"Of course I do."
"Then why are you moving away?"
It occurred to her that she hadn't given this talk they were having enough thought. Not near enough…
"Why are you moving away, Ronni?"
For some reason, any answer she might have uttered would have felt like a lie.
She didn't want to lie.
"I … I think it's the best thing."
It was no answer. And Drew knew it. "But why?"
"Oh, Drew. It's not going to mean anything, not to you and me and our project. It's just that I have my house and it's ready and now I'm going to move there for a while."
"You're coming back, then?"
"I … yes. I am."
"When?"
"I don't know exactly. Soon."
His chair had a swivel base. He toed the floor, turning it—and himself—away from her.
Her stomach seemed to hollow out. There was no fear she might throw up now. Only an emptiness. And the beginnings of understanding.
Maybe Ryan was right about this. "Drew … please…"
He remained facing the far wall. "You promised," he said quietly. "You made a solemn vow, never to hurt anyone. But you're doing it, anyway. You're hurting us. You're leaving us. Just like my mother, you're leaving." He stubbed his toe against the floor mat, then whispered so low she had to lean forward to hear it. "I hate you."
The three words cut deep, clear down to her soul. "Oh, Drew, I—"
But he didn't let her finish. "I don't think I want to talk about this anymore, Ronni. I want you to go."
"Drew…"
But he only sat there, not moving, not looking her way.
After a minute, she stood. "I'll … be here. Tomorrow at two-thirty. To pick you up."
He said nothing. He still didn't turn.
So she went to the door, pausing there briefly, trying to think of one final, positive thing to say. Nothing came to her.
She left him, closing the door very quietly behind her.
In the kitchen, she found Lily peeling potatoes at the sink.
One glance at her face—and Lily knew. "Andrew didn't take it well."
"No, he didn't."
"He'll be all right." Lily manufactured another of her taut little smiles. "Don't you worry about him. Once he gets used to the idea, he'll be just fine. And good luck in your new home."
Ronni hated herself right then. And what she felt for Lily wasn't much better. She said bleakly, "I'll pick him up tomorrow as planned."
"That will be fine."
In the guest house, a last stack of boxes waited by the front door. She'd packed the rest up the day before and taken it over to the condo. Tomorrow, she'd put these last few things in her car, along with the suitcase and overnight bag that waited in the bedroom. And that would be that.
Except now, she didn't want to do it.
Now she was thinking that when Ryan came that night, she'd admit that she'd made a giant-sized error in judgment. She still believed that, eventually, this ploy might help to turn Lily around.
But at what cost? She and Ryan were hardly speaking.
And Drew. Lord, she should have given more thought to how Drew would take this.
As a betrayal. A desertion.
He had reached out to her—from that very first night, when she'd wakened to find him standing by her bed. He had reached out. And she had reached back. Together, they had been building something important. A bond. A trust.
And then, in the course of one conversation, she had shattered that trust.
"Bad move, Dr. Ronni," she muttered to herself. "Very bad move…"
Ryan arrived at a little after ten. Relief flooded through her, warm and sweet. Until she saw his tall, broad-shouldered form on the other side of the French doors, she hadn't admitted to herself that she feared he might not come.
She jumped from the bed, where she'd been curled up with a book she couldn't concentrate on at all. And she ran to him.
He caught her in his arms and kissed her. She kissed him back fervently, then put her hands on his shoulders and looked into his eyes. "I … I've been waiting for you to come, so afraid you wouldn't come…"
His eyes looked strange. A little sad. Way too knowing. "I'm here. This is your last night, right? Tomorrow, you're gone."
"Just to the condo."
"Right."
"Ryan. Please don't be like this. I … I have been thinking. I told Lily and the children today, about the move."
"Lily mentioned that. She was extremely … solicitous. I think she believes you've broken my heart—and also that I'll get over it."
She didn't want to hear anything about a broken heart. She asked urgently, "How's Drew?"
"Fine. A little withdrawn. Why?"
"He was very hurt when I told him."
"That doesn't surprise me. He thinks the world of you. He's even told me I should marry you."
"Yes, I … he's said as much to me."
"So why are you surprised that he's hurt at your leaving?"
"I'm not surprised. I'm just … maybe I didn't give how he'd feel enough thought."
Ryan spoke flatly. "It seems pretty obvious to me that, for him, no matter what you say, your leaving isn't going to seem temporary. His mother 'left' him, remember? And she didn't come back."
She dropped her hands from his shoulders and stepped back. "Look. All right. I was wrong. This was a bad idea. A really bad idea."
"You think so?"
She glared at him. "Yes. I think so. And I've changed my mind. I'm not going to do it."
He looked at her for what seemed like a century.
Then he said, "Because I'm angry. And because Drew is hurt."
"Yes. Yes, exactly. Isn't that reason enough?"
Another lifetime of a pause. Then he shook his head. "No. It's not."
She could not believe he had said that. She challenged tightly, "Well, then. What is enough?"
"That's a good question. And I'm betting you'll come up with the answer. For yourself. In your own time."
"Ryan. What are you saying?"
