The Family Doctor (18 page)

I
T TOOK EVERY OUNCE
of Kate's courage to march downstairs and tell Scott he had two weeks to find another place to live. And that wasn't the toughest part of the encounter.

“I've made an appointment with a lawyer to obtain joint custody of Eliza,” she added.

“You
what?
Have you gone nuts or something?” Scott gave her a disbelieving look. “You're not even a blood relative, you haven't got a hope in hell of getting any kind of custody.”

Kate wanted to scream at him, remind him that she'd helped raise Eliza since babyhood. She was trembling, but she did her best to hide it. “That's not what the lawyer thinks. Here's her card. You can give her a call if you like.” She held it out.

Scott didn't take it. “Well, I guess it's time to move on, anyhow,” he blustered. “My cousin down in Nova Scotia has a job for me anytime, I'll just give him a call.”

It was the threat he'd always used, and Kate was so terrified her stomach ached. Again, she tried her best to seem accepting and cool.

“That's your choice, Scott.”

“You'll never see Eliza again if I move down there,” he threatened.

Anger was beginning to take the place of fear, and for the first time in her life, Kate welcomed it. “I will if I have joint custody. She'll stay with me for whatever time the court decides is best for her.”

“I could just take her and disappear, y'know. Nothing's stopping me.”

“That's right, you could.” Kate had spent two sleepless nights imagining just such a scenario. “But you know that would really hurt Eliza, and I don't think you want to do that.”

“She's my kid, not yours.”

“The lawyer says that because I've been her stepparent since she was a baby, I have a legal right to shared custody.” The lawyer had said that, but she'd also said it was important that Kate and Scott agree on the matter.

He made a scoffing sound, but Kate could tell he was disconcerted. He gave her a wary look. “What's gotten into you all of a sudden? I figured we were going along okay, and then you hit me with all this crap. What'sa matter, your fancy boyfriend dump you and you're taking it out on me?”

It hurt, but Kate stared him down and stuck to the matter at hand. “I'll go to court if I have to, Scott, to obtain custody of Eliza.”

His face flushed. “You know I don't have money for a big court case.”

She couldn't resist. “Then I guess you'll just have to find a job.”

He sneered at her. “That's what bugs you, isn't it, Kate? That you're tied to a grindstone and I've found a way to live where I don't have to work.”

For a moment, she actually wanted to laugh. He didn't seem to realize that at least part of the reason for that was her generous financial support of Eliza and the minimal rent she charged him. She'd subsidized him for so long he simply took it for granted. He took her for granted, and that wasn't Scott's fault. It was hers. But starting now, she wouldn't take responsibility for him any longer.

With that realization, the last of Kate's fear disappeared, and the anger went with it. Scott was a bully, and she'd called his bluff. Whether or not he did as he threatened, it wouldn't change her decision. It would be a dramatic learning curve for both of them.

“Oh, and another thing,” she said in a cool, controlled voice. “I've called a removal company to come and clear the junk out of the driveway and off the front lawn. They'll be here tomorrow morning at nine.”

This time her words brought a flood of invective. But she also noticed that he worked for the rest of the evening clearing away the rubble.

 

E
VEN HARDER THAN
the showdown with Scott was setting down the ground rules for Eliza over the
next few days. No more rude behavior, she stipulated. No more nasty looks. No more endless interruptions when Kate had company. No temper tantrums. And unless she was invited, Kate's bedroom was strictly off limits.

At first Eliza pretended she didn't understand what Kate meant, and it became necessary to use exact examples. Kate cited the scene at the dance studio and the gift, still in her handbag, that Eliza had rejected. She mentioned Tony's visits and the way Eliza had acted to him. She talked about the way Eliza simply assumed she could sleep in Kate's bed. “We all need friends, and we all need privacy, Eliza.”

“Daddy says you're making us move out,” Eliza accused.

“I've asked your daddy to find another place to live,” Kate corrected her.

“Don't you like us living with you in your house?” Eliza's lip quivered, and Kate felt like a rat.

