by Robyn Carr
“Because you’re all wise and experienced?” Donna asked, a bit resentfully.
“In a way. I might not have raised a young woman in her twenties, but it hasn’t been all that long since I was one. And I remember how people getting in my space and my business made me crazy. I know that when I was determined in a certain direction—like dating some idiot who didn’t deserve me—criticism of him would only make me more determined. I remember when I was planning a wedding and all my sisters had advice about what I should do—always exactly what I didn’t want to do—and it made me furious…and mean. It made me mean. If you stretch your memory, I know you’ll remember being in that place—young, idealistic and determined. And damn angry when anyone tried to change your mind.”
She was quiet for a moment. Finally she said, “Creepy Calvin.”
“Ah,” Brie said with a laugh. “Your practice fiancé!”
“Engaged for four months. Mom and Dad hated him and asked me what I saw in him. Jack didn’t like him. My girlfriends kept asking me if I’d lost my mind. What was I thinking?”
“Maybe you were thinking you could make up your own mind. So let me ask you something—if everyone had backed off, would you still have done it? Accepted his lame-ass proposal?”
“Oh, undoubtedly. But I would have broken it off sooner. I hung in there for a couple of months after I realized he was a controlling, small-minded doofus just because I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone saying they tried to warn me.”
“And what would you have liked your friends and family to have said to you instead?”
She thought for a moment. “Oh, something along the lines of, ‘You’re a smart woman, Donna. You’ll do what’s best for you.’”
“There you go,” Brie said. “Practice that.”
Ten
Nothing could have prepared Patrick for the experience of taking Angie, Megan and Lorraine to Davis for an appointment with the plastic surgeon. He had offered simply because he wanted to spend the time with Angie and because he was curious to see for himself the evolution of this special project she’d taken on. And the revelations were stunning.
When they arrived at the Thicksons’, he was struck by their poverty. This was a hard-working family, yet they lived in a small, poor farmhouse that looked as if it would collapse if he kicked the right stud. Then there was his first full-face view of Megan’s scar, and he’d had to concentrate to keep from wincing. The angry line that ran from her mouth to just under her eye made her look almost clownish. And she wore an expression of despair that he wasn’t sure was an expression of her sadness or just the result of her tugging facial muscles. Even when she smiled, she looked forlorn. Angie was right—she could not go into her teenage years like this.
The drive to Davis was quietly lighthearted. There was a lot of talking among the women. There was a little song-singing and laughing. Megan nodded off for a while—she’d been up very early for the trip. And as they neared Davis, he could feel the nervousness settling in. Certainly Megan and Lorraine pinned desperate hopes on this visit, but Angie was his main concern. He knew she must be so afraid of failing at this—more than at any other challenge she’d taken on. Looking over at her as they drove, he could see that fear weighing on her.
But when they got to Dr. Hernandez’s office, Angie’s confidence was back. Despite the nervous pink splotches climbing up her neck, her voice was strong and confident. That’s the thing with overachievers, something he knew only too well—people always thought it was easy for them, that it was effortless, or lucky. She flushed slightly as she explained why they were there but she forced her voice, which trembled a bit, to be strong.
Angie had told him she felt academically and intellectually strong but struggled with feeling socially awkward. He wondered if anyone else noticed her slight hesitancy when she spoke, her pinkened cheeks. She was determined, but he could tell it wasn’t easy, selling her case to the doctor’s office staff. She’d blushed a little the first time she had talked to Paddy, but it had passed so quickly he had forgotten about it. Around her friends and family, she seemed so self-assured. But in this setting, with Megan and Lorraine depending on her so thoroughly, it was clearly a struggle to keep up that appearance. He could sense in her an overpowering urge to duck and run. But she fought it valiantly.
After a brief wait, the nurse escorted them all to an exam room and even Patrick went along—he didn’t want to miss anything. He was determined to be her extra set of eyes and ears, to pay close attention to the details. And no one questioned his presence within the group.
She smiled in relief, comfortable when she met Dr. Hernandez. “This is Megan, the girl we spoke about,” Angie said. “And this is Mrs. Thickson, her mother, and Patrick Riordan, who brought us here, a very good friend.”
“A pleasure,” the doctor said, nodding at them all. “Let’s get right to it. Let me have a look, Megan, and then I’ll talk to your mother about the details. Is that all right with you?”
Megan nodded and the doctor helped her up on an exam chair that sat high off the ground.
Angie leaned close as the doctor placed gentle fingers on the girl’s face, moving her skin around. He lifted her lower eyelid slightly with the end of a swab, asked her to smile for him, to open and close her eyes. And after just a few minutes he smiled at Megan and said, “I have some ideas, Megan. I want you to go with Sandra while your mother and I talk. Sandra will find you a magazine or you can watch TV. And, Sandra, will you please send Catherine?”
When it was all adults in the room, he began writing and talking at the same time, explaining that it was a simple but delicate procedure to repair the eyelid, and that would prevent vision issues due to severe drying in the future. He said there would still be a scar, but nothing as severe as she had now. Because of the way he would close the wound, it wouldn’t tug or pull at her features, and it would be thin, not unsightly. Because of her youth, he thought it would be unnecessary to adjust the other side of her face at the same time so her features would be symmetrical. There would be some swelling and bruising for a while, but recovery should be uneventful. “The most important thing is this—her skin and tissue, young and elastic, will recover and heal nicely.”