"That I don't think Lily's the only one who needs a little space here. I think you need it, too."
"No, I—"
"Would you mind letting me finish?"
She wanted to shout at him. But she didn't. She kept her mouth shut.
He said, "I've given this a lot of thought the past few days. And I've come to the conclusion that this move of yours is the best way to go, after all."
* * *
Chapter Fifteen
« ^ »
Ronni tried to argue with him, to make him see that she really had changed her mind.
But Ryan would not be swayed. He left within a half an hour of his arrival, still firm in his decision that he wanted her to leave.
She longed to ask him to please come to the condo tomorrow night.
But she didn't. She was too afraid of what his answer might be.
The next morning, not seeing any other option, she put her things in the car and locked up the little house. At the condo, it didn't take long at all to put everything away.
The place really did look good. All her choices, from the Dover white ceilings to the mauve floor tile, to the oatmeal-colored Berber, went well together. The rooms gave an impression of comfort and light.
She was pleased with it.
Too bad it felt so empty.
When she went to pick up Drew, she dropped off the keys to the guest house. Lily took them with a nod and an aloof "Thank you."
Ronni had been worried all day that Drew would refuse to go with her.
But he came down the stairs when Lily called him and marched out the front door to get in the car. He hardly said two words on the trip to the supermarket. When they got there, he ignored her completely and concentrated on catching every last shopper who went through the doors.
He raised seventy-two dollars and sixty-eight cents.
On the way home, Ronni tried to talk to hi
m, about how well he was doing raising money for the wing, about how much she admired all the hard work he was putting in. He looked out his window and didn't reply.
Finally, she burst out with "Drew. It's all going to work out all right. Please believe me."
He only went on looking out his window, as if the sight of bare hawthorn trees and frame houses fascinated him.
When she pulled into his driveway, he got out and ran up the front walk without looking back.
She watched him open the door and disappear inside, and then, for several minutes, she sat there with the car idling, debating the idea of going in after him, of making another effort to bridge the gap of hurt and misunderstanding that yawned between them. She could see the other children, too. She could help Griff with his latest Duplo creation, and she and Lizzy could—
But no. It just seemed too false. Not to mention dishonest, to move out and then knock on the door that same day, wanting to play with the little ones as if nothing had changed—hoping to force Drew to forgive her and see things her way.
How could he see things her way?
By then, she couldn't even see things her way. What was to see, but the truth? She had moved out. And that made a much clearer statement than any of her protestations and promises of future reconciliation could ever do.
She drove back to the condo, where she put the fund-raising gear away and then actually found herself wishing for the irritating bleat of her beeper. For a worried parent calling, needing Dr. Ronni's sage advice. For anything to block out the memory of Drew turning away from her, whispering I hate you, and the sound of Ryan's voice, flat and final, announcing, I've come to the conclusion that this move of yours is the best decision, after all.
There was a knock on the door at a little after seven.
Ronni's heart went racing. "Ryan!" she cried aloud as she hurried to answer. She flung the door open. "Oh, I'm so glad you…"
It was Kelly Hall. The other doctor shrugged. "I know, you were expecting someone more interesting."
Ronni backpedaled. "No. No, that's not true. How are you?"
"Fine. I heard a rumor you were moving this weekend."
"A rumor?"
"Yes. From Marty Heber. I ran into him at Children's Hospital yesterday." She held out a brightly wrapped box. "I come bearing a housewarming gift."
"Come on in." Ronni accepted the box. "I'll give you the tour."
She led her friend through the rooms. Kelly made admiring noises. "I love this wallpaper. Geometric was definitely the way to go. And the wood blinds are just right."
Once the tour was through, they settled in the living room. Ronni opened Kelly's gift—a cobalt blue pottery jar.
"Oh, Kel. I love it."
"Thrown by a local potter. And now that I've seen your bathtub, I know it was the right choice—though I have to admit, I considered wrapping up a home pregnancy test kit instead. You know how I am."
Carefully, Ronni set the jar on the coffee table. "I already bought a test. Last week."
"And?"
"It was positive."
Kelly did not look surprised. "Have you … made any decisions?"
"Yes. I'm going to have this baby. And marry Ryan."
"Then may I ask you something?"
Ronni knew the question without having to hear it. Still, she muttered, "Go ahead."
"Weren't you staying at Ryan Malone's guest house?"
"Yes, I was."
"Then if you're marrying him, why even bother to move in here?"
"It's a very long story. And not a particularly pleasant one."
"I don't mind hearing it—if you want to tell it."
"Thanks. Not right now. But maybe later. If you're still available and willing to listen."
"I'm a doctor. I'm always available."
"Kel, you are a pal."
Kelly let out a long breath. "I'd suggest we get drunk, but alcohol is contraindicated in situations like yours."
"Darn."
"Call my office. Soon, okay? We need to give you a more complete physical, run the usual battery of tests and—"
"I know, I know. And I will."
Once Kelly left at a little after nine, Ronni waited, still hoping against hope that Ryan might appear.
He didn't. She went to bed at eleven-fifteen and spent a restless night, waking every time she heard a sound, hoping it might be Ryan at the door.