“I love you, and I love having you with me,” Kate replied. “But your daddy and I are divorced now. It would be better for both of us if he lived somewhere else. But that doesn't mean you won't spend time with me. I hope you'll come and stay part of each week at my house.”

She prayed that part was going to work out.

“But what about what I want?” Fat tears rolled down Eliza's cheeks. “I want to be with you and
with my daddy, too. Why can't you love my daddy, Kate? Why can't we just all be together? Like a family?”

This was even harder than Kate had anticipated. She felt terrible, as if she was betraying Eliza.

But she had to stick to what was best for her, she reminded herself.

“I did love him once, Eliza,” Kate said as gently as she could. “That's why we got married. But sometimes big people want different things, and that causes problems. That's what happened between your daddy and me.”

“How come it doesn't matter what kids want?” Eliza's little face was angry and troubled, and Kate felt like weeping for her.

“Oh, sweetie, it does matter. But one of the things everyone has to learn is that we don't always get the things we want.”

In spite of her brave front, Kate was terrified that Scott would carry out his threats and move far away with Eliza. But the little girl came skipping upstairs a few days after Kate's ultimatum and announced that she and Scott were moving to an apartment just two streets over from Kate's house.

One of Scott's buddies had converted the top of a double garage to living space, and when Kate walked by to check it out, she was relieved to see that it looked good. The yard was well kept, and a girl a bit younger than Eliza was playing on a swing set in the backyard.

“She's my friend Amy,” Eliza confided. “Her mommy's really nice, and she says you can come and visit anytime you like, Kate. I've got my own room—it's pink. Amy's mom made curtains with ballerinas on them. And Daddy's friend says I can have a dog if I want. Amy has a dog of her own.”

Kate was so relieved she could have wept. At the same time, she felt abandoned and lonely. She was going to miss having Eliza living in the same house.

She wasn't going to miss Scott. With the clutter gone from the front yard, Kate bought flowering bushes and planted them. She mowed the lawn and hired a handyman to paint the front steps, chores Scott had continually promised to do and never got around to. It felt wonderful to have her house all to herself. She'd never really had a chance to enjoy her home. Eventually she'd rent the suite again, but this time it would be a business arrangement.

The best news of all came when Kate's lawyer phoned with the news that Scott had agreed to her having joint custody.

“I think he's nervous about parenting all by himself,” the lawyer commented. “And of course, having you help with financial support for Eliza is no small thing.”

Kate had been both generous and cautious about the support agreement. She'd stipulated that she'd buy all of Eliza's clothing and pay for her extracurricular activities, as well as maintain a fund for her future education, but Kate drew the line at
handing over money to Scott. She knew him too well; if it came to a decision between car parts and dancing lessons, his car would win. The only things he could be trusted to do were pay the rent and buy good food. And love his daughter, Kate conceded. She'd never doubted that Scott adored Eliza.

Scott and Eliza moved on Friday. Kate came home and her heart sank. The house felt empty and forlorn. Had she made a terrible mistake? She wandered around, watering plants and turning on music to fill the gaping spaces Eliza's piping voice and rushing footsteps had filled.

The phone rang.

“Hiya, Kate.” It was Eliza. “Kate, do you think Amy and I could have a sleepover at your house tomorrow night? I told her about those big cookies you know how to make out of Smarties. Could we make some of those?” Belatedly, but making Kate smile all the same, she added, “That's if you don't need your privacy.”

“Sure, Eliza. You and Amy come over tomorrow.” It was going to be all right. Eliza was still going to be a big part of her life.

If only she had reason to believe that about her and Tony.

K
ATE'S SMALL OFFICE FELT
overcrowded and much too warm. The tension reminded her of an overfilled balloon on the verge of exploding. Nathaniel Hersh and Leslie sat across from her. Hersh was a big man, bordering on fat, and he was loud. In a booming voice, he'd just explained why he'd made the diagnosis he had when Leslie brought Galina to Emerg.

