The Seven Year Secret

by Roz Denny Fox

  He stared vacantly into space a moment, then quietly closed his cellular. As he did, he felt a weight fly off his shoulders. He didn’t care about the ring. Originally, he’d intended to give his grandmother’s ring to his fiancée. The ring his mom had stored in a safety-deposit box. It was one of very few family items that remained after the hurricane destroyed their mobile home. Now he thought it was probably significant that he’d never shown Claire that ring. Instead, he’d purchased the one she and her friends had picked out. A setting far flashier than his grandmother’s. Her small diamond lay buried in hammered gold rose petals. Mallory had loved the antique setting from the first moment she’d seen it.

  One day, perhaps, he’d give it to Liddy Bea.

  “Are you all right, sir? I couldn’t help overhearing,” Davis said, turning slightly to glance at Connor.

  “I’m okay.” Connor took a deep breath. “Frankly, I should feel worse.” A cell phone rang, cutting off his reply. He flipped his phone open, only to discover it wasn’t his.

  “Good timing,” the driver said as he clicked off his car phone. “That was Senator Brad. His meeting’s going long. He was checking to see if I’d got you to the airport.”

  “Did you tell him I was swinging by to see Mallory?”

  “Yes. He said she may throw you out.”

  “Can’t say I’d blame her, Davis. I still need to tell her I’m sorry. I’ll miss my flight, but maybe I’ll stay over an extra day. I should contact a leasing agent and find a place to rent. Now that I’ve essentially cut all ties to Miami, I’m ready to move on.”

  “Mr. Mark’s apartment has four bedrooms. I heard Miss Mallory tell Senator Brad that the rent was higher than she expected. She’s considering advertising for a roommate.”

  “I doubt she’d sublet to me,” Connor said wryly.

  “You never know. You did tell Ms. Claire that one reason for moving here is to get to know Miss Liddy better. That hectic job of Miss Mallory’s, along with constant worry over Miss Liddy, is wearing her down,” Davis remarked casually as he double-parked. Bounding from the car, he whisked open Connor’s door. “Good luck, sir,” he muttered as Connor stepped to the curb. “Lord willing, Miss Mallory will see she needs you for more than just a kidney.”

  Connor puzzled over Davis’s statement on his trek upstairs. Davis and Claire both twisted things—making it sound as if his involvement here was about him and Mallory. It wasn’t. It was about Liddy Bea. And about the fact that he wanted an active role in her life.

  Connor’s light knock resulted in Mallory abruptly yanking the door open. “Oh,” she exclaimed, her eyes dark-ringed and smudged from recent tears. “What are you doing here? I thought you were Dad. He phoned after Fredric called him, wanting to rush right over, even though I said there wasn’t anything he could do.”

  Connor thought someone needed to be here for her. Granted, he’d missed her other hours of need. But he was here now.

  Liddy Bea pushed a doll buggy into the room and stopped. “Connor, hi! I heard Mommy tell Grandpapa you can’t give me a kidney.” She ran up and tackled his thighs. “Don’t be sad like Uncle Mark and Grandpapa were when they tried to give me one. I love you, anyway.” Her chubby arms tightened, threatening to tip Connor off balance.

  Mallory gasped. “Liddy Bea. You can’t love someone you hardly know.”

  Letting go, the child shrugged. “It feels like I do…know him, Mommy.”

  Mallory appeared so flustered by that, her hand slid off the knob. Connor took advantage of her lapse in attention. He wedged through the opening and shut the door.

  Mallory rubbed her bare arms. “I thought you’d be on your way to Miami. Why aren’t you?” she asked in a dull voice.

  “For a variety of reasons. Not all of them are clear in my mind. The biggest, I suppose, is that I couldn’t leave without trying to explain to you the impotent rage I feel over not being a donor. Dr. Dahl mentioned that there are cases where surgeons have made the double vein-artery anomaly work. Maybe we should get a second opinion.”

  “I trust Fredric. He’s the top in his field. If you only knew how many doctors we saw before he diagnosed Liddy Bea’s condition. Explore more avenues if you’d like, Connor. I can’t deal with added discouragement right now.” She grasped the knob again, as if expecting him to take his leave. “It…uh…means a lot that you stopped by. I’m sorry we argued earlier. Sorrier, of course, that you aren’t a match. But this way, you and Claire won’t have to leave Miami.”

