by Lucia Sinn
CHASING THEIR LOSSES
A NOVEL
BY
LUCIA SINN
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
CHAPTER ONE
ROSEANNE
IN THAT DARKEST of hours just before dawn, Roseanne listened with pent up anger to the steady breathing of her husband. Tony Cabella lay sprawled on his back, blissfully unaware that his life was about to change.
The appointment with her lawyer was set for 10 a.m. After that, she would return home and pack her bags before picking up Angie after school. By nightfall, the two of them would be far away from the city, safe in a place where he could never find them.
Roseanne sat up, pulled on her running clothes, and tiptoed past her daughter’s room, hanging on to the curved wooden banister as she felt her way down the winding stairway. The glow of a pale moon filtering through the skylight provided all the light she needed.
She stood in the hallway counting her warm up exercises when the sound of Angie’s cough pierced the early morning silence. Roseanne tensed up, waiting for Angie to settle back down before pulling on her jacket. On this particular day, she simply had to run. She needed endorphins flooding her system to give her the strength she needed for the day ahead.
The cool gray morning air smelled of wood smoke and pine. Breath steaming in front of her, Roseanne trotted across the boulevard in front of their house, and crossed the median to the other side, in order to face the westbound traffic. She started out slowly, hearing only the rhythmic slap of her running shoes against the pavement. Gradually, she increased her pace, and soon she was sweating. The tight band of tension around her forehead began to ease. Then, from behind, she heard the low hum of an engine, and saw her own long shadow defined by approaching headlights.
She had always wondered about the identity of these early morning motorists. A doctor on an urgent, life saving mission? A baker whose yeasty dough would soon produce tender, flaky croissants? She waited for the vehicle to pass, but instead it slowed down. She took a huge gulp of air and sprinted forward, telling herself there was no reason to be afraid. As she did so, the car moved steadily along beside her. She knew, then, that she was being followed.
But she could handle this.
Heart thumping in her chest, she edged to the left and onto the sidewalk with the idea of running up on a neighbor’s porch. She’d ring the chimes, yell, and bang on the door if she had to.
At that moment, a sleek black Mercedes shot forward. Tires screeched as the driver braked, did an abrupt U Turn at the end of the block and headed west, blinding her with brights. Roseanne raised her arm to shield her eyes just as she felt the impact of heavy metal slamming against her thigh. Hot searing pain shot up her back while she catapulted through the air until her nose hit cement, and her life was over.
CHAPTER TWO
CARA
CARA MACKENZIE HURRIED along the hospital surgery corridor, willing herself to slow down after a near-miss with a patient gurney. Although she’d done her relaxation routine this morning, she was still running on high octane.
A pediatric nurse stopped Cara as she sailed past the elevators and headed for the stairs.
Anne Hawkins said, “I have a little girl I’d like you to see.”
Cara looked at her watch. A vendor was waiting in her office, and she wanted to double check the walk in refrigerator temperatures. As the nutrition director, she no longer did individual patient consults. But the look of concern in Anne’s clear blue eyes couldn’t be ignored. “I’ll have someone stop by this afternoon,” she said.
Anne moved closer, her voice low. “No, I’m asking you to step in here. Your dietitian is missing something. This child was just in last week for diabetic diet class, and now she’s back in the hospital with a seizure. That shouldn’t have happened if she had understood her diet instructions and followed them.”
Cara felt her skin tighten with resentment. Why blame such a complication on the clinical dietitian instead of the doctor, or the parents, or simply the unpredictability of the disease? But Anne was a sensible person; she had probably thought of all those things. Cara exhaled and followed Anne back onto the crowded, stuffy elevator and entered the pediatric unit.
“Could I see the chart?” she asked.
Anne looked at her sideways. “Sure. She’s Dr. Drakos’ patient, you know.”
Cara kept her eyes down while studying Angie Cabella’s admission information on the computer. She and John Drakos were trying to keep their relationship under cover, but obviously people were talking.
“Where is my daughter?”
Cara felt a chill at the back of her neck. The sound of that deep throaty voice coming from the hallway triggered a rush of inner excitement. She spun around to face Tony Cabella, afraid of what emotions were showing in her face.
“I didn’t know you were Angie’s father,” she said.
Tony stepped forward, his dark brown eyes a few inches from hers. “Good God, is it really you? I heard you were back in town.”
As befitting the president of an insurance agency, Tony was impeccably attired. He wore a brown pin striped suit, white spread collar shirt, and a pale yellow tie with small geometric designs. Still a lean and muscular six foot two, with wavy chestnut hair combed back from his suntanned face, Tony had the look of a man who worked out in a spa every day, and jetted off to tropical islands for winter getaways. He would be thirty-three now--two years older than she was.
Cara wondered just how long he’d known she was back in Lewiston. Probably, he’d heard within a month of her return. Many people in Lewiston knew more about her than she might have liked. There had been boyfriends at each life stage, and knots of girlfriends that changed through the years. But her relationship with Tony Cabella had greater longevity, lasting from freshman year in high school until after she graduated from Indiana State. From the flush creeping up his neck, she could see that Tony, too, was feeling a bit unnerved.
