With spot-on timing, the elevator doors opened to reveal his cousin. Nick had almost forgotten that, according to Jared, Marshall was still in the building.
Too agitated to guard his words, Nick blurted, “I just had an unexpected call from Dad. I guess it wasn’t unexpected to you, though.”
Marshall’s eyes narrowed. “Some of us would be over the moon if we could talk to our fathers.”
“There’s a reason he didn’t have my phone number,” Nick returned. “He chose to walk out of my life. Once I survived adolescence, I decided it was best he stay out of it.”
Weariness put an edge on Marshall’s voice. “Why not give him a break?”
This, from Dr. Arrogance? “After you and your parents considered him the world’s biggest loser? You made no secret of your opinion.”
“That was a long time ago.” In the dimly lit lobby, his cousin’s face appeared shadowed. “And speaking of old issues, whatever crap is afoot with the staff about the new office building, I hope you’re not taking sides just to get back at me.”
So word of the mini rebellion had reached the powers that be. “I’ll do what I believe is best.”
The creak of the elevator indicated they were about to be interrupted. “I don’t care to argue the point,” Marshall said. “But Uncle Quentin has a right to meet his grandson.”
“A right?” Nick scoffed. “If you were a parent, you’d think differently.”
“Maybe.” When the doors parted, revealing Jack, Lori and her husband, Marshall broke off. “Good night.”
“Night.”
The arrivals watched the tall man stride out of the medical building. “Tell me this doesn’t mean you’re throwing your support behind your cousin,” Jack said.
“Of course not.” A check of Nick’s watch showed he was ten minutes late. “I agree with you.”
“Great!” Jack clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m glad you’re on our side.”
“Me, too.” The camaraderie felt good. This man, and the others he’d met with tonight, were rapidly becoming friends as well as colleagues. “See you tomorrow.”
Nick strode out, determined to stand up for what was right, regardless of the consequences.
* * *
BY THURSDAY, ZADY was mad. Hopping mad. Boiling mad. The most frustrating part was that she wasn’t sure whom she was angry at, or rather, at whom she was most angry.
She didn’t lack for candidates. Elaine figured high among these. On the phone Tuesday, after Caleb had described his new preschool and how much fun he was having with Linda, his grandmother had said that since he was getting along so well with Zady, she and Grandpa didn’t need to visit the next weekend.
Shocked, Zady had said, “There’s no substitute for you.” Elaine’s smug response over the phone’s speaker had been, “We’ll see.”
Was she trying to make Caleb act out? If so, she’d succeeded. Caleb had thrown a full-out tantrum, screaming and pitching his toys.
Perceiving the anguish and resentment beneath the outburst, Zady had ached for the little guy. However, when he failed to respond to gentle persuasion and one of his toys hit Zady in the forehead, rage had flashed through her. Struggling not to overreact, she’d ordered him straight to bed.
Next on her list of people she was angry with came Nick. When he’d belatedly returned her call Tuesday night and learned of the evening’s events, he’d told Zady she should act more nurturing toward his son and implied she was favoring her goddaughter. Furious, she’d replied that she’d had enough of domineering, self-centered males in her life and that he should back off or find another sitter.
Last but not least among those she was mad at was...herself, for lashing out at him. He’d had a rough evening, Nick had explained apologetically the next morning. He’d described an unwelcome call from his father and an argument with his cousin.
Impulsively, Zady had hugged his strong frame. And he’d drawn her closer and rested his cheek against her hair. For a moment, she’d been lost in his arms, her heart twisting as he admitted how much he depended on her and regretted his unfair accusation about favoring Linda. She’d longed to protect him from all these stresses, as she wished she could protect the children.
Remembering that, she was angrier at herself than ever for nearly falling for the guy. What was she, an emotional basket case? Taking the plunge and ignoring the consequences smacked of the old, reckless Zady. Had she forgotten how high the price could be the instant a sexy man held her close?
