She'd made such a horrible mistake.
Alzheimer's. Parkinson's. Cancer. Aidan used a paper napkin to wipe away a drip of chili on his chin. We're on the verge of being able to break apart the human genome inside a cancer cell and see exactly where it went off-track, then target each of those chromosomes with drugs developed to correct that particular defect. It would be like going after a fruit fly with an Uzithat sucker just couldn't get away!
Kat smiled at him, so proud of his passion and intelligence, so aware that his father had been just like him as a young man. She needed to change the subject in a hurry, before she lost her courage.
Speaking of human genes, I have something to tell you, Aidan. She took a deep breath. I need to talk to you about your father.
My /whaaa/ Aidan's entire body went still. His eyesthose intense blue eyes his father gave himhad gone huge. What are you talking about? he whispered.
I haven't been completely honest with you. You need to know that up front. And I am asking you to find some way, at some point in the future, to forgive me.
Aidan dropped the last remaining bite of hot dog onto the chipped plate and stared at her. The enthusiasm that had been in his eyes just seconds ago had been replaced with what Kat could only describe as fear and dread. His mouth pulled tight. You know who my dad is, don't you? You've always known.
Kat was busted. That's true, technically. But it's a much bigger story, and I think you're old enough to hear the whole thing now.
Oh, really? Aidan took a sip of his soda, then slammed the glass down on the green Formica tabletop. He glared at her. I've been old enough to hear the truth for about a decade now and you know it. You haven't told me because /you/ couldn't deal, Mom. Not me. So don't go putting this all on me.
Kat was shocked. Aidan had never talked to her this way before. The anger she saw in him cut her to the bone, but she suspected she had it coming. Telling Aidan the truth was going to take more courage than anything she'd ever done in her life. In comparison, getting in that truck with Cliff Turner seemed like a snap.
All I ask is that you put yourself in the right frame of mind to hear everything I'm about to tell you. Please. Just listen to the whole story; then you can decide how angry to be. Kat tried to reach out to touch his forearm, but he jerked it away. You need to hear this, sweetheart.
Aidan nodded, then brightened up with mock enthusiasm. I am the demon spawn of Troy Mikulski, is that what you're going to tell me? I always suspected it.
Kat thought she'd fall out of her plastic chair. /What? Hell/ no! She reached out for her son again, but he made it clear he was off-limits.
Baby, Troy is not your father. He's just a guy I wasted two years of my life with! Kat was horrified. My God, Aidan. That was back when you were in middle school. Please don't tell me you've been walking around all this time thinking that bozo was your father?
Aidan let loose with a bitter laugh, then shouted, What the hell was I supposed to think? He jumped up and kicked his chair. I never had anything else to go on! Every time I asked about my father, you gave me some lame answer about your sordid past and you not even knowing who knocked you up and that it was all part of a life you wanted to forget!
The grill cook turned around, hot-dog tongs in his hand and his face plastered with a hopeful grin.
Keep your voice down, Aidan.
No! This sucks! He waved his arms around. All you ever told me was that we needed to focus on the here and now, and that was basically nothing but a load of bullshit! You /lied/ to me, Mom. You left me swinging in the wind. How bad can a parent be?
Sit your ass down, Aidan. /Now/. Kat hadn't heard herself speak like that in yearsnot since Aidan came home at 2:00 A.M. from an alleged night at the movies, smelling like pot. She had grounded him for six months. But in this case, Kat knew she was the one who deserved to be grounded. As Aidan plopped back down in his chair, she saw his shoulders droop with despair.
Sure. Why not? he said flatly. Let's have it.
Kat took a giant breath, searching her son's face for an opening, an indication that he was ready. She encountered steady, smart eyes, filled with hurt that was her doing. He was my childhood sweetheart, Aidan. I really thought we loved each other, and he never knew he'd gotten me pregnant, up until recently.
He never knew? Aidan was scowling.
No.
Why?
Because I never told him. I ran away without telling him I was pregnant.
