Taylor Made Owens (42 page)

Reluctantly, Jennifer advised, “Go where she is. Get a job in the same place. Set things up so you have to cross paths.”

He thanked her for the advice and said, “Okay, let’s go eat.”

“I’m not hungry,” she replied, and she went to her room.

Using his computer skills, he tracked Kristen down and learned she was just across the bay in the final year of her fellowship. He kept tabs on her to learn where she would go so he could follow.

The next July, he completed his dissertation. He went to JPL to test it on their computer simulator. No one expected the program to actually deploy the parachutes and land the craft safely—it did deploy the parachutes, but the craft came down too fast—but it contained many ideas that intrigued the people at JPL, much more straightforward ways to program certain aspects of this stage of the mission. The program was approved as his dissertation, and JPL offered twenty thousand dollars for the ideas. He gladly accepted it.

He was also offered a full-time position at JPL, with a faculty appointment at Caltech, but he declined it. Computer consulting is perfect, he concluded. He could work from home and look after Kara, and move wherever Kristen went. He agreed to consult for JPL on computer programming challenges related to a Mars mission. This would be his primary source of income for the rest of his working life.

So as the summer began, the main question in his life was, Where will Kristen go?

W
hile an undergrad at the University of Western Ontario, Kristen had taken a course from a professor by the name of Dr. Miriam Blalock, a Cambridge-educated pediatric oncologist. As the two interacted over the year, they became close. Kristen considered Miriam her mentor. Miriam considered Kristen the most impressive young student she’d ever met. Miriam tried to get Kristen to stay at Western to take her medical training, but she chose Stanford.

The two stayed in touch over the years, with Miriam following Kristen’s progress and hoping to eventually work with her. Early in the final year of her fellowship in pediatric oncology, Miriam began trying to entice Kristen to join her on faculty at Western. Kristen was interested, but said she wanted to keep her options open. As her residency wound down, Kristen had offers from all over North America, many with prestige and money exceeding what Western could offer. She told Miriam she could not consider Western with such attractive offers from other schools, but in late April, just as Kristen was about to accept an offer, she got another call from Miriam.

“You haven’t accepted a position yet, have you? Please tell me you haven’t,” Miriam said, without even saying hello.

“Well, hello, Miriam,” answered Kristen. “I have a meeting next Tuesday with the people at Johns Hopkins. I plan to accept their offer. Why, Miriam?”

“Don’t take it! There’s an incredible opportunity here in London that I want you to consider.”

“No disrespect, Miriam, but we’ve discussed this before. Western can’t compete with the opportunity I have at Johns Hopkins.”

“Just hear me out. You’ve heard of centers of excellence?”

“Yes.”

“The governments of Canada and Ontario are investing in a center of excellence for the treatment of childhood cancer. They’ve asked me to direct it, and I get to choose my staff. I want you to be my star recruit.”

“God, Miriam, this is sudden. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“They only confirmed a few minutes ago that I was selected as director. I’m not even supposed to be telling anyone until the Ministers announce it, but I’m so afraid someone else will get you in the meantime.”

“What would my role be?”

“You would be assistant director of one of the best centers of its kind in the world. It would involve some of the top people in the field from across the country, and it’s to be centered at Western. The university has given me the green light to offer you full professorship as well.”

“That’s really flattering, Miriam, but I must say I wasn’t planning on significant administrative work in my immediate future. I want to use my skills as a clinician and researcher. That’s why I’m in the field.”

“I’ll keep your administrative work to a minimum, just enough to groom you as my replacement. Eventually. You choose how much you want to work with patients and with residents and students. There’ll be innovative clinical research trials centered here, and you can choose which ones you’d like to participate in. You can continue your research into neuroblastoma and use your skills in nanotechnology.

“The research work you’ve done is so impressive, Kristen. When I raised your name as a possible assistant director, the Board was concerned that you were young and inexperienced, but your articles detailing your work in the area convinced them of your incredible potential, and now they want you here, too. What do you say? Please!”

