Late Arrivals (Special Delivery Book 4)

by J. A. Armstrong

  “Sorry,” he apologized when he clipped Brooke’s heel.

  Brooke smiled weakly and opened the door to her office. “So? Tess is checking up on me, huh?” Brooke asked lightly.

  Brad was confused. “I don’t think so,” he said. “She just thought I might like to see your office finally. To tell you the truth, I think she wanted to pick up Davey.”

  Brooke nodded. It wouldn’t have surprised her if her father was right in his assumption. Brad had been picking Davey up since he had arrived more than a week earlier. Brooke had stepped in a few times the previous week once her stomach had decided to table its total rebellion. Tess had not spent much one-on-one time with her son of late. Today, Davey was headed to Tad Wilson’s house to help with some last minute things before the start of baseball camp that Saturday. He had been prattling on about Tad and Jessica’s oldest son, Kyle for over a week. Brooke was sure that Davey’s excitement had piqued Tess’s curiosity.

  “That’s probably true,” Brooke said. “Want to have a seat?” she offered her father.

  “I thought you might want to show me around. Is Rachel here?” he asked. He watched as Brooke’s lips curled into a lopsided yet unconvincing grin. “I haven’t seen that look on your face since you failed that math test in the sixth grade,” he observed. “Why didn’t you tell me this was a bad time when I asked?”

  Brooke huffed and directed her father to sit. “It’s not—not really.”

  “Issues with a patient?” he prodded gently.

  “No,” Brooke said. “Thankfully, nothing like that today.” She scratched behind her ear and shook her head. Part of Brooke wanted to discuss the issue regarding Dr. Jason Bennet with her father. An equal part was reluctant to confide in him about the situation.

  Brad Campbell had never openly taken issue with Brooke’s sexuality. He adored Tess, and he loved the twins. Brooke was also sure that her father had struggled to accept her sexuality—her life. He hadn’t needed to say anything directly. Offhanded comments and silence had told Brooke everything she had needed to know. Brooke enjoyed the relationship she now shared with her father. She feared that sharing Jason Bennet’s opinions on her relationship and family might bring her father’s true feelings to the surface. Brooke wasn’t sure that she could handle that today.

  Brad watched Brooke’s mannerisms. There was not a doubt in his mind that something was weighing on his daughter. “You don’t have to tell me,” he broke through the silent tension in the room. “If it is work related… Well, we may have different specialties, but I do have some experience dealing with different personalities,” he commented, guessing that the tension he sensed in Brooke might stem from a strain among her colleagues. Brooke’s head snapped up at attention. Brad chuckled. “I doubt there’s all that much you could tell me that I haven’t been through myself,” he told his daughter.

  “I wouldn’t count on that,” Brooke muttered. She sighed and looked at him. Okay, maybe just the overarching issue. “A few months ago, we made a decision to replace two of our colleagues who had moved on to other things.”

  “I remember.”

  Brooke nodded. “Both are capable young doctors,” she said honestly. “One has the mentality of… Well, let’s just say that any approach I would take or suggest, he will take the opposite.”

  Brad considered the information for a moment. Brooke’s friends and colleagues always seemed to seek him out to compliment Brooke’s work when he found himself in their presence. There was no doubt in his mind that Brooke was an exceptional physician and surgeon. Sometimes, he had learned, that being excellent in your field earned you respect; other times, he had experienced the oppositional approach in people. People who felt threatened by a successful peer sometimes took every opportunity to mount a challenge. He also knew that Brooke’s reaction to any insight from him could be met with either gratefulness or defensiveness. He let the information roll around in his brain for a few moments before addressing her.

  “Jealousy will do that sometimes,” he offered.

  Brooke responded without thinking. “I wish it were that simple,” she said.

  “Sometimes the student thinks he knows better than the teacher.”

  “Sometimes the student just doesn’t like the teacher,” Brooke returned.

  “You think it’s a personality conflict that is causing the dissension?” Brad asked curiously. “I’m only trying to help,” he said.

  Brooke made her decision. “He has expressed issues with who I am,” she said. “When that came to my attention, I addressed it directly. I stepped onto the slippery slope, and ever since it has been a steady slide.”

