The You I Never Knew

by Susan Wiggs

  “Ah. Brad.”

  “The year I met him. He was a community sponsor for the soccer club. His pharmacy franchise was, actually. Med-Plan Pharmacies.” She flipped ahead a couple of pages. “Here we are at our ski place in Whistler.”

  It showed the three of them in front of a modern condo. Cody smiled his winner’s smile. Michelle’s gaze seemed curiously off focus, as if she was searching for something beyond the camera. The guy called Brad was tall, probably six-two, and thick-set, with a tanned face and a white-toothed grin, designer logos splashed across his ski outfit.

  Sam had no doubt this was a decent guy, well-heeled, caring.

  But as he regarded the picture, he felt such a stab of complete hatred that he had to look away.

  As Cody grew older, the pictures of him were sparser, taken at infrequent intervals. “I think that’s always the way,” Michelle confessed. “When they’re little, you want a picture of them every time they sneeze. But by the time they’re in high school, a Christmas picture is about all you remember to take. Here he is with his girlfriend,” she said. “Claudia Teller. They didn’t want me to take their picture, but they figured it was the only way I’d get out of their hair.”

  “What are they dressed for, Halloween?”

  She laughed. “A school dance. This is formal attire.”

  The girl was somberly pretty, with anorexic shadows under her eyes and cheekbones. Her hair was too red to be natural, her smile too sly to be genuine. Standing next to her, Cody looked tall and fiercely proud.

  “Is she still his girlfriend?”

  “As far as I know. Her parents are upper management at Microsoft, and she’s supposedly the most popular girl in the school.”

  “She looks like a barrel of laughs.”

  Michelle grinned. “I’m glad it’s not just me, then. But—” She looked away.

  “What, Michelle?”

  “It’s awful.”

  “So be awful. I won’t tell anyone.”

  “I’m hoping our stay here will cause his relationship with Claudia to chill. Is that awful?”

  “Cody would think so.”

  She pressed her hand down on the picture. “I want him to have a girlfriend. Just not this girlfriend.”

  Sam studied the pale girl in the photo. From the perspective of years, could he still blame Gavin?

  “Face it, Michelle,” he said, “the days of arranging your kid’s social life are past.”

  “But I know she’s bad for him. He’s completely blind to that. He thinks they’re totally in love. Just like—” She stood up quickly. “We’d better see what Natalie’s up to. She’s a bit unpredictable.”

  “Finish what you were saying.”

  She went to the front window and stared out at the long white fields and mountains. He stood behind her. He wanted to clamp his hands around her shoulders, draw her back against him.

  What did her hair smell like? What would her hips feel like, cradled against his?

  “Were we wrong, too, way back then?” she asked softly. “Were we blind?”

  “Your father thought so.”

  She turned to him, worrying her lower lip with her teeth. “My father never knew about us. At least, not until I told him I was pregnant.” She moved past him. “You were gone by then.”

  “He knew, Michelle.” Sam couldn’t believe she thought otherwise.

  “He never knew, not until I—that last day. We were careful,” she insisted.

  “You ought to ask him sometime.”

  Something like panic flickered in her eyes. Her relationship with her father was complex, unfathomable to Sam. He sensed that she was afraid it might crumble under scrutiny.

  “It’s lunchtime already,” she said in a rush. “I’d better get Natalie out of Edward’s hair.” She went to the door and got her jacket from a hook. “I’ll leave those albums here in case you want to look at them some more.”

  The moment had twisted, turned, changed. He had connected with her briefly, but she was slipping away again, eluding him. She seemed agitated as she stuck her arm in her jacket and fumbled with the zipper. “Damn,” she swore between her teeth.

  Sam took hold of the zipper and pulled it up. “Easy, Michelle.” When the zipper reached the top, he didn’t step away, but placed two fingers under her chin, holding her gaze to his. Her skin was as soft as it looked. Maybe softer. “Thanks,” he said, his entire awareness fixating on her lips. “Thanks for bringing those pictures. It meant a lot to me.”

