The Family Doctor (19 page)

Ford sound resigned rather than resentful. “I could've fought it out in court, but it would've cost more than I could afford. And I figured you young ones would be the losers, because money that should have come to your mother for your support would be lining the lawyers' pockets. So Betsy and
I never did get married legal. We never had kids, either, another thing she wanted real bad. We didn't want to bring a nipper into the world a bastard, us not being married and all. So a couple times it seemed as if there was nowhere to go except our separate ways.”

“But you worked it out.”

“Yeah, we did. Neither of us could live without the other.” The admission was matter of fact. “That's the test, Tony. If life isn't worth living without the other person, then you gotta move heaven and earth to make it work. In the end, love's the only thing that matters.”

Love's the only thing that matters.
Ford's words stuck in Tony's mind as he and Georgia made certain their father and Betsy were comfortable at the hotel. Before Tony left, he arranged to pick them up for the family dinner he was hosting at a downtown restaurant at seven that evening—a dinner that, so far, only he and Georgia and McKensy were attending.

Tony was sick to death of the controversy in his family. Trusting in the truth of Ford's words, he phoned first Judy and then Wilson, shamelessly using blunt honesty and heavy doses of guilt to persuade his siblings to come to dinner that evening. He told them both that Ford was dying, and probably didn't have much time left. Their father's single wish was to see his children and grandchildren.

“Let's try to put aside our differences just for this one night,” he pleaded again and again.

As he'd suspected she might, Judy changed her mind and agreed to come, bringing her husband, Peter, and their two children, but Wilson refused.

“He's nothing to me,” he blustered. “Our mother's the one who raised us. Why make a big fuss over a guy who walked out on his kids and his wife? So he's on his last legs—maybe he's getting what he deserves out of life.”

Tony had learned so much from Kate. He remembered her saying, “Don't defend, just stick to your point and reiterate if necessary.”

“We'll be at the restaurant at seven,” Tony repeated through gritted teeth. “If you and Margaret change your minds, you're most welcome to join us.”

“Don't hold your breath.”

 

T
HE RESTAURANT
T
ONY HAD
chosen was Italian, since Ford had said that his favorite food was veal scallopini, and Betsy loved pasta. It was a good choice for a family dinner, because children were warmly welcomed.

Tony had arranged with the manager for a semi-private location in an alcove, and Judy and Peter and their children were already seated when he arrived with Ford and Betsy. Georgia had brought McKensy.

Obviously ill at ease, Judy got to her feet and
went over to Ford, stiff and awkward. He drew her into his embrace, and when he released her, she was crying so hard Tony had to introduce his brother-in-law, Peter, and his niece and nephew.

They were all enjoying a glass of wine when Georgia leaned over to Tony and whispered, “I don't believe it, Wilson and Margaret just walked in, and the kids are with them.”

Tony, too, could hardly believe it. His brother, red faced and avoiding Tony's eye, went over to their father and shook his hand.

“I'll bet Margaret made him come,” Georgia said in an undertone as her sister-in-law introduced her children to Ford and Betsy, and politely welcomed them to Canada. “Good old Maggie,” Georgia gloated. “She's the only one who's ever been able to make old rod-in-the-ass do anything.”

Wilson's reasons for coming didn't matter to Tony. All he cared about was the incandescent pleasure on Ford's face as he lifted his wineglass and toasted his family.

The meal took on the atmosphere of a celebration. While they waited for the food to arrive, Betsy opened a large carryall she'd brought and distributed gifts to the grandchildren. She and Ford had obviously given careful thought to each one. No two children received the same gift, and each was age and gender appropriate.

McKensy received a koala bear whose belly contained a tape player.

“This is
way
cool,” she enthused. She sprang to her feet and rushed over to hug Betsy. “Thank you, Grandma Betsy,” she caroled. She hugged her grandfather as well, and her cousins followed suit.

Betsy and Ford were mobbed by children, and obviously loving every moment. Georgia took out her camera and snapped pictures, and the noise level increased.

So did the laughter. Everyone relaxed, and by the time the salads were eaten and the main course arrived, it seemed that the party was well on its way to being a total success.

Tony looked around the table at each of his siblings and their partners, and then he glanced at his father.

Ford and Betsy were leaning toward each other, and Betsy was saying something into Ford's ear. The two of them looked at each other and laughed with the intimacy only lovers have, and Tony's aloneness suddenly overwhelmed him.

He imagined Kate sitting beside him, sharing in the pleasure he felt, sharing also in his amazement at this unbelievable spectacle of his brother and sisters all getting along for once.

The moment he got home tonight, no matter what time it was, he'd call her. His father was right about trying again.