She was older now. Smarter. Supposedly more sensible. And grinding her teeth at night as she tried to figure out what inherent susceptibility kept bypassing her common sense about Nick.
Meanwhile, she’d tried to be patient all week with Caleb, who grew more and more sulky each time Linda’s parents called. There was so much of Nick in the cute boy. At bedtime, when he snuggled close, she felt a swell of tenderness. Then he’d pull away again. Was Zady somehow alienating him? She’d never managed to win over Dwayne’s kids despite years of trying.
Well, Linda seemed fine. Zady hadn’t messed up that relationship.
On Thursday afternoon, she put a damper on her turbulent thoughts and paid extra attention to her duties at work. Nevertheless, Marshall was unusually dour and impatient with her, although he never outright snapped at her. She didn’t believe she’d done anything wrong, but these days, Zady wasn’t sure of her assessment of other people.
About five-thirty, after their suitemates had left, her boss stopped by the nurses’ station, where Zady sat alone, double-checking information in the computer. “Aren’t you due to pick up the kids?”
How odd that he kept track of such a thing. “I called the day care and they said it’s okay if I’m late. I want to be sure the records are in order.”
“If I was tough on you today, I apologize.” Despite his pleasant words, Marshall stood glowering into space, his hands balled into fists. “There are some ridiculous politics going on among the doctors, but I don’t mean to let it affect me or you.”
Zady had heard the rumors, thanks to her brother-in-law. “Lucky’s mentioned it, too. If you’re talking about the allocation of new space in the Porvamm.”
“The what?” Obviously, he didn’t spend much time listening to the hospital gossip mill.
“That stands for...” Zady took a deep breath and let fly. “The Portia and Vincent Adams Memorial Medical Building.”
“Porvamm?” he repeated. “But there’s an extra B at the end.”
“Must be silent.”
His lips twitched. “Must be.”
Thank goodness, she’d sparked a smile. “I’ve been busy trying to teach a pair of toddlers how to compromise,” Zady went on. “Too bad some of our staff missed that lesson. Not you!” she added, alarmed that he might misinterpret.
That drew an open laugh. “Don’t worry, I’m not offended,” Marshall said. “But I am worried. Mark Rayburn believes this conflict will work itself out by the time modifications to the building are complete. I respect his experience as an administrator, but we’re at a point where doctors are barely civil to each other.”
“Someone ought to sit down and work out the logistics,” Zady ventured. “Surely some offices in this building will be vacated, so that will open up space. Then, how many new doctors are likely to join the men’s program in the next few years? Crunch the numbers.”
“It sounds sensible when you put it that way,” Marshall said. “I’ll run it by Cole.”
“Don’t say it came from me,” Zady pleaded.
“Why not?”
“Who am I to lecture anyone about using common sense when my life is such a mess?” She sighed.
“It doesn’t appear that messy to me,” Marshall said.
“Caleb practically hates me and I don’t know why,” she ad
mitted. “His behavior dredges up old wounds from my ex-boyfriend’s kids, who were little monsters. I’m still not sure where I went wrong with them.”
“You might talk to the new staff psychologist, Franca Brightman,” Marshall said. “She’s available to staff as well as patients.”
The woman had provided an excellent preschool recommendation. But that was different from entrusting her with personal secrets. “You’re saying I should see a shrink?”
He lifted his hands in a pacifying gesture. “She might provide useful insights.”
If Marshall held Dr. Brightman in high esteem, perhaps Zady should consult her. But she’d always considered therapy a sign of weakness, as if it indicated that she couldn’t handle her own problems.
“I appreciate the suggestion.” Since she’d lost her concentration anyway, she logged off the terminal. “I’d better pick up the kids. See you tomorrow.”
“You bet. Thanks for your help today.”
“You’re welcome.” She’d only done her job, Zady mused as she went to fetch her purse and sweater. However, she was glad to hear that she’d done it well.
Now she had to tackle her other problems. While a counselor might be perfect for patients, Zady would prefer to figure out her own solutions. But she tucked the idea away, just in case.
