They embraced at the door, and then without speaking they walked arm in arm into the bedroom. Martin pulled her down onto the bed. At first she just acquiesced, enjoying his eagerness, but then she joined, her passion matching his until they both spent themselves in mutual fulfillment.
For some time they lay together, just enjoying the closeness and wishing to retain in their minds the pleasure they gave to each other. Finally Martin propped himself up on an elbow so he could trace his finger down her finely crafted nose and across her lips.
“I think this relationship is getting entirely out of hand,” he said, smiling.
“I agree.”
“I’ve shown symptoms for a couple of weeks, but it’s only been over the last two days that I’m sure of the diagnosis. I’m in love with you, Denise.”
For Denise the word had never had more meaning. Martin had not mentioned love before, even when he told her how much he cared for her.
They kissed lightly. The words hadn’t been necessary but they added a new dimension of closeness.
“Admitting my love for you,” said Martin after a few moments, “scares me in one way. Medicine destroyed my previous relationship and I worry it could do it again.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I do. It has a way of holding one hostage by ever increasing demands.”
“But I understand those demands.”
“I’m not so sure you do. Not yet,” said Martin. He was aware the comment sounded condescending but he knew at this point in Sanger’s career it would be impossible to convince her that running a department made day-to-day medicine as much of a rat race as most other businesses. Besides, Goldblatt’s challenge to their relationship was very much in Philips’ mind, so the worry was not hypothetical.
“I think I understand more than you think,” said Denise. “I think you’ve changed since your divorce. Back then I think you had a kind of macho belief you could get most of your fulfillment from your career. Now I think that’s changed. I believe you realize that the greater part of your satisfaction is going to come from your own interpersonal relationships.”
There was a silence. Martin was stunned at his transparency as well as Denise’s clairvoyance. Denise broke the silence. “The only thing I can’t understand is if you’re interested in having more of a life outside the hospital, why not ease up on your research?”
“Because it can be the key to my freedom,” said Martin holding her close. “You have become my promise for fulfillment and research has the power of giving me what I want from medicine as well as more time with you.”
They kissed, secure in their newly expressed affection for each other. But as they lay there in each other’s arms, they began to feel their fatigue and knew they should go to sleep.
Denise went to brush her teeth, while Martin let his mind drift back to Lynn Anne’s mysterious disappearance. Glancing at the closed bathroom door, he decided to make a quick call to the hospital, reminding the nurse Lynn Anne had been admitted through the ER, then immediately transferred. The nurse recalled the case because the transfer had come right after she’d finished all the admission paper work. Martin asked if she remembered where the patient had been sent, but the nurse said she did not. Philips thanked her and hung up.
In bed he curled up against Denise’s back, but had trouble falling asleep. He began telling her about his disturbing experience with the monkeys with the electrodes in their heads, and asked if she thought the information Mannerheim obtained was worth the sacrifice. Denise, on the verge of sleep, just grunted, but Martin’s overstimulated mind jumped back to his visit to the university’s GYN clinic.
“Hey, have you ever been to the GYN clinic in the hospital?” He pushed himself up on his elbow rolling Denise over on her back. The movement awakened her.
“No. I haven’t.”
“I visited there today and the place gave me a strange feeling.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. It’s hard to say, but then again I haven’t been in too many GYN clinics.”