  “Thank Natalie.” She ducked away, bending to put on her boots. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Maybe I still carry a torch for you, even after all these years.”

  “Men like you don’t carry anything that long.”

  “You don’t know me, Michelle.”

  “No, I don’t.” She went out onto the porch. “I guess that’s my point.”

  “We can fix that,” he said.

  “If something in my life needs fixing, I’ll take care of it myself.” She seemed flustered, disconcerted by his attention.

  It made him mad, the way she held him at a distance. “Oh yeah? From what I can tell by looking through those photo albums, you sure as hell haven’t found what you want with… what’s his name? Brad.”

  “How would you know that?”

  “It’s obvious. You’re like this picture-perfect icon—a lover he doesn’t really have to love, a partner who carries more than her share of the weight, a Barbie doll that looks good on the arm of his Armani tux.”

  “You don’t know anything about me and Brad.”

  “Tell me I’m wrong.”

  “You’re trivializing us. Trivializing a relationship that’s been building—”

  “Building toward what, Michelle? A marriage, or a business merger?”

  “Oh, and you’re the expert on relationships, right?” She marched outside without waiting for him to reply.

  He felt a stab of guilt because maybe she had pegged him right. Certainly his track record bore it out, more than she could possibly know. Tell her. Tell her now about the marriage. But the moment passed, and he followed her outside.

  Against the unrelieved white of the snow-draped paddock, Natalie Plum’s tie-dyed skirts and leggings made a wild splash of color. She and Edward stood at the loading gate. She was talking a mile a minute, making fluttery gestures with her hands. When Cody came out of the barn leading the mare, even Natalie fell still. Sam and Michelle hurried over, stopping at the opposite side of the paddock. “What’s going on?” Michelle asked.

  “Edward and I decided the mare and filly could come out today,” Cody answered.

  “That’s the one that kicked Cody in the head,” Michelle told Natalie.

  “She’s dangerous,” Natalie said, aghast.

  “All females in labor are. But she’s fine now. Watch.”

  Edward must have been giving Cody pointers. The bridle was buckled on correctly. Cody walked the horse with the proper amount of lead, her steam-puffing nose at his shoulder. She followed him like a big docile dog. Across the paddock, Natalie’s coos of admiration carried on a light, cold wind.

  The foal stood on stick legs in the open breezeway, whickering nervously as Cody led its mother slowly away. Unwilling to let its mother out of its sight, the baby took a tentative step into the snowy yard, then another. Its front legs splayed apart and it stumbled, then righted itself. Its muzzle came up covered in snow. It sneezed, shaking its head. Cody looked back and laughed, a ringing sound that made Sam think of the pictures he’d just seen, of a younger Cody. A happier Cody.

  It made Sam’s heart hurt to watch them. His son and his favorite horse, and the foal they’d helped bring into the world. There was something special and right about the fact that they were all here together.

  “She’s a beauty, Sam,” Michelle said. “A perfect little filly. No wonder I can’t keep Cody away.”

  Cody unhooked the bridle lead to let the mare walk around at will. The fo
al stuck close by her side, though it veered over to inspect Natalie, probably drawn to her flowing garments.

  “I hope he doesn’t get too attached,” Michelle said softly.

  “Would that be so bad?”

  She lifted her face to his in a way he remembered from many years before. No other face, no other eyes had that particular softness, that vulnerability. “He’d never get to see the filly.”

  “Never?”

  She blinked, long lashes sweeping down with a tragic knowing that chilled Sam to the bone. “After the transplant, I don’t see us coming back here too often. Before long, Cody’ll be off to college, and I’ll—” She broke off and her gaze slid away from his.

  “What’ll you be doing, Michelle?”

  She was quiet for a long time. The only sounds came from Natalie and Edward’s chattering and the occasional blowing of the mare.

