by R. D. Power
•
It took no time for the doctors at UCSF to recognize that Kristen was a gifted young woman who had already blossomed into an outstanding physician. The director of pediatric oncology at UCSF considered her the best new resident he’d seen in years and started just months into her first fellowship year trying to convince her to stay on full-time at the university once her fellowship was completed.
Near the end of that first year, he asked her to play a central role, under the guidance of a preceptor, in a phase I clinical study to test a promising new treatment on a small number of neuroblastoma patients, using nanotechnology to deliver chemotherapy drugs to the tumor cells. Too many times in her first year she’d had to convey a diagnosis of neuroblastoma to parents without much hope to offer, for this dreadful childhood cancer remained a death sentence for upwards of half the unfortunate children with it. Too many times she’d had to inform the parents of the death of their child from this disease because, once disseminated, it is resistant to conventional modes of treating cancer.
She jumped at the offer. This research project comprised the central focus of Kristen’s second and third years at UCSF.
•
Whereas Kristen loved her work, Robert didn’t relish the thought of the career for which he was training. Computer programming was a breeze for him, but it bored him, and the realization that he was now a computer geek depressed him. He was no longer a dashing major league baseball player, he was a nerd, which meant he had to beat himself up. His new profession held no gratification in comparison to his former calling, no distinction in comparison to Jennifer’s, and no meaning in comparison to Kristen’s.
His role as a father did give meaning to his life, though. To think he had wanted Jennifer to have an abortion, and later wanted nothing to do with the precious creature. Now he loved Kara and couldn’t imagine life without her.
He often took her to campus because he liked to be with her and to show her off. And she embodied a decided bonus: she was the greatest chick magnet ever conceived. Had he known, he’d have made Kara when he was sixteen and taken her on advertising junkets. “Want one just like this? Free delivery right to your womb. You provide the box.” Little Kara was beautiful like her mom, and all the coeds fussed over her, then examined the father, perhaps trying to determine if he had another one of those in him. As usual, though, the pretty ones—he had extremely high standards—would give nothing of themselves without the vow of a long-term relationship, a condition he was unwilling to meet.
Jennifer visited Robert and Kara but once between February and June, during a week’s pause in the concert tour in early May. Kara was strange with her, which was a downer, but she was soon off again, and out of sight, out of mind. It was a similar situation for Robert and his son. Robert had spent three days with him over Christmas and didn’t see him again until early July. As the visits were getting fewer and shorter, father and son began to grow apart. This bothered Robert, especially as he observed Jennifer and Kara growing apart, but he didn’t know what to do about it. And it would only get worse, as Phil’s sabbatical year had arrived, and he was to take Kim and Brian to Australia for fourteen months.
But life went on and, before they knew it, Kristen and Robert were in their final year of training. Robert had successfully passed his orals and qualifying exam, and embarked upon his dissertation. He’d had a hard time choosing what to do. Most of the work at the PhD level was dry, theoretical stuff that was of little interest to him.
Fortunately, he stumbled upon another field that sorely needed programming talents like his: astrophysics. He’d taken an elective in it, and discovered a fascination with applied work dealing with spacecraft and the challenge of getting them to their destination in one piece. Programming was so complex for missions to other planets that debugging had become next to impossible. Robert had a talent for cutting through complexity and getting to the crux of the matter in a hurry.
His professor of astrophysics brought a real life problem from the folks at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory into class: write a program in as few lines as possible to deploy the parachutes for a Mars landing craft. “This would make an excellent dissertation for anyone interested,” noted the professor. Robert went to see him after class and expressed interest. The professor agreed to Robert doing the work, and to becoming his thesis advisor. He assigned a half-dozen books and innumerable papers on the area for Robert to learn and write a review on to serve as his background chapters for the dissertation. By the start of his third year on campus, he was ready to write the program.
Meanwhile, Kristen’s research project had returned disappointing results in terms of improving the effectiveness of chemotherapy to treat the disease. As always, though, good scientists learn from their failures. Kristen published two well-received papers concerning the trial itself and hypothesized reasons for its failure to fight the cancer. She derived new ideas on the basis of the outcomes, and theorized specific DNA mutations that may result in the development of neuroblastoma. Her theories would later lead to improved treatments for neuroblastoma patients.
This research and her superlative talent for managing the care of children with cancer impelled top hospitals and universities across North America to vie for her as her fellowship wound down.
•
Jennifer had spent a grand total of seventeen weeks with Kara and Robert since she left almost two years earlier. She had the month of December off and spent it with Kara and Robert. By that time, her daughter had forgotten her. It took until the end of the month for mother and daughter to feel comfortable with one another, just in time for Jennifer to leave again for four months. She continued to love Robert, but time away from him had cooled her desire, which was just as well. Out of the blue one afternoon in late December, he asked her, “Have you heard anything about Kristen? Where she is, whether she’s married or in love? Anything?”
“Nope. Let’s go out to eat.”
“You must have some idea.”
