by Becky Wade
Another helping of silence that even Leah recognized as awkward.
“I’m having lunch with my mother tomorrow downtown, near the corner of Edgewood and Peachtree,” Tracy said. “There’s a park across from the restaurant. I can meet you there at 12:45.”
Edgewood and Peachtree—an intersection in Atlanta. “I’ll be there.”
“I have red hair, and I’ll wear a gray coat.”
Three hours later, Sebastian entered his apartment, lowered heavily onto one of the kitchen table chairs, and called Leah. He was so tired he couldn’t think about dinner or about changing out of his suit or even about standing up until he’d heard her voice.
“Good evening,” she said.
Instantly, he started to smile. “Hey. Will you come see me this weekend?” He could drain Isabella’s stomach, repair VSDs, study echocardiograms, and debate what to do about fixing a bad repair done by a hack. But in order to do all of those things, he had to know when he’d get to see her again.
“Actually,” she said, “yes.”
“What?” He sat up straight. “You will?”
She told him that one of the nurses who’d cared for her at Magnolia Avenue Hospital was willing to meet her tomorrow in Atlanta.
Thank God. “My apartment only has one bedroom,” he told her, “but you’re welcome to stay in it. I’ll take the couch.”
“I will not be staying in your apartment, I—”
“I’ll book you a hotel room, then. There’s a hotel across the street and a few doors down from my building.”
“I’m delighted to inform you that I’ve already booked and paid for my hotel room. It’s non-changeable and non-refundable.”
“Leah,” he groaned.
“I learned something from all those non-returnable gifts you sent us.”
“Tell me you’re going to get in the car right now and start driving.”
“I am not. I have to get Dylan squared away with Tess and Rudy tomorrow morning. It will take some time to bring them up to speed because I want to ensure Dylan’s prohibited from situations that involve red plastic cups and teens making out on furniture while I’m gone. I should be there by mid-morning tomorrow.”
“And you’ll stay in Atlanta until Monday?”
“Yes.”
Thank God.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Finally,” Sebastian said when Leah arrived at his apartment. She had on a gray collared shirt opened at the throat and patterned with polka dots bigger than quarters in bright pastel colors. Jeans. He took one long drink of the details of her—soft blond hair, defined eyebrows, gently sloping cheeks—before wrapping her against him. The side of her face came to rest against his chest and he set his chin gently on the top of her head.
He was ridiculously glad that she was here. The weather had been depressing so far today—wet and dark. But now that she’d arrived, everything was right and bright. Nothing could be better than it was in this moment.
For years he’d understood in a detached sort of way that he was lonely. But it was only now, with Leah, that he understood how deep his loneliness had been.
“Hi,” he whispered, drawing her closer to him.
“Happy Halloween.”
“Happy Halloween. Thank you for coming.”
“You’re welcome. Though I didn’t come for you, remember. I came to talk with Nurse Tracy.”
He looked down at her. “I don’t care why you came, only that you’re here.” Besides, no matter what she said to him or to herself, she was here, at least in part, for him. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be staying until Monday. She’d be heading back to Misty River today after her meeting with Tracy.
“I will concede,” she said, “that the opportunity to see you while in Atlanta is a nice perk.”
Her misty blue eyes killed him. They communicated so many things—wisdom and disappointments and commitments fulfilled.
“I’m determined to become the best perk ever,” he said.
“Impossible. I’ve already received the best perk ever—a bag of wookie cookies given to me by a student last May the Fourth Be With You.”
“I can be better than wookie cookies.”
“You’re overly competitive.” Her attention slid to his chest, then back up again. “Have you been at the hospital this morning?”
“Yeah.”
“I like this look.”
“A white T-shirt and scrubs?”
“You are aware, are you not, that several Hollywood actors have built careers on this look?”
“Those guys are fake doctors. Chumps.”
He kissed her. He’d planned to keep it quick—didn’t want to scare her off—but at the first taste, need overwhelmed him. After a few minutes, he had to use all his self-control to break the contact. “Thank you for coming.”
“You already said that.”
“It was worth repeating.” He gave a lopsided grin. “How much time do we have before the meeting with Tracy?”
“Are you planning to join me for the meeting?”
“Is it okay with you if I do?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll join you.”
“We have two hours.”
“That gives us plenty of time to grab some lunch.”
I think this might be her,” Leah said two hours later.
She and Sebastian had arrived early at the park Tracy had specified. They’d been waiting and watching for a redhead in a gray coat, and the woman who’d just entered the park fit the bill. Her body language radiated caution as she scanned her surroundings.
Leah caught the woman’s eye, raised her hand in a wave, then approached. She could sense more than hear Sebastian walking beside and slightly behind her. Wind had swept the morning’s gloomy weather to the east, leaving hesitant sunshine, high-sixties temperatures, and rain-scrubbed foliage.
“Tracy?” Leah asked.
“Yes.”
“I’m Leah. Thank you very much for taking the time to speak with me. This is my friend Sebastian.”
