Found: A Mother for His Son

by Dianne Drake

  Dermott stepped into the doorway and took a look. “Can you stay here with him while I go? I don’t like disturbing him all the time.”

  “I can, but that means you’ll have to go face Alisa alone.” She bent down, picked up the little boy and laid him back in his bed. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

  “What I’m sure of is that I don’t want to disturb my son in the middle of the night. If Alisa can’t deal with that she can call someone over in Muledeer.”

  Jenna knew he wouldn’t make the woman do that, but she liked hearing Dermott say it. Of course, come morning, Alisa would have a new round of gripes about Dermott, but it warmed her heart that Dermott didn’t pay any attention to the inevitable as he trudged out in the middle of the night. He was a good man, and the more she watched him, the more she understood how good. In the end, that’s what mattered the most, she decided as she lay down in his bed, pulled up his sheets and drifted off, smelling the scent of him all around her.

  The alarm was sounding, and she didn’t want to get up, but the sun was streaming in through the blinds, trying to force her eyes open. Which she resisted.

  She did turn over to swat the alarm, only to be obstructed by something she didn’t expect. It was Max, curled into her side. Lying there, sucking his thumb, a picture of innocence, he looked like a perfect angel. Yes, he had come in looking for Dermott a little while after his father had gone. She remembered that. He hadn’t been having a scary dream, as he called it, but he was afraid he might, so she’d let him crawl in with her, like that was the natural thing to do.

  And she’d slept very well. Having this child in her arms…it was a feeling she couldn’t describe, didn’t understand. But she liked it. Liked it more than she wanted to. “You ready to get up?” she asked him.

  In answer, he bounded off the bed and ran across the room, heading straight for the bedroom door, then the hall, then his own bedroom.

  Laughing, Jenna scooted to the edge of the bed wishing she had that same kind of energy in the morning, wishing she didn’t have to leave Dermott’s bed, wishing Dermott was right there with her.

  Had he come home yet? She didn’t know, but she was curious, so she trudged out to the living room where Dermott was sprawled out on the couch, sound asleep. He looked like Max when he slept, in the way his hair was mussed, the way he was twisted slightly to his side. Looking almost innocent.

  She stood and studied him for a moment, then decided to go back to her apartment. It was still too early for work, but she could grab a quick shower, go outside for a walk and have enough time to stop by the diner for a light breakfast. Her departure from the apartment was stopped, though, when Dermott rolled over and opened his eyes. “Indigestion,” he said, his voice rough and sexy from sleep.

  “You’re referring to Ron and not yourself, aren’t you?”

  Sitting up, Dermott brushed the hair back from his eyes and indulged in a good, long stretch. His clothes were crumpled, dark stubble on his face emphasized that he hadn’t shaved in twenty-four hours, and his blue eyes were heavy from lack of sleep, all of it making Dermott Callahan just about the sexiest man she’d ever seen in her life. The unkempt look suited him and, to be honest, she liked it better that the polished perfection she’d come to know in the hospital. That had been all for show and image, and she understood that. But this was the essential Dermott, and he was a breath-taker, to be sure.

  “Ron has acid reflux, severe case of it. He’s under a lot of stress and it all backed up on him. I gave him a prescription, told him the over-the-counter drugs weren’t strong enough to do the job, and told him I’d like to send him for some tests. And—”

  “Let me guess,” Jenna interrupted. “When Alisa found out he wasn’t going to die, your services were no longer needed.”

  “Something like that. Alisa kept herself at a distance until I determined the problem, then she disappeared altogether after that. Of course, Ron wasn’t very easy having me there and there’s no good way to tell a man that I suspect his wife is causing him a lot of his problems.” He smiled. “Ron knows it, though. You could tell by that agonized look on his face when Alisa’s around where the biggest source of his stress is coming from, and I have a hunch that the incident with Joshua didn’t help their situation.”

  “Well, he’s lucky his stress didn’t cause him a real heart attack. I hope he takes your advice, or goes to another doctor Alisa will approve of.”