Then a woman came into the room. “Catherine will take you to her office. She can give you a detailed and itemized estimate. We’ve already discussed this and, rest assured, we’ll shave costs wherever possible. We’ll get it down as low as we can. That’s a priority. And you say you’ve already exhausted possible grants and foundations?”
“My aunt has, yes,” Angie told him. “She’s the midwife and nurse practitioner who runs the Virgin River Clinic. She couldn’t find help for Megan anywhere, but we’re not done trying to get it done. And soon, before it gets worse. She’s a beautiful girl.”
“My only girl,” Lorraine said. “She’s kind and smart—I want her to have every chance to succeed in life. I can’t stand the thought that something like a scar from a stupid accident would hold her back. It’s just not fair.”
“We’ll do our best,” the doctor said, holding out his hand to Lorraine. Then he looked at Angie and said, “You have a champion in Dr. Temple.”
She flushed a little at that. “He was my neurosurgeon,” she said, and whenever she said that, she unconsciously touched the shunt scar behind her ear.
“He told me about the accident. And you’re a medical student, he said.”
She nodded. “Only a year, but—”
Hernandez gave a chuckle. “Well, brace yourself.” He put out his hand to Angie. “Why don’t you sit down with Catherine and see what we have. And I’ll be seeing you soon, I hope.” Then to Lorraine he said, “Try not to worry, Mrs. Thickson. I’ve done this before.” Then to Patrick he said, “Nice meeting you. I have a feeling you have a bigger stake in this than driver.”
Far bigger, Patrick thought
.
Soon they were all seated in a small office. Patrick, Angie and Lorraine faced the desk while Catherine sat behind it with her computer screen off to the left. As she clicked away, she explained certain things. No fee for the doctor, a very generous gesture. A discount at the surgical center. Operating room staff discounted. Presurgical lab work—sorry, no help there.
“We’ll get the lab work in Virgin River—my aunt Mel might have connections there.”
“We just need the results. I’ll write up the order. There’s one night of post-op observation. We usually have a nurse stay the night and, rather than hospital costs and germs, Dr. Hernandez keeps a room at a local hotel. This is nonnegotiable, given her age, anesthesia and the delicate work—a medical professional has to be on hand to watch for that rare complication. The first twenty-four hours post-op are the most important.”
“Maybe the hotel will donate the room? Maybe I could find a nurse?” Angie suggested hopefully.
“I’ll leave it on the estimate for now, but you’re welcome to ask. Dr. Hernandez might prefer a nurse who has worked with his postsurgical patients before and we have to trust his instincts. His very experienced instincts. So, understanding this might yet come down a bit more, we can do this procedure for as little as five thousand dollars.”
Patrick almost let out a sigh of relief. Five thousand? The limit on his Visa was six times that! He felt it was done, that Angie had won the day, Megan would have surgery soon.
But Lorraine put her hands over her face....
“Don’t panic,” Angie said softly. “We’re going to find a way. I have ideas. We’ll talk about it later.”
“That’s half what the last doctor—”
“We’ll get there somehow,” Angie said. “There are lots of things I can do. Lots.”
Catherine pulled the printed page from the printer. “Normally we schedule and ask for a deposit, but under the circumstances Dr. Hernandez has decided to forgo that technicality.” She attached her card to the estimate and handed it to Angie. “Good luck with this. Let me know how it’s going.”
“Thank you,” Angie said. “Let’s go get Megan and head home. This was a very helpful beginning.”
They were barely settled back in the Jeep when Patrick heard Megan’s quiet voice ask her mother, “Am I going to get the operation?”
Angie turned immediately. “We have a few things to figure out first, Megan. I think I know some people who will help—but now that I know what the doctor can do, it’ll be easier. I know it’s so hard to be patient.”
“It’s hard,” she admitted. “I wish I’d never of slipped.”
“Well, accidents happen, honey,” Angie reassured her. “I was in a car accident and broke my leg—and other stuff. It was hard for me to be patient while I was getting better, too.”
And other stuff, Patrick thought. Like a near-death experience, a swelling brain, a possibility of permanent disability and brain damage…
Patrick had spent the past few hours understanding and feeling Angie’s vulnerability and it made him want to protect her in a way he’d never wanted to protect a woman before. Not even Marie. Yet despite her vulnerability, she fought to be strong and independent and his admiration for her only grew.
“Me and Frank, we talked about what we could sell. We have the land—his father was a homesteader, so we have land. But it’s not great farming or ranching land and most of the maximum allowed lumber was sold off before it came to us—and no one’s buying mountain land without a view these days. We talked to some real estate people—in a good economy, we could clear and sell parcels for houses, but not right now....”
“You won’t have to sell off your land,” Angie said.
And Patrick wondered, What has she got up her sleeve?
“Ladies, I’d like to take you out for a nice lunch, my treat. I’m hungry and I know you are.”