“I have a great restaurant in mind. We’ll have to cross the Bay Bridge, but it’s so good, it’ll be worth the hassle.”
“Maybe you could ask your father to ask her father.”
“Come on. Grab Kara. I’m starved.”
“Do you think Krissy might still love me?”
“Oh, how the hell should I know? Don’t look at me like that. She called me the day after you disappeared. She told me she wanted to help me and you work things out. She got frantic when I told her the awful things you said to me about both of us. I haven’t talked to her since.”
“God, I’m an idiot. I have to find her. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about tracking her down, but it’s such a touchy situation. You two are a lot alike when it comes to me. How would she react if I contacted her?”
“I really can’t say.” Jennifer fidgeted and got up to pace. “Aren’t you hungry?”
“I can see this is upsetting you and I’m sorry, but this situation can’t go on forever. You go off for months on end and have the time of your life, and come home for a few weeks here and there, but I’m here all the time, and as much as I love Kara, I’m lonely. I need companionship. I need love. I need Kristen. What should I do to get her back?” Jennifer volunteered nothing, so Robert pushed more. “Jenny, I still love her.” He took her hand and added, “I promise we’ll always be close friends. You’ll always be welcome in my home. Please help me.”
Reluctantly, Jennifer advised, “Go where she is. Get a job in the same place. Set things up so you have to cross paths.”
He thanked her for the advice and said, “Okay, let’s go eat.”
“I’m not hungry,” she replied, and she went to her room.
Using his computer skills, he tracked Kristen down and learned she was just across the bay in the final year of her fellowship. He kept tabs on her to learn where she would go so he could follow.
The next July, he completed his dissertation. He went to JPL to test it on their computer simulator. No
one expected the program to actually deploy the parachutes and land the craft safely—it did deploy the parachutes, but the craft came down too fast—but it contained many ideas that intrigued the people at JPL, much more straightforward ways to program certain aspects of this stage of the mission. The program was approved as his dissertation, and JPL offered twenty thousand dollars for the ideas. He gladly accepted it.
He was also offered a full-time position at JPL, with a faculty appointment at Caltech, but he declined it. Computer consulting is perfect, he concluded. He could work from home and look after Kara, and move wherever Kristen went. He agreed to consult for JPL on computer programming challenges related to a Mars mission. This would be his primary source of income for the rest of his working life.
So as the summer began, the main question in his life was, Where will Kristen go?
Chapter Five
The Paths Converge
While an undergrad at the University of Western Ontario, Kristen had taken a course from a professor by the name of Dr. Miriam Blalock, a Cambridge-educated pediatric oncologist. As the two interacted over the year, they became close. Kristen considered Miriam her mentor. Miriam considered Kristen the most impressive young student she’d ever met. Miriam tried to get Kristen to stay at Western to take her medical training, but she chose Stanford.
The two stayed in touch over the years, with Miriam following Kristen’s progress and hoping to eventually work with her. Early in the final year of her fellowship in pediatric oncology, Miriam began trying to entice Kristen to join her on faculty at Western. Kristen was interested, but said she wanted to keep her options open. As her residency wound down, Kristen had offers from all over North America, many with prestige and money exceeding what Western could offer. She told Miriam she could not consider Western with such attractive offers from other schools, but in late April, just as Kristen was about to accept an offer, she got another call from Miriam.
“You haven’t accepted a position yet, have you? Please tell me you haven’t,” Miriam said, without even saying hello.
“Well, hello, Miriam,” answered Kristen. “I have a meeting next Tuesday with the people at Johns Hopkins. I plan to accept their offer. Why, Miriam?”
“Don’t take it! There’s an incredible opportunity here in London that I want you to consider.”
“No disrespect, Miriam, but we’ve discussed this before. Western can’t compete with the opportunity I have at Johns Hopkins.”
“Just hear me out. You’ve heard of centers of excellence?”
“Yes.”
“The governments of Canada and Ontario are investing in a center of excellence for the treatment of childhood cancer. They’ve asked me to direct it, and I get to choose my staff. I want you to be my star recruit.”
“God, Miriam, this is sudden. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“They only confirmed a few minutes ago that I was selected as director. I’m not even supposed to be telling anyone until the Ministers announce it, but I’m so afraid someone else will get you in the meantime.”
“What would my role be?”
“You would be assistant director of one of the best centers of its kind in the world. It would involve some of the top people in the field from across the country, and it’s to be centered at Western. The university has given me the green light to offer you full professorship as well.”
“That’s really flattering, Miriam, but I must say I wasn’t planning on significant administrative work in my immediate future. I want to use my skills as a clinician and researcher. That’s why I’m in the field.”
“I’ll keep your administrative work to a minimum, just enough to groom you as my replacement. Eventually. You choose how much you want to work with patients and with residents and students. There’ll be innovative clinical research trials centered here, and you can choose which ones you’d like to participate in. You can continue your research into neuroblastoma and use your skills in nanotechnology.