Aidan let out a snort of disgust. Brilliant move, Mom. He took another sip of his drink. He didn't look at her.
But he found out last year, from my mother, just before she died. And he's been looking for youfor both of usever since.
Aidan's neck snapped in attention, and he stared at her. Wait a minute.
You told me your parents died when you were a teenager.
They were dead to me.
Wow. This is so incredibly fucked.
Aidan.
Seriously, seriously fucked. He shook his head. OK, so you say this dudemy /father/has been looking for me? Is that part the truth, at least?
Absolutely. I just saw him last weekend and told him all about you. He mentioned wanting to spend Thanksgiving break with you. I gave him your phone number. That's why I asked you earlier if you'd gotten any strange calls. Kat dug into her bag and pulled out Riley's business card. Here.
This is him. Look on the back.
She watched her son's hand tremble as he traced his fingertips along the raised black print.
He's a freakin' doctor? Aidan looked up, stunned, his whisper fading as he flipped over the card to read Riley's handwritten note: /I can't wait to get to know you, Aidan. Call me at work or on my cell anytime. Here's my home number, too…/ Shit, Mom. I don't believe this! Aidan stuck the business card in her face. But what's that last number there on the end? Is that a seven or a one? I can't read his writing!
Kat laughed. It's as bad as yours.
Where the hell is Persuasion, West Virginia?
It's where I grew up.
Aidan's smile faded, and he pulled the card away. I see. Yet another detail you lied to me about. You always told me you grew up in Martinsburg.
Yeah. At least I got the state right.
Aidan shoved the business card in his front jeans pocket, shaking his head. Anything else you lied to me about, Mom? He folded his hands on the table, his face contorted with sarcasm. Are you an alien? Are you really a man? Is your name even Katharine Turner?
Ah. Kat clicked her tongue on her teeth. Actually No way It's Katharine Cavanaugh. I took Phyllis' last name, not because she was a distant relation, like I told you, but because I didn't want to be found. I wanted to protect you.
Aidan's face fell. Kat knew she was asking a lot of him. Please try to understand, sweetheart.
So my real name is Aidan Cavanaugh?
Well, if that's what you choose. Or Bohland, after your dad. I guess you can decide that later. It's something we'll have to sort out legally, I suppose.
Aidan slowly shook his head, his eyes filled with sadness. What the hell were you thinking, Mom? What could have possibly been so bad that you lied to me from the day I was born? What were you trying to protect me from?
Kat didn't want to cry. She'd prided herself that no matter how rough things had gotten in all those years, no matter how she'd fought to keep it together with night school, work, bills, Aidan had never seen her break down. She was beginning to wonder if she'd done him a disservice by not letting him see how much she'd struggled.
Well, what I was thinking was… I'd hoped to… I just wanted to protect you from Kat gulped down her sob. From what happened to me, dammit! From getting rejected by those people, the people who tossed my pregnant ass out onto the street when I was sixteen years old!
Aidan frowned as he listened.
And I'm sorry if I made the wrong decision, but it was the only one I could make at the time. I thought it was best for my child.
Aidan stood up again, his mouth slowly twisting in grief. News flash, Mom: It wasn't.
Fine. We can talk more about this later, when you've cooled off. Kat stood up, too. Do you need some money this week? She reached into her purse, but Aidan placed his hand on her wrist.
She looked up at him. He looked down at her, the pain distorting the shape of his handsome face. I don't need anything from you anymore, Mom, he said softly. You've done plenty.
Aidan turned his back on her and walked out of the diner without another word.
Kat followed, perfectly aware of the way the grill cook checked her out as she went through the door.
She called Nola from her cell phone, watching Aidan's form disappear down Eastern Avenue. She could barely hear Nola's voice over the racket of delivery trucks and cars without mufflers.
How'd it go?
Oh, just /super/! Kat turned away from the street noise and back toward the diner but spun right back around when the grill cook winked at her.
That bad?
Kat sighed, raising her voice. If I'm lucky, he'll forgive me by the time he's seventy.
