Bound to be Dirty (27 page)

“You really do live on a ranch, don't you?” Marielle teased Kim. “Who'd have thought the confirmed city girl would use chicken analogies?”

Lily reached for her glass and realized it was empty. That was so unfair. She needed another drink. A funny little sound escaped her throat.

Marielle's laughing brown eyes went solemn. “What's up, Doc? Are you okay?”

“Of course.” Another sound escaped, like a hiccup. In horror, Lily realized it was a sob. Her eyes filled, and she pressed her hands to her cheeks in a vain attempt to hold back the tears.

Twenty-nine

K
im, sitting beside Lily, touched her shoulder tentatively. “Hey, don't cry.”

“N-not crying,” Lily choked out. She couldn't cry in public. That would be just too embarrassing.

“Okay,” George said soothingly. “You're not crying. But something's wrong. Can we help?”

Lily shook her head.

“Sometimes just sharing the problem makes you feel better,” Marielle said.

“Have to go.” Lily dropped her hands from her face and fumbled for her coat. She didn't share problems; she handled them herself.

Kim's grip on her shoulder tightened and George said, “We can't let you go home on your own when you're so upset. Tell us what's wrong.”

Lily shook her head and rested her hands on the table in front of her, trying to summon the strength to push herself upright and leave.

“Is it about Dax?” Kim asked quietly.

Lily shuddered and gave another hiccupy sob. If she could sink through the floor, she'd do it. If her parents were here, they'd be mortified. Thank heavens she was sitting with her back to the room.

Marielle reached across the table and took one of Lily's hands between hers. “What did the bastard do? I know people. If you want to take out a hit on him, I can connect you.”

The comment was so out there, it actually stopped Lily's tears. “What?”

“I'm kidding. But seriously, what's going on? Talk to us, Lily. At least let us think we're helping.”

George reached across to take Lily's other hand. “Please.”

She felt surrounded, imprisoned. Kim's hand rubbed her shoulder while Marielle and George squeezed both her hands. She felt . . . anchored. Not as much by their hands as by their caring. How about that? These women she'd met less than a year ago had turned into friends who cared. “All right, I'll tell you.” She sniffled. “But I need my hands back. Have to blow my nose.”

Once released, she found a tissue in her purse and wiped her cheeks and blew her nose. “Dax and I have been having problems. We talked over the holiday and, well, we're getting a d-divorce.”

“Oh, Lily.” Petite Kim gave her a one-armed hug. “I'm so sorry.”

“How horrible,” George said, touching her hand again.

Marielle took her other hand and squeezed it firmly. “You don't know how to talk to girlfriends, do you? We need more than that.”

The brunette was so blunt yet so warmhearted. Lily returned the squeeze. “I'll try.” The last time she'd shared her deepest feelings with girlfriends was in high school. “That sense of belonging we were talking about? We don't belong together anymore.”

“Why not?” Marielle asked.

“Marielle, maybe she doesn't want to share all the details,” George said.

“Lance the infection and it heals quicker,” Marielle retorted. “Right, Doc Lily?”

“Or you spread the infection. But all right, here's the bottom line. He loves the wilderness and his idea of the perfect marriage is for me to live there with him. Without kids. My life is here and I do want children. Badly.”

“Ouch,” Marielle said. “That's big stuff.”

Lily nodded vigorously.

Kim said hesitantly, “Ty was, like, rooted at Ronan Ranch. And I was sure I belonged in Hong Kong. But we worked that out. I just wonder . . . do you totally hate the wilderness? Does he totally hate the city? Or could you maybe find an in-between place that worked for both of you?”

An in-between place. The idea teased at Lily's brain, but then she realized it didn't matter anyhow. “I don't know. We didn't talk about that. Because the kids thing is what really counts.”

“Why doesn't he want children?” George asked.

“He's kind of a loner, wilderness sort of guy. And his parents and grandparents were pretty bad. My parents are”—she struggled for words, not wanting to be disloyal—“not the most supportive. In his book, the word
family
doesn't have positive connotations.”

“But you and Dax could do better,” Kim said. “Doesn't he see that?”

“He doesn't want to,” she said bitterly.

“Doesn't he think you'd be a good mom?” Marielle asked.

“Hah. No, he thinks I'd work all the time.” She pressed her fingers against the ache in her temples. “Which isn't true. Things are really busy right now, but if I had a child, I'd reorganize my work.” How, she had no clear idea. “My baby would come first.”

George nodded. “Good. My mom was always focused on the guy in her life.”

“Dax's parents were focused on each other, not him.” Her own parents had at least paid attention to her and Anthony, though she'd have preferred more support and fewer demands.

