“Connor—we have a child.”
He snorted derisively. “That’s a damned lie and you know it.”
“Look closer, Connor. She is yours.” Mallory shoved Liddy’s photo under his nose. “She’s six now. She’s ill. I swear I wouldn’t be here otherwise. I…we…she needs your help, Connor.”
It was only after Connor stopped to examine Liddy’s baby picture that Mallory began to relax. “I named her Lydia Beatrice,” she ventured. “I, uh, everyone calls her Liddy Bea.”
“This isn’t some practical joke, is it? This child really exists. And she’s mine.” Connor’s shell-shocked eyes rose from the photo at last. He stared at Mallory, who had once again retreated into the shadows.
Something moved deep inside her. Finally, mercifully, she was able to place herself in Connor’s shoes. “I shouldn’t have sprung this on you with no advance warning. I’m sorry.” Her hand fluttered. “Liddy Bea is ill, Connor. Her kidneys have stopped functioning.” Fumbling, she extracted a manila envelope from her bag. “Her doctor’s office prepared a report for you.”
He took the report, and as he skimmed it, she backed slowly away from him.
A moment later, the report in one hand, Liddy’s baby picture in the other, he stalked toward her. “You waltz in here after seven years of…of nothing, announce I fathered a child, and oh, by the way, she needs one of your kidneys, Connor. That’s a hell of a monkey wrench to throw in a man’s life, Mallory.”
Dear Reader,
In an earlier career of mine, I had the privilege of working for a doctor who led the race in the pediatric kidney transplant program. Although there have been great medical strides in the dialysis programs since those first forays into the field, the desperate need for organ donors has changed little. Doctors and patients still have to beg for lifesaving organs. And yes, even though transplants are easier than they once were, problems do still occur, even when it seems that all factors point to the perfect donor.
This story is dedicated to a sorority sister and good friend who has had one failed transplant. She’s now near the top of the national donor list, but her “perfect” match hasn’t shown up. The problems facing people in the long waiting list are not as simply solved as I’ve made them for the sake of a happy ending. Yet I hope Mallory, Connor and Liddy Bea’s situation adds in some small way to public awareness of the constant need for organ donors.
I also want to give special thanks, always, to my editor, Paula Eykelhof, for continuing to let me write stories that are close to my heart.
Roz Denny Fox
P.S. I love hearing from readers. Write me at: P.O. Box 17480-101, Tucson, AZ 85731. Or you can reach me by e-mail: [email protected].
Books by Roz Denny Fox
HARLEQUIN SUPERROMANCE
686—THE WATER BABY
716—TROUBLE AT LONE SPUR
746—SWEET TIBBY MACK
776—ANYTHING YOU CAN DO…
800—HAVING IT ALL
821—MAD ABOUT THE MAJOR
859—FAMILY FORTUNE
885—WELCOME TO MY FAMILY
902—BABY, BABY
926—MOM’S THE WORD
984—WHO IS EMERALD MONDAY?
999—THE BABY COP
1013—LOST BUT NOT FORGOTTEN
1046—WIDE OPEN SPACES
The Seven Year Secret
Roz Denny Fox
The Seven Year Secret
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER ONE
A LIGHT TAP AT THE DOOR of Liddy’s hospital room drew Mallory Forrest’s attention. Her daughter’s doctor, Fredric Dahl, motioned for her to come out.
Liddy Bea had fallen asleep. Mallory hated leaving without telling the fretful six-year-old where she’d be. But Tallahassee’s leading pediatric nephrologist was a very busy man. Dropping a kiss on Liddy’s cheek, Mallory slipped out, closing the door softly behind her.
Dr. Dahl strode briskly toward a small conference room near the bustling nursing center. Mallory’s heart quickened, and fear clawed at her stomach as she followed him. Busy doctors didn’t use conference rooms to impart good news.
Fredric pulled out a chair for Mallory. He leaned against one corner of the table, all the while clutching a thick metal hospital binder. Liddy Bea’s chart. Mallory knew from its size. It pained her to think of the number of times Liddy had been hospitalized in her short life. To avoid Dahl’s unsettling frown, Mallory concentrated on smoothing wrinkles from the suit she’d worn that morning for work.