  “I told him he might not be so lucky next time, that he really should have the tests done right away, but Alisa insisted they’d go to Muledeer in a few days and let the doctors there handle everything. So I did everything I could and left. The rest will be up to them.” He stood, stretched his long frame, a gesture she couldn’t help but admire on a body like his, then plodded to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. “By the way, I wanted to crawl into bed with you when I got back but you had another man there with you. It was awfully cozy.”

  She laughed. “It was, wasn’t it?”

  “Was it his idea?”

  “He was afraid he might have a scary dream.”

  “Would that work for me? Suppose I told you I might have a scary dream. Would you let me sleep with you?”

  “If that spot’s not already taken, I might.”

  “Seriously, is he OK? Because it’s not like him to want to sleep with someone…not even me. He’s pretty independent that way.”

  “Well, I was a little worried, but I watched him for a while, and he dozed right off when he crawled into bed. And he has lots of energy this morning, so that’ll prove he had a pretty good night.”

  “Better night than I had,” he commented.

  Jenna pulled in a tormented breath, weighing her words before she spoke, as what she had to say was so dreadful. So painful. But she couldn’t hold back, couldn’t keep it to herself because she’d seen what she’d seen, and it was Dermott’s right to know. So, finally, she said it. “He flinched, Dermott. When I went to fix the pillow under his head, and reached across him, he flinched.”

  A flash of comprehension flickered in Dermott’s eyes, but he didn’t let on. “And…”

  “Hands up over his face, a defensive posture. Only for a moment. Then he was fine.”

  Dermott nodded, swallowing hard. “This is something Frank and Irene are never to know. Do you understand that, Jenna? I don’t want them finding out.”

  Her stomach knotted. She already knew what he was going to tell her. She’d recognized it when Max had flinched and pulled up to protect himself, because that’s what she used to do. Still did sometimes, when she was caught off guard. “She abused him,” she whispered, so Max wouldn’t overhear. “His mother abused him.”

  Agony spread across Dermott’s face. “I found out, too late, that she would lock him in his room, then live the life she wanted to that day. Leave the house, take her drugs, see her various men. She’d get home before I did, and let him out. Sometimes she’d just lock him in the house and let him have the run of it when she went out.”

  “Did Max tell you?”

  “No, he never said a word.”

  Like she hadn’t said a word, even when people who’d suspected had asked.

  “I had a bad headache one morning. A migraine. I didn’t want to work through it because my patients needed better from me, so I had my nurse cancel my appointments, and I went home to go to bed just shortly after noon. Nancy wasn’t there, but Max was, all alone. Apparently she hadn’t fed him and he’d climbed up on a chair to get to a box of dry cereal. He’d…” He shut his eyes and bit his lip. “He’d poured it on the floor and eaten it off the floor. And he was so scared, Jenna.” Dermott’s voiced trailed off into almost nothing. “My little boy was so scared. I’ll never forget the look on his face when I walked in. If I live to be a hundred, I’ll never forget…”

  “Oh, my God,” she gasped. “I’m so sorry.” The stark pain in his eyes hurt her heart.

  “So was I, especially when I learned that
she’d done this other times. Many times. She’d lock him in for the day then go do what she wanted to.”

  The way her father had locked her up, then left her. “Did she ever hurt him?” Jenna asked, although she already knew.

  “She claimed she didn’t, but Max always had bruises. Nancy would say he fell down, or bumped into something. And maybe he did because he was always alone. She insisted that he was a clumsy little boy, and there was nothing to prove otherwise. But he’s no more clumsy than any other boys his age and after I took him and left her, I never saw as many bruises on him as I did when she took care of him. So, yes, I think there’s a good chance she hit him.”

  “But her parents don’t know?”

  “They knew about the drugs…that couldn’t be kept quiet after her wreck. And maybe they knew that she was drinking, and seeing other men. But if they’d known she was endangering Max…” He shook his head. “They wouldn’t have allowed it. Not even from their daughter. And whatever else they knew, or didn’t know, I don’t talk about it with them, so I don’t know.”

