“Mom, I’m not stupid. Yes, I drank the beer out of a can I opened myself.”
“And you got drunk.” Every fear I had was bouncing around inside my head. I don’t know why I went to the worst-case scenario. Suddenly I could see my daughter becoming an alcoholic and flunking out of college.
“If you must know, all I had was two beers and a couple of Jell-O shots. It went to my head fast because I’m not used to drinking. It wasn’t a big deal.”
It was to me. Before I could give her my opinion, she continued talking.
“I was back in the dorm early. The reason I have a headache is because my period’s due.”
I didn’t believe her. This wasn’t the best time for calling her out, so I bit my tongue.
“I’m sorry I didn’t answer when you called.” Allie sounded genuinely contrite. “I was asleep.”
“It’s okay. I made more of this than I should have.”
“You think?” Allie said.
Despite the fact I was convinced she wasn’t telling the whole truth, I was relieved to hear her voice.
“How’s Grams?”
“I’m at Parkview now to check in on her, and I’ll call you after I leave.” I had a few more questions I intended to ask, too.
“Okay. Love you.”
“Love you back,” I whispered, ending the call and sitting down.
I realized I’d chosen the bench where Rowan Lancaster was still seated. “That was my daughter,” I said, briefly closing my eyes. Her call had done little to reassure me. Rowan seemed to be waiting for me to continue. “She’s a freshman at the University of Washington. Her brother said it was time to let go and trust her. I know I should, but it’s harder than I thought it’d be. Funny thing, I’d looked forward to an empty nest, and it’s nothing like what I expected.”
“How long have you been divorced?” he asked.
“Sixteen years. Allie was only two.” It felt weird to be discussing our private lives like this. For the most part, I’d kept my home life and my job separate. “Do you have children?” I asked. If I was divulging information, he could, too.
“One. A daughter. She’s twenty, and starting her junior year of college.”
“Then you understand.”
He shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t. My ex-wife…” He paused and shook his head as though he’d said more than he intended. Rising, he avoided eye contact. “Have a good day, Jenna.”
“You, too.”
With his shoulders slumped as though bearing a heavy weight, he started toward the parking lot. I sat in the warmth of the afternoon sunshine and watched him. Emotional pain radiated off him. I could sense it as keenly as if he’d spoken of his loss.
Rowan’s car was parked in a space in the front of the lot that was reserved for physicians. I was curious as to what kind of car he drove. I knew Kyle took pride in his expensive cars.
My ex had the nerve to email Paul a photo of his red Ferrari soon after Paul had picked up a part-time job at college. I’d been furious. Outraged. But because I had years of practice, I was able to hold my tongue. I was convinced Kyle had done this on purpose, just to show me how well he’d done without me. Well enough to afford a fancy car, but not well enough to help his children with college expenses.
Rowan stopped in front of his car, a Volvo SUV, and squatted down to look at the driver’s-side tire.
It was flat.
CHAPTER 12
Jenna
Rowan’s tire instantly brought back the memory of a time when Kyle and I had gotten a flat. My husband, with both children in their car seats, had thrown a temper tantrum worthy of a two-year-old. Kyle had kicked the tire as if to punish it for having the audacity to cause him to dirty his hands with a menial task far below his dignity. He’d thrown down his car keys and jumped on them like he was putting out a brushfire. I’d been shocked at his behavior and embarrassed that a grown man could act so juvenile. I’d sat in the car, stunned, while Paul and Allie cried in fear, not understanding what was happening. I did my best to calm them and tried to reason with Kyle.
Now here was another man facing the same circumstances. Granted, he didn’t have little ones in the backseat. I held my breath, watching for Rowan’s reaction to the inconvenience. Calmly, he examined the tire and, without a single display of temper, walked to the back of his vehicle to open his trunk. I couldn’t see him for a couple minutes, although I suspected I knew what he was doing. Sure enough, when he returned, he had a small replacement tire and tools in his hands. He intended to change the flat himself.
Kyle had refused to do any manual labor that might put his hands at risk, because he was a heart surgeon, and his hands were his livelihood. I understood his concern and had encouraged him to call for help. He took my advice, but we had to wait more than an hour for a Triple A truck to respond. In the meantime, Kyle paced back and forth, shouting at the dispatcher, complaining about how long it was taking for help to arrive. Several times he informed them that he was a doctor, and that this was an emergency. It wasn’t, but lying was never beneath my husband. The memory of that awful afternoon had been burned into my memory. The incident spoke volumes to me about the kind of man I’d married.
As soon as I saw what Rowan was about to do, I felt I had to stop him. Changing the tire himself could be dangerous, especially when there was help a mere phone call away.
“You don’t need to do that,” I said, stopping him.
Rowan glanced up, his eyes widening with surprise.
He, too, was a surgeon, and should proceed with caution, rather than risk injury to his hands.
“I have Triple A,” I explained.
“I do, too.”
“Then let them change the tire.”
