A Candle For Nick

Finally, she glanced at her watch. “It’s after two.” She stifled a yawn. “Won’t your wife worry?”

“My…? I’m divorced.”

She stared at him for a long, charged moment, then dropped her gaze. “I’d, um, better get back to Nick’s room.” She began gathering the cups.

“Sure.” He helped her clear the table, and they walked back together.

She stopped in the doorway to Nick’s room. “Talking to you helped a lot,” she said softly. “Thanks for getting me through this night.” She reached out, almost touched his arm, then abruptly dropped her hand. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

Mallory stepped inside the room, listened as Kent’s footsteps receded down the hall, then shut the door. Divorced, she thought as the full implication sank in. Oh, no.

Chapter Four

Two days later, Mallory sat in Nick’s room, entering information in her laptop. She’d met several other mothers of young cancer patients, and one had suggested she keep a daily log of Nick’s progress.

Nick was feeling better. This afternoon he was engrossed in a baseball game on TV. “Not the Yankees,” he’d complained, “but better than nothin’.”

“Nothing,” Mallory corrected automatically.

“Aw, Mom.”

As she continued typing, Mallory heard the commentator say, “A high pop fly to short right field.”

“Come on, get it,” Nick urged.

Mallory looked up, pleased by the excitement in his voice.

She glanced at the TV screen. The right fielder jogged in, lifted a glove and bobbled the ball.

“Aw, man, can’t you hold on to the ball, you jerk?”

“Nick,” Mallory chided. “Watch your language.”

“Geez, Mom. Don’t you ever get excited about a ball game?”

“Never…well, hardly ever.”

“Dad did.”

“I know,” Mallory sighed, as the next batter struck out.

“Sure. You and Dad knew each other forever.” He grinned when she glanced up at him. “Tell me the story of how you met.”

Her fingers poised on the keyboard. “I thought you were watching the game.”

“Mom, hel-lo. End of inning. Commercial break.”

“You’ve heard the story a hundred times.”

“Yeah, but I like it better than listening to someone go on about oatmeal.” He pointed to the screen, where a family was cheerfully devouring their breakfast, and broke into the endearing little-boy grin she loved.

How could she turn him down? She saved her file and turned the computer off. “Okay, when your grandpa became the rabbi at Beth Jacob and we moved to Valerosa, our house was across the street from your Brenner grandparents. The first morning we were there I went outside to check out the neighborhood when I saw this kid across the street, scowling at me.”

“What did he say?”

“He said, ‘My mom said the new rabbi has a kid named Mallory. Are you Mallory?’ And when I said yes, he said, ‘I thought Mallory was a boy’s name. You’re a girl.’”

“Yeah, he was disappointed.”

“He was, but I fixed him. I chomped my gum, blew the biggest bubble I could and popped it, and then I said, ‘Yeah, so what? I can run as fast as you.’”

Nick chuckled. “And he said, ‘Prove it.’ And you beat him to the corner.”

“Well, almost. It was a tie, but I guess he was impressed because he said, ‘You’re not bad for a girl. Wanna see my bug collection?’”

“And you said, ‘Sure, got any scorpions?’”

“I did, and from then on, we were best friends.”

“And you grew up, got married and had me and lived happily ever after, well, until—” He broke off and turned. “Oh, hi, Dr. Berger.”

“Hi, pal.”

“We were talking about my dad,” Nick said as Kent strode into the room and sat beside the bed. “Did you know him, too?”

“I did,” he said evenly and shot a glance at Mallory. The warmth and caring she’d seen the other night in the doctors’ lounge were gone. Today his gaze was cold, almost angry. Why? What did he have to be mad about? Surely he couldn’t be jealous that she’d married Dean, not after all the promises he’d made and broken.

“Feeling better, hmm?” Kent asked Nick. When the boy nodded, he said, “We’re going to give you another chemo dose tomorrow.”

Nick’s face fell. “The one the other day made me awful sick. Do you have to?” His voice trembled, and Mallory pulled her chair closer to the bed.

“Yeah, we do,” Kent said, his voice gentle. “Remember you told me you and your mom were going to beat this disease?”

Nick swallowed. “Yeah, the two of us, we’re a team.”