Making the decision lightened Tony's spirits, and he smiled with anticipation when Ford got to his feet to make a speech.

Ford teetered for a moment, and Betsy reached out an arm to steady him. Alarmed at how pale and drawn Ford looked, Tony decided that the evening should end soon.

“Quiet, everyone,” Wilson ordered in an authoritative voice.

“I just want to say how much it means to me to have all of you here,” Ford began. “I can't take credit for being around to raise you, but you're a family to be proud of.” His breathing was shallow, and he gulped for air before he managed to say, “Thank you for coming tonight, and I hope—” He gasped and leaned a trembling arm on the table, and then tried again. “I—I hope—”

Tony leaped to his feet as Ford staggered and began to fall. Betsy tried to support him.

Georgia grabbed his arm, but Ford was still a large man. He went crashing down, dragging the tablecloth with him. The floor was tile, and the sound of glass shattering brought waiters running.

Judy screamed, kids began crying, and Tony knelt over his father, searching for a pulse and undoing his tie.

“Wilson, call 911,” he ordered. “Georgia, go out to my car and get my medical bag.” He tossed her his keys.

“Please don't let him die, not now, not yet.” Betsy was kneeling beside Ford, her body trembling, her round face ashen. Her dark eyes pleaded with Tony, begging him to perform a miracle.

As much as he longed to, Tony couldn't supply it. But for the next fifteen minutes, until the ambulance arrived, he did everything he knew to keep his father alive. And for the first time in many years, he prayed.

S
T
. J
OE'S
E
MERG WAS
uncharacteristically quiet. Tony briefed the ER doctors on what little he knew of his father's condition, and Dr. Suchanek, the hospital's leading oncologist, was called.

Ford was conscious by this time, but extremely weak and disoriented. It was Betsy who gave Suchanek detailed information about the operation Ford had had in Australia. He'd been on drugs, she said, but he wasn't taking anything at the moment.

Tony's entire family was now at the hospital, and it was obvious that the children were exhausted, the adults weary and anxious. After the initial examination in the ER, Ford was taken to the Intensive Care Unit, and Tony suggested everyone go home.

“Betsy and I'll stay with him tonight. If there's any change, we'll let you know.”

Georgia offered to drive McKensy home. “If Mom asks how it went, what should I say?”

“Tell her the truth.” Tony sighed and rubbed a hand through his hair. “She knew tonight was the dinner. She was in tears most of the day, and when I left, she was locked in her bedroom. She might as well know what happened.”

Georgia shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Think she's ever gonna grow up?”

Tony ruffled his sister's hair and bent to kiss her cheek. “All we can do is hope.”

 

A
S THE NIGHT WORE ON
, Ford's condition slowly improved. He grew aware of his surroundings and was able to talk a little as the long hours rolled toward morning.

It was evident how worried Betsy was about Ford, and Tony was amazed and humbled by how cheerful and optimistic she stayed. She told Tony a little about the simple life she and Ford led, and she showed him photos of their modest house in a Brisbane suburb.

“See, here on the wall, these are the photos that you sent over the years. He hung them up in the living room,” she confided. “He'd show each new one to our friends, he's so very proud of all of you. Leaving his kids behind when he came to Australia left a big hole in his heart.”

“Do you have any family you're close to, Betsy?” He remembered Ford saying her immediate family hadn't approved of their relationship, but maybe there was someone.

She shook her head. “My parents died long ago, and my brother and sister live in New South Wales, I don't see them much. Ford's my family, I reckon. We have good friends, but basically there's just the two of us.”

Tony thought of how much this woman had given up to be with Ford. When his father died, Betsy would be totally alone, and yet there was no sign of resentment in her. At this moment, Betsy was in a strange country with people she didn't know and a companion who was terminally ill, and still she retained her good nature.

It was hard not to compare Betsy with his mother. Dorothy had the support and love of a large family, but she spent much of her time being miserable. Maybe happiness was a choice made fresh every day. Tony silently vowed to choose more of it.

Toward morning, Ford improved dramatically. When Bob Suchanek arrived at 6:00 a.m., he left orders that Ford be moved out of ICU.

“I'm trying him on Decadron again,” he told Betsy and Tony. “From what you've told me, Mrs. O'Connor, he got a significant reprieve the last time he was on it. Maybe we'll be lucky again.” He paused, and Tony could tell that what Suchanek was about to say wasn't good news. “He's been having headaches, ataxia, pain in his joints. I've ordered some tests, because I'm afraid the tumor's metastasized into the bone. If it has, we could try radiation—”

Betsy shook her head. “He doesn't want it.”