“It sounds terrific, but I need time to consider it. You don’t know how much I’ve agonized finally coming to a decision to take the Johns Hopkins offer.”

“Stop here on your way to Baltimore. I know you’ll be so impressed you won’t need to go there. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity for both of us, Kristen. But it’s also daunting. We both have a lot of exciting work ahead of us to get this off the ground, but with you I’m sure we’ll make it a great success. Oh, and we get a whole three-storey wing of a splendid, new state of the art facility to be completed within six weeks. I’m so excited!”

“I’ll stop there to talk more about this, and I’m guessing you’ll talk me into it.”

“Brilliant! You won’t regret it.”

“I haven’t said yes yet, Miriam.”

“Funny, I heard yes loud and clear. You just need to come here and sign a few things, and we’ve got you.”

Kristen flew to London that Saturday, stayed the weekend at her parents’—who worked all weekend to convince her to move back to London—and met Miriam on Monday morning. She flew back to San Francisco Monday afternoon as the new assistant director of the Centre for Research and Treatment of Childhood Cancer at the University of Western Ontario. Two months later, in early June, she assumed her new position.

•

Robert found out that Kristen had accepted a job in London about a month after she started. He couldn’t believe his fortune. Not only could he live near Kristen, he could live near his son. Without delay, he enquired about the possibility of a job with computer sciences at Western. There were no professorships open, but they welcomed his application for lecturer. He sent it and made preparations to move home. Within four weeks he was living in London, just a few blocks from campus and only two from Kristen. He’d hacked into a university computer system to find her address.

•

Mark Loftus, proclaimed as London’s most eligible bachelor by the local paper’s gossip columnist—and who could dispute with such an authority?—had leading man looks, a “nice guy” persona and limitless potential. At age thirty-four, he was the youngest Chief of Police in the city’s history, and had his sights set on the federal parliament, having just been nominated by the Liberal Party to run in the next election, and after that … well, this fluently bilingual Quebecker and bona fide hero was ideal prime ministerial material.

The month previous, just when he was being considered for the top job in the department, he had rushed into a burning house to rescue two children from certain death and became a local celebrity as a result. The deed catapulted him above his competition, and he was hired as police chief.

Kristen Taylor, a sucker for heroes, especially one who had saved children’s lives, noticed the handsome man as the TV news effused over his bravery. She’d moved to London just the week before he’d saved the children and decided now was a good time to come out of her shell. She went to the children’s hospital, nominally to meet the staff, and happened to meet him when he stopped by to see the children who were being treated for smoke inhalation. They hit it off right away, and he asked her out to dinner. She accepted.

This man knew how to woo the fair sex—not that he had to work hard at it, with just about every single lady after him. Not one to shy away from speaking of himself, he ingratiated himself with her with a thrilling description of his actions in rescuing the children, with his sense of humor, and with his aside that he was a member of Mensa. And he had just the type of looks she preferred in men: tall, slender, light hair, and a handsome visage with a dark complexion, dimples, and brown eyes. His bubbly personality impressed all comers. Everyone liked and admired him. And his main purpose in life, as he told Kristen, “is to help people. That’s why I want to be a politician.”

He was genuine in everything he said and did, a failing he’d have to redress if he expected to be a successful politician. They made a perfect couple, as the two were told continually.

Nine weeks after Kristen had moved back home and eight weeks after she’d met Mark, Robert and Kara moved to London. He’d been offered and had accepted an instructor’s position in computer science at Western. Now, how to rekindle the romance with Kristen? And how to get to know his son again? The latter mission seemed less intimidating, so he turned his attention there first.

Kim suggested he go to see Brian play baseball in early August. Brian played for a competitive team in London and was shutting down the opposition as his father had fifteen years earlier. He hoped to impress his father with his talents, but Robert was anything but.

As Kim and Robert watched their son pitch, Robert remarked, “His mechanics are awful. I taught him how to pitch. What happened?”

“He’s been doing really well all year.”

“That doesn’t matter. What does matter is he’s doing it all wrong.”

“Why doesn’t it matter that he’s doing well? That he’s the best in the league as is?”