Oh, well, hon… Nola sounded thoughtful. You'll only be eighty-something, and you know what they sayeighty is the new thirty!
EIGHT
Riley turned on the desk lamp, determined to power through these last few charts before he went home for the night. He hadn't eaten since breakfast and his head throbbed, but the sooner he finished, the sooner he would have time to call his son.
Riley reached into his pants pocket and touched the wallet-sized photo Kat had given him, with a cell phone number on the back. He'd already memorized it.
With a sigh of resignation, Riley clicked on the miniature tape recorder and resumed his dictation: Patient is a forty-seven-year-old premenopausal female presenting with a variety of non-specific symptoms. … He released the record button while he scanned the paperwork, then spoke into the mike again: Dizziness, headache, body aches, joint pain, insomnia, depression He stopped, suddenly aware that he'd dictated these same words many times that day. Riley tossed the recorder to his desk.
You weren't meant to live like this, he said, knowing the reprimand was more for himself than Mrs. Anita Prejean, the premenopausal woman tucked away inside that chart.
Riley rose from his chair and paced his office.
Riley figured that Mrs. Prejean's symptoms were caused by what was, in his opinion, the world's number-one diseaseunfinished business. After six years as a primary-care physician, Riley could say that most people got sick because they lived a life of liesa simple reality that was almost impossible to cure. The lies led to stress, which affected every organ system in the human body. He saw it all day, every day. And sometimes he thought of himself as nothing more than a lifeguard at an alligator-infested swamp, where all he could do was fix the latest flesh wound before he threw the swimmer back.
There were all kinds of lies, of course. There were the direct kinds, like marital affairs, dishonest business practices, and stealing what didn't belong to you. And there were the lies of omission and neglectsecrets never shared, anger never expressed, feelings shoved down so deep that people couldn't even put a name on what they felt. Patient after patient had come to him over the years with physical complaints he could trace directly to the accumulated stress of dishonesty. Lurking beneath the surface of their lives were silent burdens of guilt, shame, and bitterness, the inability to forgive oneself and others, and buried fears powerful enough to squeeze the joy out of the present day.
And nobody was immune.
Riley wandered to the exposed-brick wall of his office. He stared at everything displayed before himthe slew of diplomas, board certifications, awards. All the family photos.
His gaze fell on his parents' official wedding portrait. It was 1968, a summer of free love, race riots, and assassinations in the rest of the country. Not in Persuasion. From what he'd always heard, life had gone on like it always had around here, with mine strikes and unemployment worries. The only ripple was that every few months, word would come that another boy would not be coming home from Vietnam to exchange his camouflaged infantry helmet for a miner's hard hat.
Riley stared at his parents' young faces, amazed at the combination of innocence and resolve he saw there. He wondered what could have been racing through their minds the instant the camera flashed, what they feared, what they hoped for, whether they already knew which pieces of themselves each would have to keep hidden from the other in order to survive.
Big Daddy looked so fresh and handsome, the familiar crevices at his mouth and eyes not yet carved into his face. His Marine Corps head was shaved brutally close, and his jawline was fixed in seriousness, even on his wedding day. A week later, he would be off-loading from a Huey in a jungle clearing near Cambodia.
And there was Riley's mother, the former Miss Eliza Starliper, the town's great beauty. Her brown hair was teased ridiculously high, held in place by a tiny white bow that looked too dainty for the job. She had a sly smile on her lovely lips, as if she couldn't believe what she'd just pulled off. Eliza's beauty had meshed with Aidan Bohland's small-town prestige, and a new family had been born.
Riley's gaze moved toward the photo of Matt, Big Daddy, and himself fly-fishing in Wyoming the summer he'd finished his residency. A rumbling of regret moved through him. His own boy would have been about twelve that summer. He should have been with them. Instead, he was loose in the world, maybe playing baseball like all the Bohlands before him, doing homework, arguing with his mom, and thinking his father didn't love him. It was almost too much to bear.
There was a lot to make up for in that young man's life, and Riley knew he'd do whatever it took. He'd repair the lies. Erase the half-truths.