by Dana Mentink
“Okay.” Tracy climbed up on the couch and Bear curled up next to her. Marco made sure the blanket was snuggled around her and her feet tucked in properly. He went to the kitchen and heated up some water, rooting around in the cupboard until he found a bag of chamomile. He dunked the bag in and waited.
As the tea steeped he considered what to say to ease her fears, weighing whether or not to give voice to his thoughts. You’re not her father, an inner voice whispered. But there was never a bad time to talk about God, was there? “You know, half pint,” he finally called softly, “you don’t need to be afraid. I was just reading about that in the Bible.” He quoted the verse for her. “I mean, if God says that’s true, then you know it is. He’s the Big Boss, and He can drive out darkness. That’s something, isn’t it?”
He carried the cup out to her and found she was sound asleep, Bear lying across her legs, looking at him. The lamplight shone on her delicate features, so like her mother’s—and Rick’s, he imagined, though he had met the man only a few times, when their time off had coincided. Tracy was so small, with thoughts that were a constant source of amazement and wonder to him. That God would put such spirit and joy in one little girl awed and humbled him. He felt honored to be a part of her world.
As he watched Tracy’s peaceful breathing, he couldn’t deny that he loved her, deeply and truly. Maybe it was wrong to love another man’s child, but there it was, and pretending didn’t make it go away. Though he couldn’t ever be a father to Tracy, there was no question that he would give his life for hers in a heartbeat.
“I’ll keep you safe, half pint,” he whispered.
Then he gently picked her up and took her back upstairs to bed, Bear trotting dutifully behind.
TWELVE
Candace awoke to the sound of pounding rain. She wanted nothing more than to snuggle back down under the covers and close her eyes again, but hiding in bed was not an option for mothers. She’d checked on Tracy when she’d arrived back at the safe house, and thought her forehead felt warm. Several times in the night she’d heard Tracy coughing, tossing and turning.
She ran through the options in her mind. Their beloved pediatrician was back in Coronado, and she knew it would not be wise to make the trip with Tracy in the present circumstances. The prickle of worry drove her from under the covers. Donna and Tracy were not early risers, but Brent, Marco and possibly Dev would have been up at the first blush of dawn, she suspected. To prevent Uncle Brent from sneaking more sugary cereal, or worse, breakfast ice cream to Tracy, Candace slogged into a hot shower, then slipped on jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. She found that Tracy was not yet awake.
“Bear would be happy sleeping until noon, so he’s got the perfect roomie,” Marco said, as she made it downstairs.
The men were seated around the table. Brent and Dev were drinking coffee, and Marco some green concoction that looked like something scooped from the surface of a pond.
“Kale smoothie. Want me to fix you one?”
She politely declined and helped herself to tea and toast.
“How are you doing, Dev?”
He fingered the small bandage taped to his eyebrow. “Toolbox one, Dev zero,” he said with a grimace.
“We’re looking for an address for Champ, though he’s probably on the move now that the police are onto him.” Marco drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “When we find him, I’m going to pay him a visit and see if he will give us anything on Rico.”
Dev frowned. “Don’t see how that’s gonna work. He’s Pack, Rico’s driver no less. He’s not gonna turn on the lead dog.”
“But he’s been to prison,” Candace said, “and Rico did nothing to bail him out.”
Brent stretched out his tall, lanky frame. “Donna and I burned the midnight oil and we found out that Champ’s brother Martin was Pack, too, but he messed up some deals, talked too much to the cops and he was beaten up pretty bad. Left California and hasn’t been heard from since.”
Candace sat up straighter. “So Champ’s got more reasons to be angry at Rico.”
Marco nodded. “All we need is one break, a location where we can find a working chop shop. Find it, call the cops and they might have enough to arrest Rico. Champ can give us that once we find him. In any case, it will cause Rico a whole batch of problems to focus on besides Candace’s testimony against Kevin Tooley.”
A cough from upstairs intruded on Candace’s growing enthusiasm. She hastened to Tracy, who swiped at her runny nose with a tissue, while Bear licked a spot on her wrist.
“Don’t feel good, baby?”
“No. Throat hurts.” Tracy closed her eyes again. “Don’t wanna get up.”
Decision time. Wait it out or go find a doctor? Tracy was susceptible to strep, which she’d had once already during the school year. Best to call Dan. It was a great thing to have a doctor added to the family. Now, if they could just recruit a dentist, and possibly a plumber, into the Gallagher clan she’d be all set.
She jogged back downstairs and Skyped Angela at the office to ask where she might find Dan.
“He’s sitting right here next to me and he’s got some info for you.”
Dan appeared, slouching to get his face in the screen. “Got a lead for you on Kevin Tooley’s mom.”
The others stopped talking in order to listen in.
“It turns out that the doctor who treated Yolanda is a colleague of mine. His name is Wesley Finch. We met at a few trainings over the years. Good guy, lousy golfer. He actually does some volunteer hours at a Long Beach clinic about a half hour from your current location. He should be in today if you want to give him a call. I told him you might be contacting him.”
Again, the uprising of hope. Candace knew the others might not agree with the rabbit trail she was following, but something kept urging her in that direction. “Dan, you’re the best.”
