The Seven Year Secret. Roz Fox Denny

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      “It didn’t,” Connor admitted. “Again thanks to Mallory, a local organization awarded me a full scholarship to the meteorology program.”

      “A lot of people have fallen prey to Mallory’s silver tongue. You probably know she’s the PR department’s fund-raiser at Forrest Memorial. According to our chief administrator, her fund-raising is single-handedly responsible for all the perks we’ve enjoyed these past five years. We’re lucky Dr. Robinson discovered her haunting the hospital halls when Bea Forrest was so ill. Alec now says it’s the best move he ever made. He calls Mallory our fund-raising goddess.”

      Connor noticed that Claire grew stonier with each new mention of Mallory’s name. While he might like to hear more about what Mallory had done in the years since they’d parted—mostly to understand why she’d felt a need to hide the birth of their daughter from him—he also realized how inconsiderate it was to constantly throw Mallory’s name in Claire’s face.

      “Why don’t you tell us a little about Liddy Bea, Dr. Dahl? Is she well enough to play with toys? I didn’t think to bring a gift, but I’m sure the hospital has a shop.”

      “Ah. You know the way to that child’s heart.” The doctor grinned. “Brad’s constantly trying to lavish toys on her, but Mallory has managed to rein him in. She’s raised a delightful child. Liddy Bea is bright, and funny and articulate beyond her years. I’m warning you—she’ll steal your heart.”

      Connor caught himself smiling, until he glanced across at Claire and sobered. “I’m not aiming to compete with her grandfather. I was just thinking of a small icebreaker, maybe a stuffed animal. Something soft and cuddly.”

      “Our gift shop stocks a nice selection. I don’t think you can go wrong with books or huggables. We don’t try to keep our pediatric rooms clutter-free. Children do better in a homey atmosphere.” Dahl swung into a drive that wound through a parklike setting of well-tended flower beds. Brick walkways crisscrossed lush green lawns. Every now and then they passed statuary of elves and fairies, strategically tucked beneath cypresses and palms.

      “Practicing at this hospital doesn’t look like hardship duty,” Connor murmured.

      “It’s privately endowed. Generously so by men like the senator. But Forrest Memorial is also a top-notch teaching facility. Unlike other private hospitals, we take indigent cases. And anyone admitted here receives the best medicine has to offer.”

      “So, having Liddy in and out of here hasn’t strapped Mallory financially?” Connor asked the question of Fredric Dahl, but Claire jumped in with an answer.

      “Are you kidding, Connor? Read the plaque. The name of the place is Forrest Memorial. Daddy endows it. I’m sure he got Mallory her cushy job. I’d ask if the word nepotism rings a bell, but isn’t that a foregone conclusion?”

      Connor disliked these jabs Claire was making. Dr. Dahl mildly rebuked her. “Bradford may exert influence when it comes to building additions and hiring doctors. He doesn’t meddle in support staff. He didn’t want Mallory to work. In the end, he couldn’t stop her. As for the service his family gets, they pay full freight. Mallory’s only perk is the decent insurance package all hospital employees receive. She’s refused government benefits for Liddy because she said there are patients in far greater need. You’re mistaken if you think this has been easy on her.”

      Connor thought it was fortunate they’d reached the parking space marked with Dr. Dahl’s name. He’d plainly been dreaming when he hoped Claire wouldn’t be jealous of Mallory. It was a side of Claire he’d rarely seen. There’d been the occasional glimpse, but never enough to instill serious doubt. Nervous though he was at the prospect of meeting his daughter for the first time, he could do little but squeeze Claire’s knee reassuringly. “We won’t stay long, this visit,” he said, hoping to set her mind at ease. “Lydia doesn’t know me, and I don’t know her.”

      “Then what’s the point in coming?” Claire demanded.

      Dr. Dahl exited the car and opened Claire’s door, while Connor scrambled out his side.

      “Please don’t argue like this in front of Liddy Bea,” Dahl cautioned. “She’s recovering nicely from last week’s surgery. Being only six, she may not totally comprehend the significance of what it means to have lost her donor kidney. All the same, her emotions are fragile.”

      Connor clasped Claire’s hand. “This situation has us all stressed. Claire and I will be mindful of what we say, won’t we, darling?”

      She blinked several times. When she opened her eyes, they were filmy. Still, she nodded. “I am upset. I’ll let Connor do the talking.”

      That seemed to satisfy Dr. Dahl. He escorted the couple to the lobby. After pointing out the gift shop, he gave them Lydia’s floor and room number. “Connor, nice meeting you. Understand, my hands are tied until you phone my office and give the go-ahead to schedule preliminary tests.”

      “Claire and I will talk tonight. I’ll phone your office tomorrow.”

      “Good. Enjoy your visit with Liddy Bea. She’s a normal six-year-old in every way except for her nonfunctional kidneys. Oh, and she’s a regular authority when it comes to Blue’s Clues, and Hello Kitty.”

      When Connor was obviously stumped by that, Dahl laughed. “Blue is a cartoon dog. Hello Kitty is a cat logo that appears on almost every type of little-girl merchandise imaginable. Liddy Bea loves books and videos, too.”

      “Thanks,” Connor called as the doctor quickened his pace and left them.

      Claire entered the gift shop first. She picked up a white bear sprouting angel wings and a glittery halo. Its hard body was hidden by layers of a frothy net covered in glitter.

      Connor reached for a floppy-eared pink elephant. “Squeeze this,” he told Claire. “He’s huggable, don’t you think?”

      “Okay if she was three. First-graders are more sophisticated. Angels are the in thing, Connor. I recommend buying this.”

      He continued to eye the elephant he put back on the shelf.

      “Trust me. My cousin Pam has a daughter who’s seven. Her room is filled with angel junk.”

      “What do I know about little girls?” Taking the angel bear to the counter, Connor paid for it and asked the cashier to remove the price. “We’re delivering this to someone upstairs.”

      Purchase complete, they walked to the elevator and rode upstairs. The closer they came to Liddy’s room, the more Connor hung back. Eventually they reached her half-shut door. “Show time,” he muttered, taking a deep breath. Pinning on a nervous smile, he stepped into his daughter’s room.

      A pixielike child with russet Shirley Temple curls reclined on a bed framed by a battery of beeping monitors. She gazed at him from eyes exactly like the ones that stared back at him each morning from his bathroom mirror. Connor’s stomach heaved, and something seemed to tear inside his chest. He wanted to burn this image into his brain—and then run like hell.

      Instead, he moved closer to the bed. Up to now, he’d thought his most important contribution to mankind was his hurricane-detection system. How wrong he was. This beautiful child made every other accomplishment pale in significance. She looked part imp, part angel, with an unruly mop of dark curls bobbing around a swollen face. Dr. Dahl had warned СКАЧАТЬ