Trouble Don’t Last Always

by Francis Ray

Giving the best care couldn’t be rushed. He demanded nothing less from his staff or from himself. His patients had to know that when he was there with them, they had Jonathan’s undivided attention.

  The diplomas on the wall behind him attested that he had spent years studying to be the best. He worked long hours, but he didn’t mind. He had a lovely big house, beautifully furnished thanks to his ex-wife, but nothing and no one to share it with. Not even a goldfish.

  He had achieved professional success but was still working on his personal life. Unlike his mother, he thought the possibility of being loved was well worth the risk involved. His mother had stopped believing when he was nine and her world shattered.

  After all the years Jonathan could still vividly remember his mother begging his father to stay, desperately unpacking his clothes as quickly as he packed them. Finally he’d walked out of the four-bedroom brick house his mother had loved so well, and kept meticulously clean, with only the clothes on his back. He’d gotten inside his shiny new Cadillac Jonathan had never ridden in. Inside the car was a young black woman half his father’s age. Jonathan’s mother had screamed at the woman and called her a whore and a home wrecker.

  His father had retaliated by yelling back that Sophia gave him what a man needed. He’d gotten in the white Eldorado and driven off, taking with him Jonathan’s mother’s heart.

  Tears running down her cheeks, she had looked at Jonathan and told him things about his father’s affair that no child should have to hear. She promised to make his father sorry he had walked out on her. She had made good that promise, and Jonathan had paid right along with his father by growing up in a house without love, without warmth.

  The intercom buzzed and Jonathan immediately hit the speaker. “Yes?”

  “Kristen Wakefield on line two.”

  “Thanks.” Eagerly he reached for the phone. Yes, loving far outweighed the risks involved. “I was wondering when I’d hear from you.”

  “Your invitation should be waiting for you when you get home,” she said excitedly.

  “Mother and Adam received theirs this morning and called. I’ll have you know I’m graduating with honors and distinction.”

  Some of the happiness faded. Eleanor hadn’t called. Before now they had always shared Kristen’s triumphs and tribulations. “Doesn’t surprise me. I always knew you had it in you to succeed at whatever you went after.”

  “Passing the courses was easy. It’s life that throws you for a loop.”

  He picked up on the sudden tension in her voice. “What’s the matter?”

  “It’s Eric. I’ve been dating him off and on for a few months. You met him when you came up when Adam was in the hospital.”

  Jonathan remembered a thin, light-skinned, well-dressed young man with gray eyes who had watched and never smiled. “The political science major who transferred to Stanford this semester?”

  “That’s right. He’s graduating, too, and has a job with a very prestigious firm in New York. He wants me to go.”

  Jonathan’s eyes blazed. He jerked forward. “You aren’t talking about living together, are you?”

  She laughed. “No, Uncle Jon. Just finding a job there. There are some wonderful museums in New York. With my art history major and honors thesis being published, I stand a very good chance of being hired.”

  “New York can be an unfriendly city,” he told her.

  “I’ll be fine. Eric’s family is near. They live in the Hamptons.”

  The Hamptons meant money, but money, in Jonathan’s opinion, didn’t mean character. It did mean Eric wasn’t after Kristen’s money. He sighed. It was an undeniable fact that most men wanted intimacy before marriage, but those same men wanted their daughters to postpone intimacy until after marriage. They knew sex had nothing to do with love and commitment, just hormones.

  “I thought you were going to work at the art museum in New Orleans?” he said.

  “I was, but now I’m not sure. I could apply at the Museum of Modern Art in New York just as well. My adviser knows the director there and doesn’t think I’ll have a problem.” Her voice softened. “I really like Eric. He’s not like all the other men I’ve dated. He doesn’t grab or want to know what my family is into. He likes me for myself.”

  If all the man had to offer was restraint, although admirable, it wasn’t a basis for a long-term relationship. “Give yourself time, Kristen. You’re only twenty.”

  “But life’s not promised.” Her voice quieted. “I thought Daddy would be here forever.”

