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Georgia hurried off and Kate tried again to get to know Dorothy O’Connor. “Georgia was telling me about your granddaughter, McKensy.”
Kate hoped it was a topic that would steer Dorothy in a more positive direction, even if only for a few moments. The woman was difficult, no doubt about it.
“McKensy’s my darling girl.” The angry set of Dorothy’s mouth softened into a smile, the first Kate had seen. The older woman looked pretty when she smiled, and the frown lines between her eyes eased.
“She’s thoughtful, and so smart. Straight A student, just like Tony was.” In the next moment the smile faded and the frown lines reappeared. “It’s just a blessing she took after him and not that flyby-night mother she has.”
Kate heaved a mental sigh. It seemed that nothing was entirely positive in Dorothy’s view. She didn’t want to pry further into Tony’s private affairs, but she found herself paying close attention when his mother continued with a disapproving sniff. “Fancied herself a singer, Jessica did. Everybody knows what kind of life those singers lead, what with dope and liquor and men. No morals whatsoever.” Her mouth pursed into a prim line. “At least she had enough sense to leave McKensy for Tony to raise, only sensible thing she ever did. I told him before he ever married her what the outcome would be, but he didn’t listen.”
“How nice that you have a chance to get to know your granddaughter,” Kate persevered. “My grandparents lived too far away for me to visit more than once every couple of years, so I never really got to know them at all.”
Dorothy’s chin lifted, and her voice was filled with pride. “My own children were lucky. They had the best grandfather in the world. My father was a wonderful man. He supported me and the children after my husband deserted us.” Her voice became bitter again. “He walked out before Georgia was even in school.”
It was hard not to think that Dorothy would drive anyone off.
“That must have been very difficult for you, raising a family on your own.” Kate was trying to get a better sense of Dorothy’s life.
“Oh, it was hard.” Dorothy shook her head. “Four kids, and no husband to help raise them. It was a struggle.”
“You must have been very self-reliant. What sort of job did you have?”
“I taught piano,” Dorothy announced with great pride. “I come from a very musical family. My father was a professor of music at the University of British Columbia.”
“How wonderful. I love music, but I can’t play any instruments.”
“All my children play—my father and I taught them. Piano, violin. Georgia had promise as a professional pianist, but she didn’t pursue it.” Dorothy’s mouth turned down in a disapproving line. “She only plays the guitar these days—a total waste of God-given talent, if you ask me. And of course Tony was very talented as well. He took up the saxophone.”
In her mind Kate immediately saw his tall figure, knees bent, eyes closed, passionately playing Dixieland jazz. By now she felt a bit like a voyeur, but she couldn’t help asking, “Does he still play?”
“Oh, yes. He used to be part of a jazz group that played in piano bars all over the city, but now that he has McKensy, he no longer has the freedom to go out at night. Once you have children, your life changes.”
“Yes, it does.” Kate was thinking of her stepdaughter, Eliza. She hoped her ex-husband had remembered about the birthday party the little girl was attending this afternoon.
Kate glanced at her watch. Her workday was almost over. “I’m going to be going home soon. Is there anything more I can do for you, Mrs. O’Connor?”
Dorothy gave Kate a look that said she didn’t think Kate had done anything to begin with. “No, I really don’t see what anyone can do. There’s no way that what’s done can be undone, is there?”
“Unfortunately, no.” Smiling at Dorothy was becoming more and more of a struggle, but Kate did her best. “I’ll leave you, then, and I hope Dr. O’Connor continues to improve.”
“So do I.” It was plain from the tone of her voice and her deep sigh that Dorothy expected nothing of the kind.
As she hurried down the hall to the elevator, Kate wondered what made some people so negative. She’d met plenty of them in the course of her job; they were the ones who found the most to complain about, so they were the ones she dealt with on a regular basis.
She loved her job, she reminded herself as she finished the day’s work, then retrieved her purse from her drawer and headed out to the parking lot. Defusing hostility was challenging, and Kate knew she did it well. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t glad to leave her work behind her and head home at the end of the day.
She was relieved that the late afternoon meeting she’d had scheduled was canceled. It was the weekly one the chief of staff held with department heads, and Kate had been asked to attend because of a staffing complaint. Tony O’Connor was obviously in no shape to conduct a meeting.
After all that had happened, Kate felt she knew him better than she had that morning. She was sorry now that she’d been unsympathetic toward him. He had a lot of family issues to deal with, and she knew how that felt.
So he played the saxophone, huh?
