Читать книгу The Seven Year Secret - Roz Fox Denny - Страница 8

“DO I LOOK ALL RIGHT?”

Connor shifted his eyes from a blueprint he’d pulled from his briefcase to Claire, who sat next to him on the commuter plane. “Great. You always look great.”

She fussed with a silk scarf nailed to the lapel of her suit by a brooch. Connor recognized it as the art deco pin he’d given her for her birthday. A gold cloud, crossed by a diamond-studded lightning bolt. He’d seen it in the window of a jewelry store and had hoped that Claire would appreciate the significance. “Hey, you’re wearing the pin.”

“Yes. So if any of your old friends in Tallahassee remark on it, I can point out your generosity.” Her fingers traced the sparkling stones. “What type of gifts did you used to buy Mallory?”

Connor’s brows drew in. “None. I could rarely spare a dime in those days.”

“Oh.” She leaned close and slid her arm through Connor’s.

He eyed her sideways. “Claire, this trip isn’t about Mallory. It has to do with a sick child who didn’t ask to come into this world. A child I helped create. That’s as hard for me to comprehend as it is for you.”

“I doubt that,” she murmured. “My mother, Lauren and Janine all took pretty pointed shots at your obvious switch in principles. They asked how you could claim to love me and never try to get me into bed when it’s obvious you had unprotected sex with another woman. Lauren said maybe we should both get blood tests.”

“Do we have to discuss this in public?” Connor flushed and glanced around surreptitiously. “And we never had unprotected sex,” he whispered. “Something must have happened.”

“Obviously!” Claire arched a penciled eyebrow. “Or maybe it’s not your kid at all.”

“You never saw baby pictures of me, Claire, because all my family albums were lost in the hurricane. Most of what we owned was lost. But if you get to see Liddy, the resemblance will be as plain to you as it is to me.”

“Maybe.” Claire pulled away, and Connor buried his nose in his work again.

Ten or so minutes passed before she nudged him. “I forgot to ask what hotel you booked us into. I should tell the station where I can be reached.”

“The two motels I contacted were completely booked. It’s Florida State University’s graduation, one of the hotel clerks told me. He said most of the better accommodations were already full.”

“Well, what are we going to do?”

“He also said there are always cancellations. And apparently hotels usually keep rooms in reserve for drop-ins. It’ll be okay, Claire. I didn’t have time to do an extensive search, but we can check some places when we arrive. Someone will have a couple of free rooms.”

“Two? Not just one?”

“Claire, if you’re questioning my commitment, sleeping together will only muddy the waters even more. Let’s get this ordeal behind us, then we’ll sit down and work through any remaining doubts before we reschedule the wedding.”

“Why are you always so damned logical, Connor? Haven’t you ever done anything on pure impulse?”

A period in his life when Mallory had drawn him into some pretty wacky, spur-of-the-moment outings flashed past Connor’s eyes. Images he quickly erased. “Not for a long time,” he said in all seriousness. “What you see is what you get, Claire. I hope you understand this is who you’d be marrying.”

She turned to stare out the window. “I thought I knew you.” She swung back. “Surely you realize that the curve you threw me two nights before my wedding—a day I’ve dreamed about since I was fourteen—would upset any woman? I don’t think I’m being unreasonable, Connor.”

“No. I just think you’re forgetting that the same curveball came out of left field and hit me, too.”

The plane took a decided dip. The stewardess announced their descent into Tallahassee, noting they were half an hour late. Connor returned the blueprint to his briefcase and placed the case under the seat in front of him. It wasn’t lost on him, however, that Claire neither agreed nor disagreed with his statement.

Collecting both their bags from the overhead bin, Connor stepped aside and let her lead the way off the plane.

“So what’s the plan?” she asked, seeming not to notice that he juggled her suitcase, cosmetic case, his duffel bag and a briefcase, while her hands were free.