  Brad rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “You mean your approach?”

  “No, Dad I mean who I am—my life—my family.”

  Brad wasn’t sure how to respond. He understood the implication; he simply couldn’t digest it.

  “Never mind,” Brooke tried to brush it off.

  “Are you telling me that he has a problem with you and Tess—as a couple, I mean?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I should have handled it better.”

  “You shouldn’t have had to handle it at all,” Brad said forcefully.

  Brooke’s eyes widened at the tinge of anger in her father’s voice. “I tried to put it to rest,” she explained. “Told him that any comments about my personal life were out of bounds either here or at the hospital. I guess that…”

  “It’s out of bounds anywhere,” Brad said defensively.

  “Dad, he is not the first person to…”

  “I’m sure not,” her father replied evenly. “I can’t see how any personal view has any bearing on what you do in this office.”

  “It shouldn’t. He has an issue with me. Maybe I should have let it go more, ignored it. Maybe I should have brought it to Rachel to handle. Maybe he would have fallen in line or left on his own. Now, it’s headed to legal. It’s my fault.”

  “Bullshit it is,” Brad raised his voice slightly. Brooke jumped in her seat. “Your fault? Everything is not your fault,” Brad told Brooke.

  “No, but, I should have been able to control the situation before it got out of hand.”

  “Typical,” Brad chuckled affectionately.

  Brooke immediately recognized her father’s insinuation. “You think I have some God complex?” she shot at him bitterly.

  Brad sighed heavily and shook his head. “Do you?” he asked her pointedly. Brooke’s face grew hot. Brad shook his head again. “No, but I do think that you like to blame yourself for everything—believe that you should somehow be able to solve everything that falls into your path.”

  “I don’t think that,” Brooke defended herself.

  “Yes, you do,” he disagreed. “You always have—and before you start telling me how arrogant I am, I already know that,” he chuckled. “Bee,” his voice softened. “You can’t control other people, not what they think, not what they say, not even what their body does. You just think that you can.”

  “I know that,” Brooke said. “But, what I do—what any of us does or doesn’t do is always…”

  “Part of the equation,” Brad finished a thought he had shared more than once with his daughter. “That is true. No, I don’t think you have a God complex. I think,” he hesitated for an instant. “I think that in your mind if you control it then you don’t have to accept that you can’t change it. Sometimes, Bee—you can’t.”

  Brooke’s anger was quickly abating. The events of the day had taken its toll. She had found herself reviewing every conversation she had ever had with Jason Bennet. What could she have said or done differently? Should she have gone to Rachel immediately? Rachel had always tended to jump to Brooke’s defense. They were not merely business partners of colleagues. They were best friends. In many ways, Rachel was the sibling Brooke never had. No amount of dedication to professionalism could change that. It was one of the drawbacks to working so closely together. And, that reality had just thrown Brooke and Rachel’s perso
nal and professional lives into a head-on collision—a collision that had Brooke’s head spinning.

  “Dad… It’s complicated now. The long and short of it is that he’s imprudent at best. I don’t trust him, and the other doctors here have all expressed a degree of concern. But, he’s made some waves now of his own. It’s…”

  “Bee, it’s out of your hands now. You can’t go back, and you can’t change who he is.”

  “You don’t know the entire story,” she replied.

  “I don’t need to. It’s just like standing in an operating room.”

  “I don’t see how…”

  “It is. Life is like that. It took me a long time to figure that out,” he said regretfully. “I used to think… I used to feel when I left an operating room that I had won the day or lost the day. Whatever happened, it rested in my hands,” he said. “It never did. I molded outcomes, made contributions. That’s all I ever did. That’s all any of us ever do, Bee. Why does a patient with every statistic on their side crash on a table, while a human jigsaw puzzle moves on to a nearly complete recovery—in spite of a million reasons why they should never have made it out of that operating room?” he asked rhetorically. “I made a contribution. Sometimes I even made mistakes. I tried to impact the outcome, but that outcome never rested in my hands. That’s how life is. A million little things determine what will happen. The only thing you are ever in charge of is yourself, Bee. Even your kids,” he laughed. “You can guide them. You try to make that contribution and limit your mistakes, but in the end, they make the decisions for their life.”