Tracy nodded tightly at Sebastian. She was of average height and almost painfully slender. Her lovely hair was parted on the side and tucked behind her ears before continuing in a smooth, shiny plane to her mid-chest. It was the only soft and inviting thing about her. Her pointy features looked as if they’d been chiseled from marble.
“Would you like to sit down?” Leah indicated a picnic table nearby.
Tracy gave another nod. Leah and Sebastian took one side of the table, Tracy the other.
“As I mentioned over the phone,” Leah said, “Magnolia Avenue Hospital granted me access to my hospital records, which is how I knew that you were working there the day of my birth.”
Tracy’s lips formed a horizontal line. “I decided to get a degree in nursing when I was eighteen years old. Worst decision I ever made. Magnolia Avenue was my first employer, and as soon as I started my job there, I realized I’d made a mistake. Nursing was not for me.”
Apparently, the hospital hadn’t exactly been fond of Tracy either, since she’d been let go after just a few years on staff. Leah supplied her birthdate, full name, and the names of both sets of parents. “Does any of that ring a bell?”
“Not at all.”
“Do you remember the nurses who were working the shift with you that day?” She rattled off the other women’s names.
“I hardly remember Lois. Bonnie was much older and treated me like I was a child. Joyce was loud and obnoxious. She never stopped talking.”
“Do you happen to have any contact information for Bonnie?”
“No. We never saw or talked to each other outside of work hours.”
“Do you remember anything about Lois, Joyce, or Bonnie’s personal lives?”
Her jaw tightened. “Are these the types of questions you’re asking the other women about me?”
“I’m seeking to get a sense of the big picture.” She sidestepped answering Tracy’s question directly. “Any and all information co
uld be helpful.”
The skin between Tracy’s eyes creased. “Are you trying to pin the fact that you were switched at birth on one of us?”
“Like she said. She’s just trying to get a sense of the big picture.” Sebastian’s tone was polite but firm.
“Joyce was always running short on money,” Tracy said. “She had three kids and a husband who was a big spender. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if she was taking medicine from the hospital and selling it to pay bills. I don’t remember anything about Lois’s or Bonnie’s personal lives. I left Magnolia Avenue as soon as I was offered a job working as an administrator for a plastic surgery practice.”
“Which practice is that?” Sebastian asked.
“I’d rather not say.” She frowned at Leah. “I’m here to help you. I don’t want anyone calling my boss and making trouble for me.”
“No one will call your boss,” Leah said.
“I hated nursing, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t good at it. I worked hard, and I did my job. I was certainly sharper mentally than Joyce, who had the attention span of a gnat, and Lois, who was retirement-age.” Tracy rose to stand. “If one of the nurses made a mistake with you, it wasn’t me.” She turned and walked away.
Leah watched her cross the street toward the row of shops and restaurants on the other side.
“Sweet lady,” Sebastian commented.
“Not the most trustworthy of individuals. She struck me as . . . shifty.”
“Same.”
“I can believe that Tracy’s capable of switching two babies, but I can’t imagine why she would have been motivated to do so. I think I might try to root around in her past a bit more to see if I can uncover anything. If I can’t, I might be at a dead end. I’ve already exhausted every information source I can think of concerning my parents and the Brooksides. I’ve spoken with Joyce and now Tracy. I can’t find Bonnie.” Facing him, she took in the striking ratios of his face. “Do you have any ideas?”
“What about checking county court records? You could do that while you’re here in Atlanta, since this is where everyone lived at the time of your birth.”
“Court records?”
“For civil cases. Criminal cases.” He lifted a muscular shoulder. “Because of my job and the amount I pay in malpractice insurance every month, my mind naturally goes there. You could check to see if your parents, the Brooksides, or the nurses had charges filed against them.”
She was as far removed from the world of arrests and lawsuits as the sun from dwarf-planet Pluto. The prospect of court records hadn’t crossed her mind. Yet, if one of the parents or nurses was sued or arrested, that could provide all kinds of valuable insights. “Where can I access court records?”
“The Fulton County Courthouse, I think.” Sebastian jutted his chin toward the far side of the park. “Shall we?”
“We shall.”
Before they’d left his apartment, they’d finalized their plans for the day. Meet with Tracy. Relax at the park. Eat Halloween dinner out. Tomorrow, they’d revisit the church the Brooksides attended so that Leah could hopefully get another glimpse of them.
He wedged the blanket he’d brought from home under his arm. They walked from the more crowded area of the park toward the quieter, less manicured section.
She checked her phone in case Dylan had called or texted her. He hadn’t.
“How’s your brother?” Sebastian asked, correctly guessing the reason she’d peeked at her phone.
“Hopefully not injecting amphetamines as we speak.”
He shot her a grin, and attraction jolted through her.
“I’m pleased to report,” she said, “that I received some good news about him yesterday. The dean of the fine arts program at Georgia Southern emailed me to say he was impressed by the drawings Dylan submitted with his application. Should Dylan be admitted there, the dean said he hopes he’ll consider choosing them and listed half a dozen scholarships he should apply for.”