He'd been reluctant and defensive when Kate asked him to meet with Leslie, and it had taken all her persuasive powers to convince him to come to her office. It wasn't easy for him, Kate knew that.

“What can I say to Yates?” Hersh had asked her. “What's done is done. Nothing I say will bring her mother back.”

“Just tell her the truth,” Kate had advised, but from the stubborn set of his mouth, she figured that wasn't going to happen.

Kate could also see how hard this was for Leslie. Her forehead was shiny with sweat, and her trembling hands were knotted into fists on her lap. She sat as far away from Hersh as the small space allowed, her body tensely upright.

For a panicked moment, Kate wondered if doing this would only make the situation worse between these two. Maybe it was a mistake, maybe she should have just stayed out of it.

“My mother died because you misdiagnosed her.” Each word Leslie spoke was like a poisoned arrow, aimed straight at Hersh. “How would you feel if you'd come into Emerg with your mother, and a doctor had done that?”

Hersh shifted uncomfortably in his chair, but he didn't reply.

“I asked you to admit her, and you refused,” Leslie accused, glaring at him. Her face was flushed, her voice rising. “You as much as told me that I was only a nurse and I didn't have the expertise you did. And because you wouldn't listen, my mother
died.
” Her shriek made Hersh cringe.

The raw pain in Leslie's voice tore at Kate's heart. She tensed, waiting for Hersh to holler back, to defend himself and deny responsibility, and she tried to fight off the panic she felt. This idea of hers was going to cause Leslie more pain rather than less. Hersh was going to lose his temper, and then—

“I'm sorry.” Hersh's loud voice had sunk to a mumble. He slumped back in his chair and rubbed a hand over his face. “I'm really sorry.” He shook his head. “I was rushed that night, and I made a snap decision—the wrong one.”

Kate was astonished that he was admitting it. She glanced over at Leslie to see what she'd do.

For a moment, Leslie just stared at the doctor. Then her body relaxed, and she bent her head. Her shoulders shook as the tears came.

Hersh looked miserable. “I feel bad about it. The worst part is there's nothing I can do, I can't go back and change things.”

“It was a mistake,” Kate said quietly. “We all make mistakes. The only thing we can do is learn from them.”

“Yeah. Well, I've got to get back to work and make some more.” Hersh got to his feet. “Sorry,” he mumbled again as he inched past Leslie. She didn't look up, but Kate saw her nod her head. It was barely discernible, but it signaled an acceptance of his apology.

When he was gone, Kate rubbed Leslie's back and handed her tissues.

“I still don't like him,” Leslie sniffed. “But I don't want to kill him anymore.” She blew her nose hard. “What you said is right, Kate, about mistakes. All we can do is learn from them. It was a mistake to let Mom's death turn into something ugly. It's a mistake for me to act the way I've been acting. I'm gonna have to do some apologizing down in Emerg. I've been a bitch on wheels this last while.”

“People will understand. Just be honest with them,” Kate advised.

When Leslie left, Kate thought about the advice
she handed out so freely. Be honest, she'd told Hersh. Be honest, she'd counseled Leslie.

But how honest was she? Kate pondered.

Not very, her conscience chided.

She'd never told Tony she loved him. She'd never honestly told him what she wanted or needed from their relationship. She hadn't even made an effort to tell him about the changes she'd recently effected in her life, or the fact that she'd give anything to try again with him.

She'd been avoiding him.

It was time to take her own advice. Sucking in a deep breath, she picked up the phone, then put it down and made her way down to his office. She needed to do this in person. It took every ounce of courage she had to march in and ask his secretary if she could see him.

And it was a terrible letdown to be told that he'd taken the rest of the week off. Kate was heading back to her office when she spotted Hersh, hurrying along with an envelope of lab results under his arm. She ran to catch up with him.

“Dr. Hersh? Thank you for apologizing to Leslie.”

He nodded and shrugged. “Tony and I discussed it. He said he thought it was a good idea.”