  Randolph’s death had hit Kristen the hardest. She had been Daddy’s little girl, and Randolph had doted on her. “He loved and he was loved. You can’t ask for much better.”

  “I have to go. Eric should be arriving shortly. A group of us are going sailing on his boat.”

  Kristen blocked all attempts to talk about her father’s death. Jonathan had mentioned the possibility of professional help to Eleanor, but she hadn’t wanted to pursue the matter. Jonathan had disagreed. You couldn’t heal and move on until you allowed the grieving process to run its course. So far Kristen hadn’t.

  “All right. I’ll see you at commencement.”

  “Eric is coming to a dinner Mother is having for me Saturday night before baccalaureate, so you’ll get to meet him.”

  Jonathan wasn’t sure he was invited, so all he said was, “Bye, Kristen, and be careful.”

  “Bye, Uncle Jon. I will.”

  Troubled, Jonathan hung up the phone. Kristen was looking for something, had been looking since the death of her father. He just hoped she didn’t look in the wrong place.

  “Dr. Delacroix, you have a phone call,” the receptionist’s cheerful voice announced over the exam room intercom.

  Jonathan paused in his exam of the extended abdomen of Mrs. Garza. This was her first pregnancy. She was five months and expecting twins. He tried not to let himself think of the young mother with twins he had lost, but it was difficult not to. He wouldn’t lose this time.

  “Dr. Delacroix?”

  “Take a message.”

  “It’s Mrs. Wakefield.”

  Jonathan’s splayed fingers paused and he glanced at his patient. Mrs. Garza’s brown eyes watched his every movement. His staff was trained to notify him immediately if any member of the Wakefield family called. However, if it were an emergency, Eleanor would have said so.

  He smiled at his patient in reassurance and spoke over his shoulder: “Please tell Mrs. Wakefield I’ll call back in five minutes.”

  To Mrs. Garza, he said, “You want to see if you can hear their heartbeats?” Her eyes widened and brightened. “Does a duck waddle?”

  Laughing, he pulled the fetal Doppler from his head, placed it over her head, then positioned the bell on her bulging abdomen. When tears glistened in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks, he knew he had made the right decision.

  He didn’t doubt that the death of his postpartum patient was discussed among his expectant mothers, and that doubts they had never thought of probably had begun to creep insidiously into their minds. They craved reassurance that they and their babies were doing well, would continue to do well. It was his responsibility to give it to them.

  Simply, Mrs. Garza had needed him more than Eleanor. A fact he was afraid would always be true.

  Six minutes later, Jonathan went to his office and punched in Eleanor’s number. He didn’t bother sitting. Their conversations lately, when they had them, were brief.

  “Hello.”

  “Hello, Eleanor. Sorry. I had a patient on the table,” Jonathan explained.

  “Is everything all right?” Eleanor asked.

  “So far. She’s expecting twins and this is her first pregnancy.”

  “Adam told me about the young patient you lost, Jonathan,” Eleanor said. “I hope you’re not second-guessing yourself.”

  He eased onto the corner of his desk. How well she knew him. “Not anymore. Kristen called.”

  “I knew she would. That’s why I’m
calling. I need to know if you want to fly back with us on the chartered plane Saturday or do you want to make your own plans?”

  He usually stayed with Eleanor when he went to San Francisco. He’d done so when Randolph was alive, and that had never changed. “I can make my own arrangements,” he said, his voice tight.

  “Jonathan, I’m aware you can make the arrangements. I asked if you want to go with us,” she replied crisply. “Lilly is going, too.”

  He relaxed a bit. “Adam’s idea, I bet.”

  “Yes, but I agree totally with the decision,” Eleanor said. “She’s marvelous with him. They have fun together.”

  “Ouch. Nicole is not going to like hearing that.”

  “Her problem. Do you want to fly out with us? We leave on June tenth and return on the twelfth. Kristen is coming back with us. Are those dates agreeable?”

  He didn’t bother flipping though his calendar. He’d already made arrangements to be out those days. Stanford’s late graduation worked in his favor in getting the time off. “You have another passenger.” He decided to push a bit. “Will it be a problem for me to stay at your place?”

