by Judy Duarte
The boy nodded, a crooked smile breaking onto his face. “Yeah. Just like this. You and me sitting on the sofa with the game on TV.”
“I’d like to see it someday.”
Bobby nodded, as he jabbed at the yellow button on the controller in his hand. “Okay. But it would have looked a lot better if I had my crayons. Mrs. Davies took me to see her dumb niece who is a real brat and only gave me a black crayon to use. She wouldn’t share any of her other crayons with me, just ’cause I’m a boy.”
Black was the only color he had?
Joe sat back and leaned against the sofa. Well, I’ll be damned. There was a simple explanation for something Dylan had made such a big, psychological fuss over.
And quite frankly, Joe felt a surge of pride knowing he had a better understanding of his kid’s psyche than good ol’ Dr. Dylan, superstar of the TV talk-show circuit.
In the past, Joe had let Thomas Reynolds convince him that he wasn’t the kind of man Kristin needed. And more recently, he’d even fallen into the mistaken belief that Dylan was the kind of man she deserved.
But that wasn’t true. She deserved a man who understood Bobby. A man who understood her.
A man like Joe Davenport.
Of course, Kristin didn’t appear to be in the mood to handle a revelation like that. Not now. And maybe not ever.
Not while her father was fighting for his life in the hospital.
And not while she blamed Joe for it.
Kristin remained at the hospital throughout the night, as doctors tried to stabilize her father. She hadn’t been able to read any of the magazines placed throughout the ICU waiting room, nor had she been able to watch the television that had been mounted on the wall in the corner.
A hundred memories flipped through her head in no particular order—Christmas mornings, horsey-back rides. Those faux-ruby-slipper shoes he’d bought her for Valentine’s Day one year so she could look like Dorothy. He’d thought they looked gaudy and goofy, but he’d let her wear them all over town.
When she was finally allowed to go into ICU, she made her way to his bedside where he lay with eyes closed. Pale.
It killed her to see him like this, tied to the bed by wires and tubes and blinking machines.
“Hi, Daddy.”
He didn’t respond.
A nurse slipped up behind her. “He’s been conscious, but the doctor gave him a sedative and he’s resting pretty easy now.”
Kristin nodded. She stroked his arm and rested her hand upon his fingers, then glanced at the nurse. “Do you know if they’ve scheduled the bypass surgery?”
“Not yet. But from what I understand, when Dr. Nichols mentioned the procedure, your father refused to give his consent.”
“Why?”
The nurse shrugged. “Maybe you can talk to him. Surgery is often frightening.”
Her father wasn’t frightened. He was stubborn. And she had to talk some sense into him, let him know that to refuse the surgery would hurt her. And since she hadn’t had time to make peace with him, with the lies she’d told, his death would feel like an eternal punishment.
She closed her eyes and blew out a ragged breath. A punishment. It was funny, now that she thought about it, but he’d never punished her as a little girl for doing the usual childish pranks. But when she’d disappointed him, challenged his authority…
Was that what he was doing now? Holding his recovery over her head? A knot formed in her stomach as she realized that possibility. And yet another.
Was he no longer interested in living, in being the father of a young woman who’d been lying to him for years?
“You’ll need to leave now,” the nurse said. “But in an hour, you can come back.”
Kristin nodded, then placed a kiss on her father’s brow before letting the soft-spoken nurse lead her out of ICU. As she stepped into the hall, she recognized Dylan.
Bless his heart. He’d come to offer his support.
He opened his arms, and she fell into his steady embrace. He was every bit as tall and strong as Joe, and his scent, a wood-and-spice blend, was just as pleasing. His comfort just as sincere. But being in his arms didn’t feel as natural, as normal. As right.
She withdrew from his embrace, ashamed that she could compare the two men at a time like this.
“I can’t stay long, sweetheart.” Dylan gently brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “I’ve got a meeting with the network execs this afternoon, but I wanted to be here for you.”
“Thanks.”
“How’s your father doing?” he asked.
“I haven’t talked to him yet. But from what the nurse said, he’s refusing to give his consent for surgery.”
“He’s a smart man, honey. And with his health complications, he’s probably weighing the risks.”
It was more than that, and she knew it. But she kept her thoughts to herself. A tear slipped down her cheek, and she brushed it away with the length of her index finger.
Dylan took her hand. “Come on. Let’s see if there’s something we can do about his apprehension.”
He led her to the cardiac wing, then to the nurse’s desk, where an older RN with graying red hair sat.
“Excuse me,” Dylan said. “Do you have anyone who can talk to Mr. Reynolds about his upcoming surgery? Someone who’s been through a similar procedure?”
“As a matter of fact, we do.” The nurse smiled. “We have a couple that often comes to the hospital at our request to speak to an apprehensive patient. And they’ve had remarkable success.”
“Great,” Dylan said. “Can you please ask them to visit with Mr. Reynolds?”
“I’d be happy to.”
The nurse flipped through a Rolodex, withdrew a card, then quickly dialed. She smiled. “Hi, Kay. This is Helene down at Oceana General. We’ve got another patient in need of counseling. And his family wondered if you and Harry could come and talk with him about his surgery.”