With difficulty, he glanced at his watch. “My appointment with Dr. Dahl starts in twenty minutes. He’s sandwiched me in between a speech he had to give at the U and an afternoon surgery. We’ll have to go directly to his office instead of phoning hotels from here.”

“Go to the clinic with our bags? We’ll look like a couple of vagabonds.”

“Just me. I’m wearing jeans. You look like a million bucks, as usual. Come on,” he said, motioning over her head to one of the waiting cabdrivers.

Once he’d given the driver the address and they’d settled into the back seat, Connor took Claire’s hand. “It’ll be fine. We won’t see a soul who knows us or who’ll likely ever see us again. I’ll ask the clinic receptionist if you can use their phone book along with my cell phone to locate rooms. Cost is no object,” he added, having learned early on that Claire liked everything first-class.

“Really?” She perked up at that. “Okay, but you may be sorry. I may find an indecently expensive resort. I mean, if the doctor’s able to schedule your tests for tomorrow, I’d rather sit by a pool than hang out in some hospital waiting room.”

“Can they do blood tests on demand?”

“You mean you might have to come back a second time?”

“Possibly. I’m operating in the dark, too, Claire. I’ve never met anyone who’s donated an organ. Well, except for Mallory, who gave Liddy a kidney. I should have questioned her more, I guess.”

“That’s all right, Connor. I’m sure the doctor will have all the information you need in order to make an informed decision.”

He smiled. Not his best effort. He’d managed to avoid hospitals since his mother died in one during emergency surgery, but even the thought of voluntarily allowing a surgeon to cut out a vital organ left Connor feeling edgy. Oh, he’d get over it, he supposed. No “supposed” about it. This was his child. He’d get over it.

What he’d have a harder time getting past, he feared, was the fact that Mallory had kept from him the news that she’d borne his baby. Anytime he thought about that, his blood boiled.

The cab swung into a circular drive, stopping under a brick portico. A profusion of greenery and blooming flowers flanked glass doors. “This is a clinic,” the driver said in accented English. “You take your bags inside?”

Claire jammed an elbow in Connor’s side. “See? He thinks we’re tacky.”

Connor peeled off the fare plus a generous tip. “We’ll be going to a hotel after we’re done. I’ll request your cab number.”

The driver smiled and nodded happily.

Connor manhandled the bags inside, discreetly depositing them behind a huge potted fern. There was only one other patron in the posh waiting room, a woman who had her nose stuck in a book. She didn’t glance up.

Claire took a seat. She pawed through magazines spread out on a glass-topped table. Connor approached a bank of windows. One slid open to reveal an elegant woman with smooth, coffee-colored skin. “Dr. O’Rourke, I presume?”

“Connor, please. I hope I didn’t keep Dr. Dahl waiting. Our plane was late.”

She smiled. “When aren’t they? Or other forms of transport, for that matter? The doctor’s with someone else—a last-minute meeting. If you’ll fill out this paperwork,” she said, handing Connor a clipboard with a sheaf of documents, “we’ll have you hooked up with Dr. Dahl in no time.”

Connor felt a door breeze open behind the receptionist and heard the jovial rumble of male voices.

“I believe he’s concluded his business,” the receptionist murmured. “You’ll have to write faster than I anticipated.”

In spite of her warning, Connor ignored the clipboard he held. “Due to FSU’s graduation, I wasn’t able to book a hotel,” he said. “I was told to check for possible cancellations when I arrived. I wonder if you can spare a phone book? Claire, my fiancée, will call around while I see the doctor.”

A door situated on Connor’s left flew open. A booming voice exclaimed, “Connor? Connor O’Rourke? Fredric said you had an appointment, but what’s this about a fiancée? Mallory didn’t mention you were engaged.” Bradford Forrest’s dark eyes canvassed the room. “Is that the little lady? Come, introduce us.”

Connor was too stunned at seeing Mallory’s father to act on his demand.

And Claire, although she rose, bristled at being called a little lady. She was petite compared to the bulk of Senator Forrest, however. Also compared to Connor, who topped six-two in his stocking feet.