  “No,” she answered, but her voice sounded unsteady.

  “Good. Just let me know what time to show up at the airport and I’ll be there. How’s the progress on my painting?” he asked casually. “My bare wall is crying to be covered.”

  “I’m working on it.”

  “Care to change your mind and give me a hint?”

  “No.” There was the old laughter in her voice. “Good-bye, Jonathan.”

  “Good-bye, Eleanor.” Jonathan hung up the phone. He wondered what Eleanor would do if he showed up in her room at home in San Francisco and claimed he had been sleepwalking.

  Brain him with a lamp probably. But what if she didn’t?

  Pondering the possibilities and his options, he went to see his next patient. He was tired of waiting for Eleanor, but the lady showed no indication that he was even a blip on her screen.

  Come hell or high water, in San Francisco that was going to change.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Early the next morning, Lilly learned what Adam meant. By eight-thirty her head was hanging over the shampoo bowl. Eleanor said you should look your best when shopping for clothes. An off hair day could ruin the look of a great outfit. When Lilly had asked whether taking clothes off and on wouldn’t ruin her hairstyle, Eleanor had shaken her head. She’d shopped enough to be able to pick out what looked best on sight.

  Afterward they went from boutique to boutique, where Eleanor discarded what Lilly thought were beautiful suits or dresses without her trying on a single one. Eleanor hadn’t liked the cut, the hang, the color. Lilly began to wonder if they’d find anything.

  They’d called Adam around lunch. He was happily eating the turkey salad Lilly had left in the refrigerator.

  It was now close to two and Lilly’s mouth watered just thinking of the salad, but she said nothing. If Eleanor thought enough of her to take time to help her find a suit, she certainly wasn’t going to complain about being a little hungry.

  She cut a glance at Eleanor, her brows bunched, as she discarded one outfit after another in boutique number seven. Catching a look at some of the discreet price tags, Lilly was glad Eleanor hadn’t found anything.

  “If we don’t find anything suitable here, we’ll stop for—” Eleanor inhaled sharply and lifted a suit the color of washed sand from the racks. “Lilly, I think our search is over.”

  The three-piece pantsuit was gorgeous. Lilly didn’t want to like it, because she knew she couldn’t afford it. She’d tried to tell Eleanor at the first boutique, but she’d simply talked over her.

  “How much is it?” Lilly whispered. The saleswomen, as Eleanor had requested, had let them browse, but Lilly still didn’t want them to know all she could possibly do was browse and embarrass Eleanor if she came to the shop again.

  “Lilly, let’s try it on first.”

  “Would you like a dressing room?” The saleswoman appeared out of seemingly nowhere.

  “Yes,” Eleanor said.

  “Certainly. This way.”

  Lilly wanted to hang back, but Eleanor took her by the arm and followed the young saleslady into a dressing room that looked more like a full-size room with its floor-to-ceiling mirrors on three sides, a raised platform, and silk-covered walls in a soft white. Beside a comfortable-looking overstuffed chair was a small table with a crystal bowl of potpourri and a fat scented candle.

  “Just press the call button if you need any assistance.” Smiling, the clerk left, closing the white door behind her.

  Lilly dived for the price tag. Her eyes bugged. “I can’t afford this!”

  “Lilly, you don’t even know if you’re going to like it,” Eleanor reasoned, hanging the suit up, then taking Lilly’s purse from her. “It may fit terrible. Just try it on.”

  Since that sounded reasonable, Lilly unbuttoned her suit jacket and stepped out of her skirt. She was still adamant about the outfit until Eleanor had her step on the platform and face the mirror. All Lilly could do was stare.

  The long-sleeved sand tweed cardigan over a matching sheer camisole with cream straight-legged trousers looked heavenly. Lilly had to admit she looked good in it. Eleanor certainly knew clothes. She’d been right about the suit, just as she had been right to kindly suggest that Lilly have her hair done in soft curls that framed her face.

  “I’ll be back.”

  Lilly nodded, then looked at the price tag again and sighed. It hadn’t miraculously changed. Eight hundred and ninety-nine dollars.