  “When I first came out here,” she said, “I had some wild notion that my father and I would finally connect. That we’d finally get to know each other the way a father and daughter should know each other. Maybe I bought into some of that cellular memory stuff, thinking that if we shared our own flesh and blood, a perfect relationship would surely follow.” She loosed a small, bitter laugh. “Instead, I think we’re proof that there’s nothing particularly special about a living related donor except maybe a few antigens in common.”

  “You’re making up your mind about a lot of things in a short period of time,” Sam pointed out. “Slow down, Michelle. You—” A snowball exploded square in the middle of his chest. “Hey!”

  Edward and Natalie were both armed, hurling snowballs as fast as they could make them. Cody jumped the rail of the paddock and joined the attack. “Be careful of your head,” Michelle called.

  Cody barely acknowledged the warning. Sam aimed low with a snowball, missing. The kid was quick, a hard target.

  Michelle took one in the shoulder before ducking to make some snowballs of her own.

  The war drove off all thoughts of lunch. Natalie’s wild squeals filled the air. Sam got in a few good shots, glad to ease the tension. Michelle, complaining of snow down her neck, grabbed his shoulders and held him in front of her like a shield.

  “Wait a minute,” he said, though her grip on him felt eerily right. “What’s wrong with this picture?”

  Cody took advantage, pelting him in the face and laughing so hard that Sam laughed, too.

  Sam scooped up another handful of snow. The pager clipped to his belt went off.

  “What’s that?” Michelle held up her hand to signal a truce. Her face was wet from snow and beautifully flushed. Sam felt a strong surge of desire. If they were alone, he knew just where he’d kiss her, taste her….

  He checked the digital readout on the pager. His skin chilled at the code. “Michelle, your father’s gone to the hospital.”

  Chapter 26

  I hate it that I know the way to the hospital,” Michelle said as the landscape whizzed past. She ran a finger around her collar, feeling the damp spots from the snowball fight. “It’s sort of ghoulish, knowing the way to the hospital.”

  “Not if you work there.” Sam’s voice was calm, doctorly.

  She pressed her knuckles to her mouth to keep the questions in. What happened? Why? Does this mean the transplant has to be postponed?

  She didn’t want to ask those questions yet. She was not ready to hear the answers. She wanted to see her father. Wanted to hear his voice again, take his hand in hers. Wanted to let him know she loved him.

  I love you, Daddy.

  How hard was that to say? Why hadn’t she said it before? Because she wasn’t sure she meant it, or was she afraid it would be one-sided?

  “Almost there,” Sam said, his truck veering around the snow-covered Salish statue in the middle of the town square. They arrived at the hospital, and under the awning she jammed her shoulder against the car door and opened it, feet racing as they hit the ground. The electronic doors hissed open.

  “Gavin Slade,” she told the clerk, the same one who was there for Cody’s accident. “I’m his daughter, Michelle.”

  “In the exam room.”

  She rushed in to find her father with a stocky, gray-haired physician. Gavin looked haggard, a yellowish cast to his skin and the whites of his eyes.

  “I’m Michelle Turner,” she told the doctor, not taking her eyes off Gavin.

  I love you, Daddy.

  “Hey, Michelle. This is my doctor, Karl Schenk.” His voice was gravelly, tired, thin.

  “What happened?”

  “Toxemia. The dialyzing fluid failed.”

  “But it’s going to be fixed, right? He’s going to be fine?”

  Schenk stayed busy with the monitoring equipment.

  Sam walked in, bringing the smell of snow and wind with him. She thought about what he’d said to her earlier, that her father had known about them as kids.

  Is it true, Daddy? Are you the reason Sam disappeared?

  She cast away the thought. This was hardly the time or place. She wanted to touch her father, but she didn’t know where. He had an IV stuck in the top of one hand and another in the crook of the opposite arm. Tubes snaked from his midsection. She settled for laying her hand on his leg, covered in a thin aqua-colored sheet.

  Time for the questions. She took a deep breath. “Will this have any effect on the transplant?”

  Schenk regarded her with a level look. “I’ve got a call in to his nephrologist.”

  “And?”

  “If Gavin stabilizes, he can proceed.”