Kay and Harry? Kristin stiffened. The Logans counseled heart patients? Surely it was another couple.
Helene hung up the telephone. “They’ll be here within an hour or two. If anyone can make a pre-op patient feel better about an upcoming bypass surgery, it’s Harry and Kay Logan.”
But what about this pre-op patient?
Kristin’s knees wobbled like one of those little round-bottomed toys Bobby used to play with. Something told her a visit with Harry Logan would send her father over the edge.
And that the visit might do him more harm than good.
Chapter Twelve
Kristin didn’t know how Dylan had done it. Or maybe it was Harry’s clout at the hospital that made things happen so quickly. But two hours later, after Dylan had returned to L.A., she stood with Kay and Harry Logan at her father’s bedside.
The retired detective talked to her dad about the success of his own bypass four months ago, in spite of similar complications. But Thomas Reynolds had merely glared at him.
“Do you have any questions or concerns about the surgery or recovery?” Harry asked.
“I’ve got a lot of questions and concerns,” her father barked. “But none that I want to discuss with you, Logan.”
“Still holding a grudge, I can see.”
Her father turned his head toward a blinking screen that monitored his heartbeat, but Kristin doubted he gave a darn what the blips and blinks meant.
“It seems to me that it’s time to put the past behind us. Don’t you, Mr. Reynolds?”
Her father lay on the bed, unyielding, even in his weakness.
Harry cleared his throat. “Well, maybe it’s best if I leave you with the ladies.” He placed a hand on his wife’s shoulder, as though passing the relay baton, then slipped out of the room.
Kay eased closer, taking her husband’s place. “I’d like to pray with you, Mr. Reynolds, if that’s all right.”
Her father scowled. “Don’t waste your breath. I believe in the here and now, not the hereafter.”
Kay didn’t
bat an eye. “That’s too bad. But without the bypass, you don’t have much time left in the here and now.”
His eye twitched. A sign that her words had broken through? Or merely an indication of the intensity of his resolve?
“It’s time to get right with God and with the people you’ll be leaving here on earth.”
“Make things right?” Her father snorted, then rolled his eyes.
“Perhaps there are things that need to be said, amends that need to be made.” Kay’s voice bore a soft and kind edge, yet was filled with conviction.
“I’ve never done anything to be sorry for.” Her father turned his head toward the monitor again.
This stubborn island of a man was a side she’d never seen of her father.
When had he become so hardened? So crass and egocentric? Had he always been that way and she’d never recognized it?
Well, he was showing that side of himself now.
“It’s a funny thing about forgiveness,” Kay said. “We often want our mistakes and sins to be overlooked, but we don’t want to forgive others.”
“You’re wasting your time, Mrs. Logan. The old boy upstairs gave up on me a long time ago. And you’d be wise to do the same thing.”
Kay seemed unaffected by her father’s rudeness, but Kristin wasn’t. It hurt to see him like this, and she refused to subject herself to any more of it.
Excusing herself, she left Kay at his bedside, but didn’t have much hope of the soft-spoken woman getting through to him.
Her father had always had an aggressive attitude toward business. He had a need to succeed at all costs that drove him onward in spite of obstacles standing in his way. In the past, she’d found it admirable. But that was no longer the case.
She’d heard rumors about failed businesses of people who’d crossed him, but before today, she’d never believed them.
Apparently, she’d never really known her father. Not the real man. And that fact, added to her fear of losing him, mingled with her guilt. Tears welled in her eyes, and she blinked them back.
Once outside the ICU, she joined Harry in the hall. “I’m really sorry about my father’s attitude.”
“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” Harry offered her a fatherly smile. The kind of smile she might never see again.
She tried to smile in return, but her heart couldn’t quite muster the effort. “I appreciate you and Kay coming to talk to my dad today, even though he rejected everything you said or offered.”
“Hey, it’s something Kay and I like to do. Sometimes it helps, sometimes it doesn’t. My wife sees it as a ministry of some kind. I just think of it as payback for being given a second chance at life.”
Kristin turned toward the closed door, wondering if Kay would soon be dashing out with her tail between her legs, chased out by an unyielding man with a suicidal death wish of some kind.
Harry placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry yet. Your father is a hard man to reach. And he holds a grudge like a hungry bulldog grabs a bone. But if anyone can get through to him, it’s my wife.”
Kristin wasn’t so sure.
But what Harry had said about her father was apparently true. He’d never gotten past the fire Joe had started when he was just a kid. Never gotten over the resentment and hate. And it was time that she faced the truth about him.
“I have a question I’d like to ask you,” she said.
“Shoot.”
“Are the rumors true about my dad? Did he try to ruin people who crossed him?”
“Thomas Reynolds hasn’t endeared himself to many in the community. Including me.”
“Can I ask why?”
“They’re personal reasons.”
“Does it have anything to do with that juvenile court incident when Joe was in trouble?”
Harry glanced down at his loafers, then caught her eye. “Your father took his anger a bit too far and has held a grudge for entirely too long.”
“What do you mean?”
Distracted, he looked toward the ICU door. Kristin followed his gaze and watched as Kay exited.
