Designs on the Doctor. Victoria Pade
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it surprised him that she’d done anything at all.
She picked up her suitcase from where he’d left it and took it to a trunk at the foot of the bed.
She didn’t ask him to sit, wanting to dish out a little payback for his earlier treatment, but also in denial of the fact that she was even slightly glad that he was there.
When she turned back to him she found him perched on the arm of the couch anyway. He looked relaxed and it flashed through Ally’s mind that under other circumstances Dr. Jake Fox might have an entirely different effect on her. An effect that would involve things a whole lot better than anger or frustration.
But these weren’t other circumstances, and to keep even the hint of those better effects at bay, she busied herself by opening windows to air the place out.
“How is Estelle doing?” he asked then.
“Good question,” Ally said, hearing the bewilderment in her own voice but glad to talk about her mother to further distract herself when all the windows were open and she had to face him again. “One minute she’s herself, and the next…I’m not sure. She did tell me when I brought her home today that I should be a nurse and marry a nice doctor like you—or maybe even you—so I guess we know who she thinks highly of.”
He smiled as if she’d caught him off guard with that and he couldn’t help himself. And when he smiled, deep grooves bracketed his lips in a way that lent an entirely new level of handsomeness to his features.
Not that she wanted to be aware of that any more than she’d wanted to notice the innate sensuality he exuded just sitting there…
“I’ll bet you squashed the idea of me being nice, let alone marriage material,” he said wryly.
Okay, so she couldn’t help a slight smile, herself, at the fact that he’d read her so correctly.
“You did, didn’t you?” he said with a chuckle.
“You’re probably married or engaged or living with someone and she forgot about it,” Ally countered rather than admit he was right.
“None of the above. Why? Did she forget that you’re married or engaged or living with someone?”
Was he interested, or merely checking on her mother’s mental capacities?
He couldn’t be interested and as disapproving of her as he’d been.
“No, she didn’t forget that about me either—I’m unattached,” Ally confirmed. “What she forgot was that I’m not eighteen and just making my decision about where to go to college and what to major in and do with my life. It was sort of a combination of revisiting a time when she didn’t want me to go into interior design and the present-day you thrown in somewhere. It was confusing.”
“Yeah, things with Estelle have been that way for a while now.”
“But the next minute she can be normal,” Ally contributed defensively, because she didn’t want him to lose sight of that.
“And the minute after that she could be confused again,” he countered. “Did you talk to her about having a physical or letting me order some neurological tests?”
“I tried. More than once. She shot me down every time. Angrily. She says she’s fine.”
“But you’re seeing for yourself that she isn’t.”
Ally shrugged. “Something is up,” she acknowledged. “The trouble is, she’s the most like herself when she’s adamantly refusing to do anything about it.”
“That’s where you come in.”
Ally sighed. “You’re barking up the wrong tree if you think that I’m the one who can get my mother to agree to anything. The truth is, I’m the last person she listens to.”
“Then you’ll have to be more take-charge with her than you’ve ever been before.”
“Take-charge? With Estelle Rogers? That would invite a power struggle that would make her dig in her heels worse than she already has. She doesn’t do what she doesn’t want to do.”
Jake’s dark gray eyes pinned her in place as he seemed to weigh something.
Then he said, “I’m going to be straight with you, Ally—giving in to Estelle, not doing anything about her health or what’s gone on here the last two days, isn’t an option. Before you got there today, the E.R. doc wanted to call in Social Services. It can be done for geriatrics the same way it can be done for minors in jeopardy. The fact that Estelle lives alone and that there are indications that it isn’t a safe situation for her anymore is enough for them to step in. If they do, they can control what gets done with her and where she ends up living.”
Ally could feel the color draining from her face.
“Seriously? That can be done with an adult?”
“Anyone considered at risk,” he reiterated. “I told the E.R. doc that you were on the way—that kept it from happening today. But if you can’t deal with this, I’ll have to call a caseworker myself.”
“You’re threatening me?”
He shook his head. “I’m telling you the way the system works. I can’t force a friend to get medical attention, but I am legally obligated to notify authorities if I know of anyone who’s unable to care for themselves.”
Ally had had just about enough for one jet-lagged, nearly sleepless, enormously stress-filled day. She lost it.
“What do you want me to do, physically force her to have tests done? Apparently you—who she likes and respects and who carries the authority of being a doctor—haven’t been able to convince her to have the tests you want to do. But you think I can come in here and work some kind of magic on one of the most stubborn people who ever walked the face of the earth? Me, who she still blames for—”
She caught herself. “Who she still thinks of as an irresponsible kid?”
“What does she blame you for?”
Of course. He was a shrink. He wasn’t going to let a Freudian slip like that go by.
But Ally wasn’t going to bare her soul to him, no matter who he was or what he did for a living.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, no longer shouting but sounding no happier with him than she had. “I’m just saying that I’ll do whatever I can, but don’t expect miracles.”
He was watching her closely and she wished she could push a rewind button and go back to the moment before she’d spoken so carelessly. But if he thought silence and scrutiny were going to make her uncomfortable enough to spill more of her guts, he was wrong. Very, very wrong.
Still, when the silence went on longer than she could bear, she sighed and said, “I’ll keep working on her and see what I can do. Who knows, since she’s changing personalities every hour, maybe she’ll wake up tomorrow morning with one that’s agreeable. But, Jake, please don’t call Social Services until I see if I can fix this.”
“It may not be fixable,” he cautioned, calmly, quietly, and in a way that told her he was going to drop his quest for an explanation. “If Estelle has Alzheimer’s—”
“Can we just stick to what I can deal with this weekend while I’m here?”
“This weekend? This weekend is only the beginning.”
And he was on the attack again—Ally heard that familiar impatience in his voice.
“If your mother has Alzheimer’s,” he continued, “there won’t be an easy solution. And one way or another—”
“I know!” she said to stop him from saying more that she just couldn’t hear tonight. “I know, I know, I know!”
Exhausted,