Kate sent him good thoughts and headed home.
CHAPTER FOUR
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, she pulled up in front of her modest frame house, annoyed that her ex-husband, Scott, had once again parked his battered car in the paved driveway. The ancient vehicle sat there, flaking bits of rust, its hood up and various pieces of its innards spread across the lawn, which Kate had mown and trimmed just two days before.
But it wasn’t the battered car that made Kate frown and hurry up the walk. Eliza was sitting on the front steps, her bare knobby knees clasped between her arms, tears trickling down her cheeks.
Her golden blond hair, clipped fashionably close to her skull by Kate’s hairdresser, stood up in stiff peaks, carefully sculpted in place with the mousse Kate had given her, and she was wearing her bright pink party dress. Kate knew the birthday party she was supposed to attend must have started at least half an hour before.
“Eliza, what’s wrong, honey?” Kate raced up the steps and sank down beside her stepdaughter. “I thought you were supposed to be at Melanie’s party.”
Eliza nodded, her wide blue eyes overflowing. “I was, but Daddy forgot to get me a gift. He said he would when I got home from school, but then he couldn’t drive me because the car’s broken again.” She rubbed at her face with the palm of her hand. “I made her a card, but I can’t go without a gift. Everybody got her something special—they all told me what they got her in school today.” Her voice wobbled. “I wanted to give her some of that sparkly lotion from the Body Shop, but it’s too late now.”
Frustration at her ex made Kate’s heart pound. She had to struggle to keep her tone neutral. “And where’s Daddy gone?”
“He went to see if he could borrow Mike’s van. But he’s been gone a long time.”
Kate could guess why. Chances were good Mike’s van was out of gas or had some problem with the carburetor or the battery or the alternator. Scott’s friends could have been his clones. None of them could organize anything except getting together for a beer at the pub. Last-minute emergencies with vehicles were the norm rather than the exception. And like Scott, none of them held down a steady job.
“Would an unopened package of kid’s bubble bath and dusting powder do for a gift, you think?”
“Yeah.” Eliza’s little face brightened. “But where will we get it?”
“I just happen to have some in my dresser drawer.” Eliza’s own birthday was coming up soon, and Kate had bought the items on the weekend.
She rushed in the house and found them, then grabbed some purple tissue, tape and a pink ribbon as well. Eliza could wrap on the way to the party.
They hurried to the car and Kate slid behind the wheel. She didn’t bother leaving Scott a note—he’d know she’d bailed him out yet again. Eliza concentrated on wrapping as Kate drove swiftly to the address the little girl recited from the printed invitation. Fortunately, it wasn’t too far away. Eliza would be late, but not hopelessly so.
Kate went to the door with Eliza, and a cheerful young woman answered.
“Hey, you must be Eliza,” she said with a wide grin. “Melanie’s going to be so happy that you’re here—she’s been missing you.” She rubbed her hand on her jeans and then stuck it out to Kate. “Icing sugar, sorry. Hi, I’m Belinda Rogers. You must be Eliza’s mom.”
“I’m Kate. Sorry she’s late.”
“No problem, the girls are still in the pool. You did bring your swimming suit, Eliza?”
Kate’s heart sank, but Eliza nodded. “It’s under my dress.”
“Off you go, then.”
Eliza gave Kate a fast, fierce hug and then ran off to join her friends.
“She doesn’t have a towel.” Kate felt like a negligent parent. Eliza had forgotten to tell her it was a swimming party.
“No problem, there’s a whole stack of them by the pool.”
“What time should I come and collect her?”
“Seven-thirty’s good.”
Kate thanked Belinda and then drove home, trying to get past the irritation that simmered in her. She’d made a point of reminding Scott about the party, and the fact that she wouldn’t be able to drive Eliza because of the meeting. He’d promised he’d do it.
Why, just once in his life, couldn’t he carry through on the promises he made so glibly and then never kept?
You know he’s unreliable, so why do you go on expecting him to change? They’d been divorced four years now, after five troubled years of marriage during which Kate gradually and painfully gave up her illusions, admitting at last that Scott Bauer didn’t want to be anything other than what he was, an unemployed bum.
Kate was the one with dreams, the one who’d chosen to believe his oft-repeated promises about getting a job, buying a house, trading in the battered car for a decent one.
