Family by Design

by Callie Endicott

  Two hours later she swung her feet to the ground and stood. “Yikes,” she muttered, stumbling at an unexpected stab of pain.

  Sitting again, Rachel rubbed her leg. Maybe she needed to go back to doing strengthening exercises. She’d figured regular walking would be enough, but it didn’t work all the different muscles. The specialist had hoped she might get to the point where she didn’t have any functional differences between her injured and uninjured legs, but so far it hadn’t happened.

  The phone rang and the caller ID showed S. Kessler. She hesitated, then picked up the receiver. “Hello.”

  “Rachel, thank goodness you’re there. This is Gemma.”

  “What’s up?”

  “Mr. Kessler left this morning on a business trip and my dad just got rushed to the emergency room. It probably isn’t anything serious. I mean, this has happened before...but I hate taking Livvie to the hospital with me. Is there any chance you could—”

  “I’ll be happy to watch her,” Rachel interrupted. “Do you need to borrow my car?”

  “Oh, that’s nice, but I have mine.”

  “Okay. Try to relax. I’ll be right there.”

  Gemma was waiting at the Kesslers’ door, already wearing a jacket and clutching her purse. “Thanks,” she said, holding out a large envelope. “The house key is in there if you want to take Livvie to your place, along with Mr. Kessler’s contact information and my cell number. For lunch there’s a list of restaurants that deliver. It’s next to the phone. Mr. Kessler doesn’t expect me to cook all the time and he has accounts with each of them. Thank you so much.”

  “I’m sure everything will be fine. Here are my other numbers in case you need them.” Rachel gave her the business card she’d grabbed as she was racing out the door. “Are you all right driving yourself?”

  “Yeah. I was just... That is, I didn’t know the best thing to do about Livvie,” Gemma explained, her voice dropping to a whisper. “She gets awfully upset about doctors and hospitals. She still associates it with...um, bad stuff.”

  Bad stuff? Rachel recalled from her research that Simon’s wife had died of ovarian cancer. It wouldn’t be unusual for a child to blame doctors and hospitals for losing her mommy.

  “I understand. Drive safely.”

  “I will. Bye, Livvie. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

  Livvie hovered on the other side of the foyer, looking solemn and ready to cry. Rachel gave her an encouraging smile. They’d got along well so far, but being alone with someone was different than when family or a third party was around.

  “Hey, Livvie, would you like to learn to make cookies? We can have dessert first, then eat lunch.”

  The seven-year-old brightened. “Gemma showed me how to make pancakes, but she says her cookies come out like hockey pucks. What’s a hockey puck?”

  “It’s a hard rubber disc that hockey players use. I know a simple sugar cookie recipe that always turns out right. If you don’t have all the ingredients in your kitchen, we can go downstairs to my place.”

  “Yippee!”

  They explored the cupboards together and found that everything needed for basic sugar cookies was stocked in the Kesslers’ kitchen, though the baking sheets looked untouched. In fact, practically everything was pristine, as if it was a display kitchen where no one really cooked.

  Maybe Simon wasn’t the sentimental type when it came to belongings. Or maybe he hadn’t bothered moving the contents of his New York kitchen and had a decorator stock this one for him. Rachel couldn’t imagine giving up her favorite measuring cups. She also had her favorite pans, a bit dinged from years of use, yet all the more trusted because of that. Her bowls, mixer and other tools had followed her from home to home, as well. On the other hand, Simon had said he didn’t cook. Perhaps his wife hadn’t, either, and that was why the stuff looked untouched.

  Rachel wrinkled her nose. She sure wasn’t going to ask Simon about it.

  It wasn’t long before the kitchen was filled with the sweet, warm smell of fresh sugar cookies.

  “Are you enjoying those cookies, or are you just eating them to be polite?” she asked Livvie teasingly.

  The little girl giggled. She was munching cookies and drinking a glass of milk. Her face suggested she’d achieved nirvana. “I never had warm cookies before. They’re gooey and crunchy.”

