Italian Doctor, Full-Time Father

by Dianne Drake

  Aeberhard had a good staff. Dedicated beyond the call of duty. Word of the crisis had spread quickly and, according to Catherine, most of the staff had wandered in, without being asked, to see if they could be of help. She was lucky to be working in such a place, and in many respects he was sure that the quality of the staff reflected the quality of its director. Catherine was extraordinary. She’d proved that tonight, staying with him throughout the surgery, assisting in everything he asked, even though her surgical experience could have been measured in a thimble.

  He admired her…as a person, as a physician. Something he wished he’d done all those years ago. He also wished he hadn’t taken her so for granted. That, perhaps, had been the worst mistake he’d ever made.

  “You decent?” she asked, stepping into the therapy room.

  Hans had gone to catch up on some overdue paperwork, leaving Dante alone in the warm water, at Dante’s request. After the surgery, he hadn’t been in the mood to be around other people. Still wasn’t. Except for Catherine. “Depends on what you mean by decent,” he said, his voice sounding so weary, even to his ears.

  “Well, I came by to tell you that your dad took Gianni back to the hotel. He thought that you might want to sleep for a while before you have to deal with him.”

  Dante sighed. “Gianni doesn’t even know I’m a doctor.”

  “You’ve never told him?”

  “Never been a reason to. In his world, I drive a race car. That’s enough.” He shifted in the water, then yawned. “He’s heard my father say too many bad things about doctors…”

  “Because of Dario?”

  Dante nodded. “My father blamed the doctors for his death. Initially, they told him the prognosis was good. But he’d suffered a little rip in his aorta. Something they didn’t catch right away.”

  “And he bled to death?” she gasped.

  “As a result, my father will ridicule a doctor every chance he gets. He’s bitter, and hurt. And I think me being a doctor reminds him. So we don’t talk about it.”

  “I’m so sorry. That must be tough. Not just your brother’s death, but the rift in your family.”

  “Sometimes avoiding the obvious is the easiest thing to do.”

  “And sometimes it’s not. Sometimes it hurts so bad.” She turned away and walked over to the window, where she pulled back the blinds to look outside.

  He saw the pain in her eyes and wanted to ask more, but he knew this side of Catherine, the side that was locked up emotionally. She dealt with the bad things in her life by walking away, just like she was doing now, even if the walk was only to the other side of the room. “Do you want to tell me?” he asked gently.

  “Tell you what?”

  “What really hurt you? Was it truly me, Catherine?”

  “Don’t give yourself so much credit, Dante. You only had six months of my life. The impact wasn’t that great. We had a short-lived, superficial engagement neither of us was ready for. We both knew that.”

  Yet she sounded so hurt. So sad. Hearing her voice, how could he believe her words? “Catherine, I…”

  “There’s nothing to talk about, Dante. No deep, dark secrets to reveal. No admissions that when I kicked you out of my life, it ruined me, because it didn’t. I’m just fine. Always have been.”

  Dante leaned his head back against the side of the whirlpool and shut his eyes. Her wall was up now, stronger than ever. Catherine wasn’t going to talk about herself, and that was that. The window had opened a crack, then slammed shut. “And you love what you do,” he said, almost sarcastically. “Love your life. Everything is just fine.”

  “Yes. Just fine.”

  Then why did her voice sound so sad?

  “Would you ever go back to medicine, Dante? I know we’ve talked about this before, but if you don’t recover enough to race again, would you return to medicine?”

  This was Catherine avoiding the subject again. Apparently, avoiding the obvious was the easiest thing for her to do, too. Better that than making her sad again. “I’ve thought about that. Sometimes I think I might, but I’m not ready to leave racing. I’ve got good driving years ahead of me yet, I hope, and after that, maybe team management. It doesn’t make any sense to live in a dream world, and for me that’s what medicine has become. A dream that doesn’t have a place in my life.”

  “And you can’t find a place for it?”

  “Doing what, Catherine? Rushing into surgery on call, as you’ve had me do? It doesn’t work that way. I’ve been good in a pinch, but I can’t run back and forth from one life to another and, so far I haven’t found a way to make all my lives fit together.”

  “So your choice is set in stone.” Statement, not question.

  “Stone.”

  She finally turned to face him. “Then it’s a pity, Dante, because I stood across the table from you, saw the passion in your eyes. You love it. Love it as much as you do racing, I’d guess.”

  “Like I said before, we don’t always get what we want.” And being in the same room with Catherine, so close to everything he wanted, and yet so far away from it, was proof of that. She hated his racing and that wasn’t going to change. He knew that. She wanted him to be a doctor again, but he couldn’t, and that wasn’t going to change, either.

  “I’ve just spent three hours standing across the table from a brilliant doctor. You saved Johann’s life, Dante. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

  “Of course it does. But that doesn’t change things. I gave up medicine five years ago, and I haven’t taken it back based on one surgery. That’s not my life any more, Catherine. I have a passion for surgery but I also have a passion for driving. I know you find it difficult to accept, but that’s what I want to do.” And so the argument started again. It seemed that it couldn’t be avoided. That’s what they did best these days.