The older woman didn’t appear to be running scared. Or annoyed by the conversation she’d just had. She smiled, first at her husband, then at Kristin.
Was that an indication of a successful persuasion?
Kristin wouldn’t know unless she asked. “How’d it go?”
“I’m not sure. Some people need to chew on things for a while before they can begin to digest what was said.” The older woman slipped her hand in her husband’s. “Time will tell. But if you need anything, just give us a call.”
Kristin nodded, then watched the older couple walk away hand in hand.
How nice to have a partner in life, a lover, a best friend. She glanced at the doorway of the ICU where her father lay, stubborn and unreachable.
He’d never done anything to be sorry for? That was hard to believe.
Or was he talking about his relationship with her?
In a way, she supposed he didn’t owe her an apology. He’d never hurt her. Never lied. Never snuck behind her back.
Of course, she hadn’t meant to hurt him, to deceive him. Her lies had been to protect Joe, to protect the love she harbored for a young man her father didn’t approve of. And more recently, she’d lied to protect her father from his own anger.
But would he have been angrier with Joe for fathering Bobby, or with Kristin for disappointing him, for lying?
She blew out the breath she’d been holding. Who had she really been trying to protect?
The secret was out now. Did she dare stir the pot? Risk angering him more?
She glanced at the doorway to the ICU. Things certainly couldn’t get much worse.
The next hour passed slowly. At five o’clock, a short, dark-haired nurse allowed Kristin entrance.
She made her way to his bedside and stood before the man who’d adored her, the man who’d loved her with his whole heart. The man who hadn’t been around very much when she was a little girl, but who’d taken the baton after her mother died and done all he could to make life easy on a grieving child.
She tried to find the words to explain, to apologize. To make things right between them, when they might never be right again.
“Daddy?”
He stirred, then opened his eyes. But he didn’t speak.
“I lied to you. And I’m sorry.”
He looked at her, but didn’t smile, didn’t give any hint that he’d be willing to forgive her.
But she pressed on, determined to get the truth out in the open. “I fell in love with Joe Davenport years ago. And I continued to see him, even though you’d told me not to. And when he stopped loving me, it broke my heart. But I didn’t tell him I was pregnant. He never knew.”
Her father’s eyes bore straight to her heart, into her conscience. “You’re my daughter, and you lied to me.”
“I was afraid you’d go after Joe, that you’d make life difficult for him, when he was trying his best to overcome a crummy childhood and a lousy father.”
Her confession settled around her like a fog in a marsh. In a way, perhaps she’d always suspected her father would go after anyone who crossed him. Apparently, that was why he’d never liked Joe. But now Kristin was the one who’d challenged him. Deceived him.
Her dad didn’t speak. He merely shot her a look of disappointment that ripped her in two.
A tear ran down his craggy cheek. Then he turned his head and faced the wall.
Shutting her out.
Rejecting her.
“Dad, I wish you would be more understanding.”
No response.
“I’ve apologized, but I won’t beg. You can accept it and we can go forward. Or not. It’s your choice.”
There was still no crack in the silent wall he’d reinforced by presenting his back. And, quite frankly, she was tired of banging her head.
“I feel very sorry for you, Daddy. Because I truly believe that if my mother hadn�
�t died, you would have become a different man. A more forgiving man.”
At the mention of her mother, he slowly rolled to the side. “You’re probably right about that, Kristin. I did love her, in spite of what she might have thought. And God knows she was always harping on me about one thing or another, trying to make me into the kind of husband and father she thought I ought to be. But she’s gone. And you and I were left to fend for ourselves in this world.”
“And I let you down,” she said.
He didn’t nod, didn’t need to.
“And there’s no room in your heart for people who challenge you, is there?”
“That’s about the size of it. If you want my forgiveness, you need to stop seeing Joe altogether. And you need to marry Dylan. Today. Tomorrow. As soon as it can be arranged.”
A knot formed in Kristin’s stomach. He was bartering with her. Negotiating. Making demands that she would need to meet in order to receive his forgiveness.
“I’m sorry, Daddy. But I won’t marry Dylan. I don’t love him. I love Joe. And even if Joe doesn’t feel the same way about me, he’ll always be in my life because of Bobby. And there’s nothing you can do about that.”
She waited for a response, but didn’t expect one. And when the silence was nearly overwhelming, she turned and walked away, unable to do any more to change her father’s mind.
And unwilling to bend to his demands.
Kristin remained in the waiting room for the rest of the evening, but didn’t step foot into the ICU. If her father had a change of heart, which wasn’t very likely, she was nearby. And if the doctors had reason to speak to her, they knew where to find her.
Her relationship with her dad had hit the skids, but that didn’t mean she didn’t love him, didn’t fear losing him any more than she already had.
At eight-thirty, she called Joe. A part of her wanted to ask him to leave her son with his neighbor and come to the hospital to be with her. But it was too much to ask a man who had only offered her emotional support and friendship, and too little to accept when she wanted so much more from him.
She used the pay phone in the hall and dialed his number. When his baritone voice came over the line, a flood of emotion filled her heart and clogged her throat. But she didn’t dare deal with the past, the present or the possibility of a future. Not now.