Love M.D. (28 page)

I hold her hand, walk onto the deck
and find a seat near the edge overlooking the water.

 “So, Dad, tomorrow I have surgery
in the morning and then I’m free for the rest of the day. Maybe we could all do
something fun together.”

“Sure. Zoë, you want to come
fishing with us?”

“Anything to spend some time with
you, Barney.”

“I love this girl,” Dad responds,
winking at me.

“We can, but it will have to be
from land somewhere and not on the boat.
Abby
is at the boatyard.”

“When do you expect to get her
back?”

“Sometime next week.”

“
Ah
well, I’ll let you know
a little later.”

“Drake? Fancy seeing you here.” The
voice grabs my attention from behind.

“Grant. Hey, nice seeing you.” I
shake my colleague’s hand.

“Yeah, just stopped by with the
wife and kids for some brunch.”

“So did we. Meet my dad and my
girlfriend, Zoë.”

“Oh
,
there’s a lady in your
life now,” he smiles. Tipping his head, he continues, “Nice meeting you, Zoë,
Mr. Drake.”

They both wave at him.

“We’re still on for Africa, right?”

“Definitely. You know I couldn’t do
what I do without the help and expertise of doctors like you.”

“Well, it’s an honor. Anyway, I
better get back to the family.”

“Great. Say hi to Pat.”

“Sorry I wasn’t able to make it to
your party. We’ll talk again soon.”

“I’m sure there will be others.”

“You all have a great day,” he says
to Zoë and Dad then leaves.

“Have I met that guy?” Dad asks.
“He looks familiar.”

“Maybe. I don’t know. He’s a doctor.
He worked with me once before—I think it was on my trip to Belize. He signed up
for the one in Africa, too. Maybe you saw him at the hospital. I can’t remember,
but he may work there.”

“Who knows? So have you heard from
your sister yet?”

Zoë’s eyes momentarily meet mine,
but she says nothing.

“She called last night to find out
how you were, but I haven’t heard from her today.”

“I worry about her.”

“Why?”

“Sometimes I think she’s spreading
herself too thin, taking on too much. I barely see her anymore.”

“I know, Dad. She’s trying to get
the clinic off the ground. She worked really hard to get it open and to have
her own practice.”

“Maybe I’m just getting old and
senile. I can’t explain what it is, but something about her has changed. She’d
always make time for family before, but now she’s always busy. She doesn’t even
go bowling with me anymore like we used to. That used to be our thing, every
Wednesday night. Not anymore, and I don’t want to ask, because I’m beginning to
feel like a burden.”

Zoë looks at me, sipping her drink
but says nothing. I know exactly what she’s thinking. Robin seems to be absent
from everyone’s life a lot lately and all this only makes me have more
questions than answers.

It saddens me to hear Dad feels
this way. It’s exactly what I feared; perhaps it’s my responsibility now to
fill that role. I’ve been a non-constant in his life for the last fifteen years
because of where I lived. This is part of the reason I chose to move back here.
I will definitely make a greater effort where he is concerned.

Zoë smiles supportively at Dad, but
she doesn’t say a word about Robin. I know this conversation is a reminder of
this issue we still have hovering over our heads.

“May I make a suggestion?” she
asks.

“Sure,” I reply.

“Do you guys play poker?”

“Yes,” Dad and I both respond.

“Maybe tonight or later this week
or since we’re all here for Thanksgiving, why don’t you invite Uncle Tony over?
I can make some great food, and we can have a games night. I don’t even have to
play or be there if you all would prefer it to be a guy’s thing. The 49ers
should be playing soon, too.”

“I knew there was a reason I loved
you so much,” Dad says to Zoë. “A 9ers fan, food, football and poker. Sounds
good to me.”

“You’re amazing,” I say, kissing
her on the cheek. “So thoughtful. And you’re welcome to join the poker party.”

“You’re sure? I might bust your
ass.”

Dad bursts out in laughter, and it
is at this moment while he sits here, hugging Zoë, that I realize he’s falling
in love with her, too.