  “Claire and I…ended our engagement. I took the job at FSU.”

  Mallory’s hand flew to her lips. “Why? Oh, God, I’m so sorry. I should never have tracked you down. I’ve totally screwed up your life, haven’t I?”

  “No, you didn’t.” Connor’s eyes rotated toward Liddy Bea, who’d gone to the dining-room window, presumably to look for Davis. “We have quite a lot to discuss, Mallory. Would you like to sit down over a cup of coffee?”

  “I…was…getting ready to do Liddy’s midday exchange. Maybe another time.”

  “I won’t be put off, Mallory. Some of what we need to clear up has been hanging over our heads for seven years.”

  Mallory swallowed air, which resulted in a massive coughing fit. Connor pounded her on the back. “Good try, Mal. But I’m still not leaving. And fainting won’t discourage me, either,” he said when she closed her eyes and pressed a hand to her forehead.

  That observation produced a narrow-eyed glare. “I’ve never fainted in my life. Not even when I was pregnant. Oh, all right, Connor. Except we can’t talk here. Little pitchers. Big ears.” She rolled her eyes toward Liddy Bea.

  “If this isn’t a stall tactic, Mallory, then name when and where we can meet. Today,” he stressed.

  “Dinner? At Barnacle Bill’s? It’s casual and medium priced. This isn’t a date, Connor. We’ll split the check.”

  Connor felt his temper surge. “No. Things have changed, Mallory. I’ll let you pick the place, but I’m not the dead-broke student you once had to sneak money to the maître d’ for.”

  She blanched.

  “I only let you get away with it because I hated having you miss out on going to places you frequented before you and I met.”

  “I never needed fancy restaurants. If I occasionally arranged to pay in advance, it was because you worked so hard, Connor. I thought you deserved a night out once in a while—without worrying about which budget item we’d have to juggle or skip.”

  “See, this only proves what I said. Talking is seriously overdue.”

  “I agree. Especially if those are some of the mistaken impressions you’ve carried around. Is eight satisfactory? I’ll arrange a sitter for after Liddy Bea’s evening exchange. Shall we meet outside Bill’s?”

  “Eight’s fine. But we’ll both leave from here. First, I want to see how you do an exchange. Moreover, I have nowhere else to go. I didn’t plan on staying in Tallahassee tonight—my decision to lay over came out of the blue. In fact, I was hoping you’d help me find a rental nearby.”

  “Can’t Connor stay with us, Mommy?” Liddy Bea, who’d just returned, tugged Mallory’s hand.

  “Absolutely not.” Mallory sounded as if the suggestion was unthinkable.

  Connor gazed at her steadily. “A little bird told me you’re considering taking on a roommate.”

  “I was—am. These last few years have all but depleted the trust Mother left me. I could ask Dad for help, but I won’t, as a matter of principle. Oh, this discussion is ridiculous. We can’t be roommates, Connor.”

  “No? We shared quarters once. Am I the only one who thought we got along fine?”

  Mallory vividly recalled some of the fine nights spent in Connor’s arms. Heat rolled over her, making her knees go weak.

  Liddy Bea danced around excitedly. “Please, Mommy! Please, let him stay. Grandpapa said you needed to find a man to paint where Uncle Mark’s pictures used to be. And after you broke my mirror, you said you needed a man to hang stuff.” />
  Mallory’s jaw tightened. “Baby, your grandfather and I were talking about paying a handyman to do some of the heavy chores.”

  “Isn’t Connor handy?” Liddy Bea leaned back and gazed adoringly up at him.

  He grinned and ruffled the girl’s bobbing curls. “Exactly, kitten. In the workplace they call it job-sharing. Two people split a single workload. Each person is assigned the work he or she does best. Now, me, I make a mess of laundry. But I’m a terrific painter and picture-hanger. I’m a so-so cook. Better at cleaning the kitchen. Oh, and I vacuum up a storm. I can already see definite possibilities for your mom and me in such an arrangement.”

  Mallory clenched her hands at her sides. “You two, stop. Liddy Bea, you know I want a grandmotherly kind of lady to sit with you while I work. Someone who’ll cook, clean and otherwise fill my shoes after school starts in the fall.”

