The Seven Year Secret. Roz Fox Denny
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have to come back a second time?”
“Possibly. I’m operating in the dark, too, Claire. I’ve never met anyone who’s donated an organ. Well, except for Mallory, who gave Liddy a kidney. I should have questioned her more, I guess.”
“That’s all right, Connor. I’m sure the doctor will have all the information you need in order to make an informed decision.”
He smiled. Not his best effort. He’d managed to avoid hospitals since his mother died in one during emergency surgery, but even the thought of voluntarily allowing a surgeon to cut out a vital organ left Connor feeling edgy. Oh, he’d get over it, he supposed. No “supposed” about it. This was his child. He’d get over it.
What he’d have a harder time getting past, he feared, was the fact that Mallory had kept from him the news that she’d borne his baby. Anytime he thought about that, his blood boiled.
The cab swung into a circular drive, stopping under a brick portico. A profusion of greenery and blooming flowers flanked glass doors. “This is a clinic,” the driver said in accented English. “You take your bags inside?”
Claire jammed an elbow in Connor’s side. “See? He thinks we’re tacky.”
Connor peeled off the fare plus a generous tip. “We’ll be going to a hotel after we’re done. I’ll request your cab number.”
The driver smiled and nodded happily.
Connor manhandled the bags inside, discreetly depositing them behind a huge potted fern. There was only one other patron in the posh waiting room, a woman who had her nose stuck in a book. She didn’t glance up.
Claire took a seat. She pawed through magazines spread out on a glass-topped table. Connor approached a bank of windows. One slid open to reveal an elegant woman with smooth, coffee-colored skin. “Dr. O’Rourke, I presume?”
“Connor, please. I hope I didn’t keep Dr. Dahl waiting. Our plane was late.”
She smiled. “When aren’t they? Or other forms of transport, for that matter? The doctor’s with someone else—a last-minute meeting. If you’ll fill out this paperwork,” she said, handing Connor a clipboard with a sheaf of documents, “we’ll have you hooked up with Dr. Dahl in no time.”
Connor felt a door breeze open behind the receptionist and heard the jovial rumble of male voices.
“I believe he’s concluded his business,” the receptionist murmured. “You’ll have to write faster than I anticipated.”
In spite of her warning, Connor ignored the clipboard he held. “Due to FSU’s graduation, I wasn’t able to book a hotel,” he said. “I was told to check for possible cancellations when I arrived. I wonder if you can spare a phone book? Claire, my fiancée, will call around while I see the doctor.”
A door situated on Connor’s left flew open. A booming voice exclaimed, “Connor? Connor O’Rourke? Fredric said you had an appointment, but what’s this about a fiancée? Mallory didn’t mention you were engaged.” Bradford Forrest’s dark eyes canvassed the room. “Is that the little lady? Come, introduce us.”
Connor was too stunned at seeing Mallory’s father to act on his demand.
And Claire, although she rose, bristled at being called a little lady. She was petite compared to the bulk of Senator Forrest, however. Also compared to Connor, who topped six-two in his stocking feet.
Even Bradford Forrest, bear of a man that he was, had to reach up to clap Connor’s shoulder. “You’ve filled out since I last saw you, my boy. That was when? At Mallory’s graduation?”
“Yes, sir,” Connor said, recovering. “Claire, meet Senator Forrest.” At one time, Connor had been plenty intimidated by Mallory’s folks. Now he felt on a more equal footing with the senator, who’d aged.
Brad headed for Claire, saying to Connor, “I read good things about you in the Florida Business Review. You’ve done all right for yourself. Let me say how grateful I am that you’ve consented to set aside important work in Miami to come here for Liddy Bea’s sake. Gotta say, I did my damnedest to talk Mallory out of contacting you. To be perfectly honest, I expected you to dodge responsibility.”
Connor stiffened at that. “You and Mrs. Forrest always had a mistakenly low opinion of me, Senator.” Connor’s earlier congenial manner downshifted noticeably.
Bradford shrugged. “I was too busy back then to get to know Mark or Mallory’s friends. And Beatrice, rest her soul, loved them both to distraction. Some say she spoiled them. Really, she wanted the best life had to offer for our kids.”
Connor laid a hand on Claire’s arm. His bluster faded a bit. “I didn’t know you’d lost your wife. I’m sorry.”
“Bea went rather quickly after being diagnosed with a neuroblastoma. Under a year. We…the family has weathered some rough patches, what with the discovery of Liddy Bea’s polycystic kidneys, and now her latest downward spiral.”
“And Mark? How’s he?”
“Still career navy, stationed at Pensacola. He pops in and out. Not often enough, considering he keeps an apartment in town and a boat docked down on the Wakulla. But here we are discussing old times, leaving a beautiful woman in the dark.”
Claire edged closer to Connor, appearing to look on the senator with somewhat more favor after his last remark.
The receptionist glided up to the trio, who had yet to complete introductions. The woman passed Connor a thick telephone book. “I’ve marked the lodgings section with a paper clip. I hope you can find something. I saw on TV that FSU is graduating record numbers this semester.”
“What’s this?” Brad growled. “You two need a place to stay? Nonsense. I insist you stay with me. The old place has twelve bedrooms, eight of which have private baths. When Beatrice was alive, most of ’em were full every weekend.” He shook his head sadly. “Every year at tax time, I say I’m going to downsize. But the house holds so many good memories of Bea…. I know, I know—you wouldn’t think I’d be a sentimental old fool. Don’t tell anyone who sits on my senate subcommittees, or I’ll deny every word.”
Everyone laughed, except Claire. She was trying to catch Connor’s eye.
“Anyhow, I won’t take no for an answer.” Brad gestured to the receptionist. “Here, Rhonda, Connor doesn’t need the phone book. He and Claire will be my guests for as long as Fredric needs Connor in town.”
The senator relieved Connor of the book and replaced it with a business card he extracted from his jacket pocket. “Ring the second number after you’re finished here. My driver will bring the car around.”
Claire, standing fully behind the senator, shook her head vigorously at Connor.
“Senator, this is very kind of you,” Connor began. “But we really can’t impose.”
Claire relaxed, until Dr. Dahl opened the door to say gruffly, “What’s the delay, Rhonda? Where’s O’Rourke? I’m due in surgery at Forrest Memorial in fifty minutes.”
“Sorry, Fredric.” Bradford stepped out to where Dahl could see him. “I’m afraid I detained them. Connor’s going to be staying at Forrest House. That way, he’ll have my car at his disposal if and when you need him. I’m on my way to the hospital to look in on Liddy Bea. Shall I swing past surgery and tell them you’ll be late?”
“Yes, thanks, Brad. Tell them to delay preop for fifteen minutes.”
Connor, not fully comprehending how disgruntled Claire was, turned toward the doctor. “Dr. Dahl, our plane landed late. I haven’t even begun to fill out your paperwork. If rescheduling my appointment is more convenient, I’ll take these with me. That’ll give us a chance to locate lodging. There’s really no need to put Senator Forrest out.”
“Put me out? On the contrary. In fact, if