  “It’s my favorite way to eat them. But you don’t have to make them fresh all the time. You can microwave a cookie from the bakery, or heat them in the oven a few minutes. A scoop of vanilla ice cream on the top tastes good, too. Does your daddy let you eat ice cream?”

  “Uh-huh.” Livvie put a finger to her lips and leaned forward. “Daddy’s favorite is mint chocolate chip. I used to wake up awful late and find him eating some. Then he’d get me a bowl, too. We weren’t supposed to tell Mommy we were the midnight mice, but I guess it’s okay to tell you.”

  Rachel’s heart skipped a beat. It was curiously easy to envision Simon sneaking a midnight snack with his daughter. She could almost hear them whispering their agreement that they wouldn’t reveal their secret.

  She washed the mixing bowl and other utensils and put them away, thinking Simon probably wouldn’t approve of her having made cookies with Livvie. Well, too bad. She didn’t have marital designs on him, and her friendship with his daughter was free of ulterior motives. Anyway, surely having her nanny rush out on a possible family emergency warranted a little indulgence.

  When everything was tidy, they went down to her condo, where Rachel made salad and toasted cheese sandwiches for lunch. It seemed absurd to order a restaurant meal when she could make something.

  “I like this, too,” Livvie said, “almost as much as warm cookies and milk.” She was obviously referring to the sandwich, not the salad, which she warily poked with her fork without eating any. “Rachel, is this a yuppie salad?” she asked finally.

  “I’m not sure. What’s a yuppie salad?”

  “Daddy calls it that. He says it has funny-shaped green stuff and he doesn’t like it. But this is all cut up, so I can’t tell if it has a funny shape.”

  Rachel bit the inside of her lip to keep from laughing, yet it was also sad. Every now and then Simon revealed hints of whimsy. It made her wonder what he would have been like if his mother had lived and he hadn’t been exposed to a hard, selfish man like Richard Kessler.

  As for the salad?

  Her parents offered a spring mix at their catering business and yuppie might be a good nickname for the varied contents. The mix tended to be somewhat bitter, and since foods could taste more intense to children, they often disliked greens such as escarole, beet leaves and dandelion. Apparently Simon wasn’t any more fond of the stuff.

  “If that’s the definition, then this isn’t a yuppie salad,” she told Livvie. “It has romaine lettuce. Do you see vegetables in there that you like?”

  “I like carrots.” Livvie pulled out a carrot slice and ate it. “And cucumbers.” One by one she sampled the various veggies and soon the bowl was empty except for the radishes.

  Rachel’s own parents had never insisted they clean their plates, though they’d ensured a balanced meal was on the table. “Just taste it,” they had encouraged, while plainly enjoying the food themselves. The method might not be successful with all children, but she’d learned to love vegetables and cuisines from around the world.

  “What do you want to do now, Livvie?” she asked.

  “Let’s read. I have a bunch of storybooks in my room.”

  “Sure.”

  Together they headed to the condo upstairs and settled in for a cozy afternoon.

  * * *

  GEMMA SAT IN the waiting room with her mom, unable to stop thinking about other trips to the emergency room when she was a child...such as the time her father had got drunk and fallen down a flight of stairs. The doctor hadn’t intended her
to hear, but he’d told the nurse if the patient hadn’t been so relaxed, he might have done worse damage. Then the doctor had made a joke about getting high from the whiskey fumes.

  “Mom, how much did Dad have to drink this time?” she asked finally. “What did he trip on, fall over or cut himself with?”

  “How can you ask that? You always think the worst of him,” Helene Paulsen said tearfully. “I told you, he got breathless and his chest hurt. It must be a heart attack. He’s going to die and leave me alone.”

  Gemma’s heart rate jumped. “Take it easy, I’m sure he’ll be all right. Maybe it was indigestion. His stomach is always acting up and the symptoms can be similar.”

  Helene wiped a tear away. “It’s more than that. If only Drake was here,” she wailed. “He’d know what to do.”

