“Good morning, Dr. Carter. Did you spend the night here, too?” He looked up from pancakes and coffee into the round, weary face of Sarah Jankowski.
“Good morning,” he said. “How is Brent this morning?”
“Better. Much better, I think.” Her smile erased the worry lines from her face and banished the fatigue from her eyes. “I’m so glad you insisted on putting him in the hospital. I’d have been beside myself trying to look after him alone, in this storm.”
“Where’s your husband?” Mike recalled that Brent’s father was some kind of skilled laborer, a plumber or an electrician.
“He’s working on a new office building south of Denver and got caught when they closed the roads. He’s spending a night with a friend.”
“And your other children?”
“My sister lives two houses down, so they were able to walk over to stay with her.”
Once again, her matter-of-fact handling of all these contingencies soothed him. “I’m glad to hear Brent is doing so much better,” he said. “I’ll stop by to see him in a bit.” He wished Taylor was in the hospital, too, but his friend in Breckenridge had assured him Jorgenson was an excellent nurse.
After breakfast, he called the condo. “How is Taylor this morning?” he asked when Darcy answered.
“Much better, I think, but maybe you’d better let the nurse give you her professional opinion.” Darcy’s voice sounded distant, and the next thing he knew he was talking to the efficient Mrs. Jorgenson, who reported that Taylor’s temperature was normal this morning and she was begging to be allowed to go out and play in the new snow.
Taylor took the phone next. “I’m okay, Dad.” She sounded much more like an exasperated teenager than a ten-year-old girl should. “I don’t know why you sent a nurse. Darcy and I were doing fine.”
“I’ll let Mrs. Jorgenson go home now,” he said. “If you’re really all right.”
“I’m fine,” she said. He could almost hear her roll her eyes.
“Good. I should be able to get there by this afternoon.”
“I’ve missed you,” Taylor said. “Drive careful. I love you.”
He thanked Mrs. Jorgenson and told her she could go home, then asked to speak to Darcy, but was told she was outside shoveling the walkway. The condo association paid for people to handle that job, but there was no point explaining that to the nurse. “Tell her I should be there this afternoon,” he said. “As soon as the roads open.”
He hung up, a disquieting unease nagging at him. Was Darcy avoiding him? Or had he imagined her coldness? Surely she wasn’t upset with him for leaving her alone with Taylor all weekend. Their romantic getaway hadn’t turned out as planned, but he couldn’t control the weather, and she’d said she understood about his patient. Melissa had said she understood too, at first, though later she’d grown to resent the intrusion of his medical practice on their lives.
He shook his head and went in search of his patient. No sense speculating on what awaited him in Breckenridge; he’d find out soon enough.
Brent was indeed better, literally bouncing on the bed when Mike walked in. “The steroids make him a little hyper,” Sarah explained, with a fond look at her son.
“Did you see all the snow?” Brent asked. He pointed to the window, which was completely obscured by a wall of white. “I can’t wait to get out there on my snowboard.”
“Not for a few days yet,” Mike said. He listened to the boy’s chest, smiling at the clear breath and steady heartbeat. “But as soon as the roads open, you can go home.”
“Thank you so much,” Sarah said. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”
The rewards of being a doctor were few enough, but this was definitely one of them—the chance to be a hero to someone, at least for a while.
The roads opened an hour later and Mike joined the line of traffic streaming toward the mountains. He reached Breckenridge before noon and took the stairs to his condo, too anxious to wait for the elevator.
Taylor met him at the door, a long skirt pulled on over her flannel pajamas. “Darcy and I were dancing,” she explained.
Darcy was dressed less flamboyantly, in jeans and an off-white sweater, her hair loose around her shoulders. “How are you?” he asked, moving forward to kiss her.
She turned her head, offering her cheek, not her mouth. Rebuffed, he stepped back. “Is something wrong?” he asked.
“Everything’s fine,” she said, but didn’t meet his eyes.
Trying to hide his confusion, he turned to Taylor. “You’re feeling better?” he asked.
“I’m fine.” She rolled her eyes, hands on hips.
He took out his stethoscope. “Come here and let me listen.”
She submitted to the examination, but moved away as soon as he let her. “It was just a stomach bug,” she said. “I don’t know why you had to make such a fuss.”
He turned to Darcy again. She stood with arms folded, her forehead creased in a frown. “You think I was overreacting, too, don’t you?” he said.
“No, of course not,” she said. “You wanted the best care for your daughter.”
“I was a hundred miles away,” he said defensively. “I had to make the best judgment I could.”
“You did the right thing,” she said. “I’m obviously not qualified to take care of a seriously ill child.” She turned and left the room.
Mike looked at Taylor. But if he was hoping for sympathy, she offered none. “I think you hurt her feelings.”
“I was only trying to take care of you,” he said.
Taylor shrugged. “We would have been fine without the nurse.”
He found Darcy in the guest bedroom, zipping up her suitcase. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“I think it’s best I leave.”
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said. “I thought you’d be relieved not to have the responsibility of looking after Taylor.”
“Part of me was.” She turned to face him, her eyes reflecting all the sadness he’d heard in her voice. “I was terrified I’d do something wrong. You obviously thought the same thing. I don’t blame you. Really, I don’t.”
