The Seven Year Secret

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 Claire doesn’t mind my stealing you away for an hour or so, I’d like to discuss the work you’re doing on early hurricane detection. Look, I’ll phone my housekeeper right now and have Marta prepare a room.” He proceeded to pull out his cell phone and do just that.

Dr. 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.”