Angela smiled. “Isn’t he, though?”
Brent rolled his eyes, but Candace enjoyed the obvious adoration that flowed between the pair. She asked Dan about Tracy’s symptoms.
“Is she running a temp?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t bring a thermometer, but she feels warm to me.”
“If you think it’s safe, take her to Dr. Finch’s clinic for a throat culture. It’s on Stowe Street. I’ll call and let him know you’re coming.”
“No, Doc,” Marco said. “The less people who know our plans the better. You sure you can’t come here and treat her?”
“Pediatrics isn’t my field, but I would if I wasn’t on my way to the hospital to prep for surgery. It’s going to be a long procedure and I’d feel more comfortable if Tracy had that swab sooner rather than later.”
“All right,” Marco said. “We’ll make that happen today. Hope that surgery goes well.”
“It will,” Dan said. “I’m the best cardiac surgeon in the world, Angela tells me.”
She laughed. “He’s awesome with a needle and thread. He mended a loose hem for me this morning.”
Dan wriggled his fingers. “Hearts, hems. I’m thinking of taking up knitting next.”
“Real manly, Doc,” Brent said.
“This from a guy who sews his own Coast Guard gear.”
“Don’t think I’d trust it to anyone else, do you?” Brent said.
Candace laughed as they signed off. She marveled at how Brent and Dan had enriched the lives of the Gallagher women. Brent with his goofy sense of humor, and Dan, brilliant and alternately self-deprecating and cocky. And Marco, though he was not her partner, brought his own steady faith, dry wit and tough-guy persona to the clan.
But there should be another at the family table. Rick should be there with his arm around Candace, participating in the good-natured ribbing and tending to his sick little girl. Instead there was a vacant chair, an empty spot in her heart an
d Tracy’s. A dull ache throbbed inside her, but it was not the same kind of pain that had accompanied her after his death and the loss of their baby. That was an excruciating, fiery anguish that seared through her every nerve. Now, almost six years after his death, the pain had morphed into a hollow, cold discomfort, which scared her deep down. Was Rick slipping into distant memory as the days and years ticked by?
Was Candace forgetting her husband and soul mate? She found her jaw was clenched, and she breathed out slowly. No, she would not let it happen.
I’ll always keep that spot at the table for you, Rick, she thought as she got up. I’ll never let anyone else fill it. She left the men to their planning and took her mug and plate to the sink to wash them.
She felt Marco’s presence as she put the dishware away, but didn’t look at him.
“You okay?” he asked, after a momentary hesitation.
“Sure.”
“You looked kind of... I don’t know. Pensive.”
She turned to face him then. “Marco, did you ever...” She trailed off. She should not be asking Marco, not about this.
“It’s okay. You can ask, whatever it is.”
She tried to funnel her cascade of feelings into one essential question. “After the divorce—after Gwen, um, moved on to other relationships—did you ever worry that she would forget you?”
His eyes crinkled at the edges, and she wondered why she had asked. It was an unhealed cut, and she’d probed it with the question.
“Actually, I guess I worried more that she wouldn’t.”
“What do you mean?”
His long silence made her think he might have changed his mind about answering, but then he rested his hands on his waist and exhaled. “I wished Gwen would forget all the times I let her down.”
“She was a drug addict, Marco. She let you down.”
He seemed lost in thought as he stared out the kitchen window into the falling rain. “Gwen’s mom died when she was a teen. Her dad raised her, worked two jobs and never really had time for her. Gwen was shy, desperate for him to love her, but he just couldn’t, not the in the way she needed, and she didn’t know how to ask him.” Marco’s mouth twisted. “I don’t think she knew how to ask me, either. She took what I gave her, but it wasn’t enough.”
Candace listened, unwilling to interrupt. It was more than he had ever said about Gwen.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about it lately, and it would be easy to say she was a drug addict and she ruined our marriage and her life. But the fact is I was selfish. I joined the navy right out of high school because I wanted to, and Gwen went along with it. I knew she was unhappy, lonely in our military housing. She never was the type to make friends easily. She wanted to fit in, but she didn’t click with the other wives. They were polite and everything, but she didn’t fit into their social circles and it left her lonely. I knew all that, but I signed up for SEAL training, anyway. I told myself she’d be all right, that the rehab time would stick and all my love and support had been enough to strengthen her. I think I knew, deep down, that she might not be able to stay clean, but what I wanted, to be a navy SEAL, was more important than what she needed.”
The sadness in his voice cut Candace to the core. “Marco, you’re too hard on yourself.”
His eyes shone with repressed grief. “Just telling the truth.”
“Service isn’t selfishness. You made the best choice you could at the time.”
A small smile, mournful and so humble it broke her heart, crimped his mouth.
“Candace, I was busy being the hero of my own life when she needed me to be the hero in hers.”
She reached out and placed a hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat there underneath the wall of muscle. She wanted to take the hurt, to draw it out of him and set him free from the poison. “You can’t—”
He took her hand gently, held it to his lips and kissed her wrist. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I can, because that’s what happened. I’ve asked God for forgiveness and I believe He has granted it to me, but the problem is...”