Even Bradford Forrest, bear of a man that he was, had to reach up to clap Connor’s shoulder. “You’ve filled out since I last saw you, my boy. That was when? At Mallory’s graduation?”

“Yes, sir,” Connor said, recovering. “Claire, meet Senator Forrest.” At one time, Connor had been plenty intimidated by Mallory’s folks. Now he felt on a more equal footing with the senator, who’d aged.

Brad headed for Claire, saying to Connor, “I read good things about you in the Florida Business Review. You’ve done all right for yourself. Let me say how grateful I am that you’ve consented to set aside important work in Miami to come here for Liddy Bea’s sake. Gotta say, I did my damnedest to talk Mallory out of contacting you. To be perfectly honest, I expected you to dodge responsibility.”

Connor stiffened at that. “You and Mrs. Forrest always had a mistakenly low opinion of me, Senator.” Connor’s earlier congenial manner downshifted noticeably.

Bradford shrugged. “I was too busy back then to get to know Mark or Mallory’s friends. And Beatrice, rest her soul, loved them both to distraction. Some say she spoiled them. Really, she wanted the best life had to offer for our kids.”

Connor laid a hand on Claire’s arm. His bluster faded a bit. “I didn’t know you’d lost your wife. I’m sorry.”

“Bea went rather quickly after being diagnosed with a neuroblastoma. Under a year. We…the family has weathered some rough patches, what with the discovery of Liddy Bea’s polycystic kidneys, and now her latest downward spiral.”

“And Mark? How’s he?”

“Still career navy, stationed at Pensacola. He pops in and out. Not often enough, considering he keeps an apartment in town and a boat docked down on the Wakulla. But here we are discussing old times, leaving a beautiful woman in the dark.”

Claire edged closer to Connor, appearing to look on the senator with somewhat more favor after his last remark.

The receptionist glided up to the trio, who had yet to complete introductions. The woman passed Connor a thick telephone book. “I’ve marked the lodgings section with a paper clip. I hope you can find something. I saw on TV that FSU is graduating record numbers this semester.”

“What’s this?” Brad growled. “You two need a place to stay? Nonsense. I insist you stay with me. The old place has twelve bedrooms, eight of which have private baths. When Beatrice was alive, most of ’em were full every weekend.” He shook his head sadly. “Every year at tax time, I say I’m going to downsize. But the house holds so many good memories of Bea…. I know, I know—you wouldn’t think I’d be a sentimental old fool. Don’t tell anyone who sits on my senate subcommittees, or I’ll deny every word.”

Everyone laughed, except Claire. She was trying to catch Connor’s eye.

“Anyhow, I won’t take no for an answer.” Brad gestured to the receptionist. “Here, Rhonda, Connor doesn’t need the phone book. He and Claire will be my guests for as long as Fredric needs Connor in town.”

The senator relieved Connor of the book and replaced it with a business card he extracted from his jacket pocket. “Ring the second number after you’re finished here. My driver will bring the car around.”

Claire, standing fully behind the senator, shook her head vigorously at Connor.

“Senator, this is very kind of you,” Connor began. “But we really can’t impose.”

Claire relaxed, until Dr. Dahl opened the door to say gruffly, “What’s the delay, Rhonda? Where’s O’Rourke? I’m due in surgery at Forrest Memorial in fifty minutes.”

“Sorry, Fredric.” Bradford stepped out to where Dahl could see him. “I’m afraid I detained them. Connor’s going to be staying at Forrest House. That way, he’ll have my car at his disposal if and when you need him. I’m on my way to the hospital to look in on Liddy Bea. Shall I swing past surgery and tell them you’ll be late?”

“Yes, thanks, Brad. Tell them to delay preop for fifteen minutes.”