  She looked her father severely in the eye. “So stabilize.”

  He tried to smile. She could tell he felt crummy, but the attempt encouraged her. “I’m trying.”

  Then Sam took charge. It didn’t surprise her. In the past few days she had come to realize that the attractive, serious boy she’d once known had turned into a calm, decisive—still-attractive—man. So when he started going over the tests Schenk ordered, then switched to making sure someone called Edward to tell him to send Natalie and Cody home in the Rover, and then called her father’s nutritionist, Tadao, she just stood back and let him work.

  It felt good. Sinfully good. To have someone else in charge for a while. To have someone else say, “This is how it’s going to be,” was a luxury.

  She watched Sam with a phone cradled on his shoulder and a metal clipboard in hand. Why did it feel so good when he took charge?

  She felt vaguely disloyal, having such thoughts. Brad was a take-charge guy, too. But the things he took charge of were… different. The vacation plans, his next real-estate investment, country-club dues. He never burdened her with that sort of thing, because he knew it wasn’t that important to her.

  But there were burdens she had never asked him to share.

  The sorts of things Sam was helping with, and she hadn’t even asked.

  As the afternoon headed on toward evening, she stood back in a daze of dissipating worry. Gavin’s tests came back, indicating that he was stabilizing. Orderlies arrived to take him to a private room, and she stood by his bed while attendants checked all the monitoring equipment.

  “Don’t scare me like this again, Daddy.” She tried to sound stern.

  “Go on home to supper. I’ll call for Jake when they decide to release me.”

  “I’d rather stay—”

  “Michelle, I’m trying to tell you politely that I’m tired as hell, and as soon as you leave, I’m going to sleep. Okay?”

  She peered at his thin face. It was a wonderful face, full of character and experience. He had such a stunning aura of charisma that even lying sick in bed, he still qualified for People magazine’s “most beautiful” issue.

  “Okay.” It was awkward to kiss his cheek because of all the tubes and monitors. The cool, medicinal smell hung thick in the air. “ ’Bye, Daddy. See you tomorrow.”

  “First thing in the morning, I’m out of here.”

  “I hope so.”

  Sa
m was waiting in the corridor as she came out, quietly closing the door behind her.

  “Never a dull moment,” she said, trying to lighten the mood.

  “That’s Crystal City, all right.”

  They walked outside to find that it was sunset already. A glaze of orange tinted the mountains, and the temperature had dropped a few degrees. A gleaming black sport-utility vehicle drove by, slowing down as it passed the hospital. “Someone you know?” she asked Sam.

  “Nope. Car’s too new. Probably a rental.” He opened the truck door for her. “You’d be a great candidate for primal-scream therapy.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “The tension. You’re so damned tense even I can feel it. I think it’s contagious.”

  “Sorry. You think it’ll affect my kidney tests if I drink myself into oblivion tonight?”

  “Most definitely.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of.”

  “I’m not a big fan of drinking to oblivion on any night.”

  She climbed into the truck, shivering against the chill vinyl seat. “Sorry, Sam. I know it was awful for you, dealing with your mother’s problem.”

  The streetlights blinked on, just a few along Main and Aspen. There was a certain coziness to this town that tugged at her. Some people thought it would be oppressive to live in a place where everyone knew everyone else’s name. But after years in the big city, she understood the appeal.

  “Cody mentioned meeting your mom,” she said, uncomfortable with Sam’s silence.

  “Yeah?”

  “He’s curious. I think he wouldn’t mind getting to know her.”

  “She’d like that. No idea what they have in common, though.”

  They passed the movie house. When they were teenagers, they had gone to the movies there. She remembered sitting in the popcorn-flavored darkness with Sam, holding hands and watching An Officer and a Gentleman.

  “Too bad the Lynwood folded,” she said, bothered by the sight of the unlit marquee. The movable letters gaped like rotting teeth, spelling out the imperfect message, “CL SED.”

  “I think it had its last season about three years ago.”

  “My father wants to reopen it, but everything’s on hold until after the surgery.”