by Patt Marr
“It must have been my yellow sneakers. They draw men like flies.” She caught a glimpse of herself in a store window. Her yellow sneakers, blue scrubs and navy hoody sweatshirt with the New York Yankees logo made quite the fashion statement.
Her new hair cut was cool, though. The uneven blond length was more of a frame for her face than a style. The stylist had said he only gave this cut to pretty women with fine features, but he’d also said she should have permanent, tattooed eyeliner and lipstick. That wouldn’t be happening. She just wasn’t that trendy.
“Have you heard from the rest of the family?”
“Not yet. Grandpa will call. Dad might, but I don’t expect to hear from Mom.”
“It’s not just you, Beth. Since she moved in with Aunt Jackie, she’s shut herself off from the rest of the family,” he said comfortingly.
“I ask myself, how could the things that happened on one day tear Mom apart from her family so drastically?”
Ry cleared his throat. “You’re not going to like this, but I ask myself that every time I place a call to you a continent away.”
That stung. “I talk to Grandpa. He calls, I call him.” She’d gotten over her hurt feelings long ago.
“What do you tell Grandpa about coming back and working at the clinic?”
“That I’m still looking for a new dream.”
“What’s wrong with the old one?” he said, reproof in his voice.
Reproof? From the family rebel? “Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black? You don’t plan to work at the clinic when you get your M.D.”
“Right, but I never wanted to. You always did.”
“Give me that phone.” That was Meg’s voice in the background. “You don’t nag a person on her birthday.”
Beth grinned. Her favorite brother and her lifelong best friend made a great pair.
“Beth, don’t mind him,” Meg said, just as sassy as ever. “I wish you were here so we could celebrate your birthday at the beach, like we used to do.”
They ended the call as Beth neared the clinic. A chilly breeze blew through her hair, and she thought about home. It would be summer-hot there and very dry. The leaves wouldn’t change color until close to Thanksgiving, and, if it had been a very dry year, they would just go brown. Here, the trees were a glorious riot of red, orange and gold.
She’d learned to love the changing seasons. Each one made her more aware of her Creator. She’d been a brand-new Christian when she’d arrived a year ago last spring, but she’d studied the Word and knew Him much better now. He’d become her friend, someone she could talk to any time, any place—even now on the streets of New York.
Father God, it’s my birthday. You’ve given me the best presents anyone could have—a relationship with You, satisfying work, good health, friends—everything, actually, but a man of my own…and a baby!
I’m ready for them, Lord—the man and the baby! I’m more than ready. I won’t say I’m desperate, because no self-respecting woman admits that, but I can’t fool You. You know my heart.
Beth’s last patient of the day was a tough eleven-year-old kid with a long gash on his arm. She sutured the wound while the boy’s mother paced the small examining room and complained that he was nothing but a gangbanger, just like his brother.
The woman reminded Beth of her own mother—far less cultured, but just as hateful. In moments like these, it was hard to remember that a Christian prayed first and reacted second. The instinct to stand up for this boy was strong, but God could do more for him than she ever could.
Father, you know the need. Help this child and his family. Please silence this woman’s words. If you want help from me, I’m your willing servant.
The boy threw his mom a cocky smile. It might have been sheer bravado, but his mother threw up her hands and stormed out of the room.
Wow! If that was an answer to prayer, it came with the speed of light.
“So, tell me, Stevie, how did you get this cut?” Beth said, praying again, this time for words that might make a difference in the boy’s life.
“Me and my brother was practicing fighting.”
“With real knives? Isn’t that kind of dangerous?”
“My brother says you gotta keep it real if you’re gonna be ready when somebody comes at you with the real thing.”
What a philosophy! She would make sure he saw the staff social worker before he got out of here. Not only was it her duty to report a wound like this, somebody should think of this kid’s safety.
“Am I gonna have a scar?” He sounded hopeful.
“Not unless you want one. I’m good at this.” She hadn’t been much older than Stevie when her grandfather had begun teaching her suturing techniques.
“Scars are kind of cool,” the boy said, watching her work. “You’re kind of cool, too, even if you smell like baby puke.”
“You don’t like my perfume?”
He grinned at her little joke.
“I was about to change into fresh scrubs when you came in here, bleeding all over the place.”
“Is that my blood on your shoes?”
“Probably.”
“How come you wear yellow shoes?”
“They make me happy.”
“Aren’t you mad that I got blood on ’em? It made my mom real mad when I got blood on her towel.”
She smiled, hoping he would see the love of Jesus in her eyes. That’s what she was here for. “Do I look mad?”
He smiled back. “No, you look pretty. I think I could go for you.”
Maybe she’d overdone the smile.
“I dig blond chicks, even if you are kind of old.”
Stevie needed a little work on his pickup lines.
“You’ve got pretty eyes.”
That was better.
“I never seen anybody with that eye color. They’re kind of gold or brown or somethin’. And you got long eyelashes. Are you seeing anybody?”
Kids hated when they were treated like kids. If she could hang in here and talk to him as if he were an adult, there might be an opening to talk about Jesus. “I’m still single, Stevie. How about you?”