“Because if he keeps doing what he’s doing, he’ll wreck his arm. Who taught him to pitch like that? And who taught him to throw curveballs at eleven years old? That’s irresponsible.”

“One of the coaches, I suppose.” The inning finished, and Brian headed toward his parents with a smile on his face. Kim told Robert, “Remember, he’s only eleven. And he desperately wants to impress his father. Boys need praise from their fathers.”

“I got a curve to work!” Brian told his dad as he came back to the bench after striking out the side.

“Yeah, you mowed them down, little fella. Great job.” Robert patted Brian on the head. “I’d like to work with you on Saturday to refine your pitching a little, okay? You’ll be even better. One more thing, I know you’re proud of throwing a curveball, but that’s very harmful to a young arm. Good coaches would never let a player your age throw—”

“Bob!” admonished Kim. Brian’s shoulders were slumped.

“Um, anyway, I’m very proud of you. With hard work, I think you can be a major league pitcher some day!” That perked the lad up, and he marched back to his bench happy.

The next Saturday, he went to Kim’s place to see Brian. He and Kim had agreed that Brian could stay Saturdays with Robert. This was to be the first Saturday. First, at Kim’s behest, the two went out to her front yard for a lesson in pitching. She knew Brian was uncomfortable about staying at his dad’s and thought that doing something dear to both their hearts would help the two bond.

It began well, but Robert found out it was hard to get a youngster to unlearn the wrong way to do something, particularly if said youngster was good despite the faults. Brian didn’t want to change his pitching delivery.

“If I change how I pitch, the coaches will tell me to do it their way.”

“Do you want a chance to pitch in the majors?” Robert asked. Brian shrugged. Robert furrowed his brow and said, “Don’t you want to play baseball when you grow up?” He shrugged again. “Regardless, a good lesson in life as well as baseball is to always do the best you can. Let me show you the right way to pitch. We’ll start with your upper body first. Get on your knees and start with your hands on your chest like this. Then bring both arms straight down to your waist and sweep them out like this … Brian. Are you listening to me?”

The lad was standing with his shoulders slumped again. “Don’t you want to know how to pitch well?” Slumped shoulders. “I know you get batters out because you’re fast enough, but you don’t pitch, you merely launch the ball. You won’t get anywhere like that.” Brian headed inside the house. “Where are you going?” Brian stopped, head down. “All right, go inside and sulk. Listen to those idiots instead of a major leaguer.” Brian went in, and Robert said, “Shit!”

Kim came out a moment later and said, “What happened?” He told her. “Bob,” she said, “you have to remember that Brian is just a little boy. He was more proud of his pitching than anything else in his life because that’s what his father did. He looks up to you, and he thinks he’s disappointed you.”

“I just want to show him the right way.”

“I know, but you’re trying too hard and too fast. You can’t just barge into his life and expect him to accept you so readily. It’ll take both of you time to really get to know each other. My best advice is don’t be in too much of a rush. He’ll come around. He’s a great kid.”

“I know, but please help me on this. I don’t want him to wreck his prospects.”

“I’ll talk to him.”

“Forbid him to throw a curveball. It’ll damage his elbow. Tell his coach.”

“I will. Now come in and reassure him you love him. Then we’ll ask him if he’ll spend today with you.”

“He doesn’t want to?”

“He’s uncomfortable about it.” Robert looked distressed at that news. “Again, Bob, he’s only eleven. He’s spent maybe three weeks with you over the last three years, so he needs time to adjust. Don’t be in a hurry, make him feel at home, show him how much you love him, and everything will work out.”

Robert went inside and apologized to his son. He hugged him and said, “I’m sorry. You have a great arm and will be a terrific pitcher. I want to make sure you have that chance. I love you, Brian. I want to be a real father to you from now on. I don’t mean to replace Phillip; I know he’s been here for you, and you love him. I just want to be with you as much as I can. You’ll have your own room at my place, your second home. You can get to know your sister, too. Your mom and step-dad say you can stay any Saturday you want. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to, but I’m asking, will you come home with me?”