  “You protect them, though.”

  “They were good parents, and they’re the best grandparents a little boy could ever have. They do right by Max in the ways that matter, and I love them for that. So, yes, I protect them.”

  “You’re a good man, Dermott. I think if people knew…”

  “But they won’t, because that would hurt my son. People here already feel bad enough with what they know. It’s like the whole town absorbed some of the guilt for not seeing it.”

  “Because she hid it from everybody, not just you. But keep in mind, Dermott, that there was a time you did love her, and as much as you hate everything she did, you need to hang onto some of the good for Max’s sake, because he’ll need that someday.”

  “Like he’ll need to know how I didn’t see what was happening to her? How’s he going to react to that, Jenna? His mother was destroying herself by degrees and his father didn’t even see it.”

  “I know you want to blame yourself for what happened, but all you did was what you were supposed to do. And, sure, maybe you were too busy working, maybe you didn’t pay enough attention, maybe your marriage was failing for any number of reasons. But we all have blind spots, Dermott. That’s human nature, and you shouldn’t beat yourself up for it, because sometimes it’s good.”

  “Good? How can that be good?”

  “You fall in love with someone who’s not quite perfect, but you don’t see the imperfections because you’re so much in love. That’s a good blind spot.”

  “Well, I’ll concede that point, but that doesn’t make me any less responsible for what happened.”

  “With an addiction, no one is responsible except the one who is addicted. You didn’t cause Nancy to become an addict, the way I didn’t cause my father to become an alcoholic. There’s always a lot of blame to go around but an addiction is a very lonely illness. I spent years and years blaming myself for my dad’s addiction because he blamed me for my mother’s death, said she was never healthy after she had me, and that her death was my fault. But it wasn’t. When I was older, I found her death certificate. She died of virulent pneumonia. I was too young to know if she’d seen a doctor, but I think she probably didn’t. With my father’s temper, I doubt he would have allowed that. So after she died, he blamed me, and I believed him because, I suppose, in some way I did feel guilty. It’s an easy thing to take on yourself, especially when you’re so young, and when there are no clear answers why it happened, like with Nancy, or my mother. And people need those answers, Dermott. It’s their resolution.”

  “I’m so sorry, JJ. I’m so caught up in my own mess and just look what you went through yourself.”

  “My mess is all in the past. Your mess involves a little boy who has some serious things to face in his future.” She wouldn’t turn this into something about her because it was about Max. And it was about helping Dermott. “Does he ever talk about it?”

  Dermott shook his head. “Not a word. But he has those nightmares. The child therapist I took him to down in Edmonton said he’ll have memories, but right now they’re repressed except in the nightmares, and at some time in the future when they surface they may cause problems. It’s just a waiting game.”

  She knew the waiting game. Knew it well. But for Max, there was someone there to hold him as he waited. He was a lucky little boy.

  “It’s purple!” Not just purple walls. Purple everywhere. Ceiling, floor, walls. Jenna squinted at what looked like an explosion of grape jelly. “Very, very purple.”

  “And I’m not!” Max exclaimed, proud of his handiwork.

  “Purple’s not bad for a bathroom,” Dermott conceded. They’d worked all morning, painted everything that could be painted in a bathroom and now his budding Picasso was ready for a nap in spite of that fact that he had purple streaks in his hair. It had been a good morning and, surprisingly for his age, Max hadn’t lost interest. The kid had an attention span better than some adults Dermott knew and he was proud of that. “And speaking of purple, I think it’s time to take your purple-haired self off to bed for a while, don’t you, Max?”

  He shook his head to protest, then had second thoughts. “Just a little one. And when we get up we’re going to paint your bathroom.”

  “Purple?” Jenna asked, as Max scooted down the hall.

  “Not if I can hide the purple paint first.” Dermott dropped down on the couch and propped his feet up on the table across from it, then patted the seat next to him. “Might as well relax. We’ve got about an hour before Clyde Fister comes in for a consultation.”

  “I didn’t see it on the books.”