Chapter Thirteen
That evening, Zady was tense while Nick broke the news to Caleb that he’d been unable to set up a visit with his grandparents for the weekend. “They’re too busy, what with selling their house, packing and moving into assisted living. We have to bear with them, Caleb. They’re old folks, and they’re confident you’re doing well here. So am I.”
His nod toward Zady was intended, she presumed, to be reassuring. Perhaps he considered it a good sign that Caleb didn’t argue, but she noticed how grimly the boy sat staring at his food, hardly eating.
Off Nick went to see patients. At home, Zady braced for the worst. Sure enough, the squabbling between the children intensified as she was clearing the dishes, climaxing in a scream from Linda. Running into the living room, Zady found her goddaughter holding a doll with its arm torn off.
“He did it!” A trembling finger pointed at Caleb.
“So what?” The boy folded his arms defiantly.
“Go to your room,” Zady ordered.
“I don’t have to!” He planted his legs apart and glared. “You’re nobody.”
Any second, she might swat his bottom, the way her father used to do to her. “Go to your room now or you’ll regret it.”
He must have recognized the determination in her voice, because he obeyed. Uneasily, Zady listened for crashes or other indications that he was venting his fury on his surroundings, but when she peeked in, he was working on a puzzle.
“My dolly!” Linda wailed when Zady returned to the living room.
“I’m sorry, sweetie.” She sank to the floor to hug her distraught goddaughter. “Maybe we can fix it.”
“She’s broke.” Tears ran down the little girl’s cheeks.
Before Zady could calm her, the phone rang. It was Alice, from Seattle. The sight of Linda’s tear-streaked face wrenched at her mother, as Zady had feared.
“Caleb broke her doll. He’s upset about not seeing his grandparents,” Zady explained. “Things are a little tense around here, but they’ll be fine.”
“Bill’s out with a client again, and I can’t stand being away from my daughter.” On the tiny screen, Alice’s face creased with worry. “I’m coming home.”
“Yes!” Linda shouted. “Come home, Mommy.”
What about Alice and Bill’s plan to revitalize their marriage? “I thought you were working on...you-know-what,” Zady said.
“We’ve been traveling nearly a week and haven’t spent a single evening focusing on each other.” Tonight, Alice’s blond hair hung limply around her face, as if she’d given up on both her grooming and her marriage.
“Don’t quit yet.” Surely Bill wasn’t such an idiot that he’d lose his wife rather than cut back on his hours. “Talk to him. He’s lost sight of the issues.”
“It’s like talking to a blank computer screen,” Alice said. “Okay, enough about me. Linda, cutie, tell me about day care. Are you making new friends?”
The little girl responded eagerly, and the conversation ended on a positive note. There were no further references to Alice abandoning her trip.
Zady held Linda in her lap while they searched online and found that the Bear and Doll Boutique in town performed repairs. “We’ll tuck Dolly and her arm in a drawer and get them fixed later,” she promised. “Okay?”
“Okay.”
Linda prepared for bed without protest. As she was settling the little girl under the covers, Zady spotted Caleb in the doorway. He’d played quietly in his room longer than she’d expected.
“I’m sorry, Linda,” he said. “I don’t hate you. I hate Auntie Zee.”
Pain squeezed her. She’d grown accustomed to him lashing out in anger, but this calm declaration cut deeply. Surely an experienced sitter wouldn’t arouse this level of antagonism. If he’d grown to loathe her, maybe Zady shouldn’t be supervising him.
Yet the prospect of losing him tore at her. Inside the little boy, she saw sweetness and longing, and she treasured the moments when he ran to her.
Also, leaving meant breaking contact with Nick, possibly forever, aside from the occasional casual encounter at the hospital. They could hardly remain friends if she upset his son to this degree.
She didn’t believe they’d reached that point. But later, when Caleb refused to let her read him a good-night story, she wondered if she truly had blown any chance of winning his love. She’d hoped to ease his transition; instead, she might be adding to his problems.