Kate was dumbfounded. “Tony—Dr. O'Connor said that?”

“Yeah. He said what you said, that we all make mistakes, and admitting to them is better than cov
ering up. And I figured I have to work with Yates, I don't need the grief.”

Hersh's words replayed in Kate's mind all the way back to her office. Tony had changed his thinking. He'd gone out of his way to help her in this situation, and the least she could do was say thank you.

She had his cell number. She'd call him on it.

She was just about to dial when the calendar on her desk caught her eye, and belatedly, she remembered what day it was. She couldn't call him today.

It was August 4. Tony had told her that his father, Ford O'Connor, was arriving from Australia today.

 

“W
HAT WILL MY GRANDPA
F
ORD
look like, Papa?” McKensy was practically bouncing off the airport carpet with excitement. It was nine-thirty and Ford and Betsy's flight had landed, according to the information screens. They should be clearing Customs and appearing through the International Arrivals exit at any moment.

“Will you know who Grandpa is when you see him?”

Tony smiled at her and smoothed a lock of her strawberry-blond hair out of her eyes. “Of course I will, duchess. People used to say I looked just like him.”

“How about you, Auntie Georgia? Do you remember what he looks like?”

“I've seen the pictures he sent us, squirt. I don't
really remember him that well, though. I was younger than you when he left.” Her voice was pitched higher than usual, a sure sign that she was nervous.

Tony felt more than a little nervous himself. He was humbly grateful that Georgia had joined him and McKensy to welcome Ford and Betsy. It had taken courage and fortitude for her to defy Dorothy and stand up to Wilson. Tony's brother had done his best to convince Georgia that coming to the airport to meet her father amounted to treason. Tony shuddered at the memory of the final hysterical scene that had taken place with Dorothy that morning. His mother had pulled out all the stops.

“What should I call Grandpa's friend, Papa?”

Tony had carefully explained that Ford was bringing a lady who'd been his best friend for many years.

“I'm not sure. Maybe you should ask her.”

They watched the streams of people coming through the doors at the arrivals level. When a tall, emaciated old man and a short, plump woman pushing a luggage cart hesitated and then hurried toward them, Tony had to hide the terrible sense of shock he felt at his father's appearance.

The strong, handsome man he remembered was stooped, his bony face lined and sunken. He was bald and his skin was yellow, and he had a look about him that Tony had seen numerous times in patients. He didn't want to recognize it in his fa
ther's face, but his medical experience left him no option.

Ford was terminally ill.

Tony felt as if he'd been sucker-punched. Emotions coursed through him—anger, frustration, overwhelming sadness. An aching sorrow that so much of their lives had been spent far apart. A feeling of urgency that this short time they had must be spent getting to know each other again.

He struggled for a shaky smile to welcome Ford and his companion.

“Tony?” Ford's voice was not the hearty baritone that Tony remembered. It was weak and trembling with emotion. “Georgia, sweetheart, how lovely you are. And this pretty lady must be McKensy.”

He embraced Georgia, and then McKensy. “Ah, it's a rare treat to see all of you. A million thanks for coming to meet us.” Ford had dropped the small bag he was carrying and now he held his arms out to Tony.

Tony walked into his father's embrace, and had to struggle to hold back the tears. Ford's body felt fragile in his arms. He was seventy, but he looked a decade older. The only part of him that hadn't seemed to change was his smile. Being in his father's arms unleashed in Tony a deep and abiding love, a love that overwhelmed him with its raw power.

Ford's tears ran freely down his wrinkled cheeks
as he hugged first one of them and then the other again and again. Betsy was introduced, and once more there were warm, welcoming hugs all round. Her liquid dark eyes and beaming smile telegraphed the warmth of her personality, and her love for Ford was evident in the way she held his hand and matched her step to his slower one as they made their way out to the car park.

“Papa said I should ask you what you want me to call you,” McKensy said in a shy voice to Betsy. Without waiting for a reply, she burbled on, “I already have one grammy, so maybe I could call you Grandma Betsy, would that be okay?”