It never was.
Ronni spent the next three days focusing fiercely on her work, giving the best care she could to other people's children, really listening to the common mom-and-dad worries she heard every day. Soothing fears. Giving advice. Wishing she could work round the clock and never have to go back to the condo, where everything was just as she'd imagined it might be in all her years without a home. Beautiful and quiet, a haven after a hard day at work. A place all her own, her dream-come-true—except for the emptiness that echoed through the rooms.
Except for the memories that found her there.
Memories of Ryan…
Coming in the French doors of the guest house. Holding out his arms. Touching all of her so tenderly, sleeping for a few too-brief hours at her side.
And of Drew…
Announcing that first night, "My name is Drew. My dad and my grandma still call me Andrew. I keep telling them I'm Drew now, but they keep forgetting."
Then later, on their drives home from Superserve Mart, the way he'd chatter so happily about how much money they'd raised.
And later still, turning away from her, muttering, "I hate you…"
And of Lizzy, with her Bead Blast Barbie. And Griff, making an exclamation out of everything he said.
She even missed Lily. Missed the smell of her meat loaf and the sight of her hands zipping up a small child's jacket. Missed her little speeches about Patricia, missed the sadness in her eyes—and the real goodness within her that she fought so hard to keep from showing to Ronni, the interloper in their lives.
Oh, she did know that she couldn't let this go on.
That she was going to have to go to Ryan, to reason with him, to argue with him, to shout at him—to get down on the floor and crawl to him if she had to, to make him see that she knew what a huge mistake she'd made. To make him understand that she'd had enough of the space he'd said she needed.
But then, somehow, she could never quite bring herself to pick up the phone. Somehow, just when she'd make up her mind to confront him, she'd start to wonder if, maybe, some part of him was angry at her for more than her desertion.
If maybe, he resented the coming baby just a little. If the last thing he'd wanted was another child.
She'd remember that afternoon at Pizza Pete's, when she'd seen Ryan and his brother, their dark heads together, talking so seriously, probably about her.
She'd think of all her childhood years, on the periphery of other people's lives, hoping so desperately for someone to love her. To think of her as unique and bright and wonderful, to want her to be with them.
And she'd ask herself, have I re-created my own childhood in this? Am I more Veronica than Ronni, after all?
Have I put myself in an impossible relationship, and then gotten myself pregnant, to drive the man I love away? Do I only know how to be the unwanted one, and will I end up teaching my child to be just like me?
Those grim thoughts took hold of her. And they wouldn't let go. Wouldn't let her act to clear up the confusion that made every night a restless one.
Thursday morning, it was raining. A hard, heavy rain. Ronni had the wipers on high all the way to the office. She and Marty Heber pulled into their neighboring spaces at the same time.
He waved to her as they both got out of their cars and ran for the shelter of the building. He reached the office door first, opened it and ushered her into the still-empty waiting room.
"I predict that this downpour will go on all day," he said as he shut the door behind them and smiled at Kara, their receptionist, who was already busy in the record-lined space beh
ind the sliding glass window.
"I just love the Northwest." Ronni wrinkled up her nose.
Marty started undoing the buttons of his coat as they headed for the door that led to the exam rooms. "Looks like the Malone boy is going to be fine."
Ronni froze where she was. "Which Malone boy?"
He shot her a surprised glance—and then shrugged. "Sorry. I assumed you knew. The older one, Andrew. Appendectomy. Yesterday, in the late afternoon."
Ronni's mouth had gone dry as a cotton swab. "Perforated?"
"No. We caught it in time. Zero contamination of the abdominal cavity. The operation went well. Complications are unlikely. He'll be back home tomorrow or the next day."
"He's at Children's Hospital?"
Marty nodded.
She put her hand on his wet coat sleeve. "Marty, I…"
He tipped his head toward the outside door, the overhead lights gleaming off the lenses of his wire-rimmed glasses. "Go on. Randy and I can cover for you."
She probably should have said, "You're sure?" But she wasn't going to take the chance he'd say no. She turned and flew back out the door into the driving rain.
They'd put Drew in a single room in the east wing. Ronni poked her head in, not sure what she'd find. Perhaps Ryan, looking at her with distant eyes. Or Lily, ready with a cold and off-putting smile.
But Drew was alone.
And awake. He spotted her.
"Ronni." Those blue eyes filled. "Ronni, you came…"
She ran to him, forgetting all about how reserved he was, how he never seemed to like physical displays of affection. She bent down and pressed her cheek against his. He lifted his hand and touched her hair. His skin felt warm, but not fevered at all.
With some relief, she reached behind her, grabbed the chair there and dragged it forward so she could perch on the edge of it. Then she caught his hand, the one without the heplock taped to the back.
Tears were running from the sides of his eyes. She grabbed a tissue from the bed tray—two tissues, because she was crying, too. "Here." She pressed one of the tissues into the hand she was holding and used the other to wipe at her own eyes.
He didn't use his tissue. He just lay there, looking a little too pale, crying silently.
A DOCTOR'S VOW Page 17