She realized now that she had only herself to blame. Scott had been a means to an end for her. She’d liked the amiable young man, but she’d fallen head over heels in love with Eliza, six months old when she met Scott. The baby needed a mother so desperately it almost broke Kate’s heart to look at her, dressed in mismatched and discolored clothing, sucking on a pacifier, her huge blue eyes staring hungrily into the face of every stranger. To this day, Kate couldn’t read the Dr. Seuss book, Are You My Mother? without crying.
Eliza’s teenage mother had died of a drug overdose when Eliza was two months old. Scott had sworn he hadn’t known his wife was using, but Kate thought now that he probably had, and in his usual fashion, simply chose to ignore it.
Thankfully, there was no indication that Eliza’s natural mother had used drugs during her pregnancy. Eliza was bright, usually cheerful, the most normal of little girls.
Because of the baby, Kate overlooked things she should have noticed, such as the fact that Scott, who had a degree in chemical engineering, was out of a job when she met him. He’d never had a steady job, and Kate knew now he probably never would.
But during the years of their marriage, she’d continued working as a nurse, volunteering for night duty several times a month so she could afford classes at university. She’d gone on believing that when the right job came along, he’d take it. She’d been patient and understanding when one opportunity after the next came to nothing. She’d agreed that Eliza needed a parent around, and she’d been willing to work so that Scott could be their daughter’s caregiver. But it hadn’t taken long to realize that although he took reasonable care of Eliza during the day, he did absolutely nothing else.
Arriving home exhausted after a twelve-hour shift on the geriatric ward, Kate would find the breakfast dishes still on the table, clothing scattered wherever he’d seen fit to drop it, no groceries in the house. He never once made dinner, cleaned the house, did the laundry or mowed the lawn. All household tasks were left for her to do. She paid all the bills and she also did all the housework, indoors and out. The moment she was home, he handed over Eliza, as well.
When Eliza started kindergarten, Kate had had enough. She gave Scott an ultimatum. Find work in three months, or the marriage was over.
By this time Scott was grossly overweight and made no effort at all to look for a job. Kate at last faced the facts. She was married to a man who had no ambition and who had never really loved her—at least not in the way she wanted to be loved. Somewhere during the five years of their marriage, she’d lost all respect for him, as well as any affection. He refused to move out of the apartment they shared, so Kate packed her belongings and left, but the pain of leaving Eliza had nearly killed her. She saw a lawyer, explaining that she and Eliza adored each other. She was the only mother the little girl knew, and Kate wanted custody.
The lawyer explained that she had a fair chance, but it might mean a long and costly court battle. Scott was the girl’s biological father, and despite his laziness, he did take reasonable care of her. Kate couldn’t deny that Scott loved his daughter. The apartment they’d shared, which she’d painted and decorated, wasn’t in any way an unsuitable home for a child.
After three months of painful visits with Eliza and tearful partings, Kate came up with a plan. Her own parents, dead for some years, had left her a small legacy, so Kate took the money and bought a house on Vancouver’s east side, one with a bright and spacious basement apartment. Banking on his laziness, his cheapness, and his penchant for always taking the easiest route, she’d offered the suite to Scott at a reduced rent. He and Eliza had moved in and had lived in Kate’s house ever since.
The arrangement was far from ideal. Scott took flagrant advantage of the situation, using Kate as a built-in baby-sitter, relying on her to buy the majority of Eliza’s clothes, even borrowing Kate’s car to drive his daughter to the dance classes Kate paid for. She tried not to get angry with him, but it was a challenge.
When Kate drove up in front of her house, Scott’s ample rear end protruded from under the hood of his car.
No blame, she reminded herself. The problem is the problem. Errors are just opportunities to learn and forgive. But the mantra wasn’t working. She remembered Eliza’s tearful little face and wrath took the place of reason.
Slamming the car door unnecessarily hard, Kate stalked over to Scott. “I’ve just taken Eliza to her birthday party,” she snapped. “She was crying her heart out when I got home, and she was late by the time we got there. I thought you said you’d take her to buy a gift and make sure she made it to the party?”
Slowly, like a turtle emerging from a shell, Scott’s jowly grease-smeared face appeared from the car’s innards. He had the nerve to smile at her. “Oh, hi, Kate, how’s it going? That’s good you took Eliza, because I couldn’t get Mike’s van. He’d promised to deliver furniture with it.”
His nonchalance infuriated her.
“Eliza was excited about that party. You let her down.”
“I knew you’d get her there. No harm done.”
Don’t blame. Don’t accuse. Kate knew her own rules, but somehow Scott pushed her into situations where she couldn’t apply them. “How can you do that to your own daughter?” Her voice rose. “You just assume I’ll come along and pick up after you. Well, Scott, I’ve had enough of it.”