Fredric spoke gently, though ever blunt. “It’s as we feared. Liddy’s rejecting the kidney you donated. I need you to authorize its removal, Mallory.” He drew a paper from the chart and slid it across the table. “The organ is dying. Any delay taking it out means we risk gangrene setting in.”
“How is that possible?” Mallory ignored the gold pen he extended. She wrapped her arms around her midsection and tucked her hands under her elbows to slow their shaking. “Can’t you switch Liddy’s antirejection medication again? Surely there’s something new on the market. Something different we can try?” Tears spilled from beneath Mallory’s eyelids. “She was doing so well. Why? Why her?”
“Now, now, Mallory. We knew it wasn’t a perfect transplant. It’s those rogue antibodies of Liddy’s I told you we’re dealing with. And you weren’t an absolute match.”
“But I should be, shouldn’t I? I’m her mother. Oh, it’s not fair! She doesn’t deserve to have her new life snatched away.”
“It won’t help to beat yourself up over this setback. We weighed all the consequences eight months ago and took the risk. Liddy Bea will go back on hemo, or peritoneal dialysis. I’ll relist her immediately in the national donor computer.”
“But the list is so long…overwhelming. And if transplants from complete strangers work, why did she reject my kidney?” Mallory tried but failed to keep hysteria from erupting as panic built inside her. “If only Mark—”
“Your brother’s out of the question. The malaria he contracted in the military makes him unacceptable. And we both know your dad’s heart condition rules him out. I know how tough it is to accept, Mallory, but you simply have to face the fact that you’ve exhausted your family options. The national list is our best hope now.”
Mallory tore at a tissue Fredric had thoughtfully pulled for her from a nearby box. She focused on the white bits coming apart in her nervous fingers. “We haven’t totally scraped the bottom of the family barrel. There’s…Liddy’s father.”
Uncrossing his ankles, Fredric came to his feet. “The senator—Brad—er, your dad informed me quite succinctly at the outset that Liddy’s father is out of the picture. If you’re planning to start a family feud…well, it’s awkward for me. Your father gave me the opportunity to head kidney studies at the university, and also to supervise Forrest Memorial Hospital’s transplant program. I’m forever in his debt—but for Liddy, I’d be happy to step aside and call in someone else, if you’d like.”
“No, you’re the best, Fredric. Dad wanted the best for his only grandchild,” Mallory said sharply. “He’ll agree this is our only choice, given what’s happened.”
“I hope so. He didn’t mince words when he closed the subject of Liddy’s father.”
“Dad never minces words. Nor do I. Liddy’s my child. It�
�s my decision. And her father’s, assuming he’ll listen…” Mallory snatched the pen from the doctor’s limp fingers and scribbled her name at the bottom of the surgery authorization form.
Dahl accepted the paper she shoved back. “I recall Brad mentioning your…uh…former husband lived out of the country. On a remote atoll in the Pacific, I believe. That’ll pose a huge logistics problem, Mallory.”
“Connor’s stateside again. And he’s not my ex. We were never married. In fact, he’s unaware he fathered a child. Believe me, Fredric, if I could see another donor on the horizon, I’d let things stand. But I’ll go to any lengths to ensure Liddy’s health and happiness.”
After an uncomfortable silence, she ventured in a less certain voice, “When is Liddy scheduled for surgery? I’ll have to run downstairs and arrange with Alec for more time away from work. Poor Alec. It’s only mid-May. I feel like I’ve barely gotten back into the swing after taking those months off to give Liddy Bea a kidney.”
Dahl leaned over and patted her shoulder. “From what I hear, Dr. Robinson and his staff would make any accommodation to keep you. Our esteemed administrator has said repeatedly how lucky we are to have you heading our fund-raisers.”
Mallory dredged up a thin smile. “I always thought he only offered me the PR job because I’d more or less become a fixture at the hospital during Mom’s illness. It coincided with my pregnancy, and I dashed out of her room so many times to throw up, Alec stopped to find out what was going on.”