Connor, not fully comprehending how disgruntled Claire was, turned toward the doctor. “Dr. Dahl, our plane landed late. I haven’t even begun to fill out your paperwork. If rescheduling my appointment is more convenient, I’ll take these with me. That’ll give us a chance to locate lodging. There’s really no need to put Senator Forrest out.”

“Put me out? On the contrary. In fact, if Claire doesn’t mind my stealing you away for an hour or so, I’d like to discuss the work you’re doing on early hurricane detection. Look, I’ll phone my housekeeper right now and have Marta prepare a room.” He proceeded to pull out his cell phone and do just that.

Dr. Dahl moved into the waiting room. Smiling, he grasped Connor’s elbow. “What Brad really wants to learn is who dropped the ball and let you go to Miami’s weather center instead of ours. I guess, technically speaking, I should be referring to you as Dr. O’Rourke, should I not?”

“No, please. Only in a work environment do I use Dr.”

“Well, it’s your choice. Come, then, Connor, we’ll fill in your chart as we go. Today is going to be nothing more than me explaining what’s entailed in donating a kidney, should your tests be positive. I’ll talk a little about the tests themselves, and answer your questions. Have you visited Liddy Bea yet?”

“No.” Connor glanced uneasily back at Claire, whom he’d left more or less on her own to deal with the senator. “Mallory said she’d arrange with the hospital to give me access. I, uh, planned to ask what’s appropriate to say—about who I am. And also, if possible, I’d like my fiancée to meet Lydia. The news that I had a daughter came as a shock to us both. Our wedding was scheduled for this past Sunday. We, uh, postponed the ceremony.”

Sympathy and understanding entered the doctor’s eyes. “It speaks well for you and your fiancée that you’re here. I told Mallory it’d be best for now if Liddy Bea thinks you’re an old friend of her mother’s. If I’d known you were engaged, we could have included your fiancée in today’s appointment. I’ll give you literature to take back to her.”

“She’s here. That’s Claire with the senator. Claire Dupree.” Connor left the doctor and crossed the reception area to retrieve their luggage.

Dr. Dahl walked over and greeted Claire. “Please, you two come to my office. And Brad,” he added, “since they’d both like to visit Liddy, will you clear that with Mallory? Is it possible to have Davis collect them at the hospital? Oh, I see they have luggage.” He stared at the items now grouped at Connor’s feet. “It’d free them considerably, Brad, if you sent their bags with Davis now.”

No sooner had the suggestion been made than it happened. Bradford Forrest stepped to the door and wiggled two fingers. A man in a dark blue uniform materialized to whisk away Connor and Claire’s bags.

Connor knew that if he felt steamrollered, Claire must be feeling it twice as much. But he had no time to make amends. Rhonda, Dahl’s receptionist, handed the doctor a message as she ushered Claire into the clinic’s inner sanctum.

Gazing helplessly toward the entry where Bradford, his driver and the bags had now vanished, Connor had little recourse but to fall in behind the women.

Rhonda directed them to roomy leather chairs that flanked a large mahogany desk. She left, returning a moment later with two frosty glasses of fruit juice. Claire sat and drank from hers. Connor wiped the condensation off his glass as he made a slow circuit of the room, closely eyeing the framed certificates on the wall. A low whistle escaped his lips. “Dr. Dahl has impressive degrees, including a fellowship in the Academy of Pediatric Nephrology.”

“Sorry for the delay.” Dahl breezed into the room. “I had to phone the hospital and change medications for a patient experiencing a lot of pain.”

Connor quickly went and sat next to Claire. As Dahl launched into a description of kidney transplants, the implications of the news Mallory had brought him a few days ago well and truly sank in. At a nearby hospital lay a child who was his. She, too, had undoubtedly endured a lot of pain. The thought humbled Connor, and also renewed his anger at Mallory. His child. He should have been there for her in times of crisis.

Half an hour later, the doctor’s detailed interview wound to a close. He handed Claire and Connor packets containing diagrams and brochures. “You both have that dazed expression, which tells me I’ve nattered on too long. Basically, everything I’ve discussed is covered in the packet. You’ll want to study the material and discuss the impact such a surgery will have on your lives. I’m sure questions will arise. I or my staff will answer them as forthrightly as possible.”