Still brooding on Friday morning, Zady was grateful that Marshall’s busy surgery schedule meant she didn’t have to face questions about her downbeat mood. At lunch, she decamped to the hospital cafeteria.
She spotted her brother-in-law dining with the hospital’s nursing supervisor. Lucky and Betsy appeared to be discussing business, which meant she had a good reason to avoid them.
Scanning the tables, Zady noticed a mane of strawberry-blond hair on a woman sitting alone. Why didn’t Franca Brightman join the other doctors? Zady wondered. Was it because the psychologist had a PhD rather than an MD, or didn’t she care for company?
The other tables were occupied either by strangers or by people Zady would rather avoid. Tray in hand, she approached the counselor. “Hi. Mind if I join you?”
Franca set down the computer tablet she’d been reading. “Not at all. You’re Marshall’s nurse, aren’t you?”
“That’s right.” Zady introduced herself, and Franca did likewise. Declining to be called Dr. Brightman, she insisted on first names. In her early thirties, wearing a light green pantsuit, Franca seemed friendly, a good quality in a therapist.
However, Zady could hardly launch into a litany of her problems. Nor did she want to. “I was admiring your hair color. That’s a pretty shade.”
“You think so?” Franca twisted a lock to examine it. “My natural color is Little Orphan Annie red and I’m sick of it. Plus, there are so many redheads on staff here, I was getting lost in the crowd. That’s unusual for me.”
“It suits you. And I’m a big fan of freckles.”
“You have an excellent crop, yourself.”
“Thanks.” Okay, they’d broken the ice, Zady mused, unwrapping her sandwich. Now what? By chance, the other woman provided the answer when she gazed out the glass door at Marshall. “Do you know Dr. Davis well?” Zady asked.
Franca snapped her attention away from the patio. “We both did our undergraduate work at UC Berkeley. He dated a friend of mine.”
“Ah,” Zady said, as if that e
xplained their connection, although it didn’t. Well, Marshall’s relationships were none of her business. “Actually, he recommended I talk to you about a problem I’m having, but I don’t feel comfortable talking to a...a...”
“Shrink?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m happy to provide a free consult,” the other woman said. “Or we can chat now, if you’d prefer.”
“It’s your lunch break.”
“Listening to people isn’t work,” Franca corrected. “Especially...” She paused.
Especially Marshall’s nurse? Nope, Zady was reading too much into this. “A fellow freckled person?”
“Exactly.”
Curiosity propelled her to ask, “Do you find you’re always analyzing people’s behavior? I mean, subconsciously?”
“I try not to.” Franca ducked her head. “But since you asked, feel free to tell me about your situation. Or not.”
“I really could use your feedback,” Zady admitted. Where to begin? “I don’t know if you heard, but I’m the overnight sitter for Nick Davis’s little boy, in exchange for room and board.” She outlined the situation with Caleb, his deceased mother and his grandparents. She explained about Linda receiving calls from her parents and Caleb’s outbursts afterward. “He keeps saying he hates me and I don’t understand why.”
“How do you feel about him?” Having finished her pasta primavera, Franca sipped a cup of tea.
“He’s adorable,” Zady said. “He’s so much like, well, Nick and Marshall both. I’d love to be there for him if he’d let me, but he rejects me more and more. I can’t figure out what I’ve done wrong.”
“From what you’ve said, I’m not sure you’ve done anything wrong,” Franca responded. “Caleb is grieving for his mother and for the home he just left. As for his grandmother, even though she claims to appreciate you, clearly she’s not helping the situation.”
“Caleb’s fine when Nick’s around,” Zady pointed out. “It’s just me he dislikes.”
“He can’t direct his anger at his father. Nick is the only stable person in his life.” Franca rested her chin on her palm, a position that emphasized the heart shape of her face. “Of course, without observing Nick or Caleb directly, I can only speculate.”
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