“Your family’s suffered more than its share of medical setbacks. Odd how it sometimes works that way. But the illnesses aren’t related. Although, your dad’s arteriosclerotic heart disease has likely been exacerbated by worrying about your mother and Liddy and you. Not to mention all his responsibilities as a state senator.”
“Dad’s heart condition is exacerbated by the rich food he eats, the nightly brandy he drinks and those dreadful cigars he refuses to give up.”
This time Dahl’s chuckle was dry. “Your diagnosis may be closer to the mark than mine. Tough old codgers like Brad can be set in their ways. That’s why I wonder if you ought to reconsider contacting Liddy Bea’s father.”
“If anyone understands doing whatever it takes to help the people we love, it’ll be Dad. I haven’t seen or heard from Connor O’Rourke in almost seven years. But if there’s a chance in a million that one of his kidneys will lengthen Liddy Bea’s life, I’ll crawl to Miami on my hands and knees to beg.”
The slightly stooped, balding physician stared at her gravely. “I know you will, Mallory. I know you will.” He passed a hand over his sparse hair. “Lord knows, I want a perfect donor for Lydia, too. Yet I have to weigh that against worry over what you might be walking into. I’ve been involved with this business of begging for donor organs for twenty years. I’ve witnessed verbal squabbles, fistfights and actual bloodshed. I’ve seen parents divorce and families so torn apart they never speak to one another again. You, Mark and Bradford are rare in that any one of you would have given Lydia a kidney.”
Mallory stuffed the mutilated tissue into her pocket and stood to brush the remaining lint from her skirt. “Once upon a time, the man who fathered Liddy Bea had a tender heart buried under a tough outer shell. Surely it’s still there. Connor may hate me for not telling him he has a child, but he wouldn’t let his anger extend to his daughter.” Although the hand she placed on the doorknob wasn’t steady, Mallory hauled in a deep breath and squared her shoulders before leaving the conference room.
“Liddy’s surgery is at four o’clock.” Lowering his voice, Dahl fell in step with Mallory as they walked back along the cheerily lit hall. “We’ll insert a new cannula and start dialysis immediately. Peritoneal, if the abdominal wall is in good shape. So there’s no dire urgency about confronting her biological dad. I want Liddy recovered from this surgery before attempting another implant. Perhaps a donor will turn up on the national list by then.”
Mallory stopped outside Liddy’s room. “Every piece of literature you’ve given me says blood relatives are the preferable donors.”
Dr. Dahl twisted his lips. “True. But if I set aside the fact that I’m a doctor and view it instead from the perspective of a friend and a father of three—well, I’m worried you’ll be opening a can of worms. Fathers today demand and get parental rights in the courts.”
Mallory stared at Dahl from cloudy blue eyes, all the while twisting a strand of hair around her index finger. “I must be more exhausted than I thought. I don’t understand what you’re implying.”
“Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. Put yourself in Mr. O’Rourke’s shoes. Liddy is a bright, charming child. And you’ve had her all to yourself for six years.”
A burst of light exploded inside Mallory’s head, leaving her slightly woozy. She groped the doorknob to Liddy’s room for support. “You think Connor may decide it’s time to…share custody?”
“It’s a possibility.”
“Then it’s a possibility I’ll have to deal with.” She inhaled quickly. “Liddy Bea was barely two when her kidneys first failed. For the next year and a half, she underwent hemodialysis. I sat there holding her night after night, listening to her sob in pain as one after another her veins collapsed or got horribly infected around the shunt. I rocked her throughout the long, dark hours when it seemed all either of us could do was cry. If only you knew how I prayed for a match on the national donor list—but…there were none. I thought giving her one of my kidneys, even though it wasn’t a hundred percent match, would be better than nothing. For eight months it was. For eight glorious months, she was normal. Happy. So, Fredric…I’d make a pact with the devil to see her that way again.”