  “Because he’s nervous. Afraid that I’ll leave the appointment book open and someone will accidentally see that he’s coming in.” He settled down into the couch a little more.

  “And you’re going to keep me in suspense?”

  “Thought you might like to guess.” He raised a teasing eyebrow.

  “I’m playing a game where I have to guess the patient’s condition?” Dermott would never disrespect a patient, so this wasn’t going to be a patient with a problem.

  “He’s not exactly the patient.”

  Now she was curious. “Do we have to unlock the back door for him? Maybe put a trench coat and dark glasses out in the alley for him to wear so no one will recognize him? Check to make sure that Mr. Ketterman isn’t out there with his cigar when Mr. Fister comes sneaking in?” This was such a different kind of medicine from anything she’d ever done, and she liked it. Liked knowing the intimate details of her patients…Mr. Ketterman and his once-a-week cigar. Mr. Fister and the secret that was about to be revealed. It made her feel like she belonged somewhere…belonged here. Right here.

  She did want to believe that, and part of her was letting the feeling seep in and linger. But the other part was spitting it back out because she knew better. She’d had an entire lifetime of knowing better and even though she desperately wanted this situation with Dermott to be different, it wouldn’t be. Because, in the end, she was still Jenna Joann Lawson, and nothing about that had changed.

  “It’s not quite that secret, but it is a big surprise. A birthday gift for his wife.” He grinned. “An unusual birthday gift.” Pulling a pamphlet from his pocket, he dropped it into Jenna’s lap. It was entitled “Hair Plugs”.

  Jenna blinked. “So let me get this straight. The big secret is that his wife is going to get hair plugs for her birthday?”

  Dermott laughed. “Not Mrs. Fister. Mr. Fister. He’s been saving his money, stashing it away in secret to do this, and I’ve helped him find a reputable clinic. Plastic surgeon.”

  “For his wife. Do you know if his wife really cares?” Jenna glanced up at Dermott’s dark brown hair, his angular face, his beautiful blue eyes. All very classically handsome, all very sexy. How would he look without hair?

  She shut her eyes for a moment, trying to raise the picture, but all she could get was sexy. And it was
n’t in the way he looked so much as the way he was. With or without hair, Dermott was a sexy man and if his looks changed, that wouldn’t make him any less sexy to her.

  “I think it’s more about Mr. Fister’s perception of himself than anything. His hair is thin, and he wants it back.”

  “We all want things back, Dermott, but that doesn’t mean we can get them. Or even should get them.”

  “But what do you do when you’re Clyde Fister, who doesn’t like what he sees when he looks in the mirror, and there’s a way to change that?”

  “It shouldn’t be about changing what he sees in the mirror. It’s more about what you can’t see in the mirror.” Impulsively, she reached up and ran her fingers through Dermott’s hair. “It’s a beautiful mane you have, Dr. Callahan, but it doesn’t make you who you are.”

  He shivered under her touch. “Maybe it depends on the person who’s there to help you be everything you’re supposed to be.”

  “Then you think it takes two people to help one of them realize their fullest potential, that one person can’t do that on their own?”

  “Are you trying to provoke something?” he asked, his eyes twinkling.

  Scooting closer to Dermott, until they were pressed lightly side-by-side, she leaned her head over on his shoulder. “Sometimes I think I want to. But then other times…It’s complicated.”

  Resisting the natural urge to pull her even closer, Dermott merely took Jenna’s hand in hers. It was a quiet, affectionate thing to do that seemed right at that moment. “Well, what I think is that any one person can achieve amazing things on their own. To come into your own doesn’t require another person, but to have someone there for you, to support you, to sit and hold your hand is much nicer than doing it alone.”

  “Even if he’s five?” she asked.

  “Even if she’s thirty. We all need someone, JJ. It’s easier that way.”

  “Not always.”

  “What did your father do to you that keeps you running? What did he do that hurt you so badly you’re afraid to let anyone get close?” He could feel her body stiffen, and he fully expected her to get up and leave. So he held on to her hand a little tighter. Enough to let her know that she was supported, but not enough that she felt restrained.