  It was probably true. Drake was the golden child who could do no wrong. And since he was finishing his residency in cardiology, he’d also be able to go into the treatment room and be given real information. “I’m surprised he isn’t here by now.”

  Her mother looked even unhappier. “He’s backpacking in New Zealand. You know how he’s always wanted to go there. He’ll be devastated when he finds out his father is gone.”

  “Stop borrowing trouble,” Gemma said in as firm a tone as possible. If Matt Tupper could be so strong and self-assured despite not being able to see, she should be able to deal with her parents. “Even if it’s Dad’s heart, we don’t know that his condition is serious. This could just be a warning sign from his body to slow down.”

  Her mother always expected the worst, except when it came to her husband’s alcohol consumption. As far as Helene was concerned, her husband was just under stress or needed something to help him sleep. She completely ignored the fact that he got moody and loud after a couple of shots.

  Helene rose and walked jerkily around the room. Life with a hard-drinking husband had taken its toll on her, but she was still a beautiful woman.

  “How about Sully? Did you call him?” Gemma asked, knowing the question would be a distraction.

  “Sullivan didn’t answer his phone.” Helene hated the nickname Sully, just as much as Sully hated his given name, Joseph Sullivan. He’d stubbornly refused to answer to Joseph after getting chosen to play Joseph in three consecutive Christmas pageants. Mom and Dad had finally given in, but they were the only ones who called him Sullivan. To everyone else he was Sully.

  Sully fitted her tall, laconic brother.

  “I can never reach Sullivan directly. I’m starting to think he’s avoiding me.” Helene sat down heavily. “I left him a message, but haven’t heard back.”

  Gemma knew Sully ducked calls from their parents. He claimed he got enough drama on the job and didn’t need more from his family. True enough. Sully had worked himself up from patrol officer, to detective, to captain, and was now a sheriff in Wyoming. He’d received multiple awards for valor and service, though Gemma only knew about them because she’d briefly dated one of his fellow officers.

  “Sully must be busy rounding up bad guys,” she said noncommittally. “He can’t drop everything to answer personal calls.”

  “Oh, please.” Her mother scoffed. “That town where he insisted on moving is just a speck on the map. Sullivan probably sits around all day drinking coffee, his feet up on a desk. He has no ambition. And isn’t it time you did something with your life instead of babysitting someone else’s daughter? You don’t even have your degree yet.”

  Why can’t both of you be more like Drake?

  The silent question was hard to miss—Helene had implied it often enough. To her parents, nobody could ever measure up to their eldest son. Sully didn’t care, but it was hard for Gemma to let the criticism roll away without cutting into her confidence.

  “Mom, I’m going back to school in January. And I love taking care of Livvie. She’s a—”

  “Mrs. Paulsen?” a voice interrupted. The speaker was dressed in a suit and had a stethoscope hooked around his neck.

  “I’m Mrs. Paulsen. How is Clyde?” Helene asked frantically. “Please don’t tell me he’s gone.”

  “Far from it. I’m Dr. Roth, the on-call cardiac specialist here at the—”

  “Cardiac. Then it is his heart.”

  “I believe your husband had a mild angina attack. Angina is often a symptom of coronary heart disease,” Dr. Roth explained. “However, there can be other causes. We’re admitting Mr. Paulsen to continue our tests and to monitor his condition. I just came out to tell you that he’s doing well. He’s resting and his vital signs are excellent.”

  “Thank you,” Helene said fervently. “Drake, my eldest son, is a resident in cardiology. He’s in New Zealand right now. It may be a while, but I’m sure he’ll want to talk with you once we’re able to reach him.”

  The doctor nodded. “I’ve worked with Dr. Paulsen on a couple of cases. Your husband has signed a release, so a consultation won’t be a problem. In the meantime, a nurse or aide will let you know when Mr. Paulsen is settled, and then you’ll be able to see him for a few minutes. He’ll be in urgent care, but don’t let that worry you, we’re just being careful. And you are...?” he asked, turning to Gemma.

  “Gemma Paulsen. Clyde is my father.”