“Well, I’m on the team now, too. You could say I’m the manager.” He put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “The opposing team has these blasts—big, fat white blood cells they’re using against us—and the chemo zaps them.” Mallory saw that Kent had Nick’s full attention as he continued. “We’ve adjusted the chemo so you won’t be as sick this time, but we have to use it. It’s our strongest weapon. Okay, pal?”

“Okay,” Nick said in a small voice.

“Good. See you tomorrow.” He rose. “Nine-thirty.”

Kent left the room without speaking to Mallory and strode toward the nurses’ station. Resentment seethed in his veins. The anger that had dwindled the other evening had returned full force when he’d overheard the conversation about the happy Brenner family.

He stopped at the counter and made an entry on Nicholas’s chart. He’d spent many sleepless nights wondering about Mallory’s marriage to Dean Brenner. How “sudden” was it? How much had been in the works even while Mallory was supposedly in love with him?

She was here now and one day when her son was better, he’d ask the questions. And by God, before she left Houston, he’d have some answers.

Mallory paged through a copy of Good Housekeeping as she sat in the waiting room of the clinic. After only a minimal reaction to his second dose of chemo, Nick had been discharged from the hospital. Mallory was relieved. Not only was Nick feeling a little better, but she only had to encounter Kent once a week when he checked Nick and went over the results of blood tests.

She and Nick had settled into their two-bedroom apartment, and Nick had immediately made friends with Jeremy Spellman, another ten-year-old, who had been in treatment only two weeks longer than he. Mallory and Jeremy’s mother Tamara and several other moms had bonded, too. No one could better understand what they were going through than other parents experiencing the same fears and hopes.

Nick had told her that he and Jeremy were designing a video game. Now they were seated, heads together, giggling as they drew on a piece of typing paper. Mallory listened.

“…and the monster Leukemator is waiting at the end of the tunnel,” Jeremy said.

“Yeah, and he sends his blasts out to destroy Battleforce Bazooka.”

“But Doctor Bergermaster has a secret weapon. It’s…um, let’s see, it’s…Cheem.”

“Cheem, the Extreme,” Nick said. “Hey, Jer, this is really good. We should show it to Dr. Berger. Maybe he’ll have some ideas to improve it.”

“Maybe he could test it out on his own kids,” Jeremy suggested.

“Nope, he doesn’t have any kids.”

Mallory frowned. How did Nick know that?

An hour later, as they left the clinic and headed for the exit, she asked him.

“Oh, we talk when he’s checking me over. I asked him.”

“Why?”

Her voice came out sharper than she intended and Nick said, “I just wondered, that’s all. You’re sure cranky today.”

“Sorry. How about I make it up to you?” she offered. “Since you’re feeling better and your blood counts are up, we could go out to dinner. I’ll treat you to McDonald’s.”

“Cool.”

“Let’s do it, then.” She’d have to be careful not to let her emotional reactions to Kent affect the way she behaved with Nick.

They left the building and were heading across the parking lot just as Kent emerged from another door. Mallory grimaced. Think of the devil, and he appears. And her heart leaped at the sight of him, just as it had years ago. She kept her eyes straight ahead.

Her son, bless his heart, didn’t. “Hey, Dr. Berger,” he called and stopped. When Kent came alongside them, Nick said, “Guess what. We’re going out to dinner, to McDonald’s. Wanna come?”

Mallory jumped in quickly. “Nick, I’m sure Dr. Berger has things to do—”

“Nothing on the calendar for tonight,” Kent said. “I’d love to join you.” He flashed his killer smile, the rat. “My car’s right over there. I’ll follow you home and we can go together.”

“Oh, that’s not nec—”

“Wow! You have a Jaguar. Mom, is that awesome or what?”

“Awesome,” Mallory muttered. If anything, the car vaulted Kent even higher in Nick’s pantheon of heroes…that is, if a higher position were available. Dr. Bergermaster was, after all, already the leader of Battleforce Bazooka.

Saying nothing, she steered Nick to their own car, not at all surprised when her son groused, “Our car is so nothin’. We should get something classier.”

“Sure,” she said. “I’ll put us on the list for a Ferrari as soon as we’re back in Valerosa.”

As she drove the few blocks to the apartment, Mallory pondered Kent’s acceptance of Nick’s invitation. Surely this wasn’t standard procedure for a busy doctor to go out for fast food with one of his patients. She chewed on her bottom lip as she glanced in the rearview mirror at the sleek black Jaguar behind them. Did he have some inkling that Nick was more than just a patient?

Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. For the thousandth time, she asked herself why she’d come to Houston. Didn’t she have enough to worry about without this fear lurking in the back of her mind? And for the thousandth time the same answer came. She wanted the best for Nick, and Kent was the best.

She’d just be cautious around him.

She pulled into her parking space and shook her head in disbelief as Nick fairly leaped out of their car and trotted over to Kent’s. Nick hadn’t had this much energy since he’d gotten sick. She followed slowly, hoping Nick would get into the front seat of the Jaguar beside Kent. Instead he hopped into the back and left the passenger seat for her.

Resigned, she got in. As she fastened her seat belt, she caught a whiff of Kent’s cologne. Sandalwood. Masculine, sexy—oh, dear.

She let Nick do most of the talking as they drove to the nearest McDonald’s. He had plenty to say, of course, chattering excitedly about the “awesome” car, his collection of model cars and the video game he and Jeremy were designing.

They slid to a stop in front of McDonald’s and Kent got out of the car. By the time Mallory had unfastened her seat belt and picked up her purse, he’d come around to her side and opened the door for her. Always the gentleman, he extended his hand to help her out. She remembered how impressed she’d been with his manners the summer they’d been together. Today she ignored his hand. Manners were all surface, she told herself. What was important was inside. And Kent had let her down when it really mattered. She would keep that in mind and not allow his sexy cologne and beguiling smile to sweep her off her feet again. She was older and wiser than she’d been eleven years ago.

Nick scrambled out and glanced around the parking lot. “We’ve got the best car here,” he announced.

Of course, Mallory thought. How many prominent physicians patronized fast-food restaurants?

Inside, they gave their orders, and Kent reached in his pocket. “I’ll get it,” he said.

“No, thank you.”

Kent shrugged, and she thought she saw a hint of amusement in his eyes. Let him laugh. She would not allow this to become a…she wasn’t sure what, but letting him pay for their meal seemed a step toward a more personal relationship. A complication she couldn’t dare to encourage.

They carried their trays to a booth and sat down. She continued to let Nick carry the conversation, relieved at first and then concerned that he and Kent had so much to talk about.

Nick ate half his burger, then pushed it away. His appetite was still poor. Tonight hers wasn’t much better. She nibbled at her food, wishing the meal over so they could leave.

But Nick was eyeing the outside playground. “Can I go out, Mom?” he asked.

Mallory hesitated, worried that he might overextend himself. And she didn’t want to be alone with Kent. “I don’t think—”

Sensing defeat, Nick said, “Let’s ask Dr. Berger.” He turned to Kent.

“Ten minutes,” Kent said. “If you get tired sooner, come back. Your body will tell you when it’s had enough.”

“Thanks.” Flashing a triumphant grin, he left them.

Alone.

Mallory began gathering up their leftovers. If she walked to the trash can really slowly, she could use up maybe two minutes. Coward. But she had reason to be afraid.

“I’ll get us some coffee,” Kent said.

“Thank you.”

“Still take yours with two sugars?”

She nodded, surprised he remembered. With another man, she’d be flattered. With Kent—

She deposited their trash in the container and returned to the booth. Kent set the cups on the table and slid in across from her. Her hand closed around the coffee cup. His was inches away, close enough to reach for, to touch. She remembered the feel of his fingers clasping hers, the warmth of his palm…

“The first time we went out, I took you to the Burger Bar,” he said softly.

She remembered, of course. Everything about that first afternoon was as vivid in her mind as events of the past week—the smell of broiling meat, the jukebox playing Whitney Houston’s “I Will Always Love You,” the heady excitement that Kent had noticed her and actually asked her out.

“Is the Burger Bar still there?” he asked.

She nodded, stirred her coffee. “I wasn’t supposed to go out with you,” she blurted.

He frowned. “Really? Why?”

“You were a guest at Comanche Trails. Employees weren’t allowed to socialize with guests.” Yet without a qualm, she’d said yes the minute he asked. She, the rabbi’s daughter who never broke rules, hadn’t given the restriction a second thought. And that was only the first rule she’d broken.

Kent’s lips curved into the slow smile Mallory used to adore. “I didn’t know that. I’m glad you decided to go.”

Mallory didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

What if she’d stuck with her usual behavior and said no when he asked her out? She’d have avoided all the grief, all the anguish.

