“Really?” She perked up at that. “Okay, but you may be sorry. I may find an indecently expensive resort. I mean, if the doctor’s able to schedule your tests for tomorrow, I’d rather sit by a pool than hang out in some hospital waiting room.”
“Can they do blood tests on demand?”
“You mean you might have to come back a second time?”
“Possibly. I’m operating in the dark, too, Claire. I’ve never met anyone who’s donated an organ. Well, except for Mallory, who gave Liddy a kidney. I should have questioned her more, I guess.”
“That’s all right, Connor. I’m sure the doctor will have all the information you need in order to make an informed decision.”
He smiled. Not his best effort. He’d managed to avoid hospitals since his mother died in one during emergency surgery, but even the thought of voluntarily allowing a surgeon to cut out a vital organ left Connor feeling edgy. Oh, he’d get over it, he supposed. No “supposed” about it. This was his child. He’d get over it.
What he’d have a harder time getting past, he feared, was the fact that Mallory had kept from him the news that she’d borne his baby. Anytime he thought about that, his blood boiled.
The cab swung into a circular drive, stopping under a brick portico. A profusion of greenery and blooming flowers flanked glass doors. “This is a clinic,” the driver said in accented English. “You take your bags inside?”
Claire jammed an elbow in Connor’s side. “See? He thinks we’re tacky.”
Connor peeled off the fare plus a generous tip. “We’ll be going to a hotel after we’re done. I’ll request your cab number.”
The driver smiled and nodded happily.
Connor manhandled the bags inside, discreetly depositing them behind a huge potted fern. There was only one other patron in the posh waiting room, a woman who had her nose stuck in a book. She didn’t glance up.
Claire took a seat. She pawed through magazines spread out on a glass-topped table. Connor approached a bank of windows. One slid open to reveal an elegant woman with smooth, coffee-colored skin. “Dr. O’Rourke, I presume?”
“Connor, please. I hope I didn’t keep Dr. Dahl waiting. Our plane was late.”
She smiled. “When aren’t they? Or other forms of transport, for that matter? The doctor’s with someone else—a last-minute meeting. If you’ll fill out this paperwork,” she said, handing Connor a clipboard with a sheaf of documents, “we’ll have you hooked up with Dr. Dahl in no time.”
Connor felt a door breeze open behind the receptionist and heard the jovial rumble of male voices.
“I believe he’s concluded his business,” the receptionist murmured. “You’ll have to write faster than I anticipated.”
In spite of her warning, Connor ignored the clipboard he held. “Due to FSU’s graduation, I wasn’t able to book a hotel,” he said. “I was told to check for possible cancellations when I arrived. I wonder if you can spare a phone book? Claire, my fiancée, will call around while I see the doctor.”
A door situated on Connor’s left flew open. A booming voice exclaimed, “Connor? Connor O’Rourke? Fredric said you had an appointment, but what’s this about a fiancée? Mallory didn’t mention you were engaged.” Bradford Forrest’s dark eyes canvassed the room. “Is that the little lady? Come, introduce us.”
Connor was too stunned at seeing Mallory’s father to act on his demand.
And Claire, although she rose, bristled at being called a little lady. She was petite compared to the bulk of Senator Forrest, however. Also compared to Connor, who topped six-two in his stocking feet.
Even Bradford Forrest, bear of a man that he was, had to reach up to clap Connor’s shoulder. “You’ve filled out since I last saw you, my boy. That was when? At Mallory’s graduation?”
“Yes, sir,” Connor said, recovering. “Claire, meet Senator Forrest.” At one time, Connor had been plenty intimidated by Mallory’s folks. Now he felt on a more equal footing with the senator, who’d aged.
Brad headed for Claire, saying to Connor, “I read good things about you in the Florida Business Review. You’ve done all right for yourself. Let me say how grateful I am that you’ve consented to set aside important work in Miami to come here for Liddy Bea’s sake. Gotta say, I did my damnedest to talk Mallory out of contacting you. To be perfectly honest, I expected you to dodge responsibility.”
Connor stiffened at that. “You and Mrs. Forrest always had a mistakenly low opinion of me, Senator.” Connor’s earlier congenial manner downshifted noticeably.
