The Good Doctor (17 page)

“I think the
Red Rock Gazette
did away with your privacy. Is it true you're related to Farley Jamison, the man who was kicked out of Iowa politics because he was corrupt?”

“No comment.”

“But it
is
true that your father, Kingston Fortune, was not really a Fortune?”

“He
was
a Fortune.”

“Not biologically.”

“When a child is adopted into a family, he or she is part of that family.”

“Maybe so. But that doesn't hide the fact that his mother dropped him in Dora and Hobart Fortune's lap because she didn't want him.”

Ryan remained stonily silent.

Other employees of Fortune TX, Ltd. had come to their office doors and were now staring at the whole production in the hall, too.

There was only one thing to do, Jason thought cynically. Everyone else could watch the show, but he was going to do something about it. He was going to stay in Ryan Fortune's good graces for as long as he could. The old boy looked like he needed help and Jason was going to give it.

Not waiting a second longer, he straightened his tie, then headed for the fray, addressing the reporter. “I don't know how you got past security, but you don't belong here. You have no right to accost Mr. Fortune in his own building.”

“Accost? I'm just asking him a few questions.”

Placing a hand on Ryan's shoulder, Jason nudged him toward his own office. “Mr. Fortune isn't answering any of your questions.” He took out his cell phone. “I can call security and have a guard remove you or you can leave of your own accord. Which is it going to be?”

The reporter looked none too happy.

“What's your name?” she asked quickly.

“My name is Jason Wilkes. Now what's it going to be?”

“I'll leave,” she said with a little shrug. “But don't think this is over. Anything about the Fortune family is big news.”

Turning his back on her, Jason walked with Ryan down the hall.

When they were both inside his office, Jason closed the door and locked it. “It might be better if you wait here for a few moments, just to make sure she didn't bring anybody else with her.”

“That's probably a good idea,” Ryan said with a sigh, sinking down into a leather chair in front of Jason's desk. He took off his Stetson and set it on his knee. “Thanks for that. I appreciate it.”

“No problem. Do we have an unguarded back entrance where she might have slipped in?” He was one of the team, and he wanted Ryan to know that.

“I don't know. I'll have security check all of the entrances.” Ryan rubbed his temple.

“You look beat. Are you feeling okay?” Jason wasn't sure what made him ask, but he usually followed where his instincts led.

Ryan's eyes were steady as he lowered his hand and responded, “I'm fine. Just tired. I had a trip a few days ago. I'm not as young as I used to be,” he added with a smile. Then as if he remembered something, he said, “One of the VP's told me you were here most of the weekend. Don't you know you need downtime, too?”

“There's still work to do, even on weekends,” Jason answered with a good-old-boy smile.

“I wish some of the other employees were as dedicated as you are.” Then Ryan frowned. “On the other hand, if they were, they'd probably all be divorced and their kids would grow up without them knowing them. I don't imagine your wife likes all the hours you put in.”

Jason couldn't help himself from looking for something snide in that remark. He also looked for the desire Ryan might feel toward Melissa. After all, she was a beautiful woman who was playing up to him. But he didn't hear anything snide, nor did he read an undertone.

“We're a modern couple,” Jason said easily. “We each have our own interests. I'll make it a short day and we'll do something fun tonight. Maybe we'll drive to Austin for dinner and dancing.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Ryan stood, went to the door and unlocked it.

“Are you sure you should go out there so soon?” Jason asked.

“I'll take my chances. I'm headed to my office. No one will bother me there. They know better. Thanks again for your help. I won't forget it.”

Without a doubt, Jason knew Ryan wouldn't forget what he saw as a kindness. Ryan was that sort of man. But it hadn't been kindness that motivated Jason. His rescue of Ryan had been part of the plan—his plan to ruin Ryan Fortune.