But she wouldn’t have Nick.

She glanced out the window at her son, who was talking to another youngster on the playground. She’d endure everything she’d gone through again because of him. She glanced back at Kent and found him watching her thoughtfully, a half smile on his face. “What?” she asked.

“After we left the Burger Bar, you took me to see a prairie dog town.”

Mallory laughed, half-embarrassed that she’d thought such an unsophisticated outing would impress a man who’d spent his last four years in Chicago. But he’d kissed her there, on that sun-scorched afternoon, with a chorus of tiny creatures chattering in the background and the whistle of a train sounding from somewhere far away.

She’d fallen in love that hot June day, and those same feelings, long buried, were stirring now. Again. Fool. Now you know better.

Abruptly she said, “How long were you married?”

He blinked at the sudden change of subject. “Three years.”

“What happened?”

Kent hesitated, then answered, “Lisa and I were a bad match.”

Curious now, she asked, “In what way?”

“We wanted different things. I met Lisa in New York when I was at Sloan-Kettering. She was a model. Then when we moved here, she had some offers and…she didn’t want to spoil her body having children.”

Mallory studied him thoughtfully. “Would you have sacrificed your career for children?”

“Yes,” he said.

His voice rang with such intensity, his eyes shone with such pain that Mallory was staggered. Beneath the table she clenched her hands, which had suddenly gone cold. If he wanted a child this much, didn’t he deserve to know that Nick was his?

Chapter Five

Say it, she thought. He needs to know. Kent, you do have a child. Nick is yours….

How would he react? He’d be shocked, of course, but what else? Would he be thrilled? Angry?

Heart drumming in her ears, she sat poised to speak, to tell the truth that would change Kent’s life…and Nick’s. But her vocal cords seemed frozen, her lips unable to move.

Once said, she could never take the words back. And far more important than Kent’s reaction was how they would affect Nick.

Kent would refuse to continue treating Nick. A doctor might stitch up his son’s cut lip, but he’d never treat his own child for cancer.

How would her son feel, getting a new physician? Would he be as cooperative when someone else performed the painful bone marrow aspirations he required?

Kent might insist on telling Nick he was his father. That could be a disaster. After only a short time as his patient, Nick worshiped Kent. As a doctor, not as a parent. If he learned the truth, the shock and stress might affect his progress. How could she take that chance?

She stared down at her napkin, folded it in half, folded it again, into smaller and smaller pieces.

Kent put his hand over hers. “Mallory, I know you’re worried, but Nick is making good progress. He’s tolerating the chemo….”

Of course Kent assumed she was worrying about Nick. She looked up and managed a smile. “I know.”

Kent gazed at her with such kindness. She swallowed a tear. “Kent, I—”

“Hey, Mom.”

She jumped at the sound of Nick’s voice and jerked her hand out of Kent’s hold. Too late to tell him now, she thought with relief. Someday she’d tell him. Later, when Nick was well. After Kent had made him well. When the consequences wouldn’t be so drastic.

“About ready to head home?” she asked Nick, noting how pale and tired he looked.

“Yeah, I think so.”

Kent had been right. Nick’s body had told him he’d had enough.

They gathered their cups and napkins and headed for the door. “Wait for me a minute,” Mallory said, turning toward the restroom. She needed some time to collect herself.

In the ladies room she splashed water on her face, then glanced in the mirror as she dried off. There were circles under her eyes. She looked as pale and drawn as Nick. She freshened her lipstick, but that didn’t help much. She sighed, tossed the paper towel away and pushed open the door.

Kent and Nick stood waiting near the exit. Outside, a woman carrying a baby with one arm and holding a toddler’s hand with the other approached the door. Nick noticed, opened the door and held it for her. Pleased, Mallory smiled to herself. All those lessons in manners she’d drummed into him had apparently stuck.

“Thank you.” The woman smiled at Nick, then turned to Kent. “Your son is a sweetheart.”

Your son. Mallory’s hand flew to her mouth as Kent nodded and murmured a thank-you. Oh, God, Mallory thought. The words she couldn’t say a few minutes ago…

Would the stranger’s offhand remark cause Kent to notice Nick’s resemblance to him? And then would he figure out their relationship himself? For a moment Mallory felt sick. The sounds of children’s shrieks and laughter buzzed in her ears, the smell of frying potatoes made her stomach turn over.