George's brow wrinkled. “Lily, didn't you two talk about whether you wanted children before you got married?”

“Yes, when we first got together, but after that, not really. We were both building careers. I always assumed we'd have children when the time was right. Turns out, he was deciding he didn't want to have any, and he assumed I felt the same way.”

Marielle shook her head. “That's sad, but people do change. It's so much easier when you just have casual short-term relationships.”

“Beg to differ,” Kim said.

George nodded. “Me too. I want something deeper. I want a partner I trust to share the good and the bad, to plan and build a life with. Yes, Woody and I will both change but if we pay attention and talk, we can grow together rather than apart.”

“You're smarter than I was,” Lily said.

George's amber eyes softened with sympathy. “It's really too late? You're positive you and Dax can never agree on the important things?”

“Here's another question,” Kim said quietly. “What about love? If two people love each other, they can find amazing solutions for their problems. If they don't, there's no point trying.”

“We do love each other.” She reflected on Kim's comment. Had she and Dax given up too easily? Had the years of not paying attention, not communicating, handicapped them? If they tried harder, was there any hope they could find an amazing solution?

“You need to compromise in a relationship,” George said. “And be flexible, be willing to look at alternatives and—”

“Without becoming a doormat,” Marielle broke in.

Kim nodded. “You both have to do it. It has to balance out.”

“Right,” George said. “Lily, you know I support you and care about you, so please don't be offended. But it seems to me maybe you and Dax are very alike in—”

“No, we're totally different.”

“Let me finish. Alike in being strong-minded and independent. You're both used to running your own lives and not so used to sharing them. With my Woody having a job that takes him out of town, I see how that can happen. We do our best to Skype or at least phone every day, so we keep connected. I wonder if you and Dax have forgotten how to share, compromise, make decisions together?”

Compromise, share. Be flexible, look at alternatives. “Perhaps we have,” Lily said slowly.

“Then maybe there's hope,” George said. “Maybe you can both learn.”

Hope. A tiny word with such huge import. “Thanks, all of you. You've given me a lot to think about.”

“Phone or text this week,” George said. “Let us know how things are going and if there's anything we can do.” Kim and Marielle both nodded vigorously.

They settled the bill, pulled on coats and scarves, and headed outside, where they scattered in different directions. Walking past a Thai restaurant, the delicious aroma drew Lily in. She had an appetite after all, and got takeout tom kha gai soup.

Once home, she opted for jasmine tea rather than another martini, and sat down with her meal. The spicy chicken, mushroom, and coconut milk soup heated her and somehow felt cleansing, like it was driving the numbness and sorrow out of her. The flowery fragrance of the tea soothed her. By the time she'd finished, her headache had gone and the ache in her heart wasn't so bitter.

She had to make changes in her life. For the past year, her strategy for dealing with pressures at the clinic had been to put in more of her own hours. Not only hadn't she solved the problems, but if she kept working horrendous hours and stressing out, it might have a negative impact on the thing she valued most: patient care.

Dax had suggested she hire a manager. Admit she needed help. Well, damn it, she did. She wasn't a superwoman. If her parents considered her a failure, so be it. When they disapproved, it hurt, but she was tired of twisting herself out of shape to win a pat on the head. Yes, Dax was right; they disappointed her too. She wished they were more like her book club friends, willing to comfort and support rather than judge.

She found a notepad in the kitchen drawer, choosing paper and pen over technology. On the pad, she wrote:
What do I want?

Words flowed:
Children—and the time to spend with them. I want to be a good mother.
A loving, supportive one who encouraged her children rather than pressured them.

On the next line, she wrote:
To heal people.
Was there anything she wanted to add to that? She studied the three simple words. They were the reason she'd chosen family medicine. Yet now she was as much an administrator as a practitioner. As Dax had pointed out.

Without allowing herself second thoughts, she wrote on the third line:
Dax.

Tapping the pen against the pad, she studied the three lines. At thirty-two years old, these were the things she wanted from her life. To date, she'd messed up on achieving any of them. Obviously, she was nowhere near as smart as she'd thought she was.

But tonight she'd come this far—and it wasn't because of her own brilliance, it was because she'd listened to someone other than her parents. She'd listened to Dax, even if she hadn't been ready to hear at the time. Then she'd listened to her friends, and she
had
let herself hear. They had no vested interest; they only wanted to help. When she opened herself to that, she'd discovered it wasn't so horrible to admit that she wasn't perfect, she was only human and she needed help.

An idea struck her and she examined it from all sides. It was scary, but it felt right.

She took her notebook computer from her bag, but rather than set up in her home office, she went into the living room and flicked on the gas fire. Though it was a pale imitation of the real wood fire Dax had tended in Whistler, the dancing flames gave a touch of coziness.