“Thanks,” Connor said, getting to his feet. “Perhaps after I visit my daughter, all of this will make perfect sense.”

Claire leafed through the pages. She pulled out one that bore the letterhead of the clinic’s legal counsel. It absolved staff in cases where complications developed as a result of the surgery. “What, exactly, is Connor’s legal obligation to give this child one of his kidneys?”

Dahl stroked his chin. “Probably none at the moment, since Liddy’s mother withheld news of her birth. If Connor walks away, Mallory has the right to petition the court and ask a judge to order paternity tests. Once paternity’s established, it would be up to a judge to rule whether or not to force Connor to take the next steps. I’m obliged to tell you that in my twenty-plus years in the field, I’ve never known a judge to force anyone to give up an organ involuntarily.”

“You said she’s on dialysis,” Connor said. “How long can she live on that?”

“Well, under normal circumstances, a patient can exist until we find a donor from the national donor list. However, Liddy’s had a great deal of trouble with veins collapsing around her cannula. Those have resulted in numerous infections.”

“Still, you’re saying she’s not in imminent danger of dying without Connor’s kidney?” This came from Claire.

“I can tell you that with an operating kidney, Liddy’s quality of life will dramatically improve. I wouldn’t presume to predict anyone’s life span. Any one of us could walk out of here today and be wiped out by a drunk driver.” The doctor drew back his sleeve, exposing his watch. “If either of you think of other questions, I’ll answer them en route to the hospital. I must say, I’d hoped you were committed to the idea of being a donor, Connor.”

Connor folded his papers and stepped aside to let the doctor pass. “I flew here from Miami to be tested, Doctor. What more do you need in the way of a commitment?”

Dahl’s steps slowed. A smile lit his careworn features. The smile faded as Claire grabbed Connor’s arm. “I, um, think you’re agreeing far too hastily. This affects both of us, Connor. As the doctor said, we need to discuss the pros and cons.”

“What cons? The pro’s a given. The quality of Liddy’s life improves.”

Claire pursed her lips. “Shouldn’t we fully explore all the ramifications to you? In private,” she stressed, opening the door through which Rhonda had led them earlier.

“We’ll use the back entrance if you’re riding with me,” Dr. Dahl said.

“That’s another thing,” Claire murmured. “Will we be able to talk freely at the senator’s? Clearly, it’s in his best interests to convince you to have the surgery, Connor.”

Now Connor frowned. “As our bags are there, and since the senator’s inconvenienced his entire household on our behalf, we have to accept his hospitality for tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll make other arrangements. Surely not everyone who came for the graduation will stay on once the ceremony’s over.”

Fredric Dahl stripped off his white medical coat and donned a suit jacket. After informing his office staff where they could reach him for the next few hours, he escorted Connor and Claire out to his roomy Mercedes. “Forrest House is like a small hotel,” he told Claire, once he had the air-conditioning cooling the car’s interior. “Were you ever at the mansion?” Dahl asked Connor.

“Inside? Once. For Mallory’s sixteenth birthday party. I’d been living out of my car. Wrinkled as I was, I didn’t make a very good impression on Mrs. Forrest. Mallory soon realized her mother and I mixed like oil and water.”

“Why on earth were you living out of your car?” Dahl seemed truly horrified.

Connor explained briefly about losing his mother and his home to a devastating hurricane. “I bounced back and forth between friends during the last half of my junior year. Finally a few parents caught on to the fact that I was more or less homeless. They wanted to notify the authorities. I’d known kids in bad foster situations, so I didn’t want any part of it. I swore my buddies to secrecy and got fairly adept at living in the old Chevy. Until Mallory heard about it. She talked a family friend into giving me a job as his part-time gardener. The job came with quarters over his garage. I lived there until I got my initial degree from FSU.” He broke off guiltily, remembering again how much he owed Mallory.

