Читать книгу Return of the Rebel Surgeon - Connie Cox - Страница 9

COLE walked away, feeling Bella’s eyes burn into his back.

Maybe he had overstepped the mark, giving Adrian his card. But an inexplicable compulsion deep within him had prevented him from cutting off his connection with the boy.

There was no connection—could never be a connection—between him and Isabella. She had severed that with a knife in the back.

The rest of the morning dragged by with only one other patient, a mother with a minor ankle sprain. While he tried to explain that four-inch heels and bleachers didn’t mix, she attempted to seduce him with invitations for drinks on the veranda after her ex-husband picked up the children that evening.

She was exactly the kind of Southern belle he always imagined Bella would have turned into. Not that he thought of Bella often. He’d had to train himself quickly to put her out of his mind or he would have never made it through medical school.

But forgetting about her after seeing her today took all his mental prowess.

While he’d rather head to the hotel to put a heat pack on his aching neck, he headed toward the classrooms instead. He’d promised his office manager he would pick up some information on early recognition of learning difficulties. Her daughter’s pediatrician was starting to suspect a problem. And heat packs wouldn’t cure his problem anyway. Only time would heal a neck and shoulder strain—just like only time would heal his heartache. But how much time? Fifteen years should have been long enough.

He ducked into a full auditorium and leaned against the door frame. The man next to him handed over a sheaf of lecture notes that Cole took with a politely absent nod, intending to drop out as quickly as he dropped in.

That was when he noticed the speaker, Isabella Allante, at the podium. A video on a giant screen behind her showed Adrian in his younger years, staring into the camera, while other children enjoyed a birthday party.

“So you see, I understand. I’m one of you.” She met the eyes of parents scattered around the room. “My son has autism and I can’t cure him.”

A frisson of emotion quivered through him, an emotion that was too big to name.

He had to look away from Adrian’s stare.

Cole frowned and glanced at the paper he held then glanced at his watch. Wrong time zone. He was late for the workshop on early detection by an hour.

As unobtrusively as he could, he turned to leave. From the podium, Bella fell silent. Just a pause. Just a beat. Just enough to make everyone turn and look at him.

He’d never been one to be swayed by general consensus—unlike Bella. How had sweet, pliable Bella managed with a son as challenging as Adrian? Still, he chose to stay to keep from disrupting Bella’s talk any further.

“I’ve learned to deal with the ups and downs of life with honesty about my strengths and weaknesses.” She stumbled on her closing sentences before she found her rhythm again. “And honesty about my emotions.”

If that was true, she’d certainly changed.

The ring of sincerity in her message kept the crowd enthralled. “As many of you know, my background is in cognitive behavior therapy. But my specialty is in pain management, not autism. Like you, I can’t stay immersed in the study of my child’s disability to the exclusion of all else. Also, like you, I want to do everything within my power to help my child live a contented and worthwhile life. And that includes taking care of myself, mentally, physically and spiritually, and asking for help when I need it. I encourage you to do the same.”

Was Bella staring straight at him? How could she even see him through the crowd? He must be imagining her focus on him, imagining her eyes accusing him of—of what?

When Bella stepped down from the podium and a website address and phone number flashed on the video screen, replacing the birthday scene, Cole felt like he’d been given a reprieve.

Back when Cole had known her, Isabella had been the kind of girl who’d avoided confrontation at all costs. But she was no longer that insecure, unconfident girl she’d been. She rushed to catch Cole, almost running in her three-inch wedges, hoping her favorite shoes would hold together long enough to overtake his long-legged strides.

In the parking lot, he stopped next to a BMW with a rental sticker on the window and took a look behind him, pinning her with his stare. “You want to say something to me?”

Isabella glared right back. “Why are you here?”

She winced when her confrontational words came out soft and breathless. Her wispy tone had nothing to do with the flaring ferocity of emotion in Cole’s eyes but was completely due to her being out of shape. She needed to start running with her son—if she could find a free slot in her schedule.

Cole gave her a once-over, a quick assessment from head to toe. She resisted the impulse to smooth her hair behind her ear or cross her arms over her chest.

“I’m consulting on a few cases with the sports clinic.”

“It’s hard to imagine you working with the SC.”

Cole had always wanted to work for charity, not for big money. In fact, he had been a bit of a reverse snob about money. He’d definitely gotten over that hang-up.

