“Then why didn’t you—” Marta suddenly blocked the doorway.
“Why are you two yelling at each other at this early hour? Come have breakfast, and try and act civilized.”
Mallory gave her watch a quick check. “Yikes, I need to go. I’m meeting those prospective hospital benefactors at eight-thirty. I’ll have coffee and a roll there.”
Connor watched her execute a smooth exit. He remained rooted to the floor, staring after her as she dashed upstairs and came back a moment later carrying a bulging attaché and her purse. She seemed surprised he was still there. “I’ll phone Fredric. The tests are fairly straightforward, Connor,” she said, latching on to the first thing that might return them to a less volatile footing. “It’s necessary to fast, and since you haven’t eaten, they can probably work you in this morning. That way, you can catch an afternoon flight to Miami. I’ll assume this works out, so I’ll say goodbye now. Thank you seems inadequate, Connor, but I’ll say it again—from the bottom of my heart and Liddy’s.”
The finality of the door closing behind her took Connor aback. Damn, he wished Marta hadn’t interrupted them earlier. What had Mallory been about to say? Why didn’t he…what? Phone? The atoll where he’d been flown immediately after touching down on Guam had no phone reception.
But he’d written. Letters he’d sent out on a supply boat.
Marta’s stern features again appeared in his line of vision. “Davis is at the back door wondering when you want to leave for town. He said Mr. Brad left at six. Tell me why a body bothers cooking meals around here.”
Feeling a little guilty, Connor followed her into the kitchen. “I have no idea what time Dr. Dahl’s office opens. Nine, I’d guess. Mallory said they’ll need me to fast for those tests. I’m sorry you went to the trouble of cooking. Everything smells great.”
Davis stepped into the room and removed his cap. “Do you still want to go by the cemetery this morning, sir? The senator spoke with Dr. Dahl while we were on the way to his office. Apparently I should have you at the laboratory at ten. He estimates you’ll be finished by one or two, but he’s sorry he can’t meet you for lunch. Said he figured you’d want to head back to Miami before he winds down, anyway.”
Connor nodded, glancing at the kitchen wall clock. “I was hoping to catch an afternoon flight.”
“Oh, another thing Mr. Brad asked me to relay. Said he’ll phone you the minute he gets authorization for funding. Didn’t say funding for what. I guess you know.”
Connor’s jaw dropped. Last night, the senator had joked about raising money to move Connor’s research program from Miami to Tallahassee. Obviously it hadn’t been a joke, after all. But why would he take the senator seriously? For one thing, he doubted it’d be simple to find the necessary bucks to make the switch. “I, ah, guess I’ll run up and pack. Marta, thank you, and be sure to thank the senator. He has no reason to go out of his way for me,” Connor muttered.
Feeling suddenly as claustrophobic in this luxuriant home as he had at sixteen, Connor couldn’t leave fast enough. “Davis, it’ll take me only a minute to toss my gear together and phone the airline. Will we still have time to go by the cemetery?”
“I think so, yes. Tell Marta what flowers you’d like for your mother’s grave, and she can phone in your order.”
“My mom’s favorite flowers were yellow carnations, and those little blue ones with yellow centers. I don’t know what they’re called.”
“Forget-me-nots,” Marta supplied. “Odd, those are Miss Mallory’s favorites, too.”
For a second, Connor floundered. “I, uh, must’ve given you the wrong flowers. My mom’s favorites were, uh, yellow roses. And daisies.”
“A logical mistake,” Marta murmured, gazing on Connor with narrowed eyes. The Forrests’ housekeeper didn’t think his mistake was logical at all.
Connor smoothed his tie. “And please order a bouquet of Mallory’s favorites sent to her at work. Have it signed from me and Claire. Maybe flowers will make partial amends for driving Mallory from her bed last night.”
“She’d rather have her own place. She and Miss Liddy gave up their house when Miss Mallory elected to donate a kidney. They were making plans to move back there when the transplant failed.”
“That explains why they live with the senator,” Connor said, rubbing a thumb over his bottom lip. “I’m afraid there’s a lot I don’t know about my daughter, Marta.”