 

Although Peter sat through a meeting at the hospital and then returned to Red Rock to see patients until 6:00 p.m., he was functioning on two levels. In every spare moment, in lulls in the conversation, between dictation into a tape recorder and reading patients' intake sheets before he conversed with them, Peter replayed what had happened with Violet. She'd called him a hypocrite. Maybe he was.

After Sandra Mason had aborted their child to further her career, Peter had looked at women in a different way. Any woman who was immersed in a professional life had been eliminated from his dating pool. Not only had he grieved for the child he'd never hold, but he'd vowed no woman would hurt him like that again. He'd vowed any woman he became involved with would cherish life as much as he did. Somehow, though, he'd rationalized that for a woman to cherish life, she had to put a husband and children first.

When he'd finished with the last patient on his schedule, he went to his car, knowing whom he had to see. A half hour later, he parked in front of the house that Charlene wanted to name Haven. In the past week, his dad had been helping her get it ready as they unpacked donations, filled cupboards, brought in furniture. To Peter's relief, he spotted Charlene's car in front of the house but not his father's. He needed to talk to her privately.

As he opened the door and stepped inside, he saw Charlene stacking videotapes on a shelf under the TV. Over her shoulder, she said, “I thought you were going to change the oil in Linda's car tonight. Did she decide she'd rather take it to the garage?”

“It's not Dad. It's me.”

Charlene glanced over her shoulder then, and when she saw him, she sat back on her haunches. “Peter. I didn't expect to see you here tonight.”

There were a couple of reasons why he had come, but they were hard to put into words. “Are you busy, or can we talk?”

“I'm busy, but not too busy that I can't talk. What can I do for you?”

Taking off his suit jacket, he tossed it over the back of the striped sofa. Then he loosened his tie. “We haven't spoken since you told me about your daughter.”

Obviously surprised, Charlene sat on the floor by the videotapes with her legs crossed in front of her. “That's not unusual. The two of us not talking, I mean.”

“I never gave you a chance,” he said honestly, lowering himself onto the sofa.

She knew exactly what he meant. “You didn't want a new mother. You wanted to keep Estelle alive in your heart. You thought you couldn't do that and accept me, too.”

“Why didn't you become bitter? Why didn't you cut me loose and forget about trying to form a relationship?”

“Because I love George, and you're his son. You're a part of him. I couldn't ignore you or forget about you. Besides, don't you know a mother never stops trying?”

Her words tightened his chest. “So you worried like a mother, even though I didn't want you there?”

“I worried, and prayed, and wondered if I'd lose you, like I lost my first child.”

“But now you have her back?”

“I don't know. It's probably too soon to tell. But she's open to a friendship with me, and that's a start.”

“Is it too late for us to be friends?”

She turned the tables on him. “What do you think?”

“I think, if I were you, I'd call me a few names and tell me to hit the road.”

“But I'm not you. And you know what, Peter? I don't think that's what you'd do, either. In spite of not letting me into your life, you've turned into a decent guy.”

There was amusement in her eyes, and he had to smile back. But then he thought about Violet. “Maybe not so decent.”

“What happened?”

After he raked his hand through his hair, he shook his head. “I blew everything with Violet.”

“Define ‘blew.'”

“We got close. But the closer we got, the more turmoil she was in. My practice is here and hers is in New York. Not only that, she was considering adopting Celeste.”

“And?”

“And I put two and two together and got five.” He explained what happened at the rehab center.

“Your father told me what happened between you and Sandra Mason.”

The only person Peter had confided in had been his dad. “He tells you everything, doesn't he?”

“I hope so. That's what marriage is about—two people sharing everything.”

Thinking about that for a few moments, he finally admitted, “I let the past shadow the future. I thought the worst when I should have thought the best.”

“Exactly what do you feel for Violet?” his stepmother asked.

“I love her.” There was no hesitation and he didn't even have to think about it.

“Does she know that?” Charlene's eyes were concerned, as if she already knew the answer.