“It’s hard to imagine you as the mother of a teenage boy.”

She smirked. “Time does have a way of changing us—some of us for the better.”

“You, Bella?”

“Definitely. And you?”

He lifted an eyebrow then redirected the conversation. “Where’s Adrian?”

She had the petulant instinct to answer, None of your business. But she was more mature than that. Besides, wasn’t it better to figure out his intentions instead of antagonizing him, so she could be prepared?

“At a boy-girl mixer.”

Getting back on track, she asked, “How long will you be in town?”

“I’m not sure yet.” He said it defensively, tensing his shoulders with a grimace.

His evasiveness set off warning signals. In her profession she had learned to trust her instincts and to read the unspoken message behind tone of voice and body language.

“You have changed, Cole. You were never unsure before. You were always so cocky and full of bravado.”

“Bluffing my way through was the only way I could get where I needed to go. A poor boy on scholarship to one of the wealthiest college prep schools in the United States has to convince everyone—incuding himself—that he’s good enough to be there.” He stood incrementally taller. “I don’t have to prove myself to anyone anymore.”

Sadness swamped her. Sadness for what could have been. But Cole had chosen ambition over her and their child—when he could have had it all if he had stayed. “You never had to prove yourself to me.”

“That’s not how I saw it. You needed approval from your family and friends. Therefore, I needed their approval to be with you. You never even told your father we were dating, too afraid he’d forbid it if he found out.”

“He would have, too, if David’s mother had advised him to. And you know Mrs. Beautemps. She would have made sure we couldn’t see each other.”

Isabella loved her father with all her heart, but he had been totally overwhelmed at raising a teenage daughter after her mother had died, and had turned over all decisions, major or minor, to her mother’s best friend, Marjorie Beautemps. Trying to honor her friend, David’s mother had taken Isabella to her bosom, almost smothering her, until the divorce.

Even though Mrs. Beautemps’ hostile rejection hurt, Isabella could now draw a full breath without being reminded of society’s proprieties.

Where would she and Cole be now if she had been a rebellious wild child instead of a submissive and insecure teenager? Of course, getting pregnant with Adrian could have gone a long way toward eroding her good-girl image if David hadn’t married her, letting the world assume Adrian was his child.

But Cole wasn’t part of that world. She’d done everything in her power to let him know the truth and he had chosen to ignore it. She searched his eyes for a sign, a flicker of guilt or remorse. All she saw was cold, hard pride.

Cole gave Isabella a tight smile. “What we were, what we might have been—that’s all in the past, isn’t it? Anything between us is best forgiven and forgotten.”

Isabella thought of her beautiful son as Cole shrugged off their past together. How could Cole dismiss Adrian so easily? He had seemed genuinely interested in their son earlier. Something wasn’t adding up.

What about the letter written in his scrawled handwriting that was locked away in her jewelry chest? For the first time since she’d ripped open that envelope, a niggling of doubt wormed its way into her thoughts. There was no way he couldn’t know—was there?

“Cole, maybe we need to talk.” Her phone vibrated a warning alarm, reminding her it was time to pick up Adrian. “But not now.”

He gave her a hard frown that finally softened around the edges. “Anytime, Bella. For old times’ sake.”

It was the last day of the games. It seemed they’d gone on for four years instead of four days. Isabella was exhausted. She wanted to rub her eyes with the back of her hand, but smeared mascara wouldn’t make the fashion statement she was going for.

To say her nerves were frayed was like saying the Titanic had hit an ice cube. This morning she felt like she was going under just as fast and fatefully as that famous ship.

All because of Cole Lassiter.

She’d been waking up in the middle of the night, going over and over in her mind those weeks she had spent trying to get a response from Cole.

Cole had to know about Adrian, right? After all she had done to inform him, how could he not know? How could he act so unparent-like toward Adrian? But, then, it took more than sperm to be a father, didn’t it?

At her side, Adrian’s hand rhythmically beat the air. Such big movements only happened when his world was off-kilter.

Her son was picking up on her mood. Out of the blue, he’d decided he didn’t want to brush his teeth this morning. Heaven help her, she’d resorted to her old method of persuasion and told him that his father always brushed his teeth so he wouldn’t have stinky breath and people would like him. That had promptly taken care of the problem.

