Mortal Danger (3 page)

By 1973, Kate had moved to San Diego, California, to fly out of the American Airlines base there. It was a good time to live in San Diego, although the population boom and the inevitable traffic snarls were beginning to emerge. It wasn’t surprising that so many people were moving to San Diego County. The weather was perfect, and there were flowers everywhere Kate looked: bougainvillea, jasmine, poinsettias that grew roof-high, and hibiscuses in many colors. Even the freeway shoulders were carpeted with purple ice plants and manzanita bushes. There was the magnificent
San Diego Zoo, as well as San Diego Bay, with the ocean just beyond.

Kate lived in various apartments, moving often, from Mission Valley to La Mesa, back to Mission Valley and, for a short time, in University City. In the late eighties, she found a condo for rent on Solana Beach. It was located on a cliff and had a magnificent, 180-degree ocean view. The rent was reasonable because she shared it with a platonic male roommate. Their schedules were so different that it was almost like living alone. Solana Beach was perfect for her, as she was a dedicated swimmer who would enjoy the sport for the rest of her life. She was in the ocean swimming or boogie boarding most of the days she wasn’t flying.

When Kate was in her twenties, she always had plenty of dates, but she wasn’t anxious to get married. As she moved into her thirties, she had a few long relationships, but there always came a time when they ended. Sometimes she was the one who wanted to move on; sometimes she realized that the men she dated were averse to any lasting commitment. But she wasn’t lonely—she loved her job, and she was still extremely attractive. She felt no pressure to get married or to plunge into a long-term affair.

Kate Jewell had many interests, and one of them was nutrition and its effect on health, perhaps because she had contracted the cytomegalovirus while she was in Nepal, and the virus had never quite gone away. But she’d always believed that what people ate changed who they were. She was a strict vegetarian who studied and worked in nutrition in the early eighties as she maintained her flight status with American Airlines.

In the fall of 1989, Kate was in her midthirties, a time
when most people pause to evaluate their lives. Kate was no different. She had just ended another relationship and realized that if she ever did marry, it might be too late to have children. She wasn’t unhappy, but she wasn’t really happy, either. She found herself at a crossroads.

Kate started changing her life by literally and figuratively cleaning out her closets, throwing out both clothes and memories that were out-of-date. Then she decided to take better care of her health and feel as good as she possibly could. Always a swimmer, hiker, and exerciser, she had to admit that she was feeling run-down and somewhat weary. Where she had once been slender without effort, recently she had put on some excess pounds. She was subject to hives and had a dime-sized sore on her nose that would not heal; she was quite sure it was caused by the CMV virus and had something to do with her diet.

Kate made an appointment at the Bayview Medical Group on Clairmont Drive in Mission Bay. Dr. John Branden’s background appeared to be outstanding. He had come with enthusiastic recommendations from her friends. The Bayview Clinic was modern and well appointed. She studied the diplomas on his office wall: Dr. Branden had a PhD in biochemistry from the University of Santa Fe College of Natural Medicine. He wasn’t an MD, but he certainly seemed to have had extensive education in nutrition and alternative medical treatments.

“Hi,” he said, holding out his hand to cradle hers. “I’m Dr. John.”

On first meeting, Dr. Branden was impressive, although he seemed as young as she was—if not younger. “I thought he was about thirty-five, but he was forty-four,”
she recalled. “One thing I remember about that first meeting was that he had the most gorgeous—almost glowing—skin.”

That in itself was a good advertisement for his expertise. She noted that he dressed impeccably: His jacket and slacks were obviously custom-made, as were his shirts and what had to be a $250 tie. She learned later that his expensive Ferragamo shoes and sweaters were from Nordstrom. He wasn’t a handsome man by ordinary standards, only about five foot ten, blond, and slightly balding, with eyebrows that sloped down and a nose that could be described as somewhere between patrician and knobby. Still, he had a definite presence—that of a man in charge of his practice and his life. It suited him. Kate was impressed.

“He wasn’t my physical ‘type,’ though,” Kate said. Her preference had always been for the traditional “tall, dark, and handsome man,” she admitted, and then added wryly, “who [wasn’t] able to make a commitment.”