“Then why are you so upset?” he asked. “Taylor is not an ordinary child. Her situation—”
“I know all about her situation,” Darcy said. “That’s my son’s heart beating in her chest. I was irresponsible enough to let him die, so how could you possibly trust me to look after her?”
He stared at her, the truth of her accusation freezing him. When she’d told him the story of her son’s death, of how she’d left the boy with his father, an alcoholic, while she went to dance, he
had
thought her irresponsible. But no more irresponsible than he’d been in dismissing Taylor’s first symptoms. He shared her guilt about the role he’d played in his child’s suffering, but that didn’t mean he didn’t trust her. Did it? “I…of course I trust you,” he finally stammered.
She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mike. I wish things had worked out differently, but I…I can’t take this. You don’t trust me, and that makes me trust myself even less.” She picked up the suitcase and pushed past him. He heard her saying goodbye to Taylor, then the door opened and shut quietly.
He didn’t hear Taylor behind him so much as feel her presence. “Dad, why is Darcy mad at us?”
“Darcy isn’t mad at us,” he said. “She was just tired and needed to get home.” He wanted that to be true, but the last look she’d given him told him he’d driven her away.
“I guess we should go home, too,” she said doubtfully. “I have school tomorrow.”
Traffic was heavy, making the drive home even longer than usual. Taylor fell asleep in the backseat, leaving Mike to fill the silence with his thoughts. What had he done that was so wrong? He’d only been trying to care for his daughter. Why couldn’t Darcy understand that? He wasn’t used to handing over her care over to anyone else. If her lapse in judgment about her son did affect his decision, it had been totally subconscious—and who could blame him for not wanting to take any chances with his daughter?
Maybe he had hurt her feelings, but she’d hurt him, too, being so quick to take offense. She must know how much she meant to him, after the night they’d spent together.
Hadn’t he told her he loved her? They weren’t words he uttered lightly, but saying them didn’t mean he could change his way of thinking overnight.
Could he change, if it meant keeping Darcy in his life? Or did Taylor’s illness, and his focus on taking care of her, coupled with Darcy’s doubts about her own ability, ruin any hope they had of a successful relationship?
Melissa had once accused Mike of being too controlling to let her have a hand in taking care of her own daughter. At the time he’d denied the charge.
But today he wasn’t so sure.
On Tuesday she was preparing for an evening class when a knock on the door interrupted her. “Carrie!” She ushered her brother’s girlfriend—or former girlfriend—into the room. “It’s so good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you, too. I stopped by to say goodbye.”
“Goodbye?”
“I’m leaving town. Moving back to Michigan, where my parents are. I’m going to work for my dad.” She folded and unfolded the ends of her scarf. “I’m going to make a fresh start.”
Darcy clutched the other woman’s hand. “I’m so sorry things didn’t work out for you and Dave.”
“Yeah, well, I still love him. But I’m tired of waiting for what’s never going to happen.” She lifted her chin. “I want a husband, not a boyfriend. And I want children and a house and the whole package. Dave doesn’t want that—or at least, he doesn’t want it with me.”
“I’m sorry,” Darcy repeated. “He’s being stupid.”
“I know there’s someone out there for me,” Carrie said. “I can’t say I didn’t give Dave enough chances, but I’ve waited long enough.”
“What does he say?”
“That
I’m
being stupid.” She made a face. “He wasn’t nice at all. He accused me of running home to my mother because I couldn’t get him to do what I wanted. I told him a relationship took two people and I was tired of being the only one who ever com promised. Things just got uglier from there.”
“I wonder sometimes if men even think about how they sound to us,” Darcy said. By sending a nurse to take over, Mike had sent a message loud and clear.
“I’m sorry,” Carrie said. “How are
you
doing? Are you still seeing that good-looking doctor?”
“It didn’t work out between us.”
“Rats. I was hoping you’d found someone. You deserve to be happy.”
“We’ll just have to work on being happy on our own,” Darcy said. “I think maybe that has to happen before we can have a healthy relationship, anyway.” She’d told herself she was happy before Taylor and Mike came into her life—or as happy as a woman who’d lost everything ever could be. But being with the two of them had only showed her how much she was missing.
“I need to remember that,” Carrie said. “And I’d better get going. The movers are coming in the morning and I still have a lot to do. I only wanted to say goodbye. I’ll miss you.”
Darcy hugged her. “Keep in touch. You have my e-mail?”
Carrie nodded. “I will.”
She left and Darcy tried but failed to focus on the transcribed deposition she was proofreading. She thought of Dave in his basement workshop, preferring to be alone rather than giving in one inch to what Carrie wanted. Was his life really so comfortable, or could a grown man really be so afraid of change? Was
she
afraid of change? She’d told herself she was ready to be with someone—to be with Mike. But if that was true, why hadn’t she fought harder for him?
She stood in front of the alcove by the door where the statue of Kali cradled the photograph of Pete and Riley. When she’d placed the picture there it had comforted her to think of them together, protected. Their image in the alcove was both a reminder of the sweetness of their lives and the hole their absence left in hers.
She took the photograph from Kali’s arms and stared down at Pete’s roguish gleam and Riley’s innocence. Then she carried the photograph across the room and tucked it in a drawer, along with other assorted photographs and papers. She didn’t need this constant reminder anymore. She would always hold their spirits in her heart but now, finally, she was ready for more.