“That’s great.”
“I was astonished. I’ve known for some time that Dylan’s a talented artist, but I hadn’t realized he was talented enough to receive personal interaction from a prospective college.”
“Good for him.”
Sebastian unfurled the waterproof side of the blanket across a patch of grass and they stretched out side by side. The sun’s rays—and a wave of peace—seeped into Leah’s skin.
She was not someone who experienced chemistry with men or days this splendid.
Except, now, somehow . . . she did?
Since she’d gained custody of Dylan, she’d only ever left him overnight with Tess and Rudy for chess tournaments or to travel as a chaperone on class trips. Perhaps she should have made an effort to get away a little bit more often. Why hadn’t she?
Because until now, she hadn’t known how freeing this would feel. Here, removed both geographically and psychologically from Dylan and her job, ropes of stress were unwinding from her.
For this one weekend, she could just be Leah. Not Leah the caretaker, teacher, grocery shopper, wage earner, or house cleaner.
She pondered the geometry of the autumn trees that formed a canopy above, then peered into the unending sky. “‘The infinite! No other question has ever moved so profoundly the spirit of man.’”
“Who are you quoting?”
“Mathematician David Hilbert. Even though we don’t know whether the universe is infinite or not, it’s certainly larger than my ability to comprehend. Every time I pause and take a moment to look—really look—into the sky, it reminds me of infinity.”
Sebastian propped up on his elbow, facing her.
Her mouth went dry because her view of him was much, much better than her prior (excellent) view of trees and sky.
His personality was both determined and good. When a determined man liked you, his affection was resolute. When a good man liked you, he tempted you to trust him. When she was with Sebastian, she felt as though she were the only thing in the world he saw or heard or cared about.
She needed to be very, very wary.
Even if she’d felt about men in the past the way she felt about Sebastian, she strongly suspected that her relationship with Sebastian would still have been a singular experience. There was nothing mundane or ordinary or predictable about him.
Her task this weekend: to enjoy his company without allowing herself to become serious about him in the detrimental way that her mom had become serious about her dad.
His position gave her an opportunity to study his masculine face, the lines of his shoulders and ribs, the way the strands of his hair fell.
She and Sebastian had both been cut off from their biological parents. Just how much of the tangible and intangible stuff that made them who they were had been passed to them by people who were not a part of their lives? “Did your mother have gray eyes?” she asked.
“She had blue.”
“Is there anything about your appearance that resembles hers?”
“I have the same color hair that she did. Our mouths and chins have a similar shape.”
So far, she knew only what he’d told her about his mother at the Coleman family’s barbecue. Her name had been Denise, and she’d moved Sebastian from Chicago to Georgia. “Did your mom grow up in Chicago?”
“She was born and raised in Brooklyn, the youngest of five kids in a blue-collar family.” He picked up a persimmon-hued maple leaf and spun it by its stem. “She never talked to me much about that part of her life.”
“Why?”
“I’m guessing because those years were brutal for her. The summer after tenth grade, she took a job at a summer camp in upstate New York, and after that, she never returned to Brooklyn.”
“She moved out after tenth grade?”
“Yeah. At the end of that summer, she went home with a friend she’d made named Cassie who lived in Chicago.”
“Cassie’s parents were okay with that?”
“I guess so. She moved in with thei
r family for the rest of high school.” He skimmed the leaf’s tip along the hand that she’d rested on her abdomen. It left a trail of tingles, so she pushed her sleeve up past her elbow and turned her inner arm upward.
Taking his time, he trailed the leaf up and down.
“What did she do after graduating from high school?” she asked.
“She got a job in manufacturing and moved into an apartment with a few roommates.”
“What was her personality like?”
“Stubborn, tough, willing to stand up for herself. Honest. Nothing about her personality was fake.”
“You told me that she passed away when you were eight of a terminal illness.”
“Yes.”
“But you didn’t mention which terminal illness.”
His face went blank. She supposed that a long history of self-preservation had taught him how and when to mask his feelings.
“Heart disease,” he said.
Comprehension rolled from the top of her head down to her toes. Sebastian had once been a child powerless to save his mother. He was no longer powerless, and now he worked, every single day, to do for children what he’d been unable to do for her.
“Heart disease,” Leah reiterated.
“Yes.”
“Brought on by a congenital heart defect?” she guessed. He’d told her at the barbecue that his mom had had the condition all her life.
A small motion of his head told her she was correct.
“Which congenital heart defect?”
“Tetralogy of Fallot.”
“But . . .”
“It’s treatable,” he finished, anticipating her confusion.
“Exactly.”
“It’s definitely treatable now, but it was even in those days.” He watched the leaf track down her forearm. “Patients with her condition have to be followed closely long-term. Often, they develop a leaky valve, and they might need valve replacement surgery. My mother was a terrible patient. She smoked. She drank. She didn’t take her meds. She never went to doctor’s appointments.”
“Why?”