Bradford shrugged. “I was too busy back then to get to know Mark or Mallory’s friends. And Beatrice, rest her soul, loved them both to distraction. Some say she spoiled them. Really, she wanted the best life had to offer for our kids.”
Connor laid a hand on Claire’s arm. His bluster faded a bit. “I didn’t know you’d lost your wife. I’m sorry.”
“Bea went rather quickly after being diagnosed with a neuroblastoma. Under a year. We…the family has weathered some rough patches, what with the discovery of Liddy Bea’s polycystic kidneys, and now her latest downward spiral.”
“And Mark? How’s he?”
“Still career navy, stationed at Pensacola. He pops in and out. Not often enough, considering he keeps an apartment in town and a boat docked down on the Wakulla. But here we are discussing old times, leaving a beautiful woman in the dark.”
Claire edged closer to Connor, appearing to look on the senator with somewhat more favor after his last remark.
The receptionist glided up to the trio, who had yet to complete introductions. The woman passed Connor a thick telephone book. “I’ve marked the lodgings section with a paper clip. I hope you can find something. I saw on TV that FSU is graduating record numbers this semester.”
“What’s this?” Brad growled. “You two need a place to stay? Nonsense. I insist you stay with me. The old place has twelve bedrooms, eight of which have private baths. When Beatrice was alive, most of ’em were full every weekend.” He shook his head sadly. “Every year at tax time, I say I’m going to downsize. But the house holds so many good memories of Bea…. I know, I know—you wouldn’t think I’d be a sentimental old fool. Don’t tell anyone who sits on my senate subcommittees, or I’ll deny every word.”
Everyone laughed, except Claire. She was trying to catch Connor’s eye.
“Anyhow, I won’t take no for an answer.” Brad gestured to the receptionist. “Here, Rhonda, Connor doesn’t need the phone book. He and Claire will be my guests for as long as Fredric needs Connor in town.”
The senator relieved Connor of the book and replaced it with a business card he extracted from his jacket pocket. “Ring the second number after you’re finished here. My driver will bring the car around.”
Claire, standing fully behind the senator, shook her head vigorously at Connor.
“Senator, this is very kind of you,” Connor began. “But we really can’t impose.”
Claire relaxed, until Dr. Dahl opened the door to say gruffly, “What’s the delay, Rhonda? Where’s O’Rourke? I’m due in surgery at Forrest Memorial in fifty minutes.”
“Sorry, Fredric.” Bradford stepped out to where Dahl could see him. “I’m afraid I detained them. Connor’s going to be staying at Forrest House. That way, he’ll have my car at his disposal if and when you need him. I’m on my way to the hospital to look in on Liddy Bea. Shall I swing past surgery and tell them you’ll be late?”
“Yes, thanks, Brad. Tell them to delay preop for fifteen minutes.”
Connor, not fully comprehending how disgruntled Claire was, turned toward the doctor. “Dr. Dahl, our plane landed late. I haven’t even begun to fill out your paperwork. If rescheduling my appointment is more convenient, I’ll take these with me. That’ll give us a chance to locate lodging. There’s really no need to put Senator Forrest out.”
“Put me out? On the contrary. In fact, if Claire doesn’t mind my stealing you away for an hour or so, I’d like to discuss
the work you’re doing on early hurricane detection. Look, I’ll phone my housekeeper right now and have Marta prepare a room.” He proceeded to pull out his cell phone and do just that.
Dr. Dahl moved into the waiting room. Smiling, he grasped Connor’s elbow. “What Brad really wants to learn is who dropped the ball and let you go to Miami’s weather center instead of ours. I guess, technically speaking, I should be referring to you as Dr. O’Rourke, should I not?”
“No, please. Only in a work environment do I use Dr.”
“Well, it’s your choice. Come, then, Connor, we’ll fill in your chart as we go. Today is going to be nothing more than me explaining what’s entailed in donating a kidney, should your tests be positive. I’ll talk a little about the tests themselves, and answer your questions. Have you visited Liddy Bea yet?”