  “Can’t the lady clean Connor’s room, too?” Liddy Bea met her mother’s frown. “Uh-oh. I forgot you said I gotta call him something dif’rent.”

  “Coincidentally, I have the summer free, Mallory.” Connor produced his trump card. “The university isn’t scheduling me to teach until fall. They’ve allowed time for me to set up my system and make sure it’s operational. Once the equipment’s in place, it’s a matter of training student aides to read the printouts. Until fall, I can name my hours. For instance…nights. Leaving me free to stay with Liddy Bea during your workday. That way, you won’t have to extend your leave.”

  “What?” Mallory yelped over Liddy’s shouts of “Goody, goody!”

  Employing a hopeful smile, Connor pressed harder. “I really wasn’t looking forward to having so much spare time on my hands. I feel better about it now. This is a workable plan, don’t you agree, Mallory?”

  “But, but, but…”

  “Liddy Bea’s the real winner. She gets round-the-clock supervision by the two people who care most about her welfare.”

  “It’s a crazy notion. Insane!”

  “Practical. We split the rent down the middle. The house is mine by day. Yours by night. If you work late, I’ll adjust my schedule. I’m offering to share the whole domestic load, Mallory.”

  She felt herself toppling—almost ready to try his crazy idea. It was his willingness to adjust his schedule that tipped the scales. Fund-raising work demanded erratic hours. “I can’t decide something this important at a snap of the fingers. I’ll think about it, Connor. Not everyone’s cut out to deal with a chronically ill child. I’ll definitely need to see how well you handle Liddy’s exchanges.”

  “Absolutely.” He tossed his briefcase on the couch and loosened his tie. Turning expectantly, he was surprised to discover that Mallory had moved in so close he nearly landed on her foot. Connor grabbed for her in an effort to keep them from crashing into each other.

  His aftershave tickled her nose, and Mallory sneezed.

  “I’d offer you my handkerchief, but it’s wrapped around my hand.”

  Mallory saw where blood still seeped through the white linen. “What on earth did you do?”

  Stuffing his battered hand in his pocket, Connor shrugged negligently. “Nothing.”

  “It looks like something,” Liddy Bea said, nosing her way in.

  Mallory tugged his hand out so she could examine it. “You need to wash off that blood, put on antibiotic ointment and apply ice to the joints. Connor, your knuckles are swelling. I’d say you struck something hard.” As she talked, Mallory dragged him down the hall toward a bathroom.

  “Thanks,” he managed to mutter. “I did it to myself. I was so mad after hearing Dahl’s verdict, I smacked one of the clinic pillars on the way out. Not the brightest move I’ve ever made.”

  Mallory’s lashes swept up. “I understand the feeling,” she said quietly. “When Fredric phoned, I wanted to scream and kick. But, Connor, if you really want to spend time with Liddy Bea, you’ll have to manage your anger better,” she murmured, as Liddy careered into the room, her arms loaded with stuffed toys.

  “These are to make Connor feel better,” she said, thrusting them at him.

  Connor sorted out a soft bear with his left hand and tucked it under his chin. That sent Liddy Bea into peals of delighted laughter.

  Mallory stopped tending Connor’s cuts. “I haven’t heard her laugh like that in weeks.” She was plainly shaken by the fact that credit for this belonged to Connor. “Maybe having you around would be, uh, good for her,” she reluctantly admitted.

  Turning serious, Connor ducked his head and forced her to look him in the eye. “Good for all of us, I hope.”

  “Yes. It’s worth a try.” She concentrated on applying the cream. Once she’d covered Connor’s scrapes with soft gauze, she scrubbed her hands and arms with antibacterial soap. “Liddy Bea, baby, it’s past time for your exchange. Today I’m showing Connor the process, okay?”

  Liddy gazed solemnly at the man who was essentially still a stranger. Without saying a word, she sneaked a trusting hand into Connor’s uninjured one.

  “What exactly is an exchange?” he asked as she led him to her bedroom.

  “You’ll see.” Mallory went to a storage closet stacked high with boxes. From one she pulled a plastic bag filled with clear liquid. “This is dialysate, used to replace fluid after we remove waste from her system.” Two polyethylene tubes were attached to the bag; one dead-ended at a second, empty container. “Liddy has a permanent catheter imbedded in her abdomen.”

