Obviously he was alive and well and living in Michigan; she'd be sure to tell Barbara when they spoke that evening. She smiled as she straightened in her seat. Of course, the whole coat incident really didn't count, because she wasn't dating this man—he was simply being nice. But she was grateful, not only for the warmth the jacket provided but for the sweet reminder of her present-day life. She was not a child returning to an unhappy home, but an adult, returning to her father's house not because she had nowhere else to go, but because she had chosen to return.
Kim grabbed her suitcase out of the trunk and walked down the front walkway to the door. The back door seemed too personal a way to enter this house. It was for family. And she was a guest. Not even an official guest. A visitor.
She opened the door and walked in, shutting the door behind her. The house smelled like she remembered it, a mixture of Pledge and fresh laundry. She took it as a sign that her father had kept the same housekeeper all these years.
She glanced inside the large living room off to her right The same rust brown shag carpeting covered the floor. A familiar white, furry rug was still lying in front of the fireplace. The walls were paneled with the same heavy oak paneling. Even the furniture was as she remembered it. Kim stepped inside the room and stopped. The portrait of their family still hung over the fireplace, as though she, her mother, and father were still the occupants of this big, old lonely house.
Kim had a sick feeling in her stomach. This was weird. Very weird. Apparently her father had suffered a little bit more than she had suspected. Why else had he never changed the decor?
Kim couldn't bear to look at anything more. She walked up the stairs and made her way to her old bedroom. As she suspected, it was neat and clean, but appeared to be exactly as she'd left it. Exhausted, she slipped into her old twin bed and closed her eyes.
Kim reached the parking lot at five minutes after seven. The heat in the Cadillac was blasting as high as it could go. So hard, in fact, that her hair was blowing back. "Ahhhh," she sighed out loud, as she adjusted the vents so they were aimed at her toes. They just don't make cars like this anymore. She could understand why her father had wanted to hang on to it.
Kim had woken up bright and early, and even a little cheerful, although she wasn't sure why. She suspected it was because of the house. She was encouraged by the fact that her father hadn't changed anything. Perhaps he had left everything the way it was because he missed them. For whatever reason, it had certainly been helpful this morning. Kim had rummaged through the front closet and had found one of her mother's old winter coats with a pair of brown leather gloves still tucked into the pocket. Kim glanced down at the slightly moth-eaten blue wool. She wasn't going to win any fashion awards, but at least it was warm. And the best part was that it had been her mother's.
As she pulled into the hospital parking lot, she checked her watch. She had made it there in under five minutes. She glanced at the parking lot instructions. Visitor parking to the right. Maternity parking to the left. Patient parking to the left. Physicians parking… right in front. Kim hesitated as she glanced at the special parking sticker posted in her father's front window. Maybe she should park in the physicians parking. After all, who knew what time she would be leaving? Did she really want to stroll through a dark parking lot in the cold of the night?
Cold was the key word.
She drove slowly toward the front, making a wide turn into a parking spot. As she stepped out of the car, she realized that she had inadvertently taken up two spots. She got back inside, fired up the engine, and slowly backed out and pulled back in again, this time pulling in closer to the car to her right. Perfect, she thought, stopping the car and turning off the engine. She glanced to her right. She was definitely close to the car next to her. Very close. But what could she do? If she parked any farther away, when someone pulled in on the other side, they'd be so close to her she wouldn't be able to get back into her car. She stepped out of her car and walked over to check the distance between her car and the one on the right. Just fine, she thought. As long as the driver was slim. Make that very slim.
She was distracted by a thundering roar and glanced back. A man in a motorcycle pulled into the open spot behind her. He pulled off his helmet. It was none other than Dr. Anthony Hoffman. Tony to her.
He made a point of staring at the Physicians Only parking sign. Then he looked at her and winked
Kim could feel herself blush. Busted.
"Good morning," he said, hopping off his motorcycle.
