Taxi Driver’ stamped across my forehead, Gabe? Sorry—can’t do it,” Rachelle said. “And by the way, I gave Helen the week off, so she’s not going to be there, either.
“I’m at Aunt Irene’s for a barbecue in honor of Indigo’s birthday. She turned fifteen yesterday. Plus, I haven’t spent any time with my aunt and uncle in forever, thanks to you. I’m here now, so I might as well stay and enjoy myself.”
Gabe rose from the seat and grabbed his briefcase, which sat near his feet. “Rachelle, why are you doing this? I’ll be home tonight and I’m leaving for Uganda on Tuesday, remember? What’s going on? Are you messing around? Don’t be stupid.”
Rachelle wasn’t the type to cheat, but something clearly had her acting out of character. Did she know about Veronica? He quickly dismissed that thought. He had been too careful.
Maybe it was simply the shock of Jillian’s looming death. Whatever the cause, he needed to nip it, because it had Rachelle pushing all the boundaries.
He hated for her to go back to Jubilant without him. Somehow she always wound up on Everson’s campus, visiting the special spots she had shared with Troy or passing the church where she had eloped with Troy or visiting the aunt and uncle who had loved Troy as much as they had loved her.
Now she had defied his wishes and was probably there rehashing her past at a time when she was angry with him. At least Troy had moved away a long time ago.
He frowned again and wished he could get her under control. For now, he’d just be happy to have her home.
“Gabe, I’m sorry, but I won’t be there tonight,” Rachelle said, more calmly this time. “I’ll think about coming tomorrow, to be there before you leave for Uganda. In case I don’t, I’ve already packed your bags. They’re tucked in the right corner of your closet. Your passport and travel checklist are there too, okay? Be safe.”
She ended the call without giving him a chance to respond. Here he was, preparing to travel to Africa, and his wife was abandoning him.
Gabe placed the Blackberry in his belt clip and walked toward Stevens, who was waiting near the elevators, eyeing him.
“Everything all right? Ready for our presentation?”
Gabe forced a smile and clapped his friend and colleague on the back. “Ready as I’ll ever be, man. Let’s do it.”
Right now, work required his focus. Whether it happened tonight or after his ten-day stay in Uganda, he was going to put Rachelle in check. The other docs bragged all the time about straightening out their wives and girlfriends and reminding them who wore the pants. He’d never had a problem with Rachelle, and as far as he was concerned, he wouldn’t for much longer.
When he was off of his game because of distractions at home, someone’s life potentially could be jeopardized. If she wanted him to continue living up to his duties as her husband, she needed to fall in line as his wife.