“I doubt it.
I
didn't realize it until this afternoon when she stormed away. I thought about what my life would be like if
she shut me out, if she went back to New York with Celeste and decided she didn't need me in her life. I don't want to lose her. I can't lose her.”

Rising to her feet now, Charlene came around the coffee table and sat beside him on the sofa. “You know, don't you, that no woman is perfect, just as no man is perfect. But if two people are willing to compromise, they can be perfect for each other.”

Why hadn't he ever seen Charlene's wisdom before?

Because he hadn't wanted to see it, just as he hadn't wanted to see his love for Violet. Love made a man vulnerable. After Sandra, he'd vowed never to be vulnerable again. At least that was what he'd decided with his head. His heart had had other ideas, especially where Violet was concerned.

“I love her just the way she is,” he assured Charlene. “Now it might be too late. I don't think she's even going to want to talk to me. I hurt her by judging her. I hurt her by jumping to conclusions that were rooted in my fears. How's she going to forgive that?”

“Lots of women have a tremendous capacity for forgiveness, Peter. If you're honest and sincere, if you show her you're not going to give up, she'll talk to you.”

“Can I have that in writing?” he asked wryly.

“You don't need it in writing. You just need the courage to tell the woman you love how much you love her.”

Turning to Charlene, he said with heartfelt sincerity, “Thank you.” Then awkwardly, he gave her a hug. She mustn't have felt the awkwardness because she hugged him back tightly.

When she leaned away, her eyes were filled with tears. “I've waited for this moment for a very long time.”

“I'm glad my dad found you.”

“I'm glad I found your dad.” She brushed away her tears. “Now you go tell Violet what you need to tell her.”

Peter had a stop to make before he drove to the Flying Aces. If Violet needed to see that he wouldn't give up, he needed something tangible to convince her.

“A
re you sure about this?” Lacey asked Violet, her voice filled with motherly worry. “Do you need me to come to Red Rock?”

“No, I'm fine, Mom.” Violet didn't want to cut short her parents' New Orleans trip. She hated even calling her mother there, but some things couldn't wait. “And to answer your first question, I'm sure. I spoke with Celeste's social worker this afternoon. She called Celeste's great-aunt and it seems the woman was rationalizing to make the situation work. But when presented with the needs of a six-year-old, a six-year-old who is still recuperating, she realized she wasn't up to taking care of her. I think she felt bound by duty, and my offer to adopt Celeste released her from that.”

“If you move to Red Rock, you'll have to apply for your license in Texas.”

“I know that. I'm not sure how soon I'll want to start prac
ticing here, and that's what I wanted to talk to you about. I know how much you like me being a doctor, seeing my name in medical journals. But I feel…I feel being a mother to Celeste is just as important.”

“Oh, honey. I'm proud of you no matter what you do. If you want to sell hot dogs on a street corner, that's fine with me as long as you're happy.”

With her mother's words, Violet felt as if a great burden had been lifted from her shoulders. She'd become a doctor, in part, because of her mother—her encouragement, her enthusiasm, her reach-for-the-stars attitude. Not that she didn't enjoy her profession. “I don't think I'll be selling hot dogs on the corner, but I do think I'll practice medicine part-time until Celeste gets older.”

“Do you really think she'll recover completely?”

“The signs are good. But if she doesn't, my life plan is going to be flexible.”

“Can you tell me why you don't want to bring her back to New York? I mean, you're already established there.
We're
there. I could help you with her.”

“That's a wonderful idea, Mom, and I want you to spend lots of time with her. But I need to stay in Red Rock.”

“This doesn't have anything to do with your brothers, does it?”

“No.”

Her heart ached when she thought of Peter and tears burned in her eyes. He'd been so willing to think the worst of her. Yet she wondered if that was her own fault because she'd been indecisive. She hadn't known which road to take. She hadn't realized exactly how important he was to her. They had something special if she hadn't destroyed it by the way she'd spoken to him, by the way
she'd
judged
him,
calling him a hypocrite. That hadn't been her brightest move.
But no matter, she loved him. It was as simple and as complicated as that.