Out of breath from her impassioned speech, Mallory wrenched open Liddy’s door, inadvertently banging it against the wall. The child’s translucent eyelids fluttered twice, revealing gray irises so like Connor O’Rourke’s. The gray eyes focused on Mallory, and a huge smile blossomed on Liddy’s face.
“Is it morning, Mommy? Are you here to take me home?”
Mallory steeled herself against the pain of telling Liddy Bea she’d be losing the kidney and going back on dialysis.
Bradford Forrest’s timely arrival gave Mallory a reprieve. The senator always entered a room as if he owned it. And considering the amount of money he’d donated over the years to the private hospital he’d been instrumental in seeing built, he probably did own a fair portion. Florida’s senior statesman remained a suave, handsome man, if one overlooked his tendency toward portliness.
Because Mallory loved him, she overlooked many of his faults. Friends and acquaintances were prone to say that her thick brown hair and direct blue eyes came from Brad, even though his hair was shot with silver now. The same folks joked that it was fortunate his daughter’s slender build and sweet disposition came from Bradford’s beloved wife. Beatrice had died just the day of Liddy’s birth, and he’d never truly recovered.
Recently reelected for a fifth term, Bradford was a powerful and influential force in Tallahassee and in many parts of the state. This man who made others quake turned to mush in the presence of his only grandchild. Like now, he drew a huge stuffed bunny from behind his back and plopped it on Liddy’s bed.
“Grandpapa!” The girl’s face lit up as her arms circled the toy. “Thank you! I’ll call her Flopsie Rabbit. Are you going to give me and Mommy a ride home? And will you and Davis drive me to school tomorrow?”
It was well-known that Liddy Bea loved riding to school in her grandfather’s chauffeured limousine, and that he often rearranged his busy schedule to accommodate her. He kept the limo’s bar stocked with her favorite juices, since hydration was of the utmost importance with her condition.
Senator Forrest was a man always in charge of any situation. This might be the first time he’d ever been at a loss for words. He flashed Mallory a helpless glance and mumbled, “I…uh…came because Fredric’s office left…ah…a message with my secretary.”
Mallory unders
tood. Dr. Dahl, who’d become a good friend of the family, hadn’t wanted her to go through Liddy’s impending surgery alone. They’d moved out of their own apartment and in with her father a few weeks before the first transplant, and ever since then, the three Forrests had functioned as a more traditional family might. Just now, Mallory appreciated having her dad’s strength to draw on.
Pushing the huge rabbit aside to sit on the edge of Liddy’s bed, she cradled the child’s smaller, warmer hand between her cold ones. “Liddy Bea, baby…the kidney Mommy gave you isn’t working right.” Mallory’s breathing grew labored. “It’s, uh, what’s been making you sick lately. Dr. Dahl has to take it out.”
Liddy blinked away tears, her stoicism another O’Rourke trait. At birth, Liddy Bea had appeared so like him, Mallory was moved to name her baby after Connor’s mother and hers. Even if he wasn’t around to set eyes on his child, Mallory determined then and there that Lydia Beatrice would forever be a composite of both Forrest and O’Rourke. If only she’d informed Connor then that he had a daughter. Maybe…
“Will…it…hurt?”
Bradford wheeled to face the window overlooking the pediatric nursing station. He rammed his hands deep in the pockets of an expertly tailored jacket. Mallory couldn’t help noticing how the stalwart shoulders bent. Perhaps she should’ve sent her dad off on some fool’s errand. He’d weathered his wife’s premature death, his daughter’s unplanned pregnancy and his granddaughter’s kidney failure. Was it any wonder the man’s heart had weakened?
While Mallory was solicitous of all her dad had been through, she’d made a point of never lying to her child.
“It’ll hurt some. About like it did when Mommy gave you the kidney. But anytime you feel pain, tell me. Or if I’m not here, push this bell and the nurse will give you something to make you feel better.”
“Will I be able to go to school tomorrow?”
“No. We’ll have to ask Dr. Dahl if you’ll get to finish out this year. Liddy, do you remember the tube you used to have in your arm, then in your leg? You may have another of those for a while. Until we can find you another kidney.”
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