Rowan continued looking at me, as if he had trouble deciphering my words. He remained in a squatted position by the tire as though undecided. He had the jack out and was about to use it to elevate the front of the Volvo when I stopped him.
“Rowan, you’re a surgeon,” I said, reiterating my concern. “You shouldn’t take this risk.”
He half smiled, as if he found my concern humorous. “You don’t need to worry, I can change a flat without doing myself bodily harm.”
“I’m sure you can.”
“I appreciate that you care, but it isn’t necessary. I’ve done this before plenty of times. It’s not a big deal.”
I crouched next to him so we were at eye level. He did have nice eyes, although now they looked more puzzled and slightly amused by my insistence to call for help. “Please, Rowan, let me call them.”
“Why would you care?” he asked.
“Because you’re a good surgeon, and highly respected. I don’t want to see anything happen that might prevent you from helping someone else like you did my mother.”
He hesitated, considering my plea.
I placed my hand on his forearm. “Please, Rowan, let me call Triple A.”
He slowly exhaled. “All right. Ask how long I can expect to wait.”
“You mean you’ll let me call?” I’d expected more of an argument.
He sat down on the curb, his hands gripped together and resting between his bent knees.
The number was programmed into my phone. I waited for the customer service representative to pick up, quickly explained the situation, and groaned when I learned it would take forty-five minutes before anyone could reach our location.
Rowan awaited my answer.
I ended the call and repeated what I’d been told. “It’s a Saturday, and there’s a pileup on I-5, so it will take longer than usual.” I didn’t have high hopes that Rowan would willingly be detained that long.
“Will you have a cup of coffee with me while I wait?” he asked.
My fingernails bit into my palms. I had a long list of items I wanted to take care of this weeken
d. I wasn’t eager to take forty-five minutes out of my day, but it didn’t seem fair to ask him to twiddle his thumbs alone after I’d been the one to make a fuss. And if I was being honest with myself, and I was, I wouldn’t mind getting to know Rowan a bit more. All I knew about his personal life was that he’d been divorced and had a daughter who was a young adult. I couldn’t help being curious as to what else I might learn about him.
“Sure,” I agreed. “I’ll wait with you.”
“There’s a Starbucks less than a block away,” Rowan said, coming to his feet. He brushed off his backside.
“There’s a Starbucks a block away from everywhere,” I joked.
Rowan grinned. That he would welcome my company was unexpected, and I intended to take full advantage of it in order to learn more about him. However, the reason I’d stopped off at Parkview was to check up on my mother. It seemed unnecessary to leave and then return, so I offered another alternative.
“I think there might be a place for us to have coffee here at the facility,” I said. I seemed to remember the staff mentioning it when I’d first visited Mom.
“There is.”
We went inside the rehab facility. The nurse manning the front counter seemed familiar with Rowan and looked confounded to see him back so soon.
“My car has a flat,” he explained. “Will one of you let me know when Triple A arrives?” He placed his hand at the small of my back as he escorted me down the wide hallway. While walking away, I noticed the woman looking at us, followed by her leaning over to whisper something to the nurse at her left.
We found the room where patients greeted family members. It had several tables and padded chairs. Against the wall was a table with three large dispensers for regular coffee, decaf, and hot water, plus a large bowl of fresh fruit.
Rowan stepped up to the coffeepot and handed me a cup and a sleeve, allowing me to go first. I doctored my coffee and chose a table. Rowan quickly joined me. At first neither of us spoke. The lack of immediate conversation felt awkward. It was as if neither of us knew where to start. I knew he was a private person and reluctant to discuss anything outside of the hospital. The gossip mill there was always rife with news, and I avoided that.
“You mentioned your daughter,” I said, hoping to learn a bit about him. Most everyone took pride in talking about their children. “You said she’s twenty?”
“Yes.”
“Does she live in the area?”
“She lives in California.” He shifted in his seat and appeared uncomfortable. “With her mother.” This last bit of information came with some reluctance. I could see he wasn’t comfortable discussing his ex, and decided it would be best to avoid anything in reference to her.
“This is my daughter’s first year at the U-Dub. She wanted to live on campus, and I agreed. Now, I’m having second thoughts.”
“Why’s that?”
I hesitated, unwilling to share too much of what was happening, and answered with a halfhearted shrug. “When we talked about her living on campus, I was unsure, but she convinced me she was ready to be on her own. I thought she was and now I’m having doubts.”
“Something happened, then?” he pried gently.
“A frat party on Wednesday and another party last night. I couldn’t reach her this morning and I panicked. She said she was out with friends and home around midnight. Frankly, I don’t believe her. I can always tell when my daughter is lying.”
“Did you call her on it?”
I was reluctant to explain that I hadn’t. I’d wanted to, but I would have come off as a total basket case because of my last overreaction. “Letting go isn’t nearly as easy as I assumed. I’m sure you understand.”
He didn’t agree or disagree.