If she stayed in Red Rock, maybe he'd see she was willing to change her life, not only for Celeste, but for him, too. “I'm staying for lots of reasons,” she told her mother.

“Peter Clark.”

“Am I so transparent? You only saw us together for about two minutes.”

“Two minutes was all it took. I heard Miles and Clyde are taking bets on whether you'll go back to New York.”

“Remind me to wring their necks.”

Her mother laughed. “They love you, just as we all love you.”

“I didn't mean to intrude into your vacation.”

“My children don't intrude. Not ever.”

“What are you and Dad doing tonight?”

“Going to a blues club.”

“I'm going to miss you both.”

“Your dad's been cutting back his hours. We'll visit you a lot. And who knows? When he retires, maybe we'll end up in Red Rock, too. All of our children will be there. Why would we want to stay in New York? Besides, with you having Celeste and your brothers having my grandchildren in the near future—except for Miles, of course, who will probably remain a bachelor until his dying day—I'll want to be in Red Rock. I hear grandchildren keep a woman young.”

Violet was sure Lacey Fortune would always be young at heart. “I'll let you go and get dressed now.”

“And what are you going to do? Make lists?”

Her mother knew her so well. “How did you guess? I have to find an apartment for me and Celeste. The pool house just isn't big enough. And then I want to decorate her room with everything a little girl should have. I have to investigate the schools in the area and—”

Lacey laughed. “Don't try to do it all in one day.”

“I won't.” She paused. “Thanks for understanding, Mom.”

“There wasn't much to understand. I always knew you were meant to be a mother. I didn't expect it to happen in just this way, but that's what's so wonderful about life, a new surprise around every corner.”

“Tell Dad I love him and give him a kiss for me.”

“Will do. Keep in touch. We'll be back in New York in a few days.”

After Violet hung up the phone, she felt at loose ends. She thought about calling Peter and at least leaving the message she'd be staying in Red Rock. It would warn him she wasn't going to give up on them. But he still might believe they weren't suited to each other. Somehow, she had to show him they could both meld their lives and find the happiness they were looking for.

On the other hand, if he couldn't trust her love…

The sound of tires on the gravel outside told her she had company. Or maybe Clyde and Jessica had company. When Clyde wasn't working, the couple was still definitely on their honeymoon. She'd seen Jessica pulling Clyde into the barn one afternoon, and she'd suspected what that was all about. She and Peter had almost—

There was a loud knock on her French door, and she realized she was holding her breath. When she opened it, Peter stood there, looking so serious she wanted to cry. She had a feeling he'd come to tell her they weren't right for each other, that there was no point in continuing their relationship. They were too different, too—

“Can I come in?”

Her mind had been racing so fast, she had to mentally stop it. Backing up a few steps, she said, “Sure.”

She was still wearing the clothes she had dressed in that
morning—jeans and a western-cut blouse. She felt as if she'd been through a war and wished she'd taken time to freshen up. But how she looked probably had nothing to do with what Peter had to say.

The awkwardness between them was only overshadowed by the intense attraction she still felt toward him. But now she didn't know if he felt it, too. There was no indication that he did. His stance was rigid, his demeanor sober, his green eyes dark. She wished he'd just blurt out what he had to say.

He did. “I was wrong this afternoon.”

“Peter—”

Holding up his hand, he ordered, “Let me finish.”

She fell silent and waited, her heart racing, her hands sweating.

“Over the past couple of years, and maybe even before that, I've erected walls to keep love out. I first did it with Charlene. I didn't want her taking my mother's place, and I was determined nobody would. End of story. I couldn't seem to connect with women I dated because I wouldn't
let
myself connect. Maybe wanting to have a family and settle down pushed me toward Sandra. I don't know. Maybe it was pure lust. But when she aborted our child to pursue her career, something in me died. Or at least I thought it had. Until I met you.”