I think about Robin and this
predicament we face. If she was somehow involved in this, on so many levels, it
would break both our family’s hearts. I keep hoping something will pop up, and
I’ll find out this is all a huge misunderstanding.

Monday, after a
quiet weekend with Zoë and Dad, I
head to the clinic to see a patient. It’s a relatively quick procedure, and
three hours later, I’m home.

I find Zoë curled up on the patio,
wrapped up in a blanket, reading on her tablet.

“Hey, baby.”

“Hi. You’re done already?”

“Yep. Back home, all yours. What
are you reading?”

“A report from the designers in
Greece. I’ll have to get back there soon.”

“How soon are we talking?”

“The new year I suppose. With the
holidays coming up, I’m not sure I’ll be able to accomplish much if I go before
then.”

“Deandre’s coming by later. I think
he has concerns about the hospital trying to cover up Catherine and Zach’s
death the same way I did.”

“Are you going to put him in touch
with Christina?”

“Yes. I think more importantly,
though, he’s agreed to get me the samples and keep it quiet.”

“Is he bringing them here today?”

“No. He’d know how best to store
them until next week when I’m able to get them to Christina.”

“Is he aware Zach was my brother?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Just curious. I guess I don’t want
anyone questioning you, your intentions or your motives in any way. I’m
concerned about how this affects your job moving forward.”

I sit facing her at the edge of the
sofa, “Erase that concern from your mind. Finding the truth is my one and only
priority. I work because it’s what I love to do. If I wanted to retire right
now, I could.”

“That’s amazing. How?”

“I hold partnerships in several
other businesses in Seattle—some clinics, some health food stores, some vitamin
stores and a few gyms. It’s because of them I get to take time off so often to
travel for my cause. So don’t worry where finances are concerned. Not mine or
yours for that matter.”

“Then why work at the hospital?”

“It allows me to perform major
surgeries that have to be conducted in a hospital setting.”

“Are you sure about this?”

“Hundred percent.”

There are so many different
components to this problem we face that play on her mind. Right now, I want her
in a comfortable space where I minimize the stress that this is causing as much
as possible.

“What do you think about me asking
Dad to move in?”

“Permanently?”

“Yes.”

“I think that’s your decision to
make. He’s your Dad. You should do what is best for you and him.”

“Zoë, you’ve become a huge part of
my life. Any decision I make affects you, too, and I want you to be part of the
process.”

“That means a lot, and I appreciate
you considering me. I think if you want to ask him, that’s perfectly fine. But
I think he’d feel like he’s intruding on your life. Be there for him, do fun
family things with him, but my gut tells me he’d want to maintain his
independence and privacy. He misses your mom. In addition to her, he lost his
best friend. I think what he might need the most is companionship, not someone
to take care of him. He may see you asking him as a way of you trying to do
that and him losing his independence.”

“I never thought about it that way.
I can tell he misses all of us sometimes, and I just want him to know that I’m
here.”

“He knows that. He strikes me as a
man that likes routine. Include him in yours. We had so much fun at Sam’s. Make
that part of your routine. If the game night goes well, make that another one.
And this may be a suggestion you don’t want to hear, but I think you should
encourage him to go out and meet people, including women, again. He’s lost so
much. He lost his beloved wife, he battled cancer, had to retire from a job he
loved, and he lost his best friend. It’s almost like he needs to reboot and
start over.”

“How’d you become so wise?”

Her eyes become glassy as she looks
at me. “Because that’s what I’m trying to do now. That’s what I’m doing with
you. When you’ve lost a lot or almost everything, you can either die with
everything else, or you can choose to start over. It’s really hard, but that’s
what I’m trying to do. I relate to your dad. I think we’re in similar
positions.”

Her words are so simple, but so
eloquent. My chest fills with warmth as I stare into her beautiful hazel eyes.
I’ve never felt as much love for her as I do right now. This may be difficult,
but she’s a fighter, and I see signs of the Zoë I first met making her return.
I circle her in my arms and kiss her gently on her soft lips. I don’t ever want
to let her go.