Notebook on her lap, feet up on the coffee table, she started an e-mail to the distribution list that included everyone who worked at the Well Family Clinic.

As you all know, the practice is expanding, Dr. Brown is moving to half-time, and our resources are stretched. I want to cut back my own hours, particularly when it comes to administration. Others of you have asked about the possibility of flex time and job sharing. It's time that I—

She backspaced over the “I” and carried on:

—we develop a different model for the clinic. Perhaps we need an office manager or a management committee. Let's brainstorm. I want to hear all your ideas as to how to make the Well Family Clinic a place that not only provides top-notch service to our patients but is a healthy, happy place to work.

Let's meet at 8:00 a.m. on Wednesday, for an hour. (Yes, there will be muffins and Danishes!) All patient appointments during that time period will need to be rescheduled. I'll gladly come in earlier or later any day this week in order to accommodate those patients.

She pondered how to finish then typed:

Together, we've built something to be proud of. I thank all of you for your hard work, your enthusiasm, and your patience. We are a team and if I've been slow to recognize that and to thank you for it, I apologize. Well Family Clinic is not my practice, it's ours. And from now on, that's how it will be run.

Lily read back over the message. It was a little stiff and clumsy, but so was she when it came to reaching out to others. The message wasn't perfect and neither was she. There was something amazingly liberating about admitting that she'd never be perfect enough to satisfy her parents.

From now on, it was about satisfying herself, about being the kind of person she wanted to be. About being a woman who might possibly find a way to rebuild her marriage with the man she loved.

She was tempted to e-mail Dax, but what would she say?
Today, I took a baby step?
No, she'd wait until her feet were firmly planted on a new course. Then she'd tell him she hoped that, rather than being on two parallel paths, they could find a way of making their paths join up.

Before shutting down her computer, she sent another e-mail—cancelling her appointment with the divorce lawyer.

Thirty

F
riday, around noon on a drizzly day, Dax set down the Bell 212 on the landing pad at Vancouver Harbour Heliport. He assisted an engineer and an accountant in climbing out. As they walked away, Joe Sparrow, a fit, husky man from the Musqueam First Nation, strode to meet Dax, beaming. They shook hands firmly and exchanged back slaps.

“Thanks for doing this,” Dax said.

“Hey man, my pleasure. Like I said, Marie and me have another little one coming and we can sure use the money. That's damn good pay, flying for a mining company.”

“Tough on the two of you, though, being apart.” He didn't want to be responsible for creating problems in Joe and Marie's marriage.

“I'm only signing on for three months to start, and I'll make it home a few days each month. You said there's Internet, so I can Skype with her and the kids every day.”

Something Dax and Lily had never set up. No, they'd let their relationship drift apart until a gulf separated them. But they loved each other. Couldn't love build a bridge? This time, he wouldn't quit without giving it his best shot.

He and Joe loaded some supplies and assisted a couple of investors onboard, and then Dax stood back and watched his pilot friend lift the Bell into an overcast sky. A few minutes later, the duffel bag with all his possessions from the mining camp on his shoulder, he stepped aboard the SkyTrain.

From the Olympic Village stop, he walked to the condo. He hadn't told Lily he was coming, not wanting to risk having her say no. He'd needed to do this, though: to see her, talk to her, to be here. To show her how strong his love was, to prove he was a man who would be here for her.

Inside the apartment, he noticed small differences. The fridge had Thai and Indian takeout containers with leftovers. A bowl and coffee cup sat in the dish rack. In the living room, the coffee table was off-center and pulled closer to the couch, as if Lily'd had her feet up on it. The duvet on the bed was a little messy on her side. Tiny things, but the place looked more lived-in than usual—like he could put his own feet up on that coffee table.

How would Lily react when she came home and saw him?

At least he could stack the deck in his favor.

* * *

A
s afternoon turned to evening, Dax paced restlessly. He had no idea what time Lily would come home, or whether she'd have eaten. During his shopping trip to Granville Island Public Market, he'd bought picnic food.

The food was in the fridge, but he'd put place mats, plates, cutlery, and wineglasses on the coffee table. They could snack in front of the fireplace, even though the gas flames were pathetic. With any luck, she'd remember the good times at Whistler, not the horrible ending.

On the mantel and a side table rested vases filled with bouquets of colorful mixed flowers. There were more flowers in the kitchen and bedroom. Unlit candles were scattered here and there, and he'd hidden a box of designer chocolates in a kitchen cupboard. Flowers, candles, and chocolate. Could he be any more cliché? But he wanted to show her he cared enough to be romantic.