It had also set her to wondering what woman got to take advantage of Cole’s minty-fresh breath nowadays—even while she castigated herself for caring.

She took a look around the field where the coaches organized their teams while waiting for the start of today’s activities. Since Adrian didn’t play soccer, he would have to stay by her side while she took care of her volunteer duties.

For the past few days Isabella had invoked all her willpower to give Adrian the privilege of wandering the grounds within her eyesight instead of making him stick with her. She was trying her best to let him have more independence, but was having a hard time letting go.

But today had nothing to do with independence but with mother’s intuition. She could tell by the rebellious glint in his eye that she couldn’t trust him to stay out of trouble by himself.

“Hi,” drawled a deep Southern male voice behind them.

Isabella’s heart skipped a beat until her head caught up with her and she realized it wasn’t Cole.

The man was the father of one of Adrian’s friends.

Why was she jumping every time she heard a man speak? She’d been doing that every day since her first encounter with Cole, and not once had he approached her.

Just because today was the last day of the games, did she think he would seek her out to say goodbye? Not likely.

“Could Adrian hang out with us today? My wife is helping on the field and we could use the company.”

“Sure.” She watched as the two boys raced each other up into the stands safely under proper supervision. The resourceful father produced two pair of cheap binoculars from his bag.

Adrian held a pair of binoculars up to his eyes and scanned the field, looking for his own father, his hero come to life.

Because she couldn’t stop herself, Bella took a look toward the medical tent with little expectation of finding Cole there.

Everyone took pride in the special games being conducted as safely as possible and this week’s regional competitions were no exception. Which left a doctor with too much time on his hands. Apparently, sitting in a stifling medical tent while awaiting a medical incident wasn’t Cole’s style.

For the last several days he’d been everywhere, helping out at the registration table, chaperoning the non-competitive activities and handing out medals, which pleased her athletic son beyond imagining as Cole presented him with a slew of blue, red and green ribbons for his various competitions.

Everywhere Cole could be found, there was Adrian. And all that time Cole had said nothing, done nothing, to acknowledge Adrian as his son.

He’d seemed to be avoiding her, too. Not that she had sought him out. She didn’t have to. That same awareness of each other they’d shared all those years ago gave her a sixth sense in knowing where he was the whole time he was on the stadium grounds.

What was his game? That was the thought that had been uppermost in her mind the past four days.

She had reverted, she was ashamed to admit, back to that passive girl who waited for answers to come to her.

Well, she had waited long enough.

Today she would make him listen. She would look him in the eye to make sure there was no misunderstanding and tell him he was too late. Neither she nor Adrian wanted him in their lives …

But Adrian did want his father in his life.

She stumbled over a lost pompom, almost losing her balance.

Still, she needed to protect her son from the emotional highs and lows of his father dropping in once every fourteen years or so. Adrian didn’t handle upsets well. Better to keep Cole as a fantasy superhero than a flesh-and-blood man.

Was she doing the right thing for Adrian? That was what it all came down to.

Taking a deep breath, she started the long walk toward the medical tent.

Once there, she asked the volunteer, “Have you seen …?” Why was it so hard to say his name? “Dr. Lassiter?”

The white-haired grandmother working the desk gave her a quick shake of the head. “Not today. He’s a busy one, isn’t he?” She gave Isabella a wink. “And handsome, too. If I were a few years younger, I’d be looking for him myself.”

“You’d have to stand in line,” the nurse on duty added. “In fact, I’m old enough to be his—ahem—older sister and I would catch a drink or supper with him if he asked. He’s as nice as he is beautiful.”

Isabella shoved down the absurd possessiveness that welled up in her. History proved that even when he had vowed undying love, Cole had never been hers to keep.

“When Dr. Lassiter shows up, could you page me?” Isabella felt like an overaged groupie as the two women raised their eyebrows at her. “It’s important,” she added. Even to her own ears, she sounded like a desperate woman pathetically trying to attract the attention of a rich, handsome doctor.

“Aren’t you Isabella Allante? Dr. Allante’s daughter?” the nurse asked.

Isabella nodded. “Yes, I am.”

“I worked for him right before he retired.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t remember …”

“Understandable. You were busy getting married and having babies.”

“Baby. Just one.”

“A boy, right? Your father was always talking about his grandson. He was so proud. Dr. Allante was a brilliant doctor and a pleasure to work for. Please give him my regards.”