As Anne backed away, Cara hastened to put things on a professional level. “About Angie. I was just going in to talk with her. I understand she’s been having problems controlling her blood sugar.”
The lines in Tony’s forehead smoothed. “Thanks, Cara. I’m glad you’re going to be involved. At first, when Angie went on the insulin pump, she was doing so well we thought she might be able to go off her medication.”
“That often happens,” Cara told him. “It’s called the honeymoon—the period when a patient first goes on insulin. The pancreas seems to be back to normal. But juvenile diabetes doesn’t go away.”
Tony shook his head. “She’s having too many blackouts. I think the doctor isn’t managing it right.”
Cara didn’t respond. She wasn’t about to engage in doctor bashing under any circumstances, especially when they were talking about John Drakos, M.D.
Cara and Tony walked to Angie’s bedside. The child was a winsome, doe eyed pixie with her father’s rounded cheeks, dimples, and thick hair pulled back in a pony tail. Like Tony, she had skin like honey, but the latest episode of hypoglycemia had left her pale and washed out, with dark circles under her eyes.
“Daddy.” Angie sat up in bed, obviously thrilled to see her father.
“I’d like you to meet an old friend of mine,” Tony said. “This is Cara…?” He paused, studying her closely.
“Mackenzie,” Cara said. “I took back my maiden name after my divorce.”
Angie tilted her head. “So you work here at the hospital?”
“Yes, I’m a dietitian,” Cara was
sure Tony knew she was manager of the nutrition department, unless he’d been living in a cave. It had been all over the media last winter when she’d been blamed for a food borne outbreak that sickened thirteen people. Luckily, no one had died.
“You’re pretty,” Angie said. “I like your red hair and green eyes. Did you and my Daddy go to school together?”
“No, we went to different schools.” Cara didn’t want to explain how she and Tony had met, how many times they’d gone together and broken up, over and over again. She redirected the conversation by saying, “right now, I think I’m going to leave you and your dad alone so you can have a nice visit. I’ll stop back up to see you later on in the day.”
“Okay, cool.” Angie seemed pleased to have her father all to herself.
“Just a minute,” Tony followed Cara out into the hallway. “Can we speak privately?”
Cara shook her head. “Tony, if this is about Dr. Drakos, I can assure you, he’s an excellent family practice physician. He has many juvenile diabetes patients; he’s experienced.”
“It’s not that. I’m just wondering what you’re planning to do now.”
“First thing, I’ll have a clinical dietitian schedule another appointment with Angie, and find out more about her lifestyle. When and what does she eat? Is she fairly active? Does she exercise on a regular basis? Those kinds of things. Angie’s mother should be involved in all the discussions.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”
“I don’t understand? Is she ill?”
“You mean you didn’t know my first wife was killed in a hit and run accident last year?”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. No, I didn’t know. I’ve been busy since I came back--starting a new job, getting settled in my house. I just assumed you were married because you’re wearing a wedding ring.”
He glanced at the gleaming thick gold band as if seeing it for the first time. “I remarried several months ago.”
“Anyone I know?”
“No, I met Gail on a business trip to California.”
“I’m assuming Gail stays at home with Angie?”
“Oh, sure. Gail has a son, too, by a previous marriage. He’s twelve. But it’s only in the last few months all these health problems have occurred. I’ll be honest with you, I’m not sure Gail is able to cope with Angie’s diabetes.”
“Maybe she just needs a little education.”
He frowned. “What’s this about setting Angie up with a clinical dietitian? Isn’t that what you are?”
“I was, but I got promoted soon after I started working here. I have responsibilities for managing the entire department. I don’t do individual patient consults anymore.”
Tony moved closer, enveloping her in his warm presence and the faint smell of Armani. It had always been that way between the two of them--a visceral reaction whenever they were in close proximity. Damn it, how long did these things last? Would they still have feelings for each other when they were eighty? His eyes engaged hers as he touched her arm. “Please, I’m asking you to do this favor for me. For old times’ sake.”
Cara stepped back to widen the distance between them. Her relationship with Tony had felt like a latent illness that came and went. Just when it seemed the fever had died down, it would flare up again, year in and year out, until she’d finally left town to get him out of her system. She’d come back to Lewiston last year only because of her mother’s heart attack, but by the time Mom died a few months later, Cara already had the job at Sycamore Hospital. She had dreaded the day when she might run into Tony Cabella again. But now, hearing the catch in his voice and seeing a muscle quiver in his cleanly shaven jaw, it was obvious he was seriously worried. How could she let him down? “All right, have your wife give me a call.”
“No, I’m afraid Gail will forget. Promise me you’ll call her. Maybe if you’d come out to the house, she’d feel more at ease.”
It was on the tip of Cara’s tongue to tell Tony that dietitians didn’t do house calls. But the truth was, they sometimes did for board members and heavy contributors. Tony was a VIP whose name appeared on every list of sponsors for hospital benefits. The CEO would want her to do this. And--let’s face it--Tony was in a position to help her career.