He was freshly showered and wore the hawk T-shirt she'd given him, over jeans. Maybe he should've chosen something more formal, but she'd always said she liked him in jeans.

The apartment was silent but for the faint hiss of the fire and the occasional squeak of the floor as he paced, barefooted. Flying in a blizzard was less nerve-wracking than waiting for Lily to come home.

Finally, just after seven, the front door lock clicked. The door opened then closed. This time, he didn't go to her. He waited. He heard the closet door. She'd have taken off her boots and she walked so quietly he had no idea what she was doing. From the kitchen, he heard a gasp. And then, “Dax?”

He stepped through to join her. She looked pretty and businesslike in a pale gray pantsuit with a white shirt, accented by the blue and silver scarf they'd bought in Whistler. “Hi, Lily.”

She gaped at him as if she couldn't believe her eyes. She glanced from him to the flowers on the kitchen table, then back to him, a smile forming. “Dax!” And she flung herself into his arms.

Hugely relieved, he caught her tight, never wanting to let go. Their mouths came together quickly, clumsily. She was half laughing, her lips forming words even as she pressed kisses against him. “I can't believe it. You're here. Oh my God.”

“I said I wanted to fight for our marriage, and then I gave up. I'm an idiot. I love you, Lily.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks, all the way to her smiling lips. “Me too. Oh Dax, there must be a way of working things out. There's an amazing solution if we work hard enough to find it.”

“An amazing solution?” He sure hoped so.

“It's something Kim said.”

He stepped back, a little pissed that she'd shared their personal shit. “You told your book club about us?” Then he gave himself a mental kick. She'd been alone, needed someone to talk to. “Sorry, of course you would. They're your friends.”

“I didn't plan to, but I started to cry. In public, at a restaurant. It was so embarrassing.”

His Lily, who prided herself on her self-control? “Aw, sweetheart, I'm sorry.” Then, teasing gently, “More embarrassing than what we did in that restaurant in Whistler?”

Pink tinged her cheeks. “Kind of. There, we were discreet. But anyhow, I couldn't help it, Monday night. And I realized how wonderful it is to have girlfriends. They gave advice and support and, Dax, they care about me.”

“How could they not? You're special, Lily.” He peered into her light blue eyes. “I'm glad they're there for you, but I want to be, too. You always handle stuff on your own and you shouldn't have to. We should be partners.”

“I know. But over the years, we grew more and more apart.”

“Yeah, until there was a huge gulf. It was stupid.” He thought of Joe Sparrow and his family, Skyping every day.

“We should have realized we couldn't span that gulf in a few days. It'll take lots of talk, and work. And compromise.” She flicked tears away, beaming. “Oh Dax, I have exciting news.”

He wanted to hear it. More than that, he wanted to take her to bed and make slow, sweet love. But common sense told him that all the great sex in the world wouldn't solve their problems. Right now, it was talk that counted. Or, maybe even more than that, listening. “I'd love to hear it. Want to tell me over dinner? Or have you eaten? I bought snacks because I wasn't sure.”

She gestured to a brown bag on the counter. “I picked up Chinese on the way home.”

“I saw the Thai and Indian containers. You're living on takeout?”

“Hey, it's better than what I was doing before: soup, crackers, and cheese, night after night. I'm making some changes.”

“Let's put your Chinese and my snacks together and we'll picnic in front of the fire. Then you can tell me your news and I'll tell you mine.”

“Perfect.”

“A martini, or do you want to go straight to wine?”

“Wine, I think.”

He poured two glasses from the bottle of Australian Shiraz that he'd already, optimistically, opened. They raised their glasses and she said, “To finding an amazing solution.”

He clicked his glass against hers. “We'll do it, Lily.”

After they both drank the toast, he asked, “Did you say anything to your parents?”

“No, only book club. And I made an appointment with a divorce lawyer, but I cancelled it.”

His body, which had tensed as she spoke, relaxed again. She'd had hope, even before he returned. “Good.” Eyeing her pantsuit, he said, “D'you want to change into something comfy? I'll get the food organized.”

“Good idea. I'll be back in a minute.” She hurried away.

He assembled the food on a big tray and took it into the living room where he lit the candles and turned out the light.

When Lily joined him, she said, “Oh, my, it's so romantic.”

“That's what I was going for. I wanted to show you I still feel, you know, romantic about you.” A poet, he'd never be.

“Thank you. I love it. And mmm, this looks delicious. A perfect Friday night feast.” She sat on the couch and dished portions of this and that onto a plate.

She was the feast, in clingy black yoga pants, rose-colored sweater, and the Whistler scarf. He sat beside her and touched her thigh. “You look so pretty, sweetheart.”