Kim nodded. Her eyes scanned his outfit as he walked toward her. Black motorcycle jacket and jeans. His wavy brown hair fell over one eye.
"Isn't it a little chilly to be riding a motorcycle?" Kim asked incredibly.
He shook his head. "It's nice outside."
"Speaking of which," she said, reaching back into the car and pulling out his jacket, "thank you very much. I really appreciated it."
"Are you sure you don't need it? You can hang on to it if you want…"
"No, I'm fine," Kim insisted, handing it back to him. She nodded toward her coat "I found an old coat of my mother's."
"Oh," he said, nodding in approval. "That's nice. And it's in style, too."
"Yeah, well, there's no accounting for taste, I guess," Kim said with a smile, and they began walking toward the hospital.
After a pause, Tony said, "I was thinking about you last night. How did everything go? Did you find your way to your dad's house?"
"Yes, thanks. I found my way and got inside without any trouble. It was all a little weird, but I survived. I feel much better today."
"Well, good," he said, opening up the hospital door for her. As she stepped inside, their eyes locked for a split second before Kim glanced away.
"I'm sure I’ll see you upstairs," he said casually as he turned down a long, narrow hallway.
Kim paused for a moment, glancing after him. She realized that she was warm. She pulled off her glove and held a hand to her cheek. Either she was getting a fever, or she was still blushing. She thought back to his grin, which she had decided was definitely one of the sexiest she'd seen. She had a feeling she knew why she was warm.
Watch yourself, she commanded. He may be nice, but she had little desire to end up in a cold, unhappy marriage with a man who worked night and day. And at this point, she wasn't much interested in a casual fling. At least not with Tony. It was too complicated with his working with her father. She had best focus on the matter at hand. She picked up her pace as she headed toward the elevator.
"Dad? Dad, it's me. Kim." Kim paused as she waited for a reaction. She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost noon. Time for her to leave. She patted his hand. "I slept at the house last night. I hope you don't mind." She left out the part about driving his car. If he was awake, that might be enough to send him back into cardiac arrest.
His eyes fluttered and he opened them. "Kim?" he said in a voice that was barely audible.
"Hi, Dad," Kim said, her eyes welling with tears.
Her father squeezed her hand. "Thank you… for coming."
Kim nodded. She couldn't think of anything else to say.
"My throat…" he began. "So dry."
"Want some ice?" Kim asked, anxious for something to do. Her father gave her a slight nod.
She stepped back out into the hall and hurried to the nurses' station. Melva was sitting behind the desk. "Ice" Kim said, in a low, anxious whisper. "My father wants some ice."
"He's awake?" Melva asked, exchanging a glance with the nurse next to her.
Kim nodded. "He's awake and he wants some ice," she repeated, as though his very life depended on it.
Melva shot Kim a glance that said, "Calm down" as she filled a Styrofoam cup with some chipped ice and began to walk quickly back toward Kim's father's room. She pushed open the door. "Good morning, Dr. Risson. Here's your ice."
He nodded. He tried to sit up but was too weak. Melva skillfully grabbed his arm and helped move him
up on the bed as Kim stood helplessly off to the side. Like a feeble old man, her father accepted the ice from Melva and attempted to suck on the chips.
Melva began to take his blood pressure. "You have a lovely daughter, Dr. Risson," she said. "She's been here with you every day."
Kim's father gave Kim an appreciative smile. "Yes," he said simply. Melva finished taking his blood pressure, marked it down on his chart, and walked out of the room, leaving father and daughter alone once more.
"Kim," he said, storing at her with tears in his eyes. "So much time…" His voice trailed off. He smiled at her weakly. ""You've grown up."
Kim nodded. "Yes."
"How did you find out about me… my heart attack?"
"Dr. Harkavey called. He got my number out of your address book."
Harold nodded. "And you came," he said weakly, as though he didn't quite believe it.