  Wearily, Dante grabbed the towel off the side of the whirlpool, wrapped it around himself and stood up, wobbling a bit as he did so. Catherine rushed forward to grab his arm to steady him, but he pushed her away. So she walked away, left him standing there with a towel wrapped around his waist as Hans came in to help him. And he watched her, too tired to argue, too tired to call her back. There was so much on his mind tonight—Catherine, Gianni. How much he missed his brother. How, if he’d been there that day, he would have stopped Dario from driving. But he hadn’t been there, and Dario had died.

  Why the hell did he let down everybody he loved?

  CHAPTER NINE

  “YOU look awfully worried,” Max said sympathetically. He handed a mug of steaming hot tea across the desk to Catherine, then sat down across from her, holding his own cup of tea. “Tea and sympathy is always a nice cure,” he said, settling in. “If you want it.”

  Catherine smiled half-heartedly, then took a sip, enjoying the warmth of the liquid as it trickled down her throat. Once it had settled in her belly, she sighed. “I’m tired. That’s all it is. And…” She paused for a moment, contemplating her next words. Perhaps saying them out loud would help. And Max did have a right to know. Besides, he had such a compassionate shoulder, and so much wisdom, both of which she desperately needed right now. “And being here with Dante. I was about to book a reservation to go home for a while when all this with Johann came up.” She held up a hand to stop him from saying the obvious words. “I know. I was running away. You don’t have to point that out.”

  “If you need to go that badly, then, by all means, go, my dear. If it’s something you need to settle your life, we can manage here without your for a little while. But only for a little while.”

  Catherine shook her head. “I’m not going. Not with Johann sick now. We don’t have another doctor to replace him.”

  “Is it the work that’s getting to you, or is it a private matter with Dante? Or am I being too personal, asking?”

  “I thought I was over him, Max,” she said. “We were involved for a while, not very long, but it’s been years. I’ve been married once since that, for heaven�
�s sake! And yet here he is, and I’ve been a total mess since he arrived.”

  “In love?”

  Catherine shrugged, even though she knew.

  “Well, perhaps this is something you should be telling him. Words to whisper in his ear rather than mine.” He chuckled. “Whispering the right words in the right ear can be as good for you as tea and sympathy. Better!”

  “Or they can further prove how pathetic I am.”

  “Falling in love isn’t pathetic. I’ve always thought it was wonderful. Rather wished I’d had time to do it more often.” Max laughed. “It does make you crazy, though, but it’s a good kind of crazy. We should all be so lucky as to be in love a time or two in our lives.”

  “That depends on what you mean by good,” she said despondently. Sliding down into her chair, she took another sip of tea and felt the relaxing effect seeping in all the way to her toes. “And I think the feeling is totally underrated.”

  “Underrated because he doesn’t know how you feel about him, and not knowing usually means unrequited. Is that it? Your feelings are unrequited?”

  “No, that’s not the problem. They are requited. But what good would it do, telling him how I feel when we’re so wrong for each other?”

  “Well, my dear, that’s something for you to figure out on your own.” He scooted to the edge of his chair, then stood to leave. “Or not.”

  Catherine studied Max for a moment as he walked to the door. Many things needed figuring out, didn’t they? Dante held a piece of her life in the palm of his hand, yet so did Max. “It’s time, Max,” she said, as he reached for the doorknob.

  “For what?” he said, without turning around.

  “For you to tell me why me? That’s something I’ve been trying to figure out for over a year now, and you’ve put me off every time I’ve asked. It involves me and I don’t want to be left out again. Either you tell me what I want to know, or I’ll leave for good.”

  He arched his eyebrows. “That’s harsh, don’t you think?”

  “So is making a decision that includes me without including me. I can’t do that any more. And I can’t let you do that to me, either. So, tell me, Max. Tell me right now or you’ll have my resignation within the hour.”

  “Then it seems you’re ready. I’ve wondered when that would happen.”

  Perhaps she was. Perhaps she was ready for more than Max’s explanation. She drew in a slow, deep breath then let it out reluctantly. “Yes, I’m ready. Tell me why you chose me. I hadn’t practiced medicine too many years when you sought me out, I’d had no admin experience at all, and you did have several doctors here already who could have stepped into the job. But you came after me specifically, and don’t tell me it had anything to do with our brief meeting in Boston all those years ago when I sneaked into your lecture and we shared dinner afterwards, because that’s not it.”

  Max drew in a ragged breath, and turned slowly to face her. “That meeting in Boston after my lecture was planned. I meant to look you up, Catherine. That wasn’t the reason for my trip there but it was at the top of my list of things I wanted to do once I’d arrived.” He paused, and Catherine didn’t know if he was putting her off once more or trying to find the right words.

  She watched him walk to the window, pull back the blinds and stare outside for a full minute. He squared his shoulders, and she wondered what made this so difficult for him. “I do have a right to know,” she said gently, but more to remind herself than him.

  Max nodded his head. “That you do, but it’s not so easy for me because I know how difficult your relationship with Emil Brannon was.”

  “My father?” she asked, too stunned to think ahead to what her father had to do with this.