Looking in the rearview mirror, he noticed Megan get a startled look and then tug on her mother’s sleeve before whispering in her ear.
“Oh, we can’t let you do that, Patrick. You’ve already done so much, what with the driving and gas and all. I brought along enough money to buy us something we can just eat in the car. If you’ll accept that, I’d like to treat. Please.”
It was early afternoon and they hadn’t eaten since breakfast, if they’d even had that. He understood the nerves prior to the doctor’s visit, but now it was time to have a reward. And he thought he understood the problem. He pulled into the parking lot of a Red Lobster restaurant. The lunch crowd had already vanished and even the earliest dinner crowd had not arrived. He parked near the entrance and turned around to face Megan and Lorraine in the backseat.
“I’d like to do this for you,” he said. “Megan, you’ve been very brave today and I think we should celebrate. If you’ll stick with me, I promise no one is going to stare at you or ask you questions about your scar. I’ll find you a place to sit, in a booth, so no one can even look at you. Not even the waitress. Trust me?”
It was a moment before she nodded.
“Good,” Patrick said. “We’re going to have a nice lunch. We’ve earned it!”
He got out and opened the door to the backseat. Patrick pulled Megan out, positioned her at his side so that the scarred part of her face was next to him, put an arm around her to pull her close and led her into the restaurant. Angie and Lorraine were left to follow and once Paddy was inside with Megan he looked around a sparsely populated restaurant. The hostess approached and asked, “How many?”
“Four,” Patrick answered. Then he pointed to a row of booths and asked, “Can we have one of those booths, please?”
“No problem,” she said, gathering up four menus. “This way.”
When they got to the booth, Patrick slid Megan in. The flawed side of her face was next to the wall, her back to the room.
He stood in wait for Angie and Lorraine, allowed Lorraine to slide in next to her daughter and Angie on the opposite side. When they were all seated, menus in hand, he looked at Megan and winked. She smiled at him and said, “Thank you.”
* * *
“I’m completely exhausted,” Angie told Patrick right after they dropped off Lorraine and Megan.
“I know,” he said. “Hungry?”
“Not really—I had so much pasta for lunch. I wouldn’t say no to a glass of wine by the fire, though.”
“I have some of your favorite at the cabin. How are you fixed for adult beverages at yours?”
“Cleaned out.”
“My place, it is,” he said. “Need anything from home first?”
She shook her head. “I’m good. I’ll run home in the morning to change clothes.”
When they got to Patrick’s cabin she pulled off her boots, sank into the leather chair by the hearth and leaned back while Patrick built the fire. “Aren’t you exhausted, too?”
“Not really. It was a good day. I learned a lot.”
“Then if you’re not totally shot, I’m going to let you serve me. After you’ve built my fire, that is.”
He laughed at her and continued his assigned chores. With the fire going strong, he handed her a glass of wine. With his boots off, as well, beer in hand, he slid behind her into the big leather chair, his long legs stretched out on the ottoman alongside hers. She sat in the vee his legs made.
“This isn’t really a two-person chair,” she pointed out to him.
“And yet…” he said.
“Why aren’t you as whipped as I am?”
“Because I’m not an introvert. I watched you struggle. I hope you don’t mind that I noticed—I think you did great. But I could tell that wasn’t easy for you.”
“Never is,” she said with a shrug. “I’m much happier alone with a book. I’m trying to grow out of that.”
�
��I’ll help you search for funds when you have to get out there and thump for money.”
“No! No, I’m going to do it. It’s sometimes not easy for me, but I’m going to do it.”
From behind her, he ran his knuckle along her cheek and chin. “Will you tell me when it would help to have me along? Because the priority here is Megan.”
“Yes. Of course. But I’m going to do it. I’m not shy, it’s just that it’s easier for me in familiar surroundings, with people I know. With Lorraine’s permission, I’m taking the before and after pictures Mel has on file to small and large businesses and ask for donations to the Megan Reconstructive Surgery Fund that my aunt Brie set up for me at Farmers Trust Bank. I’m also going to create a Facebook page that I can take down as soon as we have enough funding.”
“Even though it’s hard…”
“Even though,” she said. “The thing is, I’ve always been okay with showing off my gray matter. I didn’t mind if people thought it made me look dorky or dull—that only meant they’d leave me alone. But when I have to try to showcase my looks or personality, it’s tough. I can’t help but feel like I don’t measure up. You know?”
“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Ange. You measure up and then some.”
“You’re being very sweet. Is it because you think you’re getting sex tonight?”
He laughed at her. “I assume I’m getting nothing more than the sound of your snoring unless you feel like sex....”
“I don’t snore.”
“Oh, yes, you do. It’s very cute.”
“I doubt I’ll be able to sleep while I’m with you now,” she said. But a big yawn followed that statement, making them both laugh.
“I was very proud of you today,” he said. “You knew what you wanted, what you needed, and although it wasn’t easy for you, you got the job done. Very proud.”
She turned her head to look back at him. “I don’t know if you’ll understand this, but since meeting you I feel like my best self is coming out. Maybe it’s because of your confidence in me. It kind of trumps my own lack of confidence.”