Kim nodded. She paused, biting her lower lip. "Of course. You're my… my dad."
He smiled. "I'm happy you… thank you for coming." he stammered, putting the cup of ice back down on his bedside table. He closed his eyes briefly from exhaustion and pain. He gingerly slid back down on his pillows.
"How long…" he said, his voice heavy with sleep. "How long can you stay?"
She didn't hesitate. "As long as you need me."
He opened his eyes once more and again attempted to smile. "Thank you, Kim."
After her father had fallen back asleep, Kim wandered back toward the waiting room. She stepped inside and hesitated. She had begun to hate this room. She felt so sorry for the people who had come and gone since she had arrived. Some left crying, others left hopeful, but all left exhausted. She glanced out the window and saw Tony step out of the elevators. She immediately walked into the hall, happy to see a familiar face.
"Dr. Hoffman," she called out.
He stopped and turned around. "Kim," ha said, his face brightening as he walked toward her.
"My dad's doing much better," she said.
"That's what Dr. Harkavey said. I was just speaking with him. He said your father was already quizzing him about his medications. A positive sign."
Kim grinned.
Tony caught himself staring into Kim's tired, big brown eyes. He felt sorry for her. She looked like she was in dire need of a break from all the stress. "Look," he said, hesitating. "I could really use a cup of coffee. Would you care to join me?"
Kim nodded, anxious to avoid the waiting room. "That sounds good," she said, happy for the distraction.
Kim and Tony took the elevator to the main floor. As Tony led her through the cafeteria, she said, "Thanks, again for last night. Helping me get my dad's address and everything."
"Sure," he said as he poured them both a cup of coffee.
"I've got this," Kim announced, nodding toward her purse as she picked up her Styrofoam cup and headed for the cashier.
"That's all right," he said.
"No. I insist," she said adamantly. She didn't want it to appear even slightly romantic. He was not buying her coffee, nor did she even want the issue to arise.
"Well, thanks. I owe you one." He followed Kim to an empty table near the window and sat down across from her. "So," he said.
"So," she repeated. "You probably think that it's kind of weird that I didn't even know where my dad was living."
He shook his head. "Not really. Family relationships can be complicated."
Kim nodded. "Yeah, well. That certainly describes our relationship. Complicated." Kim looked into his deep green eyes. They radiated a gentleness, a sensitivity, that encouraged her to confide in him. "My mother died last year," she continued, "but my parents had been divorced for quite a while. It was, as they say, acrimonious. My mother moved to Florida. With me. My father never quite got over it." As she remembered the decor of her father's home, she added quietly, "Apparently."
"Sounds like you've had a tough year."
She nodded. "Not to mention, JFK. Jr. got married."
"My condolences," he said, smiling. "So I take it you're not married."
She shook her head. "No." Before she could stop herself she asked, "And you?"
He shook his head. "No."
After an awkward pause, he said, "So—you and your dad—how long has it been since you've seen each other?"
"I don't know," she said, thinking. "I guess… geez. It must be almost fifteen years."
He raised his eyebrows. "Wow. What happened?"
"Nothing really happened. There wasn't any fight. He just…" she said struggling, searching for the right words to describe the demise of their relationship. "He was very angry at my mother for leaving him. And he wanted me to stay here with him. But…" She shrugged again. "My mother and I were very close. Unfortunately, I think my father viewed my decision to stay with my mother as some sort of betrayal. It was difficult staying in touch with him after that. You know," she added quickly, "the distance and everything. I guess it was bound to happen."
Tony nodded sympathetically, although he didn't really understand. He came from a close-knit family, and he couldn't imagine his parents cutting off contact with him, regardless of what he had done or where he lived.
She seemed to read the expression in his eyes. She sighed. "Who am I kidding? You know my dad. I'm sure you think he's a pain in the neck, don't you?"
He almost spit his coffee out. "I… ah, I don't know your father very well," he said, avoiding her eyes.