  “That’s depressing,” Brooke said.

  “No,” Brad disagreed. “It’s freeing. Hold yourself accountable,” he told her. “But only for yourself, Brooke. Otherwise, you will start to lose your way.”

  ***

  Tess found herself smiling uncontrollably as she watched Davey bounce in his seat. She enjoyed the excitement pouring off her son. It seemed to soothe the worry that had dominated her thoughts over the last few months. Three visits to Tad Wilson’s home had seemed to change Davey’s perspective already. She was encouraged when he had run to the car with his old friend, Greg Culver at his side. Let’s hope that is a good omen.

  “That’s it!” Davey exclaimed.

  Tess giggled. I haven’t seen him this excited in ages. Tess had barely turned off the engine before Davey was jumping out of the car. “Hey,” she called in amusement. “Let me catch up.”

  Davey was running up the steps to the front door with Tess on his heels when the door opened.

  “Hey, D.,” Kyle Wilson greeted his young friend.

  “Hey, Kyle,” Davey replied in his deepest voice.

  Tess tried not to laugh out loud at Davey’s attempt to play it cool.

  “Oh, hey,” Kyle caught sight of Tess. “You must be Davey’s other mom.”

  Tess beamed. Not often did anyone greet her in that manner and she felt her heart swell. Kyle had known Brooke for several years. And, he had seen Brooke with Davey the previous week. “Tess,” she extended her hand to the teenager.

  “Nice to meet you,” Kyle said politely. “Come on in,” he gestured to the pair. “Have you been throwing the ball at all, D.?” he asked Davey.

  Davey nodded. “Yeah. Grandpa’s been throwing with me after school.”

  “How’s your mom feeling? I mean… Brooke,” Kyle fumbled a bit.

  Tess bit her lip to keep from laughing. She was content to listen to her son carry the conversation.

  “She’s okay,” Davey said. “Better, I think, ‘cause she went outside with me after dinner last night.”

  “She still have that rocket?” Kyle asked.

  Davey nodded. “She throws way harder than grandpa.”

  Kyle laughed. “Dad says she throws harder than some of the guys on the team,” he told Davey.

  Tess’s ears perked up. “You mean the baseball?” she asked.

  Davey turned to look at his mother who was just behind them. “Yeah,” he said as if that should be obvious. “She doesn’t throw like a girl,” he said.

  “And, how exactly does a girl throw?” Tess challenged her son gently.

  Kyle jumped in to rescue Davey. He put his hand and Davey’s shoulder and looked at Tess. “Brooke’s strong,” he laughed. “I remember the first time she and Dr. Campbell came to the house in Santa Monica. I think my hand tingled that whole week,” he recalled.

  “We gonna throw before we do stuff?” Davey asked Kyle.

  Kyle stole a glance at a grinning Tess before looking back at Davey. “I would love to. I thought you might rather throw with the expert, though,” he said. Davey’s eyes flew open. Kyle laughed. “Come on; we’ll go interrupt his practice.”

  “What time should I pick you up?” Tess began to excuse herself.

  “Don’t you want to watch?” Kyle asked.

  “I don’t want to crowd…”

  “Come on, Mom,” Davey implored his mother.

  Tess was genuinely surprised, so much so that she startled slightly at Davey’s words. “Are you sure you want me to?”

  “Why not?” Davey shrugged.

  Kyle smiled at Tess. “He’s learned a few new things,” he explained.

  “As long as you are sure,” Tess repeated. Davey’s customary shrug told her he was more than sure, and did not want to seem overanxious in front of Kyle. Tess nodded her agreement and continued to follow.

  “Does he practice a lot?” Davey asked Kyle.

  Kyle reached a door and nodded. “Every day since I can remember,” he said.

  Kyle opened the door, and Davey’s jaw dropped open. There at the far side of the room stood the great Tad Wilson, placing a—what was that he was placing in a case, Davey wondered?

  “Sorry to interrupt,” Kyle called over to his father.