“I will. He still keeps up with the progress in his field.” The subscriptions to his favorite medical journals and newsletters cost her dearly but they fed her father’s mind and spirit even though the stroke had taken away his mobility. And they gave her a chance to keep tabs on Cole—for Adrian’s sake, of course.

“I’m afraid you’ve missed out on seeing Dr. Lassiter. I still work for the sports clinic as Dr. Wong’s office nurse. Since Dr. Wong will be in surgery all day with Dr. Lassiter, he asked if I would mind working the medical tent at the games today. I understood that Dr. Lassiter was headed back to New York after that.” The nurse gave her a lighthearted grin. “A lot of us are wishing he would stay a little longer. He certainly adds something to the scenery.”

Isabella had the strongest urge to tell the nurse that Cole was more than just another pretty face. Instead, she clamped down on her own confused feelings, a mixture of relief and disappointment.

The relief came from avoiding a confrontation. No matter how direct she learned to be, she still didn’t like confrontation.

The disappointment, she told herself, was because Cole’s departure left unfinished business between them. He didn’t owe her a goodbye, although he certainly owed Adrian that and a lot more.

“Thanks for letting me know.” Did that mean he’d left without saying goodbye to his son?

Isabella tried to suppress the thought that kept popping up over and over again. Somehow, by some weird twist of fate, could it be possible Cole didn’t know Adrian was his son?

As she headed back to her volunteer post, she shrugged away that crazy notion, just like she’d shrugged it away a thousand times in the last few days.

How many messages had she left on his voicemail all those years ago? For days and weeks she’d called, trying to reach him over and over again at all hours, hoping he’d pick up the phone so she could say what she needed to say in person. She’d written to him every day until a week before the wedding, hoping the deluge of mail would break through the barrier David’s mother had built between them.

She’d thought that if she could only make him listen, she could explain that the engagement announcement to David had been none of her doing. That she had no intention of marrying anyone but him. That she carried his child.

But the letter she sent, the one she’d poured her heart into that he’d returned in pieces, had said it all.

Anger at Cole, confusion about what to do next and relief that Cole was gone and life would eventually get back to normal warred within her, making her stomach roil.

Isabella evaluated. The only action she had to take was to tell her son his father had returned to New York.

It was a discussion she dreaded more than any other conversation she’d had in her life.

Cole walked into the doctors’ lounge, soaking in the atmosphere he thrived on. The E.R. doctor snored on the couch in front of a muted television. Two other doctors consulted quietly at a side table over cups of coffee.

Successful surgeries always sent Cole Lassiter’s spirits on a soaring high.

Still, it didn’t replace the lift Cole had gotten used to for the last few days whenever he’d seen that sweet, shy smile of Bella’s son. How could a kid worm his way into his heart so fast? Was it a pseudo-affection for what might have been?

That boy should have been his.

“Glad to have you on board, Dr. Lassiter.” One of the radiologists greeted him. Cole recognized him as a radiologist contracted with the sports clinic.

“Thanks.” He held out his hand to shake. “Call me Cole.”

He wanted to explain that he wasn’t staying. He had applied for and received hospital privileges as a matter of course since that was where the sports clinic mainly practiced. But negotiations were too tenuous.

That was the excuse he gave his office administrator when he told her he needed to stay over the weekend. That was the excuse he gave himself in the light of day.

But last night, as he’d lain in his bed, he had dreamed of Bella and woken up heavily sad when he’d realized it had only been a dream.

He needed closure and he now had a few extra days in New Orleans to find it.

He sent silent thanks to his excellent office manager, who was shuffling schedules so he could steal this time for himself, a rarity in his hectic calendar.

Walking over to the kitchenette, Cole spread out his lunch of oyster po’boy sandwich and sweet iced tea, a New Orleans specialty.

“Mind if I share this table?” the radiologist asked.

“Not at all. I would enjoy the company.” And the distraction. Normally, after a complex surgery like the one he had just finished, all he could think about was the details of the procedure and the next step to recovery.

Today, he thought about her.

Cole picked up his sandwich and took a bite, letting the flavors roll around on his tongue. Yes, it was as good as he remembered—proof that New Orleans wasn’t all bad for him. He hoped this good feeling carried over into his partnership talks.

After that morning’s surgery, he was more convinced than ever that merging his institute with the sports clinic was the right thing to do—even if the practice had originally been built by Dr. Allante.