“Who’d have thought gardening would provide enough money for tuition.”

“It didn’t,” Connor admitted. “Again thanks to Mallory, a local organization awarded me a full scholarship to the meteorology program.”

“A lot of people have fallen prey to Mallory’s silver tongue. You probably know she’s the PR department’s fund-raiser at Forrest Memorial. According to our chief administrator, her fund-raising is single-handedly responsible for all the perks we’ve enjoyed these past five years. We’re lucky Dr. Robinson discovered her haunting the hospital halls when Bea Forrest was so ill. Alec now says it’s the best move he ever made. He calls Mallory our fund-raising goddess.”

Connor noticed that Claire grew stonier with each new mention of Mallory’s name. While he might like to hear more about what Mallory had done in the years since they’d parted—mostly to understand why she’d felt a need to hide the birth of their daughter from him—he also realized how inconsiderate it was to constantly throw Mallory’s name in Claire’s face.

“Why don’t you tell us a little about Liddy Bea, Dr. Dahl? Is she well enough to play with toys? I didn’t think to bring a gift, but I’m sure the hospital has a shop.”

“Ah. You know the way to that child’s heart.” The doctor grinned. “Brad’s constantly trying to lavish toys on her, but Mallory has managed to rein him in. She’s raised a delightful child. Liddy Bea is bright, and funny and articulate beyond her years. I’m warning you—she’ll steal your heart.”

Connor caught himself smiling, until he glanced across at Claire and sobered. “I’m not aiming to compete with her grandfather. I was just thinking of a small icebreaker, maybe a stuffed animal. Something soft and cuddly.”

“Our gift shop stocks a nice selection. I don’t think you can go wrong with books or huggables. We don’t try to keep our pediatric rooms clutter-free. Children do better in a homey atmosphere.” Dahl swung into a drive that wound through a parklike setting of well-tended flower beds. Brick walkways crisscrossed lush green lawns. Every now and then they passed statuary of elves and fairies, strategically tucked beneath cypresses and palms.

“Practicing at this hospital doesn’t look like hardship duty,” Connor murmured.

“It’s privately endowed. Generously so by men like the senator. But Forrest Memorial is also a top-notch teaching facility. Unlike other private hospitals, we take indigent cases. And anyone admitted here receives the best medicine has to offer.”

“So, having Liddy in and out of here hasn’t strapped Mallory financially?” Connor asked the question of Fredric Dahl, but Claire jumped in with an answer.

“Are you kidding, Connor? Read the plaque. The name of the place is Forrest Memorial. Daddy endows it. I’m sure he got Mallory her cushy job. I’d ask if the word nepotism rings a bell, but isn’t that a foregone conclusion?”

Connor disliked these jabs Claire was making. Dr. Dahl mildly rebuked her. “Bradford may exert influence when it comes to building additions and hiring doctors. He doesn’t meddle in support staff. He didn’t want Mallory to work. In the end, he couldn’t stop her. As for the service his family gets, they pay full freight. Mallory’s only perk is the decent insurance package all hospital employees receive. She’s refused government benefits for Liddy because she said there are patients in far greater need. You’re mistaken if you think this has been easy on her.”

Connor thought it was fortunate they’d reached the parking space marked with Dr. Dahl’s name. He’d plainly been dreaming when he hoped Claire wouldn’t be jealous of Mallory. It was a side of Claire he’d rarely seen. There’d been the occasional glimpse, but never enough to instill serious doubt. Nervous though he was at the prospect of meeting his daughter for the first time, he could do little but squeeze Claire’s knee reassuringly. “We won’t stay long, this visit,” he said, hoping to set her mind at ease. “Lydia doesn’t know me, and I don’t know her.”

“Then what’s the point in coming?” Claire demanded.

Dr. Dahl exited the car and opened Claire’s door, while Connor scrambled out his side.