“And you look so handsome. That tee is perfect for you.” She curled into the corner of the couch, her filled plate on her lap.

Dax helped himself to food. “Kim could make good money if she wanted to design clothes.”

“I know. She plans to keep making them for friends, but she says so many people are in the clothing design business. She wanted that one unique thing that was hers, and found it with UmbrellaWings.”

“Finding your unique thing is important.” He took a bite of the Kung Pao chicken she'd brought.

“I kind of lost track of that. And that's part of my news. But before we get to that, tell me how you managed to be here. And how long you can stay.”

“I'm here until we decide that I'll be somewhere else.”

She cocked her head. “What do you mean? You didn't quit, did you? With no notice?”

He shook his head. “Found a guy to take my place. Good pilot. No burned bridges if I ever want to work for that company again. But I realized I didn't want to give up on us, and we sure weren't gonna solve anything if I was way the hell and gone in the bush.”

Her eyes were warm as she smiled at him. “I planned to try, though, Dax.”

“Yeah?” He wanted to believe her.

“I was going to get more organized, so you could see I really meant it.”

“Uh, meant what?”

“That I'm making changes at the clinic.” Her smile widened. “I'm so glad you're here. Maybe you'll have some suggestions.”

This was a first: welcoming his opinion about the clinic. “I'm all ears.”

“I called a brainstorming meeting with every single person who works at the Well Family Clinic. I told them I wanted it to be a team effort and I wanted their ideas for making it a better place to work, as well as providing great care to our patients.”

“Seriously? You, the one who always needs to be in control?”

“Do you have any idea how liberating it is to give up being a control freak?”

He chuckled, but then reflected on her question. “I'm not sure. Guess I'm a bit of one myself. I mean, I do work for employers, but everything about the actual flying's in my hands.”

“And maybe it needs to be. Ultimately, being a doctor is in my hands. But running a business doesn't have to be. I don't have a degree in business admin, so why should I think I can run a business?”

“You tell me. I'm not saying that flippantly. I want to know why you thought you had to do that.”

She pressed her lips together. “I thought that if I single-handedly built one of the most successful practices in the city, my parents would be impressed. But they won't, so why not do what I want? And that's to practice family medicine.”

“You always did, from long before I met you. Maybe I should've tried harder to make you see it, when you were bending yourself out of shape trying to impress your parents.”

“I doubt I'd have listened. You know how they say, with addicts, that they may have to hit bottom before they see the light and want to change?”

He nodded, having known an addict or two, both in the Forces and out in the bush. Stressful situations preyed on people's weaknesses. “Are you saying you hit bottom?”

“I tried to tell myself I was resigned to a divorce and that I could do it and move on. But I felt so achy and empty and lonely. Then at book club we were talking about relationships, and trust, belonging, what it means to love.”

“Belonging.” He echoed the word slowly. Had he ever felt that way?

“Yes. And it really sank in, what I was losing. So there I was, having my little breakdown in a restaurant. Kim hung onto my shoulder and George and Marielle each had one of my hands. Like they were afraid I would, I don't know, fall apart if they didn't anchor me.” Her eyes misted. “And maybe I would have. But they did anchor me. They've kept doing it all week, with phone calls, texts, e-mails.”

“I'm glad they've been there for you, but I feel shitty. I should be your anchor.”

She reached over to touch his hand. “I'd like it if we could do that for each other. You may be a big, tough guy, but I bet sometimes you need an anchor too.”

He blinked. “Uh . . . Like I told you, I learned when I was a kid that the only person I could rely on was me. But yeah, when you and I were apart, I always carried the thought of you with me. Your photo, that helicopter pin. When I was in Afghanistan, knowing I had you . . . I guess it kept me sane. It was an anchor, a lifeline, whatever you want to call it.”

“Oh Dax, I'm so glad. But in the last years . . .”

“That tie between us was, well, not broken, but . . .”

“Tenuous. Fraught with mistrust and fear.”

The corner of his mouth kinked up. “You're better with words. Good description. So now we need to rebuild it.” He sipped wine and reflected. “This guy who's filling in for me, he and his wife have kids and she's expecting another. He's taking the job for the money. I warned him it could be tough on their relationship but he says he'll Skype with his family every day.”

“Like George and Woody, when he's out of town. Some people are smarter than we were. We got our priorities screwed up.”

“Speaking of which, you were telling me about the clinic. How did that brainstorming meeting go?” He leaned forward to serve himself seconds of pasta salad and pepper ham, leaving the remaining Kung Pao chicken for Lily.

“It was wonderful, once they realized I truly did want to hear their ideas and make changes.”