“The research work you’ve done is so impressive, Kristen. When I raised your name as a possible assistant director, the Board was concerned that you were young and inexperienced, but your articles detailing your work in the area convinced them of your incredible potential, and now they want you here, too. What do you say? Please!”
“It sounds terrific, but I need time to consider it. You don’t know how much I’ve agonized finally coming to a decision to take the Johns Hopkins offer.”
“Stop here on your way to Baltimore. I know you’ll be so impressed you won’t need to go there. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity for both of us, Kristen. But it’s also daunting. We both have a lot of exciting work ahead of us to get this off the ground, but with you I’m sure we’ll make it a great success. Oh, and we get a whole three-storey wing of a splendid, new state of the art facility to be completed within six weeks. I’m so excited!”
“I’ll stop there to talk more about this, and I’m guessing you’ll talk me into it.”
“Brilliant! You won’t regret it.”
“I haven’t said yes yet, Miriam.”
“Funny, I heard yes loud and clear. You just need to come here and sign a few things, and we’ve got you.”
Kristen flew to London that Saturday, stayed the weekend at her parents’—who worked all weekend to convince her to move back to London—and met Miriam on Monday morning. She flew back to San Francisco Monday afternoon as the new assistant director of the Centre for Research and Treatment of Childhood Cancer at the University of Western Ontario. Two months later, in early June, she assumed her new position.
•
Robert found out that Kristen had accepted a job in London about a month after she started. He couldn’t believe his fortune. Not only could he live near Kristen, he could live near his son. Without delay, he enquired about the possibility of a job with computer sciences at Western. There were no professorships open, but they welcomed his application for lecturer. He sent it and made preparations to move home. Within four weeks he was living in London, just a few blocks from campus and only two from Kristen. He’d hacked into a university computer system to find her address.
•
Mark Loftus, proclaimed as London’s most eligible bachelor by the local paper’s gossip columnist—and who could dispute with such an authority?—had leading man looks, a “nice guy” persona and limitless potential. At age thirty-four, he was the youngest Chief of Police in the city’s history, and had his sights set on the federal parliament, having just been nominated by the Liberal Party to run in the next election, and after that … well, this fluently bilingual Quebecker and bona fide hero was ideal prime ministerial material.
The month previous, just when he was being considered for the top job in the department, he had rushed into a burning house to rescue two children from certain death and became a local celebrity as a result. The deed catapulted him above his competition, and he was hired as police chief.
Kristen Taylor, a sucker for heroes, especially one who had saved children’s lives, noticed the handsome man as the TV news effused over his bravery. She’d moved to London just the week before he’d saved the children and decided now was a good time to come out of her shell. She went to the children’s hospital, nominally to meet the staff, and happened to meet him when he stopped by to see the children who were being treated for smoke inhalation. They hit it off right away, and he asked her out to dinner. She accepted.
This man knew how to woo the fair sex—not that he had to work hard at it, with just about every single lady after him. Not one to shy away from speaking of himself, he ingratiated himself with her with a thrilling description of his actions in rescuing the children, with his sense of humor, and with his aside that he was a member of Mensa. And he had just the type of looks she preferred in men: tall, slender, light hair, and a handsome visage with a dark complexion, dimples, and brown eyes. His bubbly personality impressed all comers. Everyone liked and admired him. And his main purpose in life, as h
e told Kristen, “is to help people. That’s why I want to be a politician.”
He was genuine in everything he said and did, a failing he’d have to redress if he expected to be a successful politician. They made a perfect couple, as the two were told continually.
Nine weeks after Kristen had moved back home and eight weeks after she’d met Mark, Robert and Kara moved to London. He’d been offered and had accepted an instructor’s position in computer science at Western. Now, how to rekindle the romance with Kristen? And how to get to know his son again? The latter mission seemed less intimidating, so he turned his attention there first.
Kim suggested he go to see Brian play baseball in early August. Brian played for a competitive team in London and was shutting down the opposition as his father had fifteen years earlier. He hoped to impress his father with his talents, but Robert was anything but.
As Kim and Robert watched their son pitch, Robert remarked, “His mechanics are awful. I taught him how to pitch. What happened?”
“He’s been doing really well all year.”
“That doesn’t matter. What does matter is he’s doing it all wrong.”
“Why doesn’t it matter that he’s doing well? That he’s the best in the league as is?”
“Because if he keeps doing what he’s doing, he’ll wreck his arm. Who taught him to pitch like that? And who taught him to throw curveballs at eleven years old? That’s irresponsible.”
“One of the coaches, I suppose.” The inning finished, and Brian headed toward his parents with a smile on his face. Kim told Robert, “Remember, he’s only eleven. And he desperately wants to impress his father. Boys need praise from their fathers.”
“I got a curve to work!” Brian told his dad as he came back to the bench after striking out the side.
“Yeah, you mowed them down, little fella. Great job.” Robert patted Brian on the head. “I’d like to work with you on Saturday to refine your pitching a little, okay? You’ll be even better. One more thing, I know you’re proud of throwing a curveball, but that’s very harmful to a young arm. Good coaches would never let a player your age throw—”