Deandre stops by
a few hours later with his brother
Shaun, an attorney. As I suspected, he’s having a difficult time trusting the
hospital to handle this, the same way I did. By the time he leaves, he has
Christina Hernández’s information, and they intend to contact her and get the
samples ready for delivery come Monday.

We spend the rest of Thanksgiving
week together as a family. By Friday, Dad is restless and has decided he’s well
enough to return home. I try to convince him to stay through the weekend, but
he’s adamant about leaving. Zoë was right.

Deandre is supposed
to meet with Christina at lunch
today and take her the samples. After he’s done, he says he’ll stop by to talk.

I’m working out in the gym
downstairs later that afternoon when my cell phone rings.

“Doctor Drake speaking.”

“Hi, it’s Christina Hernandez.”

“Hi, how are you?”

“I’m calling to see if you’ve met
with Doctor Jackson?”

“Today?”

“Yes.”

“No, he told me he’d stop by after
he met with you, but I haven’t seen him yet.”

“He was a no show today.”

“Did he call?”

“No, he didn’t.”

“That’s not like him. I’ll try
reaching him.”

“I hope he’s not having second
thoughts. It’s imperative we get those samples if we are to move forward with
this case.”

“I’ll see what I can find out, and
I’ll be in touch.”

An hour later, while sitting in the
library, I’ve tried to reach Deandre on every number I have for him, to no
avail. This isn’t like him. Deandre is a man of his word. If he was unable to
meet for one reason or another, he’d call.

I leave messages on all his phones,
asking him to call. I pull the card his brother left with me a few days ago and
call his cell phone but get no answer. I call his office, but he’s unavailable.
I leave messages with them, as well.

Later than afternoon, I am wrapping
up on Skype with Abby when Zoë gently knocks on the doorframe. She only has a
slight limp now.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You didn’t. We just said goodbye.
What’s up?”

“What in heaven’s name is
that
?”
She stares at the artwork on the wall.

“You like it?” I laugh. “I thought
I would bring some additional positive energy in this room.”

“You’re a pervert.” A blush covers
her face.

“Well if thinking of the afternoon
we made that painting makes me a pervert, then I’m guilty as charged.”

She sits in my lap and kisses me on
my cheek.

“How’s Abby?”

“She’s great. She’s excited about a
slumber party she’s hosting this weekend. What’s on your mind?”

She gazes at me sadly. “I think I’m
ready to go to my house. Will you take me, please?”

“You’re sure you want to do this?”

She nods.

“You’d like to go now?”

“If you have the time,” she says,
rising to her feet. “It will be dark in a few hours.”

“Up for a bike ride?”

“I’ve never been on a bike before.”

“Well, it will be a new experience.
Just let me get myself together, and I’ll be right there.”
Getting myself
together
really means getting my weapon. But I don’t want her knowing that.

“Okay, great,” she says. “Can I wear
this? It’s 60 degrees outside.” She’s referring to the jeans and sweater she
wears.

“That’s fine. I’ll loan you one of
my jackets. Have a pair of boots?”

“Not anymore. Do Uggs count?”

I chuckle. “I suppose it will have
to work. We’re not going too far, anyway.”

Minutes later, with her arms
secured tightly around my waist, we’re on our way. I hope I’m not making a
mistake by taking her to the house, but she can be so resolute sometimes. If I
didn’t, she’d call someone else to take her, and right now Jada, Jonathan and
my family are the only ones I trust around her.

Soon we drive up the narrow wooded
driveway. Portions of the house left standing when I was last here have collapsed
or been torn down. The only recognizable thing left behind is the beautiful
slate staircase that once led to her front door. Now it leads to nothing but
charred wood, stone and scraps of metal.

I stop the bike and hold her hand
as she slowly hops off. There is yellow and black DO NOT CROSS tape around the
house. I lead the way to what’s left of the staircase and hold her in my arms
while she looks on in silence.

Black soot covers the nearby trees.
Plants that were close to the house are slumped over and, even for me, knowing
what stood here before, it’s eerie to look on.

“Seeing this makes it all seem so
final,” she eventually says. “It’s all gone. Down to the last stud. My whole
life was within these walls.”