  “Put these on.”

  In the mirror Lilly saw Eleanor and the saleslady with more jewelry spilling from her hands. Deciding protest was useless at the moment, Lilly put on a snake-embossed leather belt in metallic wheat, a multistrand topaz-colored crystal necklace, and matching ear clips.

  “Sensational. I knew it!” Eleanor exclaimed.

  The saleswoman nodded in agreement. “You have a good eye. Miss, the sand color, in the bamboo weave, looks good on you.”

  “Thank you,” Lilly managed. She did look good and she wanted to cry.

  “We don’t need to see the other accessories.”

  “Ring if you need me,” the woman said and left.

  “All you need now is a pair of high-heeled sandals and a bag. Mission accomplished,” Eleanor said, smiling. Then the smile faded. “I wish Adam could see you.”

  Lilly’s heart clutched. “He’ll see one day.”

  Eleanor nodded her head and smiled. “Of course he will. Get dressed and we’ll go back to the house. I’ll wait outside.”

  “I’ll be right out.” Lilly dressed, then joined Eleanor, who was quietly speaking with the saleslady.

  “Lilly, why didn’t you bring your suit out with you?”

  The saleslady stepped around the counter. “I’ll be happy to get it for her.”

  “There’s no need,” Lilly said, stopping the woman. “I’ve changed my mind.”

  “But, Lilly—”

  “Please, Eleanor. I’d like to go now.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s almost three. I didn’t think we’d be gone this long.”

  “Adam is fine. The old Adam might not have called me, but the new Adam would have.”

  Lilly knew Eleanor was right but didn’t see the sense of wasting more time looking at clothes she couldn’t afford. “I’d still like to go back.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  Eleanor’s shoulders slumped. She turned to the saleslady. “Please put those things on hold we were discussing earlier, and I’ll come back tomorrow and pick them up.”

  The woman perked up. “Certainly, Mrs. Wakefield.”

  “Eleanor,” Lilly said. “You wouldn’t go behind my back and buy those things for me, would you?”

  “Certainly not. I don’t believe in subterfuge. Let’s go home.”

  Outside in Eleanor’s car, Lilly couldn’t help but
remember Eleanor did indeed practice subterfuge and did it very well.

  “How many trips will it take to get all of the packages out of the car?” Adam asked as he met Lilly and Eleanor coming into the house as he was leaving the kitchen with a glass of iced tea.

  “None, I’m afraid,” Eleanor said.

  “That’s a first,” Adam said.

  Lilly glanced from mother to son. “It’s my fault. I’m afraid the dresses were a little bit out of my price range.”

  Adam frowned. “I told Mother to get what you wanted.”

  “That’s very generous of you, Adam, but I want to pay for my own clothes.” Lilly moistened her dry lips. “We didn’t get a chance to go to the shopping mall. I thought maybe I could go in tomorrow and look, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course I don’t mind, but I’m still having trouble believing Mother came home empty-handed.”

  “Surprised me, too,” Eleanor said.

  Lilly felt miserable for some reason. “All right, if you must know, your mother did find the most wonderful outfit I could have imagined. But it was too expensive and, before you offer again, the answer is no.”

  “What color was it? What did it look like?” he asked as he sat beside Lilly on the sofa in the living room.

  Because descriptions were so important to him, she let herself indulge in describing the outfit. “It was a three-piece pantsuit. The collarless waist-length long-sleeved cardigan had a matching sheer camisole the color of sand, and it had straight-legged cream-colored trousers.”

  “It looked fabulous on her and she looked sensational in it. The color highlighted her dark brown eyes and warm honey skin,” Eleanor said.

  Adam twisted his head to one side. “I wondered what color your eyes were.”

  Lilly’s heart skipped a beat, then thudded in her chest. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

  Eleanor had no such trouble. “The color combination was perfect. I found just the right accessories. Belt, necklace, earclips to bring everything together. All she needed was shoes and a bag, and I hasten to bet I could have found them by the end of the day.”

  “Call the store, Mother, and have them hold the outfit for Lilly.”