  Tad smiled and waved off the apology. “You didn’t. I was just finishing up,” he said. He looked over at Davey and noted the youngster’s slack-jawed expression. “You must be Brooke’s son.”

  Davey nodded. Innocently, he pointed to the item sitting on the floor that Tad held steady. “What’s that?” he asked.

  “Oh, this?” Tad looked up and down the instrument. “This is Barnaby.”

  Kyle smacked his forehead. “He has a name for every instrument he owns,” he rolled his eyes. “I don’t think that’s what he meant, Dad.”

  Tad smirked. “It’s a cello,” he explained.

  Tess stepped into view. Tad’s smiled widened. “And, you must be Brooke’s wife,” he surmised. “Take this off my hands, will you Kyle?” Kyle rolled his eyes again and moved to take possession of the instrument. “You can put Barnaby in his home,” Tad teased his son as he made his way to Tess and Davey. “I have heard a lot about both of you.”

  “That’s never good,” Tess deadpanned.

  “The artist and the prodigy,” Tad replied earnestly. Tess smiled, certain that Brooke had been bragging. Tad winked at her and then turned his attention back to Davey.

  “My sister plays drums,” Davey said, almost as if he were bragging about Dani. “Brooke plays lots of things,” he said.

  Tad nodded. “So I have heard, although, I have never convinced her to play with me. Maybe, you can help me with that if I agree to help you with that slider that Kyle was telling me about,” he suggested to Davey. Davey nodded.

  Tad regarded the youngster silently for another moment. He had only briefly spoken with Brooke. She had clued him into some of the concerns that she and Tess had about Davey. Most of their conversation, Brooke had spent bragging about both of the twins and about Tess. Tad has always liked Brooke, and not simply because of the connection that he shared with her father. In many ways, he thought that they were kindred spirits, perfectionists who often had a difficult time slowing their pace. As a parent who was often on the run, he easily related to Brooke’s anxiety about Davey.

  “If you’d rather learn the cello,” Tad began, “I’d be happy to get you started. It takes a lot
of practice, though.”

  “Not more than baseball,” Davey said as a matter of fact.

  “A least as much,” Tad replied.

  “Have you always played?” Tess asked curiously.

  “Ever since I can remember,” Tad answered. “My mother put a bow in my hand long before my father had a chance to throw a baseball to me.” He laughed and then looked at Davey. “You look surprised,” he said.

  Davey shrugged. “Most guys don’t do that stuff,” he shrugged again.

  “What stuff?” Tad asked curiously. “Play cello or play baseball?” He didn’t wait for Davey’s response. “Umm. Yeah, I’ve heard that a few times over the years. Not sure who told you that,” he said. Tad waved for Davey to follow him across the room to a bookcase. He pointed to a picture in a frame. “Recognize any of those guys?” he asked Davey.

  Davey studied the picture and nodded. Four men were standing with Tad. Two wore Red Sox Uniforms, one was sporting an Angel’s jersey, and the fourth man in the picture had on a Met’s shirt. “That’s Drew Crawford,” Davey pointed to one of the men.

  “It is,” Tad agreed.

  “He’s Davey and Brooke’s favorite player,” Tess offered.

  “He’s a hell of a shortstop. Just as good with a guitar in his hands.” Davey looked at Tad with an astonished gaze. Tad laughed again. “Cellos are kind of hard to travel with. Usually, I take a guitar. Drew and I like to play a bit when we are on the road,” he explained. “That picture is from a benefit we did last year. Different athletes performed to raise money for children’s cancer research. There was a group of hockey players, two groups from the NFL, and even a duo of professional golfers who played. Runs Batted In—that’s what we called our group,” Tad shook his head. “Not very original, as my wife likes to remind me.”

  Tess smiled at the man. She had instantly liked him. He was down to earth, and he clearly had a read on Davey. “Oh, I don’t know,” Tess said. “I think it’s clever. Plus, you know—that name might become an omen in some clubs,” she joked. Tad laughed raucously. Davey was confused, not understanding the innuendo in Tess’s statement. Kyle chuckled in the corner.