“Humph!” The housekeeper swung away and snatched up the kitchen wall phone. “Appears to me that if a father wanted to know more about his child, he wouldn’t be so anxious to hightail it out of town.”
That barb struck deep, as Marta had meant it to. But since Connor had nothing to say in his own defense and because she’d turned away, he simply excused himself with no further comment.
Less than fifteen minutes later, his bag packed and a flight secured, Connor found that his detour past the cemetery was far more gut-wrenching than he’d expected. Painful memories of the day he’d buried Lydia O’Rourke threatened to drown him as surely as if he’d been caught in a riptide. Adding to the sensation of being in over his head was the fact that someone else had left a bouquet on his mother’s grave. Who? Claire? They’d talked about it yesterday. She could have phoned a florist.
As they drew closer, Connor realized the bouquet was wilted. While Connor tried to get his bearings, Davis efficiently whisked the old bouquet from the in-ground vase and hurried away to toss the faded flowers into a nearby trash receptacle.
About to ask Davis if there was a card with the bouquet, Connor saw that the senator’s driver had withdrawn a discreet distance—presumably to allow Connor time to get control of his emotions. Which he eventually managed to do, long enough to whisper a remembered prayer. Something Mallory had taught him in the dark aftermath of a hurricane that had altered his life forever.
Mallory. She’d been such an integral part of his existence back then. Connor would never have guessed, seven or eight years ago, that they’d ever reach the point of trying to avoid being in the same room together.
“Sir,” Davis said quietly. “Traffic is picking up. If I’m going to get you to the clinic on time, we’d better leave now.”
Connor rose shakily from where he’d knelt in recently mowed grass. He slowly dusted grass clippings from the knees of his slacks as he moved toward Davis, who held the limo door open. “Those flowers, Davis. The ones you tossed. Any idea who might have put them there?”
Davis glanced over his shoulder. “I’d guess Miss Mallory and Miss Lydia came by before she went back into the hospital. The senator and I occasionally see them here. Miss Mallory sees to it that her daughter regularly visits her grandmothers.”
“She does?” Connor’s throat went too dry to say more. Did that mean Mallory spoke to Liddy Bea about him, as well? If so, wouldn’t the child have recognized his name? Or had he not given his name when he’d introduced himself and Claire?
“We’re at the clinic, sir. I have errands to run for Marta. Page me when you’re finished. Here’s the number.”
“I appreciate the senator’s placing you at my disposal, Davis. And thanks for the side trip to the cemetery. But I won’t tie you up further. I couldn’t get a flight out until nine-thirty tonight. After the tests, I’ll catch a cab to the hospital and maybe spend a couple of hours getting to know my daughter.”
“Very good, sir.” Davis beamed. “But I’d be most happy to chauffeur you. Otherwise Marta might suggest I clean the garage. That woman does love to boss me around when Senator Brad’s at work.”
Connor grinned. “In that case, I’ll leave my bags in the limo and page you when I’m done.”
Davis slid back into the car and drove off.
Dr. Dahl’s receptionist, Rhonda, glanced up when Connor opened the door. “Dr. O’Rourke.” She rose gracefully and motioned him through a full waiting room. “Our lab techs will be overjoyed to see how prompt you are. Follow me, please. I think they’re ready for you.�
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“Like good little vampires?” Connor teased with more levity than he felt. The clinic had the antiseptic smell of a hospital. His stomach began to churn.
The woman led him down a hallway he hadn’t noticed yesterday. She laughed at his lame joke. “That’s good. I’ll have to sew the techs black capes next Halloween. By the way, you haven’t eaten, have you?”
“Not even coffee, so I hope you guys know you’re taking your lives in your hands messing with me this morning. Which doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate such fast service.”
“We want to accommodate you, Dr. O’Rourke.”
Connor shot her a veiled glance.
Rhonda smiled. “Don’t look so worried. The whole staff is rooting for Liddy Bea. She’s a great kid.”
“My daughter’s been through quite a struggle with this kidney problem, hasn’t she,” he said, following Rhonda into a gleaming white room.