“No.” Connor glanced uneasily back at Claire, whom he’d left more or less on her own to deal with the senator. “Mallory said she’d arrange with the hospital to give me access. I, uh, planned to ask what’s appropriate to say—about who I am. And also, if possible, I’d like my fiancée to meet Lydia. The news that I had a daughter came as a shock to us both. Our wedding was scheduled for this past Sunday. We, uh, postponed the ceremony.”
Sympathy and understanding entered the doctor’s eyes. “It speaks well for you and your fiancée that you’re here. I told Mallory it’d be best for now if Liddy Bea thinks you’re an old friend of her mother’s. If I’d known you were engaged, we could have included your fiancée in today’s appointment. I’ll give you literature to take back to her.”
“She’s here. That’s Claire with the senator. Claire Dupree.” Connor left the doctor and crossed the reception area to retrieve their luggage.
Dr. Dahl walked over and greeted Claire. “Please, you two come to my office. And Brad,” he added, “since they’d both like to visit Liddy, will you clear that with Mallory? Is it possible to have Davis collect them at the hospital? Oh, I see they have luggage.” He stared at the items now grouped at Connor’s feet. “It’d free them considerably, Brad, if you sent their bags with Davis now.”
No sooner had the suggestion been made than it happened. Bradford Forrest stepped to the door and wiggled two fingers. A man in a dark blue uniform materialized to whisk away Connor and Claire’s bags.
Connor knew that if he felt steamrollered, Claire must be feeling it twice as much. But he had no time to make amends. Rhonda, Dahl’s receptionist, handed the doctor a message as she ushered Claire into the clinic’s inner sanctum.
Gazing helplessly toward the entry where Bradford, his driver and the bags had now vanished, Connor had little recourse but to fall in behind the women.
Rhonda directed them to roomy leather chairs that flanked a large mahogany desk. She left, returning a moment later with two frosty glasses of fruit juice. Claire sat and drank from hers. Connor wiped the condensation off his glass as he made a slow circuit of the room, closely eyeing the framed certificates on the wall. A low whistle escaped his lips. “Dr. Dahl has impressive degrees, including a fellowship in the Academy of Pediatric Nephrology.”
“Sorry for the delay.” Dahl breezed into the room. “I had to phone the hospital and change medications for a patient experiencing a lot of pain.”
Connor quickly went and sat next to Claire. As Dahl launched into a description of kidney transplants, the implications of the news Mallory had brought him a few days ago well and truly sank in. At a nearby hospital lay a child who was his. She, too, had undoubtedly endured a lot of pain. The thought humbled Connor, and also renewed his anger at Mallory. His child. He should have been there for her in times of crisis.
Half an hour later, the doctor’s detailed interview wound to a close. He handed Claire and Connor packets containing diagrams and brochures. “You both have that dazed expression, which tells me I’ve nattered on too long. Basically, everything I’ve discussed is covered in the packet. You’ll want to study the material and discuss the impact such a surgery will have on your lives. I’m sure questions will arise. I or my staff will answer them as forthrightly as possible.”
“Thanks,” Connor said, getting to his feet. “Perhaps after I visit my daughter, all of this will make perfect sense.”
Claire leafed through the pages. She pulled out one that bore the letterhead of the clinic’s legal counsel. It absolved staff in cases where complications developed as a result of the surgery. “What, exactly, is Connor’s legal obligation to give this child one of his kidneys?”
Dahl stroked his chin. “Probably none at the moment, since Liddy’s mother withheld news of her birth. If Connor walks away, Mallory has the right to petition the court and ask a judge to order paternity tests. Once paternity’s established, it would be up to a judge to rule whether or not to force Connor to take the next steps. I’m obliged to tell you that in my twenty-plus years in the field, I’ve never known a judge to force anyone to give up an organ involuntarily.”
“You said she’s on dialysis,” Connor said. “How long can she live on that?”
“Well, under normal circumstances, a patient can exist until we find a donor from the national donor list. However, Liddy’s had a great deal of trouble with veins collapsing around her cannula. Those have resulted in numerous infections.”
“Still, you’re saying she’s not in imminent danger of dying without Connor’s kidney?” This came from Claire.