She took a deep breath and on legs that felt too weak to support her, walked to Kent and Nick. No wonder the woman thought they were father and son. Anyone could see it. Even the way they stood was similar.

“Hey, Mom, did you hear?” Nick said as she came up to them. His signature grin lit up his face. “That lady thought I was Dr. Berger’s kid. Funny, huh?”

“Uh-huh.” Hilarious.

“We didn’t tell her she made a mistake because she’d have been embarrassed, right, Dr. Berger?”

Kent’s smile was a carbon copy of Nick’s. “Right,” he agreed and put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You’re a good kid, Nicholas.”

“Yeah, my mom’s done a great job with me. That’s what everyone says.”

“They’re right.” Kent turned to Mallory, admiration in his eyes.

“Thanks.” She let out a shaky breath. Apparently Kent hadn’t interpreted the woman’s comment as anything more than the natural assumption that a man and boy standing together were father and son. She’d avoided disaster this time, she told herself, but if too many people noticed the resemblance and mentioned it, Kent really would catch on. Better not to get too involved with him. No more spontaneous meals at McDonald’s. Nick could chat with him in the clinic, but that was all. She’d talk with Nick about that as soon as they got home.

She was silent in the car, pondering what to say to keep Nick from becoming too chummy with his doctor. This evening had given her a scare: her secret baby almost revealed against a backdrop of Happy Meals.

Lord, didn’t she have enough to worry about? Nick’s blood counts, his reactions to chemo and, looming ahead, the transplant. She’d forced herself not to think too much about that. It was too terrifying. She’d face the transplant when the time came.

From behind them came the sound of a soft snore. She turned to look at Nick. He was sprawled in the backseat with his arms splayed, his head against the cushion, eyes shut and mouth partially open. “He’s exhausted,” she murmured. “We shouldn’t have stayed so long.”

“Mallory, you can’t lock him away from life. He has to be a normal kid, as normal as possible.”

“I know,” she sighed, “but I worry.”

Kent glanced at her and gave her a half smile. “Sure you do, but you have to take time off, too, and take care of yourself.”

Suddenly angry, Mallory glared at him. “That’s what all doctors say, isn’t it? Well, I can tell you it’s impossible to take time off. What should I do—soak in a bubble bath? When you’re a parent, wherever you go, the cancer goes with you.” She bit her lip. She’d almost added, How do you think you’d feel if you were Nick’s father?

“You’re right.” Kent lifted his hand from the steering wheel, moved it toward her as if to touch her, then stopped and returned it to the wheel. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “It’s easy to speak in clichés when you’re on the other side.”

Mallory sighed. “And I’m sorry for jumping at you.” She forced a smile. “So we’re even.”

Kent pulled up at her apartment.

“Nick, we’re home,” Mallory said.

He opened his eyes and stared at her sleepily, then yawned. “Okay.”

Kent got out to walk them to the door. Mallory sent Nick inside, reminding him to brush his teeth before bed. “And—”

“I know,” he said, “with the soft toothbrush.” He grinned at Kent. “The leukemabrush, right?” Then he asked, “Aren’t you coming in, Mom?”

“In a minute. I want to talk to Dr. Berger.”

“’Kay. ’Night, Dr. Berger. I’ll see you Thursday.”

Mallory waited for Nick to shut the door, then squared her shoulders and turned to Kent. “About tonight—”

“He really is okay. Just a little tired.”

She shook her head. “That’s not what I wanted to talk about.”

“What, then?”

She took a breath. “How often do you do this?”

“This?”

Was he being deliberately obtuse? “Eat at McDonald’s.”

He chuckled. “The last time was…oh, about ten years ago.”

“Then why tonight? Surely you’re not in the habit of going out for fast food with your patients.”

His smile vanished. “No, I’m not.”

“Then why Nick?”

Frowning, he hesitated a moment, then shook his head. “Damned if I know. Maybe because he’s yours.” He brushed his hand over her cheek, then as if he thought better of his gesture, he turned and walked quickly to his car.

Mallory stood still and watched him get into the car and pull out of the parking lot. Her cheek tingled where he’d touched her, even that faint contact setting off a wave of longing she thought had died long ago. It must have been simmering beneath the surface, needing only the brush of his fingers to come to life again.