  “Nice to meet you. Your dad thought you might be here. He said to keep an eye out for a platinum blonde who looks like him, but is considerably prettier. I’ll have to tell him that he was right.”

  Gemma blinked, unsure how to take the remark. Her father rarely complimented her about anything. “Thank you.”

  “Not at all. I’d better get back to my patients now.”

  He gave them both a kind smile before going back through the swinging doors into the emergency room. He seemed a quietly competent physician, though she didn’t doubt her father would be transferred to the University of Washington Medical Center as soon as Drake could arrange it.

  Still looking worried, Helene sat down, turning her wedding ring around and around on her finger. Sadness tightened Gemma’s throat. One of her parents’ wedding pictures was of her mom’s left hand, proudly displaying that ring. Shining and new, it had symbolized hope and anticipation for the future. What would Helene Sullivan Paulsen have done if she could have looked ahead through the years to see her new husband become a man who found solace for life’s disappointments in a bottle?

  The truth was, nobody knew how life would turn out. The one thing Gemma had learned was that she could try to avoid getting involved with a man who had problems and the kind of personality that might lead him to start drinking. But there weren’t any guarantees.

  “How about tea?” she asked, jumping up. “I’ll see if the hospital cafeteria is open.”

  “I suppose.”

  The woman at the information desk said the cafeteria was available until 2:00 p.m. and gave her directions. They stocked her mother’s favorite brand of English breakfast tea, so Gemma carried a tray with two cups and an order of the daily lunch special back to the waiting room.

  “I brought you some food, Mom.”

  Helene shuddered. “I couldn’t.”

  “It won’t help Dad if you don’t eat. Relax and tell me more about what happened this morning.” Gemma put the plate on her mother’s lap and handed her a fork.

  Helene poked at the spinach lasagna and finally ate a bite. “Well, your father has been unhappy the past few days. He got passed over for another promotion and it’s terribly unfair. Nobody values experience any longer—out with the old, and in with the new. They’ve even suggested he consider retiring. Can you believe that?”

  “Things have changed since Dad got his engineering degree. Didn’t his company suggest he take a series of refresher courses a few years ago?”

  Varied emotions struggled for supremacy in Helene’s face. One thing Gemma admired about her mother was the way she loved and believed in her husband,
despite everything. Unfortunately, it also made her extremely unrealistic.

  “Clyde didn’t need those courses. He’s a senior engineer and ought to be in upper management by now. The nitty-gritty of engineering isn’t a manager’s job.”

  Meaning Clyde Paulsen hadn’t taken any classes and had resented the idea that he needed them.

  “So he was upset about not getting a promotion...?” Gemma prompted.

  “Yes. He found out last Wednesday. We were talking about it this morning and suddenly his chest started hurting.”

  “There are treatments for angina, Mom.”

  “If only Drake was here.”

  Gemma patted her shoulder. Even in other families, her oldest brother would be the preferred child during a health crisis.

  At any rate, her mom was eating. The lasagna and vegetables steadily disappeared, along with the slice of French bread that had come with the entrée.

  It wasn’t until every bite was gone that Gemma got up and collected the tray. “I’ll take everything back to the cafeteria.”

  Her mother suddenly grabbed her wrist. “Thank you, dear. I know... Well, thank you. It’s so good you could come right away. I don’t say it often enough, but you know that we love you.”

  “I know, Mom.” Her parents’ love had never been in question. Gemma just wished her father’s drinking hadn’t loomed so large over her childhood.

  After dropping off the tray and utensils, she took the opportunity to call Sully. He answered on the second ring.

  “What’s up, sis?”

  “You didn’t listen to Mom’s message?”

  “Nah. I delete most of them. It’s always something with her. At the moment she’s nagging me to come for Thanksgiving or Christmas and it isn’t happening.”

  “Okay. Well, uh, Dad got taken to the emergency room earlier,” Gemma said awkwardly. “It might be something with his heart. Maybe angina. The doctor doesn’t seem too worried, but they’re admitting him to urgent care to monitor his condition.”