Betsy stopped and put an arm around McKensy's shoulders. Her deep, dark eyes glowed with pleasure.

“I would consider that a great honor,” she said in her singsong accent. “I don't have grandchildren, so you'll be my very first.”

McKensy turned pink with delight.

There wasn't room for all of them in one vehicle. Georgia had brought her car, and after a bit of discussion it was decided the women would go in one car, the men in the other.

The Barclay Hotel, where Ford and Betsy were staying, was on Robson Street, in the heart of downtown Vancouver, an hour's drive from the airport. As he threaded his way through the heavy morning traffic, Tony felt suddenly awkward with his father. It had been so many years since they'd
been in each other's company. Tony had been a boy of eleven, Ford a young and vibrant man of thirty-eight. There had been letters, but in spite of them the years were hard to bridge.

“McKensy's a bonny girl,” Ford said. “Meeting my grandkid is a dream come true.” He paused. “I'd guess that this visit is causing you and Georgia grief with your mother. I'm sorry about that. The last thing I want is to cause you problems.”

Caught between loyalties, Tony couldn't think what to say.

“See, I had to come now, Tony.” Ford's voice was urgent. “I wanted to come before, but there was never enough money. There isn't now, either, come to that, but time's running out for me.”

Though he was a doctor, Tony still didn't want to hear the fateful diagnosis confirmed.

“Astroblastoma, you doctors call it,” Ford said. “Fancy name for brain cancer.”

“You've seen specialists?” Tony asked, struggling to remain calm.

Ford laughed. “Too bloody many of the bastards, begging your pardon, son. They operated six months ago. Thought they'd got it all, but now the demon's back, headaches again, blurry vision. They suggested radiation, but I said no. Rather see it through my own way this time. I've had a good run, all told. Only thing I regret is leaving all you nippers the way I did.” He cleared his throat, and
Tony could hear the anguish underneath the quiet words.

“And Betsy, I'll hate like blue hell leaving my Betsy.” Ford's voice had thickened, and he cleared his throat and turned to look out the car window, struggling not to break down.

Tony was having his own difficulties as he fought against the tightness in his chest. “She seems like a fine lady, Dad.” They both needed a bridge back to safety. “How did you two meet?”

“I was working on a sheep station, she was cooking. She's a real fine cook, is my Betsy. Anyhow, I got sick, real sick, some kinda tropical fever. She took care of me. We've been together ever since. I don't know how I'd have made it without her.” He was quiet for a moment. “I know you went through that divorce, son. It must be hard for you, raising McKensy on your own.” His voice was hesitant but determined. “You never say, and I always wonder. Tell me, Tony, is there anybody like Betsy around for you? I don't mean to pry, it's just that there's so much I don't know about you. So much I
want
to know.”

Kate's face sprang into Tony's thoughts, and he felt the familiar emptiness. “There's a woman at the hospital. But things didn't work out for us.”

“Sorry to hear that, son. Have you tried to fix it up with her?”

“Yeah, I did. I hit a dead end.” He'd gone over and over that final meeting with Kate, and he still
couldn't see how he could have handled it any differently. He'd seen her at a couple of meetings over the past several weeks, and they'd been polite and distant with each other, which hurt more than if they'd fought.

“Dead ends happen to all of us, son. I know you didn't ask, but I'm handing out advice, anyhow, not that I've got any right to. Just give it another try, why don't you.”

Tony nodded, although he knew there wasn't any hope.

Ford took the nod as agreement. “Good lad. It hasn't always been clear sailing for Betsy and me, y'know. We've had our times when it seemed we couldn't go on, too. But when you care enough, your heart has a way of forcing you to do things you wouldn't otherwise. When you love someone, there's always another chance. See, lad, Betsy wanted to get married, wanted it real bad. Her family turned their backs on her—wouldn't countenance her living in what they called sin. Real sticklers for right and proper, they were. And I couldn't get a divorce, though I asked your mother many times.”