The receptionist’s dark eyes shifted, and then a shutter fell. “You’d have to discuss that with her mother. Mallory Forrest is your daughter’s legal guardian.”
“Only because she neglected to inform me of Lydia’s existence,” Connor muttered angrily.
Rhonda dropped a Request for Services form into an empty basket sitting just inside the lab. “Have a seat, Doctor. Lynn or Donna will be right with you.”
“It’s Connor, please. And look, I didn’t mean to bite your head off. I just don’t want you all to get the impression I’m a deadbeat dad.”
Rhonda withdrew without another word. Not that Connor would have explained his situation in any greater detail. But he did stew a bit, wondering what Mallory’s friends thought about his leaving her to raise Liddy Bea alone.
A perky blonde showed up to snatch the form. “I’m Lynn. I’ll be relieving you of several vials of blood, Dr. O’Rourke. Then Donna will escort you across the hall, where she’s set up for your tissue biopsy and pyelogram. Intravenous pyelogram,” she elaborated. “An X ray, oh, and somewhere in between, you’ll have to pee in this cup.” She handed him a covered plastic cup emblazoned with his name.
“Dr. Dahl didn’t mention anything about an X ray or tissue biopsy.”
Lynn pointed him to a cubicle and asked him to sit. As Connor unbuttoned his shirtsleeve and rolled it up past his elbow, Lynn explained the X ray. “The doctor needs to cover all the bases with you. Not only are you a long-distance donor, but the recipient has had one failed transplant. A tissue sample is very helpful. An IVP tracks radiopaque dye through your urinary system and shows any glitches or abnormalities. Next week, a radiologist and Dr. Dahl will read your films. Then the team will decide whether you’re a viable candidate.”
“Oh. Makes sense to check everything, I suppose. But can’t you take my word for the fact that output from my kidneys is fine?”
She grinned a little at that, rubber-banded his arm and flicked a vein with her forefinger. The minute his vein puffed up, she jabbed Connor with the needle and loosened the band.”
“Hey, take it easy,” he said. But this technician knew her job. Almost before he’d fully released his pent-up breath, Lynn had her four vials of blood.
As if by some silent signal, a dark-haired woman appeared. “I’m Donna. If you’ll come with me, I’ll point you toward the men’s rest room. I’ve left a gown in there for you to change into.”
“A gown?” Connor glanced up from where Lynn plastered a fat gauze patch over the spot she’d stabbed.
“Yes. An IVP necessitates inserting a catheter.”
Connor tried not to let either of the women see how the mere thought of a catheter made him grimace. Clearly, they knew. Despite their professionalism, these women, these friends of his daughter’s, shared an unflattering view of him, and Connor got the message. Absent fathers didn’t rank high with them. And he couldn’t blame them for their attitude. He’d been a kid whose own dad took a hike. Connor knew how tough it’d made life for the parent left alone—and for a kid, who’d always wondered if he was to blame. But that was his story, not Liddy’s. He wasn’t anything like his old man. He’d never abandon his child.
After that, Connor didn’t try to strike up a conversation with Donna. In spite of the long silence, the IVP went smoothly. The dye traveled its distance in due course, and eventually she announced that his X rays and tissue biopsy were complete.
“So, there’s nothing more you need from me?” he asked once she’d helped him sit up and had handed him a sheet detailing the side effects to be aware of. “I mean, nothing except wait until Dr. Dahl phones me with the results?”
“That’s right. If the tests are all satisfactory, I think Dr. Dahl mentioned scheduling surgery sometime in mid-August.”
Connor paused at the doorway to the men’s room, holding his gown together in the back. “Why the delay?”
“To allow Liddy Bea’s most recent incision to heal. Hasn’t anyone gone over the transplant procedure with you?”
“Dr. Dahl concentrated on discussing my role.”
“Oh. Well, if possible, a recipient retains his or her failed kidneys. The donor organ is attached through a frontal opening. Liddy Bea’s undergone two surgeries at the same site within one year. In addition to looking at all aspects of such an intrusive procedure, we have to consider repeat anesthesia, as well.”