  “Your father. I know how he turned his back on his family to pursue other interests, and how much that hurt you. I’ve been afraid that telling you what I have to would cause you more pain, and I’ve never wanted to do that, Catherine.”

  “I wasn’t aware I’d said that much to you about him.” It was something she kept to herself. One of those deeply hurtful parts of her life that could never be resolved now that her father was dead. One of those matters best left buried with him.

  “You haven’t said that much to me, Catherine But Emil did. Many times over the years. Every time you two fought, every time he pushed you away, or you pushed him away, I heard about it.”

  Catherine blinked, trying to absorb what Max was saying. “You…you knew my father?”

  He nodded, but said nothing.

  “Tell me, Max,” she cried. “Tell me how you knew him!”

  He finally turned around, and a sad smile turned down the corners of his lips. “I wasn’t always such an old, out-of-shape man, the way you see me now. Once I was quite fit. I liked to ski, to climb. I liked to take a few risks, the way Emil did. We lived similar lives, had similar fascinations.”

  Catherine sucked in a sharp breath. She hadn’t expected this from Max. He was the man who fixed the broken bodies of those who lived the way her father had. He was the stability she’d never found anywhere else. That’s the only thing that made sense to her.

  “I was going up Everest. Small expedition, very knowledgeable Sherpa to guide us. Met your father there. Halfway up we ran into bad weather. I didn’t want to turn back, neither did he, so we didn’t.” He drew in a ragged breath. “We thought we’d walk through the weather, or dig in and wait it out. It was bad, not horrible. So we made camp…there were five of us left at that point. And we waited.”

  She’d never heard this story. Of course, she’d heard very few of her father’s stories. He’d never let her get that close to him, never let her into his life.

  “After a couple of days the weather seemed to be letting up, so we decided to commence our climb again. But the weather was deceptive…a small break didn’t mean it was getting better. We walked into a total white-out, the wind so bitter and cold we couldn’t breathe, the chill so harsh it froze us. We knew it was time to go, to get off the mountain if we could. But we couldn’t. Three of our party died up there, unfortunately. They were lost…buried somewhere in the snow where we couldn’t find them and left there in a frozen grave for eternity. Emil was injured…frostbite, disorientation, lack of oxygen. I wasn’t quite so bad, but I was suffering.” He glanced down at his feet and winced. “Lost one toe on my right foot and two on my left at the end of it all.”

  His slight limp! Now she understood.

  “I can’t even begin to describe what it’s like being up there, knowing you’re going to die. At first you’re afraid. You fight it. You pray to God to save you. But eventually death becomes part of your reality. The fear goes away and you think death will come as a relief. Finally, you pray for it to come quickly and mercifully. All those hours…days…while Emil and I huddled together, praying alternately to be saved and to die, he talked about you. Even when he was out of his head. You were quite the young lady…so talented. We looked at the picture of you that he carried…handled it so much we wore it out in a short time.” He lifted his gaze to Catherine. “Emil loved you, Catherine. You were his passion and his greatest pride.”

  “Then why didn’t he stop? After his Everest climb, after he’d been so close to death, why didn’t he stop? We wanted him to. My mother and I begged…” With the back of her hand Catherine swiped angrily at the tears spilling down her cheeks. “Why didn’t he love me enough to come home and be my father?”

  “He loved you to distraction, but you can’t change the nature of a man, my dear. Your father was who he had to be, and I can’t offer you another explanation. I don’t think he always liked what he did, I know he despised himself for always putting his family second, but I don’t think he could control it.”

  “But you stopped, Max. Didn’t you stop?”

  He shrugged. “Because I was who I had to be…a doctor. That was always first in my life, and it was a promise I made to myself when we were up there. That if we got back, I would do what I was meant to do. “


  “Up on Everest, how did you get back?”

  “The weather did let up a bit. Emil was unconscious by then, or at least lapsing in and out. Physically, I was doing a little better than he was. We’d been huddled together in our tent for days, dying inch by inch, and I decided that I’d give it one last go. Either get us both off the mountain or end the ordeal.” He shuddered. “You see bodies up there. Those left behind and frozen. But I was a doctor and I couldn’t leave Emil there. That went against who I was, so…”

  “You carried him down,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “You carried my father off the mountain. I remember my father speaking of the doctor who’d carried him down from a mountain, but that’s all I ever knew. He would tell the story in whispers to his friends, tell it when he thought I wasn’t listening.”

  Max nodded. “Like I said, we have to be true to who we are. I couldn’t have done anything else. And afterwards…your father was grateful. The money to start this clinic came from his pocket, not mine. It’s one of the things we talked about when we were up there…regrets for the things we hadn’t done. Mine was this clinic. It was always my dream, but I was never able to afford it when I was younger.”

  “Did he have any regrets?” she asked tentatively.

  “Many,” Max said. “And all were about his family. He regretted not being a better husband, regretted not being a better father. Regretted the compulsion in him that split him apart from his family. Regretted that he could not overcome it. Most of all, though, he regretted missing your life. But he said that with the way he lived, he always knew death was a possibility, so he stayed away from you, pushed you away so that wouldn’t touch you so badly if he did die. He always said he didn’t want to spoil the one perfect thing in his life with the way he lived his life.”