His eyes locked on hers.
“I never asked Gwen to forgive me.” He shook his head. “I never asked her and now she’s gone.”
Candace held his hand and they listened to the rain coursing off the roof and down the walls. The irony was inescapable. They were two people grappling with the past. She didn’t want to let go of her lost love, and Marco was chained to what he saw as his own betrayal of Gwen. “What a mess we make of things, don’t we?” she whispered.
He nodded. “Guess that’s why we need a Savior.”
A sweet thought circled in her heart. What would it be like if she and Marco could let go of the pain together? God offered hope and a future, didn’t He? The freedom from fear and the balm of forgiveness? The idea thrilled her. But stepping forward with Marco would mean turning her back on Rick and on her vows to love and be faithful to him forever.
Marco and Rick. Two good men, but to one she’d given a forever promise not just for herself, but for her daughter.
She let go of his hand. “Tell me how we’re going to get my baby to the doctor.”
* * *
Marco and Dev mapped out the route to the clinic. It would be better if Donna took Tracy, and Candace stayed in the safe house, but Marco didn’t waste any breath suggesting that one. He’d done quite enough talking for one morning. Too much sharing with a woman who seemed to draw the truth out of him like honey from a hive. How she did it he did not know, but he resolved to keep his mouth shut and his eyes open. Try a dose of self-control, why don’t you?
The route was simple, very public, and the clinic itself was a squat three-story building set in the middle block of a quiet street.
Brent and Donna drove them in Donna’s van.
Dev leaned down into the open driver’s window. “Driving a minivan, Coastie? This is bad for your macho reputation.”
Brent feigned irritation. “I’ll have you know my wife is a veterinarian, and this van has transported everything including a litter of pigs.”
Dev raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t up the cool factor.”
“Some of us don’t need motorcycles to be cool.”
Dev headed for his bike, laughing as he went.
Marco rode shotgun and Tracy, Donna and Candace squeezed in the back. Tracy was still in her pajamas, bundled in a blanket, with duck slippers on her feet.
“Ready?” Marco asked.
“Ready,” Tracy croaked. “But do I hafta go to the doctor?”
“Yes,” Marco, Candace, Donna and Brent all said at once.
“Can I have ice cream after?”
“No,” the same four voices replied.
“But I’ll play you a game of checkers when you’re feeling better,” Brent said. “And I’m going to win this time.”
It’s about time we get a win for this family, Marco thought, as he checked one more time out the side-view mirrors before Brent pulled out onto the road.
THIRTEEN
Dev took off first to scout and check out the clinic. Brent took it slow to give him a head start. Since Dev had a lead foot on the gas, Marco figured their leisurely pace would be adequate. For his part, he saw no signs of anything unusual.
Candace asked at the front desk if Dr. Finch was available and the nurse slotted them into a third-floor room to wait. Marco leaned against a wall inside the exam room while Candace helped Tracy up onto the paper-covered table. Nurses, orderlies and an occasional patient roamed the hallways.
Dr. Finch was a short, stocky man who greeted Marco with a firm handshake. “Tracy’s father?”
“Honorary uncle.”
Dr. Finch chatted with Candace and Tracy, and did a throat culture, which made Tracy gag. Marco gave her a thumbs-up when she’d managed
to make it through.
Her rueful smile amused him. He’d seen the same look on her mother’s face more times than he could count.
“I’ll call you in the next twelve hours with the results.” Dr. Finch looked at his chart. “What is your cell phone number?”
“You can call Dan,” Marco interjected. “He’ll relay the message.”
Dr. Finch’s brow crimped ever so slightly, but he nodded. “Okay. Not the usual, but I have the utmost respect for Dan. He tells me you had a question about a former patient of mine. Shall we step outside and chat about that?”
Candace kissed Tracy, who was engrossed in the animal magazine the nurse had given her to peruse. “Be right back.”
In the hallway, Candace thanked him for chatting with them about Yolanda Tooley. “As I explained, I’m testifying in her son’s murder trial and we’re trying to piece together some facts about his mother’s life.”
Dr. Finch balled his hands in his pockets and jingled whatever metallic things he had in there before cocking his head. “It took me a while to decide whether or not I should talk to you. Patient privacy is something I don’t take lightly, but since Yolanda Tooley is deceased, I believe it is okay to discuss some generalities of the case with you.”
“Thank you,” Marco said.
Candace nodded her thanks, as well. “I’d welcome any information you can give me about her.”
He looked up at the ceiling for a moment. “If my memory serves, she was found in the street, the victim of a hit-and-run. I treated her in the emergency room for extensive internal bleeding, as well as a spinal fracture and a brain hemorrhage. As you know, she did not survive.”
Dr. Finch’s mouth pinched. Marco felt a kinship with the man in that moment. His was the look of someone who had done all he could, exercised every bit of training and skill he possessed, and lost anyway. Angela had told him that Dr. Dan kept a notebook with names of those he had not been able to save. Marco had one also, locked away deep down inside his mind, a comprehensive list of the brothers he’d lost in battle. Gwen was written in tears there, as well. He suspected Dr. Finch had his own list, too.