“Please don’t argue like this in front of Liddy Bea,” Dahl cautioned. “She’s recovering nicely from last week’s surgery. Being only six, she may not totally comprehend the significance of what it means to have lost her donor kidney. All the same, her emotions are fragile.”

Connor clasped Claire’s hand. “This situation has us all stressed. Claire and I will be mindful of what we say, won’t we, darling?”

She blinked several times. When she opened her eyes, they were filmy. Still, she nodded. “I am upset. I’ll let Connor do the talking.”

That seemed to satisfy Dr. Dahl. He escorted the couple to the lobby. After pointing out the gift shop, he gave them Lydia’s floor and room number. “Connor, nice meeting you. Understand, my hands are tied until you phone my office and give the go-ahead to schedule preliminary tests.”

“Claire and I will talk tonight. I’ll phone your office tomorrow.”

“Good. Enjoy your visit with Liddy Bea. She’s a normal six-year-old in every way except for her nonfunctional kidneys. Oh, and she’s a regular authority when it comes to Blue’s Clues, and Hello Kitty.”

When Connor was obviously stumped by that, Dahl laughed. “Blue is a cartoon dog. Hello Kitty is a cat logo that appears on almost every type of little-girl merchandise imaginable. Liddy Bea loves books and videos, too.”

“Thanks,” Connor called as the doctor quickened his pace and left them.

Claire entered the gift shop first. She picked up a white bear sprouting angel wings and a glittery halo. Its hard body was hidden by layers of a frothy net covered in glitter.

Connor reached for a floppy-eared pink elephant. “Squeeze this,” he told Claire. “He’s huggable, don’t you think?”

“Okay if she was three. First-graders are more sophisticated. Angels are the in thing, Connor. I recommend buying this.”

He continued to eye the elephant he put back on the shelf.

“Trust me. My cousin Pam has a daughter who’s seven. Her room is filled with angel junk.”

“What do I know about little girls?” Taking the angel bear to the counter, Connor paid for it and asked the cashier to remove the price. “We’re delivering this to someone upstairs.”

Purchase complete, they walked to the elevator and rode upstairs. The closer they came to Liddy’s room, the more Connor hung back. Eventually they reached her half-shut door. “Show time,” he muttered, taking a deep breath. Pinning on a nervous smile, he stepped into his daughter’s room.

A pixielike child with russet Shirley Temple curls reclined on a bed framed by a battery of beeping monitors. She gazed at him from eyes exactly like the ones that stared back at him each morning from his bathroom mirror. Connor’s stomach heaved, and something seemed to tear inside his chest. He wanted to burn this image into his brain—and then run like hell.

Instead, he moved closer to the bed. Up to now, he’d thought his most important contribution to mankind was his hurricane-detection system. How wrong he was. This beautiful child made every other accomplishment pale in significance. She looked part imp, part angel, with an unruly mop of dark curls bobbing around a swollen face. Dr. Dahl had warned them Liddy would appear puffy from having returned to steroids. To Connor, she looked absolutely perfect.

The child stared openly back at him, her lips quirked in a slightly crooked smile also reminiscent of his own. The coy way she cocked her head reminded him of a younger Mallory. As his child’s features coalesced before him, Connor’s memory flew back to the day he’d first met Liddy Bea’s mother.

Suddenly, another thought crowded in, refueling his anger at her for keeping his daughter a secret from him for six long years of her life—and nearly seven of his. He’d never hear Liddy’s first coo. Never see her crawl, or take that all-important first step. He’d missed her first words. So many milestones gone. Lost to him forever. And why? Why had Mallory cut him out?

Liddy rose on one elbow. Her other arm was taped to an IV drip. “Hi. I’m Lydia Beatrice Forrest. I don’t know you, so you’ve probably got the wrong room. I can ring a nurse. She’ll help you find where you want to be.”