Of course that didn’t matter with John Branden. She wasn’t in his office looking for someone to date; she just wanted to feel better. And he certainly couldn’t make a commitment: He was married. His wife worked at Bayview, too, handling the insurance and the billing with the help of an accountant who was on the payroll. His daughter Tamara scheduled appointments, greeted patients, and was the front-office manager. She was nineteen and obviously thought her father was perfect. Kate learned that his younger teenage daughter, Heather, worked at Sea World. “Both his girls were lovely,” Kate recalled. “They had that fabulous skin, too.”

Tamara was attending the Pacific College of Oriental
Medicine part-time to get degrees in acupuncture and Oriental medicine. When her classes interfered with her job, Dr. Branden’s wife, Sue, or his younger daughter manned the front desk. Somewhat jarringly for the wife of a nutrition expert, Sue Branden was quite overweight, and she had a rather glum personality. Or perhaps she was just having a bad day, Kate thought. She seemed very different from her husband and her daughters. They brimmed with enthusiasm and cheerfulness. Kate learned that Tamara would soon be the youngest licensed acupuncturist in California.

The Bayview Medical Group offered an eight-week program, Branden explained to Kate. There would be weekly visits with him, three blood screens, menu plans, and supplements. They would begin with blood tests—titers—and whatever normal and abnormal readings resulted would indicate what her system lacked. He told her that he would personally work out a diet that would be tailored just for her, and he promised to prescribe the proper vitamins. He assured her she would be feeling well in no time, and when he spoke, he looked directly into her eyes.

She believed him. She didn’t like the idea of needles in her arm, but she followed him across the hall to the blood-drawing room. At his direction, Kate rolled up her sleeves and lay back on the paper-covered exam table.

Watching him prepare the syringe and vials, Kate said, “I’m warning you that I have deep, rolling veins that don’t like being poked or prodded.”

He nodded calmly.

“A few years ago,” she continued, “a doctor
stabbed
me a dozen times, and he never drew anything but pain.”

“No problem.”

He palpated her left arm and realized that she’d been telling him the truth about rolling veins. He switched to her right arm, tightening a tourniquet above her elbow.

“I want you to connect with me,” he said, looking into her eyes. “Visualize your blood flowing effortlessly from your vein into my needle. I’ll insert the needle.”

There was an almost sensual feeling as he slid the needle in. With her eyes closed, she visualized what he’d suggested, and her blood draw was complete within moments with virtually no pain.

“That was excellent,” he said, once again looking directly into her eyes as he applied a bandage and put pressure on the vein. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his.

She learned that that phrase—“Connect with me”—carried with it a hypnotic power. He was so honest and compassionate that people literally trusted him with their life’s fluid.

Kate followed Dr. Branden’s recommendations carefully, and her health steadily improved.

“It worked,” she said. “I lost a little weight, my skin cleared up, and my virus symptoms were under control. I felt so much better.”

During her weeks of treatment, Kate felt she was coming to know John Branden well, and found him to be a “vibrant, interesting, warm, and caring man.” They first went over her diet diary, and he chided her gently for what she hadn’t done, but more often he praised her. She looked forward to her weekly office visits with him, finding in him
almost a kindred spirit. He matched her intellectually and could discuss so many subjects that she, too, found interesting. Kate was a college graduate, a very intelligent woman with a thirst for knowledge. John was fascinating to talk with, and unlike any man she had ever known. There wasn’t the pressure that she—or anyone—felt in a dating situation; they were equals, platonic friends, with their own private lives.

Kate finally admitted to herself that she had a crush on Dr. John. She knew he was married and she totally respected his family bonds, so she didn’t think there was any harm in her having fantasies about him. She never planned on acting on them.

Once, Kate commented to Sue Branden that she was lucky to be married to such a caring and sensitive doctor. She was startled when John’s wife grimaced, rolled her eyes, and shrugged her shoulders, as if Kate had no idea what she was talking about. It was obvious Sue Branden didn’t hold John in high esteem. Maybe he was so familiar to her, Kate thought, that she no longer saw his genius.