  Connor nodded, though he couldn’t imagine what she meant.

  “Attach the bag of dialysate to that hook we screwed into the wall. Clip off hose A and plug the other end into her catheter. Then unclip hose B, which leads to the empty bag you set on the floor.”

  Connor leaned over Mallory, who knelt beside Liddy. His warm breath ruffled the hair on the back of Mallory’s neck. She shifted, hardly able to believe the tiny licks of tension squeezing low in her stomach. It’d been so long since she’d experienced anything remotely sexual. More annoyed than anything, Mallory dashed any such possibilities from her mind. Besides…she darted a fast glance at Connor, and he seemed intent and unmoved. Which, she suddenly remembered, was the way it often used to be between her and Connor. She’d fallen head over heels for him the day they met. For several years, he’d considered her nothing more than a pal.

  This roommate thing could probably work—if she taught herself to be as emotionless as he was. Digging deep, she ignored the mounting tension.

  “Okay, see, Connor? It’s connected. Unclip hose B and the waste goes into the bag. When it’s full, clip it off and open the bag of solution. Gravitational pull empties the dialysate into Liddy’s system via hose A. It’s pretty simple, really, once you get the hang of it. All in all, it takes forty minutes or so to complete the cycle.”

  Connor nodded, not trusting himself to speak. A plastic stump protruded from his precious baby’s flesh, and there was a puckered, red scar angling across her abdomen. He thought he might be sick, but was determined not to be.

  Mallory’s voice droned on above the buzz in his ears. “Always make sure your hands are clean. The cannula must be covered after we’re done. I worry about infection. She’s had so many,” Mallory murmured, getting up to sit in the rocker. She pulled Liddy Bea into her lap. “This is better than hemodialysis, which takes four to five hours each time.

  “She goes through this how often?” Light-headed, and trying desperately not to show it, Connor sank down on the end of Liddy’s pink-and-white bed.

  “Three.” Liddy Bea held up three pudgy fingers. “Sometimes more.”

  “It’s three now,” Mallory explained. “Fredric checked her creatinine and BUN levels yesterday. Three’s not getting the job done. He’ll probably up her to four.”

  Swallowing hard, Connor nodded again. If Mallory could do this and remain unaffected, by God, so could he. Maybe if he looked at the process clinically—sort of like working with his own sensitive equipment—he wouldn’t trip and fall on his face
. “Uh, if you two are set here for a while, I’ll go somewhere quiet and make a few phone calls. I need to start the ball rolling on my move.”

  “Sure. I’ll read Liddy Bea a story. This gives us one-on-one time for reading, doesn’t it, baby?”

  “Uh-huh. Next time, can Connor read to me?”

  “You bet, kitten.” Moved by her earnest little face, Connor lifted her chin and kissed the tip of her nose before he left the room. Fled might be a more apt term for his hasty exit. What if he couldn’t do what Mallory managed with apparent ease?

  Of course he could. But he’d never again take Mallory’s role for granted. She’d humbled him with her efficiency and her capacity to adapt.

  “LIDDY BEA FELL ASLEEP during her exchange,” Mallory said, when she found Connor some forty-five minutes later, seated at her kitchen table. “Is that fresh coffee I smell?” She let her nose lead her to the pot.

  “I hope you don’t mind that I rummaged around and helped myself to coffee. After listening to the chief of Miami’s center call me a traitor for ten minutes, I really needed a jolt of caffeine.”

  Mallory filled her cup and carried it to the counter to stir in sugar. “Maybe you should listen to him. What if you are making the mistake of your life?”

  “In what way?” Connor tilted back in his chair. He sawed a finger thoughtfully across one hollow cheek.

  “When it was time to bring your project back home, was Tallahassee a place you considered applying?”

  He ran his gaze up and down her tense body and realized his answer was important. He’d be damned if he knew where this was leading, though. Something was bothering Mallory. Connor wished he could read her better. “The station in Miami approached me first,” he finally admitted. “I didn’t contact them.”

  “Really? Wow. Your work did get noticed in high places.”

  “Have you forgotten how closed the meteorological community is?”