“All right, I’ll get in touch as soon as you’ve told her why I’m calling.”
“I’ll tell her tonight. Gail’s a great gal, Cara. I don’t want you to think she isn’t trying. It’s just that this is all new to her.”
Great gal. The sound of it grated on Cara’s nerves. She hoped John Drakos thought of her as a woman, and would never call her a gal. “I’ll come back to see Angie later today,” she said. “But right now, I have a salesman waiting in my office.”
Tony’s lips quivered in a small half smile. “That’s right, you’re a manager. It's hard for me to think of you as a businesswoman. Although, I must admit you look very prim and proper with your hair pulled back in a clip, and wearing that crisp white lab coat. Too bad, covering up that lovely figure of yours.”
Cara let that pass, trying not to think of the times when Tony had seen her wearing no clothes at all. But that was in the distant past. What did it matter, now, how Tony thought of her? She left him in Angie’s room and went downstairs where a representative from the local dairy waited patiently to negotiate the price of next year’s milk.
***
At 12:30 p.m., Cara took the elevator to Pediatrics. Angie would have finished her lunch tray by now, and she could check the child’s appetite. As she entered the patient’s room, she saw a small hamburger gnawed at the edges and thrown back on the plate. A carton of milk was untouched, next to a plate of carrot and celery sticks still neatly arranged on a lettuce leaf. Angie had eaten only a few bites of sugar free custard.
“What’s wrong,” Cara asked. “Aren’t you hungry today?”
Angie wrinkled her nose. “No, I hate this kind of food.”
“Well you know, I’ll have to send you something as a replacement. A cup of juice, maybe. Otherwise, your blood sugar could drop too low. But I’m sure you know that.”
“Yeah, I know. Angie dipped her head and rubbed the end of her nightgown back and forth between her fingers.
“If you don’t like plain hamburgers, let’s talk about what you do like. Tell me how you eat at home. What do you have for breakfast?”
“During the week, I pick up a bottle of pop before we leave for school.”
“Pop? With sugar?”
“Yeah, it’s OK. I just give myself an extra squirt from my pump.”
“But that’s not very nourishing. You need some protein—an egg or milk along with some fruit and cereal.
“I know, that’s what Emma used to fix. But Gail sleeps late. Doug and I just grab something quick before she wakes up to drive us to school.”
“Who’s Emma?”
“She lived with us for awhile, after Mom died, but Gail said she was a lousy housekeeper, so they let her go. We just have a cleaning woman now.”
“And what do you eat for lunch?”
“Whatever they have in the cafeteria, which is usually yucky, so I don’t eat much of it.”
“Have you ever thought of bringing your lunch?”
“Mom used to fix me a sack lunch.” Angie stuck out her chin as if to keep from crying, her voice high and strained.
Cara struggled to remain calm and non judgmental, although she felt a tug on her heart. A show of sympathy wouldn’t be helpful. Angie couldn’t afford the luxury of self pity; she had to learn to take care of herself for a long time—the rest of her life.
“Does Gail know what you’re supposed to eat?” she asked.
Angie shrugged, still fingering the nightgown, but didn’t reply.
Cara smiled in an effort to reassure the child. “I don’t know if your Daddy told you, but I’m going to talk to Gail. I’m sure she’d be glad to fix you a lunch to take to school. A nice sandwich--turkey and cheese, for example. A piece of fresh fruit? It wou
ldn’t be too hard.”
“Doug would probably spit in it.”
“Doug is your stepbrother?”
“Yeah, he hates me.”
Cara sucked in her breath. She wasn’t prepared to do family counseling. Still, she had to keep the dialogue going. “How do you know that?”
“I just do.”
Cara kept her voice steady, trying not to react to this disturbing accusation. “Has he ever actually spit in your food? Or do you just think he might?”
“He’s spit in my milk.”
“How many times?”
“At least twice. That’s why I don’t like milk anymore.”
“Does Gail know? Did you tell your Dad?”
“They think I’m making it up. Doug acts sweet around them.”
Cara had to consider the possibility that Angie was trying to get her new stepbrother in trouble. And considering what she’d been through the past year, she might have an over-active imagination. Cara would wait to form an opinion until after she’d been to Tony’s house and heard for herself what Gail Cabella had to say.
CHAPTER THREE
DINNER WITH JOHN
CARA BROKE THE news to John while they were having dinner on Friday night at a local seafood restaurant, waiting until they’d finished a glass a Chardonnay, and he had begun to relax. “About tomorrow, I have to work in the morning. Maybe it would be best if I didn’t stay over tonight.”
John shot her an unhappy look. “Not good news, Cara. What’s up?”
“I have an appointment in town around ten o’clock.”
“I thought we were going to have an early breakfast and go riding. Star’s been waiting all week.”
Star was officially Cara’s horse. A beautiful mare with a shiny black coat and a white star at the center of her forehead. Cara stifled a stab of resentment, hating the fact that she would have to postpone their usual morning ride. It was that precious time of the year--just one or two weeks, really--when the fall colors in John’s woods were in full glory. But she had made the appointment with Gail. It wouldn’t do to back out.