“I didn’t realize…” His voice trailed off. “Dr. Dahl gave me and my fiancée some information to study. I’ll read it thoroughly on the plane trip back to Miami this evening. I figured, since I was already in town, that I should get this part out of the way.”
“I see. Okay, someone will be in touch, then. You’re free to go. Oh, do you need a ride to the airport? Dr. Dahl said he’d have Rhonda take you.”
“No, thanks. I’ve made other arrangements. But thank Dr. Dahl for the offer.”
“Goodbye then, and good luck.”
Connor munched gratefully on an energy bar Marta had given him. Donna’s words kept ringing in his ears as he waited outside for Davis to pick him up. The term good luck seemed to imply that there was a degree of risk involved. Claire had expressed concern about that, even though he’d done his best to brush her worry aside. Should he get a second opinion?
Davis pulled in before Connor had worked that out in his mind. “You’re still standing, sir,” Davis joked. “The tests must have gone well,” he said after closing the car door.
“Nothing to them so far.”
“What time is your flight, sir?” Davis asked after a while. “Senator Brad has an evening meeting he only learned about an hour ago.”
“Not to worry, Davis. I’ll take my duffel bag with me and grab a cab to the airport. I didn’t pack much. Unlike Claire.”
“Mrs. B. used to do that, too. When the senator grumbled, she’d say he had no idea what it took her to do him proud.”
“Mallory traveled light. At least when she was in high school and college. We went to a number of hurricane-volunteer training camps together,” Connor said, noticing that Davis was studying him oddly in the mirror. All at once he saw it was because they were parked beneath the hospital portico.
“Jeez, how’d we get here so fast? This is my jumping-off spot. Thanks, Davis. To you and the senator,” Connor said as he exited the limo.
“Nice meeting you, sir. Give my best to Miss Liddy.” Davis moved briskly to the trunk and hauled out Connor’s bag, which he sat on the ground. Connor, after emerging from the car, stared pensively at the hospital’s upper-story windows.
“Nervous, sir?”
Connor gave a sheepish shrug. “It seems so. Tell me, Davis, why am I daunted by a six-year-old when I’ve gone on national TV and given speeches in front of the world’s leading scientists?”
“Children have a way of looking clear to a man’s soul. Maybe you’re worried about what she’ll see in there.”
“I guess. I know I’m curious about how she’d react if she found out I’m her father. Okay, so I’m worried, too. And I can’t really understand those feelings.
I haven’t done anything to be ashamed of. Had I known about her, I’d have been there for her. It’s as simple as that.”
Davis shifted uncomfortably, making Connor realize he shouldn’t put a Forrest employee in the middle of a debate that could only be settled by him and Mallory. He abruptly grabbed and shook Davis’s hand. “I’m wasting time we could both use more effectively. Thanks again.” Slinging the duffel over one tense shoulder, Connor shoved through the first set of glass doors.
In the lobby, he passed the gift shop. Then he had second thoughts and retraced his steps. Inside, he took his time looking over the merchandise. He didn’t want to be a man who had to buy his child’s affections. But he felt bad for having disappointed her yesterday. He rejected the stuffed pink elephant, keenly aware of Claire’s objections to it.
In a far corner, on a shelf of knickknacks, Connor saw four whimsical glass frogs whose broad grins appealed to him. Obviously a band, as each frog held a musical instrument. Lord, he didn’t even know if Liddy Bea liked music. And normally, he supposed, glass wouldn’t be appropriate for a six-year-old. Yet, he’d seen how she adored her mother’s glass elephant. And these frogs made him smile. If Mallory deemed them inappropriate, she could take them away until Liddy Bea was older. Gathering the pieces, he carried them to the counter.
“Oh, I love these,” the clerk exclaimed. “They’ll bring joy to some lucky patient.”
Appreciating her approval, Connor offered his most charming smile. The clerk, smiling back, arranged the frogs in a pretty gift box and tied it with a bright red bow.
Upstairs on the ward, Connor glanced nervously through the window of his daughter’s private room. Though no longer attached to an IV, she appeared restless. Bored, he thought. Or maybe—lonely.
The Seven Year Secret Page 10