It felt good to explode. But they’d been down this path before, and Kate knew more or less what was coming.
“Chill out, Kate. If you feel that way about it, I’ll take Eliza and go. My cousin called about a job in Nova Scotia. He promised me a place to live.”
Did he even have a cousin in Nova Scotia? Kate had never been certain, but the very possibility of his taking Eliza away made her stomach tighten. She’d never see Eliza again, and she couldn’t bear that.
As always, she backed down. Trembling, she stabbed a finger at the greasy auto parts now littering the lawn. “I want you to get this mess off the grass and find another place to work on this wreck of a car. The neighbors are complaining—the whole front yard is an eyesore this way.”
“Hey, hey, temper, temper. Aren’t you the one always preaching patience?” His grin was snide, and for an instant Kate longed to bring her hand up and smack him hard. With every ounce of self-control she possessed, she walked around him and up her front steps. Closing the door behind her, she collapsed in an armchair as the full effect of the quarrel washed over her.
She’d engaged, breaking rule number one. She’d accused, and she’d blamed, and she hadn’t listened. How could Scott push every single button the way he did? And not once, but every single time something like this came up.
At least she could take a cool bath and eat some dinner before she went to pick up Eliza. She tried to concentrate on those pleasures and ignore Scott’s goading. She hadn’t asked him to pick up his daughter, because she knew he’d simply borrow her car to do it.
Times like these, she felt trapped and hopeless. Also defeated and a failure, she admitted as she kicked off her shoes. Whatever made her think she could defuse anger? She couldn’t even manage it in herself. She thought of Dorothy, of the deep-seated anger that had surfaced when she mentioned her husband deserting her.
If she went on this way with Scott, would she eventually end up like Tony’s mother, a bitter, sour, resentful woman?
The very idea made her long for something sweet. Kate headed for the kitchen. She needed chocolate chip cookies, and she needed them right away.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON, Kate set the homemade cookies she’d brought Tony on the bedside table, hoping she didn’t appear as awkward as she felt. “Hi, Tony. It’s good to see you looking so much better.”
“Cookies?” His voice was gravelly and still weak.
“Yup. I baked them myself, I guarantee there’re no eggs in them. I found a recipe in an allergy cookbook.”
“Thanks, Kate.” She was rewarded with a smile, but she still felt uncomfortable. Maybe she should have brought him flowers or a magazine instead of the cookies. They seemed too—too intimate.
Cookies are cookies. There’s nothing sensual about them.
She was relieved that he was alone, but she was also disturbed by it. He was lying on top of the sheets, wearing a pale blue short-sleeved T-shirt and a pair of loose-fitting black track shorts. He had great muscles in his arms—and his legs, too. She swallowed. She’d never really seen his body this uncovered.
His silky hair was rumpled, but he’d had a shave. Although he was still pale, he looked more like himself again. She noticed that he was too long for the standard hospital bed. His uninjured foot stuck out of the bars at the end of the bed. It was long and narrow. Elegant. Sexy.
Sexy? Get a grip here, Lewis. How could a foot be sexy? She jerked her attention away from his foot and cleared her throat.
“They told me at the desk they’d sprung you from ICU this morning. This room is nice, great view.” She walked over to the window and pretended to gaze down on the small interior courtyard, giving herself time to collect her ridiculous thoughts.
“If you’ve got to be a patient, I guess this is as good as any.” He sounded grumpy, and Kate’s guard went up. If the tightness of his jaw and the narrow-eyed look he gave her were any indication, he was in a bad mood.
She decided to get down to business. “The nurse said you wanted to speak to me?” Kate turned from the window and sat down in the chair beside the bed. She tried to put aside the slight nervousness she felt. There was also the stupid sexual tension that zipped through her, caused by her ridiculous awareness that he was in bed. She could smell the shampoo he’d used on his hair. Or maybe it was aftershave?
For heaven’s sake, Lewis, concentrate on his concerns and get your mind out of the gutter.
After all, he was a patient first, chief of staff second, attractive male third—way, way down the list. It was her job to do everything she could to set his mind at ease. And just because he was lying in bed, there was no reason to think lascivious thoughts.
“You’re the only person I could think of who might pay attention and treat me like an adult,” he began in a disgruntled voice. “I’m finding out first-hand just how few rights patients have in this place. It’s appalling.” He tried to sit up straighter and swore when the movement hurt his ankle.