Who would have ever thought he wanted a relationship with anything that had to do with an Allante?

What role had Bella’s father played in their break-up? Once he had gotten over the immediate pain, he had been grateful to David’s mother for sending him that engagement notice. Just when had Bella intended to tell him about David? Would Bella have continued to play him the whole time she’d been planning her nuptials with the Beautemps heir?

Thinking of Bella made his stomach churn. Even the delicious sandwich lost its appeal.

“Filling, isn’t it?” the radiologist asked as he took his last bite.

Cole stared at the half-eaten meal before him. “Yes, it’s certainly a full plate. Much more than I want.”

What an analogy for all the emotional trauma seeing Bella was causing him. All the stirring up of old hurt was much more than he wanted, much more than he had expected.

“So how did a New Orleans boy end up going to college in New York? We’ve got so many great medical schools here.”

“I got a scholarship.” But he’d had local scholarships, too. “I wanted to get away.”

He’d never been further north than the Louisiana state line. Going to the big city of New York had seemed like a grand adventure. He had taken it for granted that Bella would wait for him.

The engagement announcement had come at the worst possible time. He’d been having a tough time adjusting to the rapid pace of New York after the slower pace of New Orleans. The accelerated undergraduate program he had thrown himself into required keen focus to stay caught up, let alone to excel.

“I’d like to see New York, but the wife always wants to go the beach on our vacations.”

“Hmm.” Cole gave a noncommittal grunt.

The radiologist took the hint and ate the rest of his meal in silence.

Cole turned his attention back to his meal but couldn’t turn his thoughts away from Bella.

Bella had always seemed content to Cole. That was one of the qualities he’d liked best about her, always willing to go along with whatever he’d wanted to do. But, then, he hadn’t been that special after all. She had gone along with whatever anyone had wanted her to do.

He had been at school a few short weeks when he’d received the newspaper clipping with Bella’s beautiful smile in black and white along with the announcement of her marriage to David. The notice had included details of both their pedigrees and social standings, and it had been the only answer Cole had needed as to why she had chosen David over him.

The thick French bread of his sandwich sat too heavily in his stomach and the highly seasoned Cajun fries tasted flat and cold.

He’d made the official break-up as quick and painless as possible, a fast call that had gone directly to her voicemail—the fact that he hadn’t had to speak to her in person had been his only break. That should have been the end of it.

But then she had started in. Call after call. Letter after letter. How many times had she called him? Hundreds?

They had all finally stopped after he’d written his own letter, making it perfectly clear there could be nothing between them anymore.

He took a sip of his sweet tea, trying to rinse the bitterness from his attitude.

He had deliberately got drunk on Bella’s wedding day—for the first and only time in his life. For his own sanity as much as for the sake of his grades, he’d exerted great willpower and erased each call, destroyed each letter, before reliving the betrayal over and over again.

Instead, he’d thrown himself into his studies, the one thing he could always count on in his life to distract him from his grief.

Cole gathered up the remains of his meal and threw it in the trash.

Nothing about Bella should matter to him. How could he make himself stop wanting her? Why, after fifteen years, was he still asking himself that question? It was about time he found an answer.

Cole stretched, trying to stop the dull throbbing in his left shoulder that traveled down his arm to his fingertips—the results of tensing during surgery.

“Long surgeries will cramp you up, won’t they?”

“Yes, they will. Occupational hazard.” Only the surgery hadn’t taken that long, a mere hour and a half compared to the five and six hours of reconstructive surgery Cole was used to performing. And he’d been a consultant while Dr. Wong had done most of the work.

He flexed his numb fingers.

Strained shoulder muscles took a while to right themselves. He’d give it a few more weeks before he had it checked out. Of course, that was what he’d told himself a few weeks ago. Maybe he should schedule a therapeutic massage soon.

Some pain-management specialists studied massage, didn’t they? He reined in that runaway thought. It didn’t really matter what Bella had studied, did it?

The natural high Cole felt after that morning’s successful surgery was starting to fade, replaced by a need he wanted to deny.

Bella.

After only a few short days he had become addicted to that jolt of energy the sight of her gave him.

Neither of them fit with his old memories of a more pubescent, hormonal time. She had changed even more than he had. Why did it matter to him? How could he make it stop mattering?