Suchanek nodded. “He told me that. So we'll put all our faith in the Decadron.” He took Betsy's
hand in both of his. “The very best of luck to you both, Mrs. O'Connor.”

Betsy didn't correct him, and Tony certainly wouldn't. As far as he was concerned, Betsy was his father's wife in every way that mattered.

Tony arranged for a private room, and by seven Ford was in it and sleeping comfortably.

“Let's go find some breakfast, Betsy.” It had been a long night, and she looked pale and fragile. She sat beside Ford's bed, holding his hand.

“I don't want him to wake up and not find me here,” she said doubtfully.

“The cafeteria's just downstairs—you'll be back before he wakes up,” Tony promised. He planned to eat, and then shower and shave in the doctor's lounge. He had a meeting at eight-thirty, and he was glad he kept a change of clothes at St. Joe's. He had to phone his sisters and Wilson as well, to update them on Ford's condition. And as soon as he got a moment, he needed to talk to Kate. More than a moment, he corrected. They needed a stretch of uninterrupted time.

The cafeteria was crowded. It was a full forty minutes before Tony escorted Betsy back up to the oncology floor, and the moment they stepped off the elevator, he could hear his mother's raised, angry voice coming from Ford's room just down the hall.

“Don't tell me you don't have it—that's a lie and you know it. You stole that ring from me.”

Tony swore under his breath and raced into Ford's room with Betsy right behind him.

Dressed in a pink suit, hair perfectly coiffed, Dorothy was standing at the foot of Ford's bed. Her face was suffused with angry color, and she was shaking a finger at the gaunt figure in the bed.

“Stop that.” Betsy flew to Ford's side and put a protective hand on his ear as if to block what Dorothy was saying. “You stop hollering at him and get out of here, right now,” she ordered. “You have no right to talk to him that way.”

Dorothy stared at Betsy. “I have every right,” she spat. “I happen to be his
wife,
not some—some
whore
he picked up on the street.”

“Mom, that's enough.” Appalled, Tony took Dorothy's arm, intending to bodily remove her if he had to, but she shook him off with surprising strength and grabbed the bottom railing of the bed.

“I—want—that—ring,”
she shouted.
“I'm not setting foot out of here without it.”

She was totally out of control. Tony put his arms around her, trying to dislodge her grip on the bed, but it was impossible. Her hands were welded to the railing.

Gasping for breath, Ford raised his head and whispered, “I—told you, many times, I—I sold it, Dorothy. I—I had no—no money, and I—I sold the bloody thing—years back—”

But Dorothy wasn't listening. “I suppose he gave it to
you,
” she railed at Betsy.

Tony could see Betsy's self-control evaporating. Her entire body trembled and her face was pasty white beneath her tan. “I don't know what you're talking about. The only ring I have is this one. Take it, if it means that much to you.” She twisted a small diamond from her left ring finger and offered it to Dorothy.

Dorothy took it, and after one glance, she threw it across the room.

“That's not my ring,” she screamed.

Tony had had enough. He gripped his mother's shoulders and tried to lift her, intending to drag her bodily out of the room, but she clung to the bed, and it rolled along with them. Ford's IV tipped and threatened to fall over, and his oxygen mask was pulled forcibly from his face.

Betsy cried out and two nurses came running in, their wide eyes registering their horror and shock when they saw Tony and recognized Dorothy.

“Should we call Security, Tony?”

It would be humiliating for Dorothy to be forcibly removed by security personnel, but Tony knew something had to be done.

“You let me go,”
Dorothy was shrieking, kicking at Tony.
“I'm his legal wife, you can't force me to leave this room.”

If ever there was a time for defusing hostility, it was now.

“Call Kate Lewis, and be quick about it,” Tony ordered, praying that she'd be at work by now, and
available. One of the nurses flew out of the room, and the other one readjusted Ford's IV and the oxygen as Tony did his best to restrain his mother. She kept her death grip on the bottom of the bed and went on struggling with him.

Tony could feel her body shaking, smell the dank perspiration that poured from her. He was astounded at her strength. She went on with her tirade, accusing Ford of stealing the ring, calling Betsy a slut and a whore, telling Tony to let go of her. She writhed and squirmed in his grasp, and it was all he could do to hold on to her at all.

Betsy ignored everything but Ford, leaning down to stroke his cheek and murmur into his ear.

Tony's back was to the door, but some extra sense told him the instant Kate walked in the room. He literally felt the calmness of her presence, but he wondered what she could possibly do to help matters. He was going to have to forcibly sedate his mother.

Kate didn't hesitate, and neither did she pay attention to anyone in the room except Ford. She walked to the side of the bed, and she took the trembling hand Betsy wasn't holding.