She smiled as though she had caught him in a white lie. "Like I said last night, he can be difficult. My mother loved him, but even she couldn't take it anymore. She had given him so much of her life, and although she had me, and a lovely home, she said that she couldn't deal with the loneliness anymore."
"Did she work?"
"She did when my parents first met. She was climbing the corporate ladder at an insurance agency, and she loved her job. She put my father through medical school. When he graduated, he decided that she should stay home, and my mother, not being as liberated as… well, for instance, as I am… agreed. In any case, after my parents' divorce, she got a job as an executive assistant, but I think she always wondered what her life would have been like if she had continued working after she married." She paused. "What do you think? Do you want your wife to work?"
He laughed. "Not having a wife, I think the question is moot."
She shrugged. "I would have to work. I love my job. It's part of who I am. So I know right off the bat that I'm going to need a husband who can help me raise the children and be an integral part of my life."
"Sounds like you've got it all figured out."
She laughed. "Not really. I just know that I don't want to make the same mistake my mom made when she chose my dad. His main priority has always been his job."
"He is a brilliant surgeon," Tony said.
"Yes," Kim agreed almost sadly.
"I first heard about him when I was in college. I knew I wanted to be a doctor, and my parents got me a subscription to the Journal of American Medicine. I remember reading an article written by your father about a sick little girl who was in need of a transplant. The child had no insurance so your father offered his services for free and convinced the hospital to donate their care. Unfortunately, the transplant failed and the girl died. Your father took it very hard because he had formed an attachment to this child. To make matters worse, the parents turned around and sued him and the hospital for malpractice."
Kim sat back in her chair. Her father had tried to save a poor child? It certainly didn't seem to fit with the mental picture she carried of him. "When was this?" she asked.
Tony squinted his eyes, thinking. "I was a senior, so… 1982."
The year she and her mother had left. Kim didn't speak. She thought back, remembering that year. She had had little idea of the professional chaos her father had been dealing with.
"Kim?" Tony asked, leaning forward. "Are you okay?"
"Yes, sorry," Kim said, forcing herself to focus back on Tony. "
I just… I'm surprised," she stammered. "I didn't know about that." She thought back to the child her father had tried to save. "Why did the parents sue?" Kim asked. "Without a transplant the child would've died, right?"
Tony nodded. "Yes. But people are so upset when someone they love dies that they don't always think rationally. They were angry that their little girl was taken away, and they blamed the doctor. Unfortunately, it's not that unusual." He sipped his coffee. "Your father has taken some risks, operating on people that other doctors refuse to touch—simply because they feel the patient's chance of survival is not all that good. Your dad believes that every patient deserves a chance. If he succeeds, he's lauded as a hero. But if he fails—and occasionally we all do, not necessarily because of an error but because the patient simply wasn't strong enough—the doctor is often viewed as the villain. We're used to it. But in that particular case involving the little girl, there was a lot of publicity—negative publicity. If your dad had been anyone else, he probably would have been fired. But he was… and is, one of the best surgeons in the country. The hospital couldn't afford to lose him."
Kim had always thought of patients as the enemies. They took her father away from her. But now she was realizing how immature and selfish she had been. She had never given the patients names or faces, nor had she imagined them as husbands, wives, sons, and daughters whose only chance at life might be held in the hands of their doctor—her father. She felt as though she should say something, in some way atone for some of her immature thoughts, but the best she could do was to say, "I guess you guys have a pretty stressful job."
Tony nodded. "It can be."
"I mean, in most jobs when something goes wrong, or when you make a mistake you can say, 'Well, at least it's not life or death.' I guess you can't really say that, can you?"
He laughed. "Not really." He paused, looking at her. "What kind of work do you do?"
"Me? I'm an artist."
"Really," he said, leaning forward slightly as if fascinated by her response. "What kind of an artist?"
"A painter. An oil painter. Basically abstract, although I do some portraits."
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