The Seven Year Secret. Roz Fox Denny
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Dahl moved into the waiting room. Smiling, he grasped Connor’s elbow. “What Brad really wants to learn is who dropped the ball and let you go to Miami’s weather center instead of ours. I guess, technically speaking, I should be referring to you as Dr. O’Rourke, should I not?”
“No, please. Only in a work environment do I use Dr.”
“Well, it’s your choice. Come, then, Connor, we’ll fill in your chart as we go. Today is going to be nothing more than me explaining what’s entailed in donating a kidney, should your tests be positive. I’ll talk a little about the tests themselves, and answer your questions. Have you visited Liddy Bea yet?”
“No.” Connor glanced uneasily back at Claire, whom he’d left more or less on her own to deal with the senator. “Mallory said she’d arrange with the hospital to give me access. I, uh, planned to ask what’s appropriate to say—about who I am. And also, if possible, I’d like my fiancée to meet Lydia. The news that I had a daughter came as a shock to us both. Our wedding was scheduled for this past Sunday. We, uh, postponed the ceremony.”
Sympathy and understanding entered the doctor’s eyes. “It speaks well for you and your fiancée that you’re here. I told Mallory it’d be best for now if Liddy Bea thinks you’re an old friend of her mother’s. If I’d known you were engaged, we could have included your fiancée in today’s appointment. I’ll give you literature to take back to her.”
“She’s here. That’s Claire with the senator. Claire Dupree.” Connor left the doctor and crossed the reception area to retrieve their luggage.
Dr. Dahl walked over and greeted Claire. “Please, you two come to my office. And Brad,” he added, “since they’d both like to visit Liddy, will you clear that with Mallory? Is it possible to have Davis collect them at the hospital? Oh, I see they have luggage.” He stared at the items now grouped at Connor’s feet. “It’d free them considerably, Brad, if you sent their bags with Davis now.”
No sooner had the suggestion been made than it happened. Bradford Forrest stepped to the door and wiggled two fingers. A man in a dark blue uniform materialized to whisk away Connor and Claire’s bags.
Connor knew that if he felt steamrollered, Claire must be feeling it twice as much. But he had no time to make amends. Rhonda, Dahl’s receptionist, handed the doctor a message as she ushered Claire into the clinic’s inner sanctum.
Gazing helplessly toward the entry where Bradford, his driver and the bags had now vanished, Connor had little recourse but to fall in behind the women.
Rhonda directed them to roomy leather chairs that flanked a large mahogany desk. She left, returning a moment later with two frosty glasses of fruit juice. Claire sat and drank from hers. Connor wiped the condensation off his glass as he made a slow circuit of the room, closely eyeing the framed certificates on the wall. A low whistle escaped his lips. “Dr. Dahl has impressive degrees, including a fellowship in the Academy of Pediatric Nephrology.”
“Sorry for the delay.” Dahl breezed into the room. “I had to phone the hospital and change medications for a patient experiencing a lot of pain.”
Connor quickly went and sat next to Claire. As Dahl launched into a description of kidney transplants, the implications of the news Mallory had brought him a few days ago well and truly sank in. At a nearby hospital lay a child who was his. She, too, had undoubtedly endured a lot of pain. The thought humbled Connor, and also renewed his anger at Mallory. His child. He should have been there for her in times of crisis.
Half an hour later, the doctor’s detailed interview wound to a close. He handed Claire and Connor packets containing diagrams and brochures. “You both have that dazed expression, which tells me I’ve nattered on too long. Basically, everything I’ve discussed is covered in the packet. You’ll want to study the material and discuss the impact such a surgery will have on your lives. I’m sure questions will arise. I or my staff will answer them as forthrightly as possible.”
“Thanks,” Connor said, getting to his feet. “Perhaps after I visit my daughter, all of this will make perfect sense.”
Claire leafed through the pages. She pulled out one that bore the letterhead of the clinic’s legal counsel. It absolved staff in cases where complications developed as a result of the surgery. “What, exactly, is Connor’s legal obligation to give this child one of his kidneys?”
Dahl stroked his chin. “Probably none at the moment, since Liddy’s mother withheld news of her birth. If Connor walks away, Mallory has the right to petition the court and ask a judge to order paternity tests. Once paternity’s established, it would be up to a judge to rule whether or not to force Connor to take the next steps. I’m obliged to tell you that in my twenty-plus years in the field, I’ve never known a judge to force anyone to give up an organ involuntarily.”
“You said she’s on dialysis,” Connor said. “How long can she live on that?”
“Well, under normal circumstances, a patient can exist until we find a donor from the national donor list. However, Liddy’s had a great deal of trouble with veins collapsing around her cannula. Those have resulted in numerous infections.”
“Still, you’re saying she’s not in imminent danger of dying without Connor’s kidney?” This came from Claire.
“I can tell you that with an operating kidney, Liddy’s quality of life will dramatically improve. I wouldn’t presume to predict anyone’s life span. Any one of us could walk out of here today and be wiped out by a drunk driver.” The doctor drew back his sleeve, exposing his watch. “If either of you think of other questions, I’ll answer them en route to the hospital. I must say, I’d hoped you were committed to the idea of being a donor, Connor.”
Connor folded his papers and stepped aside to let the doctor pass. “I flew here from Miami to be tested, Doctor. What more do you need in the way of a commitment?”
Dahl’s steps slowed. A smile lit his careworn features. The smile faded as Claire grabbed Connor’s arm. “I, um, think you’re agreeing far too hastily. This affects both of us, Connor. As the doctor said, we need to discuss the pros and cons.”
“What cons? The pro’s a given. The quality of Liddy’s life improves.”
Claire pursed her lips. “Shouldn’t we fully explore all the ramifications to you? In private,” she stressed, opening the door through which Rhonda had led them earlier.
“We’ll use the back entrance if you’re riding with me,” Dr. Dahl said.
“That’s another thing,” Claire murmured. “Will we be able to talk freely at the senator’s? Clearly, it’s in his best interests to convince you to have the surgery, Connor.”
Now Connor frowned. “As our bags are there, and since the senator’s inconvenienced his entire household on our behalf, we have to accept his hospitality for tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll make other arrangements. Surely not everyone who came for the graduation will stay on once the ceremony’s over.”
Fredric Dahl stripped off his white medical coat and donned a suit jacket. After informing his office staff where they could reach him for the next few hours, he escorted Connor and Claire out to his roomy Mercedes. “Forrest House is like a small hotel,” he told Claire, once he had the air-conditioning cooling the car’s interior. “Were you ever at the mansion?” Dahl asked Connor.
“Inside? Once. For Mallory’s sixteenth birthday party. I’d been living out of my car. Wrinkled as I was, I didn’t make a very good impression on Mrs. Forrest. Mallory soon realized her mother and I mixed like oil and water.”
“Why on earth were you living out of your car?” Dahl seemed truly horrified.
Connor explained briefly about losing his mother and his home to a devastating hurricane. “I bounced back and forth between friends during the last half of my junior year. Finally a few parents caught on to the fact that I was more or less homeless. They wanted to notify the authorities.