Now he brushed his thumb along her cheekbone and she trembled from his touch. “Somehow you got behind those walls, and you invaded my heart. I've been fighting my feelings for you as hard as I can. When we were in New York City, I felt way too vulnerable. That's not a state I've been in very often. I expected our involvement to end. I was sure it would. After all, you have a career like Sandra's, and you have every right to go back to it, if that's what you want.”

His hand slipped to his side, but he went on quickly, “This afternoon I had no right to judge you or make an assumption
about you or even think I had any right to say what I thought you should do. But whether you adopt Celeste or not, whether you go back to New York or don't, I want you to know how much I love you.”

Deafening silence filled the room as she stared at him, stunned. Finally, she found the words she had to say. “I'm not the homebody you want,” she protested feebly, wanting him to make sure he knew what he wanted because there were some things she might not be able to change.

With a gentle smile, he assured her, “I don't care about a homebody. I want
you.
I'll even move to New York if that's where you want to live. We could set up a practice together and complement each other.”

Slipping a box from his trousers pocket, he handed it to her. “This wasn't what I expected to buy when I went into the jewelry store. I wanted to buy you an engagement ring so fantastic you couldn't even think about saying no. But then I realized a big diamond wouldn't do it. Besides, you're the type of woman who might want to pick out her own engagement ring. So instead, I got you this.”

Feeling as if she were floating in a dream, Violet took the small box, removed the white bow and then the blue paper. She set the wrappings aside and lifted the lid. In the box, on a bed of cotton, were two halves of a solid gold heart. One half hung on a very delicate gold chain. The other half dangled from a masculine-looking chain.

Removing the necklaces, Peter tossed the box aside. Taking her hand, he placed one half of the heart in her palm. “We can wear these until you pick out an engagement ring. Half is yours and half is mine. If you marry me, we can be whole together.”

Tears flooded her eyes and ran down her cheeks. “Oh, Peter.”

He was looking worried. “Is that a good ‘Oh, Peter,' or a get-out-of-my-life ‘Oh, Peter'?”

When she handed him back the necklace, she saw the desolation on his face until she said, “Will you put it on me?”

She saw him swallow hard. Then he turned her around and attached the necklace. By the time she faced him again, he was wearing the other half.

Unable to contain her joy, she threw her arms around his neck. “I was so hoping you wouldn't be mad at me forever.”

“Mad at you? For telling me the truth? I hope we can always tell each other the truth.”

“Always,” she agreed, right before his mouth claimed hers.

The kiss went on and on and on until he swung her up into his arms and carried her to the bed. But as they lay together, he didn't undress her and she didn't undress him. They gazed into each other's eyes, holding each other, getting used to the idea that they didn't have to be separated again.

“I can't believe you'd decided you'd move to New York,” she said in awe. “That isn't what I want. I want to stay here, in Red Rock. But I am going to adopt Celeste.” She leaned away slightly. “Are you okay with that?”

“Okay? Bringing you two together was my idea in the first place. I love that little girl. I want to give her a home and a place to belong. If we get married right away, we'll have time for our honeymoon before we start really being parents.”

“When do you think she'll be ready to come home?”

“Maybe two months,” he admitted. “But as soon as possible, we'll get her switched to outpatient therapy. Whatever happens, we'll deal with it together. That's what marriage is all about.”

With a frown he said, “I don't think you answered my question.”

“And that question was?” she teased.

“Will you marry me?”

“In a New York minute,” she breathed, her hands going
to the buttons of his shirt, her lips trailing kisses along his jawline.

“I'm not sure I know the difference between a New York minute and a Texas minute. But I do know loving you for a lifetime won't be nearly enough.”

“Oh, Peter.”

This time he obviously knew happiness threaded her words because he kissed her long and hard and deep. Then he made love to her, showing her exactly how wonderful their future would be.