“I’m not with anybody either. You wanna go out some time, Doc?”
There it was. “I might if we went to church. You wanna take me to church?”
“Nah. I mean, like on a real date, like a movie.”
“Sorry, but I can’t go on real dates with my patients.”
“Oh, sure. I understand.”
“But the invitation to church still holds.” She described the store-front church near the clinic and their cool program for kids.
“I might try it some time,” Stevie said, maybe to please. “You know, you’re a really good doctor. The best I’ve ever seen.”
One of the male volunteers popped his head in. “Doctor, we’re having your surprise birthday party in the lounge now. Can I finish up with this patient, and can you go act surprised?”
She glanced at Stevie, caught his quick look of disappointment and said, “Would you mind bringing a couple of pieces of cake in here?”
“No problem.”
“Stevie, I want you to talk to our social worker for a few minutes, and then we’ll have cake together. Okay?”
“No way! I ain’t seeing no social worker.” Stevie scooted off the table, fast as a wink. She grabbed for him as he bolted for the door, but he was gone.
It was the end of the day before Beth made it to the staff lounge to sit down. She didn’t mind that she was alone or that cake crumbs were all that was left of her party. It was good to have a quiet spot to check her voice mail before heading home.
She plopped down on the secondhand sofa, put her feet on the rickety coffee table and found the message she’d hoped for. Grandpa had called.
She called him back, and he answered quickly, as if he’d been waiting. “Happy birthday, darling.”
“Thank you, Grandpa. What are you doing this fine autumn day?”
“Looking at fli
ght schedules. If you’re not ever going to come home, I’m coming to see you.”
Beth’s heart skipped a beat. She would love that.
“I thought I’d like to see the fall colors along the Hudson River. I haven’t been to New York in decades.”
She couldn’t believe it. “This is great, Grandpa! We’ll have to see the sights and do all the tourist things.”
“Maybe not all,” he said chuckling. “I’m not much of a walker anymore.”
Despite the age-related quaver in his voice, he sounded so vital and strong that she forgot his body wasn’t.
“I miss you, Beth. I’ll never forgive myself for the decision that made you go so far away.”
They had talked this to death, but once again she said, “If you were wrong, I was just as wrong to get offended. I’ve been at such peace here, that it must have been the right thing. Maybe I wasn’t ready to work at BMC; maybe I needed this time away to learn what makes me happy. For sure, I tried too hard to please Mom, Dad, you, the whole family.”
“Trying to please is part of life, but it can’t be your life. Now that you know what makes you happy, can you be happy back here?”
“At the clinic?”
“You don’t have to work at BMC. There are free clinics in the L.A. area if that’s your passion or if it’s too much for you to work with the family.”
Too much for her? Running a peds office at Brennan Medical would be a piece of cake compared to her work at a free clinic.
“What would it take to get you back, Beth?”
If she hadn’t found a new dream in all this time, was it God’s plan for her to go back? Could she work there?
“You belong here, darling.”
She didn’t believe that anymore. How could she convince him? “Grandpa, you’ve brought together some of the brightest, most experienced doctors in L.A. They’ve earned the right to practice in an exclusive group, and they value BMC’s prestigious address. My chief credential is that I’m your granddaughter, and I could care less that our patients are rich or famous. I don’t belong there!”
“You’re the future, Beth. Of course you belong.”
“I would only be a disappointment to you, or, worse, an embarrassment.”
“Never!”
“Not even if I wore a frog on my head?”
A loud guffaw had her pulling the phone from her ear. “I believe that’s my traditional New Year’s Eve hat.”
It was. “But I wear funny hats in the office any time I want to, not just like the family does on New Year’s Eve. I collect yellow sneakers in different styles and wear a pair every day. I’m rather eccentric, Grandpa, and I love it. In New York, nobody notices, but, if gossip about the family was an issue for you a year and a half ago, think what it would be like if I were there now.”
There was such silence that Beth thought they’d lost their phone connection.
“Grandpa…?”
“I’m here. I’m thinking.”
Maybe she’d finally made her point. Shouldn’t that make her feel better than she did? She hated arguing with Grandpa.
“Beth, the last time we talked, I said I’d like to fly you home, first class, and I would have a brand-new car waiting for you. Do you remember what you said?”
“I said if material things mattered, I wouldn’t be working as a volunteer at a free clinic.” She felt almost as insulted now, repeating the words, as she had, saying them the first time. She was above taking a bribe.
“Well, what if I said the car that would be waiting for you could be one of those new VW convertibles?”
“A Beetle?” She loved those fun little cars.
“It could be yellow to match your shoes. Imagine it, Beth. Your yellow VW parked in the physicians’ lot, surrounded by every luxury car on the market. It would stand out like a dandelion in an arrangement of roses and announce to the world that the clinic’s new pediatrician was a person who thought for herself and knew what she wanted. What do you think?”
She thought she needed a tissue. Tears trickled down her cheeks. She had just one thing left to say.
“I’m coming home, Grandpa.”