Connor rallied. “Thanks. Actually, uh…we came to see you. I’m Connor and this is Claire. I’m an…old friend of your mom’s. I’ve been away a long time, but I’m back visiting Tallahassee. Your grandpa said you could probably use some company. So here we are,” he finished, sounding as if he’d run a fast mile.

The child’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, good. I love comp’ny.” She settled back.

“The bear,” Claire muttered, jabbing Connor.

“Oh, yeah. I almost forgot.” He produced the bear, which Liddy instantly shied away from. “Go ahead, take it. Claire picked it out.”

Liddy frowned and shook her head until her curls danced. “Angels took my grandmas to heaven. Don’t want no angel coming for me.” The child’s own eyes brightened with tears as she tried to crowd into the far corner of her bed.

“It’s just a toy,” Claire exclaimed.

“That’s okay, honey,” Connor quickly consoled the child. “We’ll give this bear to the playroom,” he promised, handing the toy to Claire. “Anyway, it looks to me as if you have stuffed animals aplenty to bring you cheer and good luck.”

“Stuffed animals aren’t for luck, silly.” Liddy giggled and brushed at the tears lingering on her dark lashes. She pointed to a small figurine of a fat pink elephant sitting centerstage on her windowsill. “Ellie’s my good-luck charm. She’s really Mommy’s,” Liddy confided in a whisper. “I only got her ’cause I had surgery.” An oversize sigh escaped. “Ellie watches over me, but I can’t touch her. She’s special.”

Connor followed her finger to the glass figurine. Memories suddenly overwhelmed him, dumping him headlong into a long-ago afternoon when Mallory discovered that very elephant in the window of a beach shop. She had no money or credit card with her, which was unusual. But, oh, how she’d coveted that odd little piece.

The next day he’d cut class and hitchhiked back to buy it—all the while fearing it’d be gone. It wasn’t. But buying it had taken every cent he had to his name, with not one red penny left for wrap. So he’d wrapped it himself, in newsprint, for Mallory’s sixteenth birthday. Even now, heat crept up his neck as he recalled his later embarrassment. His badly wrapped gift had looked worse than tacky sitting among the expensive things Mallory’s other friends had brought to her party.

“I can’t believe Mallory saved this,” he blurted. “I gave it…uh, I mean, your mom’s had this since she was sixteen.” Extending an unsteady finger, Connor stroked the cool glass.

Liddy Bea sat up straighter, her eyes suddenly alight with interest. “Did you know my daddy?” she whispered. “Mommy said Ellie’s the only present my daddy ever gave her, ’cept for me. Isn’t that silly? Nobody can give somebody a girl.”

Claire inhaled sharply.

Connor caught himself seconds before he slipped and said that he and Liddy’s daddy were one and the same. Luckily, a nurse popped her head into the room just then. “Visiting hours are over,” she announced. “You can come back this evening.”

Thoroughly rattled, Connor uttered a hasty goodbye. Fast though it was, he still had to jog down the hall to catch Claire. “Hey! I thought we’d leave this bear at the desk. Claire, what’s your rush?” he called, puzzled that she continued walking rapidly in the direction of the elevator. Once there, she jammed the button several times.

“As if you don’t know,” she hissed when he reached her. “You lied to me. On the plane, when I asked what gifts you’d given Mallory, you said nothing. That elephant sure looks like something to me. Now I see why you wanted to buy the stuffed one. It’s some kind of family good-luck symbol, isn’t it?”

Silently, the elevator door opened. Claire wedged herself into the only space left on the packed car. Without warning, she threw the angel bear at Connor. It bounced off his chest as the doors slid closed.

Connor juggled the toy to keep it from striking the floor. “Honest, I didn’t remember buying the elephant,” he shouted—too late for explanations. He felt a sharp ache behind his eyes. Floundering momentarily, Connor turned to stare back at Liddy’s room, which was a wash of light and warmth. The unexplained pain receded, and at once his world righted itself. Granted, Claire had a lot to contend with just now. In time, they’d be able to agree on the course of action that was best for everyone.