On the other hand, Sue confided to Kate that she had once wanted to be a stewardess but had married when she was so young, and then had had two daughters to raise, and so many things to do for John.

Kate and Dr. John usually ended her office visits with casual conversations, and he sometimes inquired about the romantic side of her life. She told him she’d had several long-term relationships when she was in her twenties and early thirties, but at thirty-eight, she had finally realized she was okay by herself. “I don’t need a man to make me feel fulfilled and happy,” she said easily.

In truth, she still hoped to find her soul mate, the one man who would love and admire her, listen to her and take care of her. But she didn’t tell her doctor that.

Often, Dr. John gave her little extras, like a very professional shoulder massage. Once, he read her aura. He also told her that she gave him energy. Just being around her made him feel happier. It was a little flirtatious, but she believed it was also innocent.

When Kate’s eight-week program was completed just before Christmas on December 20, she headed in for her last office visit and found herself regretting that her friendship with Dr. John was probably over. By its very nature, it was meant to be self-limiting. He was the doctor, and she was the patient, and she was well now. But she would miss him.

She was happily surprised when he gave her a lovely quartz crystal that carried with it curative powers, telling her it was a Christmas present.

“Well,” she asked as she sat across the desk from him, “what do we do now? Am I supposed to come back for re-checks every so often?” Now that she had her health back, she wanted to stay on top of it, and John’s program was excellent.

“That would be a wise idea,” he said slowly. “Probably you should make an appointment for sometime in February.”

The room had suddenly become very quiet. She looked up at him, and he wouldn’t meet her eyes at first. And that was so unlike him.

John Branden said softly, “I need to say something more.” And suddenly this man who was usually so verbal, sometimes spewing out words almost faster than she could understand them, was tongue-tied. When he finally spoke,
he stuttered and stammered. It was strange for Kate to see him almost unable to get a sentence out.

“Say it,” Kate said, half-dreading, half-hoping she knew what he was talking about.

“I can’t.”

Maybe he didn’t want to keep her as a patient. Maybe she had assumed too much, and he was going to dismiss her and send her to someone else. They had formed some kind of a bond in those eight weeks, but she wasn’t sure just what it was. Friendship, certainly. She sensed that he felt closer to her than he did to other patients, but that could just have been wishful thinking on her part.

“Just say it,” she said again.

He stood up and walked around his desk. “I think I’m falling in love with you,” he blurted.

Now she was speechless and felt stupid when she finally said, “But you’re married.” It was the kind of response a schoolgirl would blurt out.

He moved toward her and gave her an extremely chaste kiss. He massaged her shoulders and kissed her hair as he shared some of
his
fantasies about her. He asked if he could call her, and she couldn’t bring herself to say no. Despite her common sense, her heart and her ego soared.

Kate Jewell was stunned. She hadn’t expected this. She had been steeling herself for just the opposite. She actually knew very little about him, and he still wasn’t her physical type—but she was drawn to him. It was a ridiculous situation. His wife, who rarely smiled, and who seemed disenchanted with her husband’s charm, sat just beyond the examining room door. His two pretty daughters were in and out of the office.

They all seemed to be a solid—if not particularly happy—family, in business together, comfortable with each other, acting out whatever scenarios they had established years before. Now John told her that he had been unhappy in his marriage for years. He said that he and Sue were very close to separating and would probably do so after the holidays. Sue spent so much money on frivolous things, she had put on so much weight, and she insisted on drinking Pepsi—which was anathema to a staunch nutritionist. They had been on divergent paths for a very long time, he said with some sadness in his voice.

Kate hadn’t thought about loving John in her real life—or his loving her. She knew a lot of women had crushes on their doctors. She liked him and felt safe in his presence. She had hoped that their friendship and conversations might continue. She knew there would be an empty place in her life if she couldn’t see him anymore. He had never touched her inappropriately, not until now. She trusted him, and she would miss him if she should choose to walk away because of those bright red warning lights now exploding in her brain. She doubted she would ever find such an easy relationship with any man again.