Noah McKnight admired his daughter’s drawing of Brennan Medical Clinic one last time before taking it to work. At the top was her trademark rainbow and Welcome Dr. Brennan, printed in crayon. For a second-grader who’d just turned seven, Kendi had produced a masterpiece, or at least he thought so.
“Daddy, do you think Dr. Brennan will like my welcome sign?”
“Like it? Kendi, she’ll love it!” He lifted her high and kissed her forehead, loving the feel of her long blond hair swishing against his face.
He lowered her to the counter stool so she could supervise. Carefully, he rolled her drawing into a cylinder, making sure it would travel unwrinkled. If he didn’t do the job right, she would tell him about it.
She sat on her knees, leaning over the counter, keeping a watchful eye. Her beautiful hair swung down, covering part of her face.
“You did a nice job of brushing your hair,” he said. A compliment might soften his daughter’s strong will.
“I know,” she said, matter-of-factly. She took being beautiful for granted, just as she took being tall for her age and right-handed.
“How about wearing one of those new barrettes?”
“No,” she said, shaking that blond mane.
“They’re yellow.”
“I love yellow!” she said with a sunny smile.
Like he didn’t know that? “I could French braid your hair.” He was getting better at it.
But she just shook her head, closing the discussion as only she could. Kendi never sassed or was hateful, but she had decided opinions on how most things should be, and there wasn’t a wishy-washy bone in her body. If her mother had been that strong, they might still be a family of three.
“Do you think Dr. Brennan will like the rainbow?”
“She’ll love the rainbow.”
“How do you know that, Daddy?”
“Dr. Brennan is a pediatrician, just like your pediatrician, Dr. Marsha. You know how much Dr. Marsha likes the things you make for her.”
“Yep, she does. And Dr. Crabtree liked his goodbye picture.”
“Yep,” he agreed, though he wasn’t that sure. In the two years Noah had worked as Keith Crabtree’s office nurse, the man had rarely shown enthusiasm or genuine interest in others. It was his reputation for thoroughness, not his personality, that kept his patient roster full.
“Is Dr. Brennan pretty, Daddy?”
“Does that matter?”
“Nope, but is she?”
“I only met her once, and it was a long time ago.” A year and a half was a long time, measured by Kendi’s standards. They’d buried her mother six months before that.
He remembered Beth Brennan better than he admitted, though. When she was introduced as Dr. Crabtree’s replacement, she’d been radiant, happy and so attractive that he’d wondered what it was going to be like working in the close quarters of their office.
Later, when he’d walked with her to her grandfather’s office, and, later still, to her car, he hadn’t been thinking how she looked, just how she must feel. Ragged emotion showed on her face, and he’d wished he could help.
“Does Dr. Brennan like little girls?”
“Sure. And little boys, too.”
“Is Dr. Brennan married?”
“I don’t know.” She hadn’t been when she’d first planned to take Crabtree’s place, but she could be now.
“Well, if she’s not, maybe Dr. Brennan could be your girlfriend.”
Whoa! Where did that come from? He hadn’t had a girlfriend since he’d met Kendi’s mother, and he didn’t want one now. “No, Kendra, Dr. Brennan can’t be my girlfriend.”
“You called me Kendra.”
“That’s your name.”
“Yeah, but you never call me Kendra unless you’re kind of mad at me.”
Did he really do that? “But I l
ove your name. Mommy gave it to you.”
“Why can’t Dr. Brennan be your girlfriend?”
“Because she’s my boss.”
“Why can’t she be your girlfriend and your boss?”
“It’s not a good idea.”
“Why not?”
Okay, he was thirty; she was seven. He should be able to end a conversation. Before Merrilee died, he could have. As the only one left to love Kendi, it was difficult to be hard on her, even a little bit.
He leaned across the counter and tweaked her nose playfully. “Remember when Justin was your boyfriend?”
“Dad-dee! William is my boyfriend!”
“I know. Was Justin mad when you started liking William?”
Kendi giggled. “Yep. He wouldn’t talk to me for a whole day.”
“That’s the way it is with grown-ups, too. If Dr. Beth was my girlfriend, and I got a new girlfriend, she might get mad, and I would have to find a new job.”
“I like new jobs.”
“Yeah, well, you don’t always like new jobs when you’re a grown-up.”
“Why?” Her big blue-violet eyes were glued to his.
Usually, he tried to break things down so she could understand, but this lesson could wait. He knew just the thing to make those eyes glaze with indifference.
“Kendi, when you have to find a new job, you lose your seniority, your retirement benefits, the relationship you’ve developed with colleagues and the opportunity to continue working in an environment you initially chose. You have to begin the job search all over again—networking with former coworkers about openings, interviewing potential employers, assessing whether this work is a good fit for your skills and temperament. You might never find a position you like as well.”
“Daddy?”
“Yes, Kendra?”
“Can we have hot dogs for dinner?”
Chapter Two
Beverly Hills, California—October, one month later
There it was, the ultimate trophy: a parking space of her own. The flat piece of metal read Dr. E. Brennan, which meant the sign maker didn’t know she was Beth, not Elizabeth, but that didn’t matter—not when she’d spent a year and a half depending on the New York subway system, taxis and her own two feet to get around.