“I don’t want Allie to make a decision that could affect the rest of her life. She’s young, naïve, strong-willed, and can easily be led astray, especially when she’s working so hard to fit in with others. I can’t help but worry.” Already I’d said more than I’d intended to.
He nodded, as if he shared my concerns.
“I called her brother. Talking to Paul helped. He reminded me Allie is smart and able to hold her own. He thinks I’m worrying unnecessarily.” Looking down at my untouched coffee, I took a sip and mulled over my morning, the worries buzzing around my head like pesky flies. I hated flies. When one got in the house I didn’t stop until I had either killed it or shooed it out of the house. Worries were like that for me, too. I had this driving urge to do everything within my power to find peace of mind.
“The idea of having an empty nest appealed to me. All these years as a single mother has worn me down,” I said continuing. “I was looking forward to the freedom to explore new interests. I didn’t stop to consider how alone I’d feel with the house empty. It was nice the first week or so…and then there was my mother and her accident, so I haven’t had time to do much of anything that I’d hoped to start. Well, I did set up my art room in Paul’s old bedroom and move some clothes around. Once everything settles back to normal, I hope to starting painting.”
It was then that I realized that I was the one doing all the talking. To avoid the temptation of dominating the conversation, I sipped my coffee.
“What’s your daughter planning to major in?” Rowan asked.
“I’m not sure. She isn’t, either. I have a feeling she’ll eventually go into social work. She has a caring heart and wants to help people. Although I’d rather she worked for Social Services here in the United States than some faraway third-world country.”
“Those countries need help, too.”
“True.” I agreed, only I wasn’t willing to send Allie that far from home.
“As for her major, kids often don’t know what they’re best suited for right out of high school,” he commented. “Did you always want to be a nurse?”
“Yes, from as far back as I can remember. My mother was one, so going into medicine felt natural for me. What about you? Did you always want to be a doctor?”
He looked down at the cup in his hand. “Science and medicine have always interested me. It was only later, once I was in medical school, that I felt drawn to surgery.”
“How did you decide to specialize in orthopedics?” I knew that upper-body strength was a necessity to specialize in that field. The thought brought my gaze to Rowan’s muscular chest and arms. He was one fine male specimen.
“I felt the draw during my rotation. Orthopedics suited me.”
“Well, I, for one, and for my mother’s sake, am grateful that you did.”
A hint of a smile came over him. He wasn’t a man who smiled often, and it pleased me immeasurably that he would smile for me.
“What about your son?” Rowan asked. “Is he interested in medicine?”
“No, he’s into engineering. My dad was a nuclear engineer and Paul was close to him.” Paul hadn’t declared his major until his junior year. He’d always had top grades, although I was concerned about this part-time job he’d taken.
“That’s a good field.”
“I think so, too. Paul is outgoing and friendly, with an aptitude for numbers. He’ll do well at whatever he chooses in life. Allie, too.” I was extremely proud of both my children. They were amazing. I don’t think Kyle realized all that he’d missed as their father.
“You’re frowning,” Rowan observed, breaking into my thoughts.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to be,” I said, embarrassed that I’d allow my thoughts to travel down that negative path. I didn’t usually mention Kyle. There wasn’t any reason to now, either. The incident with the flat tire was what had brought him to mind.
“What were you thinking about?” he asked. “Your daughter?”
He would have to ask me that. “My ex-husband. Sorry.”
“You’re still angry with him after all these years?”
“Yes, I suppose I do sometimes still feel angry. Not often these days, but every now and again a memory will surface that brings it all bubbling back up.”
“Was it something I did?”
“Not at all. The thing I’ve come to accept about forgiveness is that it’s an ongoing process. Letting go of the hurt hasn’t happened all at once. I’d like to think I’ve forgiven my ex, and for the most part I believe I have. That doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten the hurt, though. Forgiving and forgetting are two separate things.”
Rowan’s eyes looked deep into mine, concentrating hard, as if delving into his own past. “You’re a wise woman.”
His praise flustered me. “It’s kind of you to say so. I have a long way to go when it comes to wisdom.”
“Don’t we all?” he asked.
A shadow fell across the doorway, and both Rowan and I looked in that direction. A distinguished, handsome man came into the room with a warm, eager smile.
“Rowan, I heard you were in the building,” he said. He was tall, with wide shoulders, and impeccably dressed in a sharp, custom-tailored suit.
Rowan stood up from the table and the two men exchanged handshakes. “Jenna, this is Rich Gardner; he’s the CEO and director of Parkview and several other of their facilities. Rich, this is Jenna Boltz. Her mother is a patient here.”
Rich took my hand in both of his and focused on me as if he was spellbound by me. His eyes were the deepest, darkest shade of blue. A woman could drown in those eyes.
“Nice to meet you, Rich,” I said.
“The pleasure is all mine. If there’s anything I can do to help your mother while she’s here, please don’t hesitate to contact me personally.”
“Thank you.”
“I mean it, Jenna.” He reluctantly let go of my hand and reached inside his suit jacket. He took out a business card and handed it to me.
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