Calmly and clearly, in a voice that everyone in the room heard, she asked, “What do you want, Mr. O'Connor?”

Dorothy stopped struggling for a moment.

Ford raised his hand and fumbled at the mask the nurse had put over his nose.

Kate helped him move it aside.

“I—want—her—out—of—here,” he gasped, pointing a shaking hand directly at Dorothy.

Kate nodded and turned to Dorothy. In a quiet but firm tone she said, “Will you come with me to my office, Dorothy, or shall I call Security?”

Holding her as he was, Tony could sense his mother's indecision.

The room was deathly quiet, and finally Tony felt the tension in Dorothy's muscles ease.

Kate walked over and took hold of Dorothy's hand. “C'mon, Dorothy,” she coaxed. “Come with me now. I'll make us a cup of tea.”

Dorothy let go of the bed and turned toward Kate.

For the first time, Kate looked at Tony. Her green eyes registered care and compassion, and she gave him a little nod.

“I'll be down to take her home in a few minutes,” Tony promised. He was shaking and needed time to collect himself. He also had to find out where McKensy was. Dorothy wouldn't have left her alone, Tony assured himself. But the state his mother was in—

Dorothy allowed herself to be led out of the room by Kate. Tony could hear her sobbing all the way down the hall, and he could also hear Kate's low, soothing voice comforting her.

 

T
WENTY MINUTES LATER
, shaken to the core by what had happened, Tony tapped on Kate's office
door. Ford had survived the hideous scene better than he had; his father and Betsy were holding hands and talking quietly when Tony left them.

“Come in.” Kate's calm voice was like balm to his frazzled nerves.

“Hi, Kate.” He tried to convey what he felt with a smile, but it would take much more than that to show her how grateful he was.

It was much harder for him to greet Dorothy, hard to subdue the sense of shame and outrage he felt toward her. “Hello, Mom.”

Dorothy didn't respond. She was sitting in Kate's visitor's chair, a mug of fragrant-smelling tea cradled between her palms. A pile of crumpled tissues, her ravaged face and the tearstains down the front of her pink suit telegraphed the stormy scene that must have taken place before he got there.

Tony's anger faded. He felt sorry for his mother, and sorry that Kate had had to deal with Dorothy alone, but he was also endlessly grateful that she had.

“C'mon, Mom. It's time to go.”

Kate got to her feet, and after a moment Dorothy did as well.

“I'd like to talk to you later, Kate, if you're free,” Tony said. “I'll be coming back here right after I drive Mom home.”

“I have a meeting in a few minutes, but after that the day looks pretty flexible,” Kate assured
him. Her voice was quiet and confident, but the look she gave him wasn't at all. Her green eyes were troubled and sad.

He longed to wrap his arms around her, tell her how sorry he was for everything that had and hadn't happened between them. He wanted to pick her up and take her somewhere far away, where there was room service and a wide bed and nobody either of them knew. He thought of his patients, the endless tasks that awaited him here at St. Joe's, his father upstairs, McKensy, the rest of his family waiting to hear from him. Frustration threatened to choke him. For a moment he balanced all of that against the feelings he had for Kate.

The scales tipped all the way over.

“Kate, could you finish up in the next hour and take the rest of the afternoon off?”

Her eyes widened and she shook her head. “I don't think—”

She stopped and really looked at him, and he tried to put everything he was feeling into that single moment of eye contact. He must have succeeded a little, because at last she nodded.

“I guess I could, Tony.” She sounded uncertain, but at least she'd agreed to try.

Not even daring to hope, he drove his mother home.

He'd called the house, worried that McKensy was alone, and Judy had answered. Dorothy had phoned her early that morning and said she had a
toothache and had to go to the dentist, and would Judy come into town and care for McKensy.

“Dental appointment, huh?” Tony told Judy what had occurred in Ford's room. “I honestly feel like admitting her to the psych ward.”

Judy let out a horrified gasp, then after a few seconds of silence said, “Maybe you should. Mom needs help.”

It had been an enormous relief, knowing that his sister understood and supported his feelings about Dorothy.

“I'm going to give you a sedative when we get home so you can rest awhile, but you do understand that you have to go to counseling,” he told Dorothy sternly as he negotiated the morning traffic. “Either that, or I'll admit you to the psych ward at St. Joe's.” He hated to threaten her, but he knew his mother well. She'd promise today, and tomorrow she'd find a reason to break that promise. “I'm going to insist you stay with counseling until you've resolved this anger. And until that happens, I'll make other arrangements for McKensy's care, Mother. I will not have my daughter exposed to your irrational emotions any longer.”