“I can tell you that with an operating kidney, Liddy’s quality of life will dramatically improve. I wouldn’t presume to predict anyone’s life span. Any one of us could walk out of here today and be wiped out by a drunk driver.” The doctor drew back his sleeve, exposing his watch. “If either of you think of other questions, I’ll answer them en route to the hospital. I must say, I’d hoped you were committed to the idea of being a donor, Connor.”
Connor folded his papers and stepped aside to let the doctor pass. “I flew here from Miami to be tested, Doctor. What more do you need in the way of a commitment?”
Dahl’s steps slowed. A smile lit his careworn features. The smile faded as Claire grabbed Connor’s arm. “I, um, think you’re agreeing far too hastily. This affects both of us, Connor. As the doctor said, we need to discuss the pros and cons.”
“What cons? The pro’s a given. The quality of Liddy’s life improves.”
Claire pursed her lips. “Shouldn’t we fully explore all the ramifications to you? In private,” she stressed, opening the door through which Rhonda had led them earlier.
“We’ll use the back entrance if you’re riding with me,” Dr. Dahl said.
“That’s another thing,” Claire murmured. “Will we be able to talk freely at the senator’s? Clearly, it’s in his best interests to convince you to have the surgery, Connor.”
Now Connor frowned. “As our bags are there, and since the senator’s inconvenienced his entire household on our behalf, we have to accept his hospitality for tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll make other arrangements. Surely not everyone who came for the graduation will stay on once the ceremony’s over.”
Fredric Dahl stripped off his white medical coat and donned a suit jacket. After informing his office staff where they could reach him for the next few hours, he escorted Connor and Claire out to his roomy Mercedes. “Forrest House is like a small hotel,” he told Claire, once he had the air-conditioning cooling the car’s interior. “Were you ever at the mansion?” Dahl asked Connor.
“Inside? Once. For Mallory’s sixteenth birthday party. I’d been living out of my car. Wrinkled as I was, I didn’t make a very good impression on Mrs. Forrest. Mallory soon realized her mother and I mixed like oil and water.”
“Why on earth were you living out of your car?” Dahl seemed truly horrified.
Connor explained briefly about losing his mother and his home to a devastating hurricane. “I bounced back and forth between friends during the last half of my junior year. Finally a few parents caught on to the fact that I was more or less homeless. They wanted to notif
y the authorities. I’d known kids in bad foster situations, so I didn’t want any part of it. I swore my buddies to secrecy and got fairly adept at living in the old Chevy. Until Mallory heard about it. She talked a family friend into giving me a job as his part-time gardener. The job came with quarters over his garage. I lived there until I got my initial degree from FSU.” He broke off guiltily, remembering again how much he owed Mallory.
“Who’d have thought gardening would provide enough money for tuition.”
“It didn’t,” Connor admitted. “Again thanks to Mallory, a local organization awarded me a full scholarship to the meteorology program.”
“A lot of people have fallen prey to Mallory’s silver tongue. You probably know she’s the PR department’s fund-raiser at Forrest Memorial. According to our chief administrator, her fund-raising is single-handedly responsible for all the perks we’ve enjoyed these past five years. We’re lucky Dr. Robinson discovered her haunting the hospital halls when Bea Forrest was so ill. Alec now says it’s the best move he ever made. He calls Mallory our fund-raising goddess.”
Connor noticed that Claire grew stonier with each new mention of Mallory’s name. While he might like to hear more about what Mallory had done in the years since they’d parted—mostly to understand why she’d felt a need to hide the birth of their daughter from him—he also realized how inconsiderate it was to constantly throw Mallory’s name in Claire’s face.
“Why don’t you tell us a little about Liddy Bea, Dr. Dahl? Is she well enough to play with toys? I didn’t think to bring a gift, but I’m sure the hospital has a shop.”
“Ah. You know the way to that child’s heart.” The doctor grinned. “Brad’s constantly trying to lavish toys on her, but Mallory has managed to rein him in. She’s raised a delightful child. Liddy Bea is bright, and funny and articulate beyond her years. I’m warning you—she’ll steal your heart.”
The Seven Year Secret Page 5
