She was halfway through her blueberry muffin when she came to the letters to the editor. She would skip over them today. There were usually half a dozen furiously assailing her for her handling of Annie’s case. She was about to turn the page when she noticed the name at the bottom of the last letter. Alec O’Neill. She flattened the page out again and began to read.
I’m writing to express my dismay over the negative press and outpouring of hostility toward the Kill Devil Hills Emergency Room physician who tried to save the life of my wife, Annie Chase O’Neill. As a veterinarian, I’m well aware of human fallibility in making medical decisions, particularly under the stressful conditions a trauma case presents. Even so, I feel assured that the best possible decisions were made in Dr. Simon’s attempt to save Annie’s life. I understand the anger and readiness to find a scapegoat in the community because I’ve experienced those feelings myself in the last seven months, but those of you familiar with Annie’s generous spirit know that she never would have maligned another person or harmed his or her career. If you trace Annie’s activism in the Outer Banks, from her advocacy for the Kiss River Lighthouse keeper, Mary Poor, to last year’s fight to keep a child with AIDS in school, you will see that she focused her energy only on helping others. Attacking the very person who risked her own well-being to try to help her is not a way to honor Annie’s memory.
It’s ludicrous to think that a woman with two holes in her heart could possibly have survived the forty-five-minute flight to the nearest trauma center. Dr. Simon went beyond the call of duty to treat Annie in our local emergency room rather than wash her hands of the case by transporting her to Emerson and certain death on the way. She deserves our support, not our criticism.
Olivia read the letter through twice, her muffin forgotten. She called Alec’s house, but hung up when the message on his machine clicked onto the line. She called the animal hospital, panicking when the receptionist answered the phone. She couldn’t interrupt him. Surely he was busy.
“I’m concerned about my cat,” she said, realizing as she spoke that she had learned this idiotic ruse from Alec him self when he’d told her he’d made an appointment to see his father-in-law. “I was wondering if I could get in to see Dr. O’Neill today?”
“What’s the problem?”
“Some skin thing.” Olivia glanced into the living room where Sylvie was curled in a contented ball on the rattan chair. “She’s been scratching madly for a few days now.”
“We could squeeze you in around four-thirty this afternoon. Can you make it?”
“Yes.”
“And your name?”
“Mrs. Macelli.” She was afraid the name Olivia Simon would be too familiar to this young woman.
There were three dogs in the waiting room at the animal hospital, and Olivia wondered if she was being fair to Sylvie to use her this way. The cat trembled in her arms, but she settled down once they had been moved into the small examining room to wait for Alec. This was a mistake, Olivia thought. She would not appreciate anyone intruding on her work time with personal business. She had her hand on the doorknob when Alec walked in from the opposite side of the room.
“Olivia?” He looked puzzled. He also looked extremely well. It had been nearly a week and a half since she’d seen him, and his tan was deep in contrast to his white coat. “What’s wrong with Sylvie?”
“Absolutely nothing.” Olivia smiled foolishly. “I’m sorry, Alec. I just wanted to thank you for writing that letter to the Gazette, and there was no answer at your house, and I felt like I couldn’t wait.”
Alec smiled. He reached out to take Sylvie from her arms and the little cat curled up against his chest while he stroked her ears. “You didn’t need to make up an excuse to see me,” he said.
She felt the color rise in her cheeks. This was so adolescent. “Your letter was such a relief to me,” she said.
“You haven’t deserved the public flagellation.”
“Well, whether your letter changes that or not, I just wanted you to know how grateful I am that you wrote it. That you feel that way. I wasn’t sure.”
Alec looked down at Sylvie. She had started to purr, kneading her paws against the chest pocket of his white coat. “I’m sorry I haven’t called you,” he said, raising his eyes to Olivia again. “I’m sure you could have used some support the past week or so, but…”
“Don’t apologize. I didn’t come here to get an apology out of you.”
“We were just getting a little too close for comfort,” he said.
“You must think I’m horrible for letting it go as far as I did.”
“Of course I don’t think you’re horrible. You haven’t had much of a husband lately, and I haven’t had anything in the way of a wife, and… Are you upset about it?”
“Embarrassed.”
“Please don’t be.”
“Well, let me get out of here so you can see your real patients.” She reached for Sylvie, but he turned to keep the cat in his own arms.
“Not so fast,” he said. “Tell me how you’ve been.”
The crush of news from the past week raced through her mind. Paul was back; Paul was remorseful. But she didn’t want to talk about Paul.
“I was about to start on a new stained glass project,” she said, “but Tom’s decided he can’t teach me any longer.”
“How come?” Alec’s eyes suddenly widened. “Not because of the situation with Annie, I hope.”
She nodded.
Alec scowled. “That’s ridiculous. I’ll talk to him.”
“No, please don’t. It might just make things worse.”
“What will you do about the stained glass then? Are you going to quit?”
“I’ll find a way.”
“I’ve got a bunch of Annie’s old tools just sitting at the house. Why don’t you stop by and see if there’s anything you need.”
The relief she felt was completely out of proportion to his offer. “Did she have a grinder at home?”
Alec nodded. “Come over tonight.” He handed Sylvie back to her, and his fingers lightly brushed the top of her breast through her blouse. “My kids will probably be there. They can chaperone us. Keep us out of trouble.”
She set her hand on the doorknob, but made no move to leave. She looked up at him. “I felt the baby move early this morning.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, and she couldn’t read his expression. She shrugged, embarrassed. “I just wanted to tell someone,” she said as she opened the door.
“Olivia,” he said, and she turned to look back at him. “It’s Paul you should be telling.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
He took Annie’s tool case and grinder down from the hall closet for the first time in seven months and carried them into the den. The case was made of soft brown leather, dusty now, and the sight of it was enough to start an aching deep in his chest. He dusted it off with a tissue before opening it, spreading it flat on Annie’s old work table, steeling himself against the odor, an old, familiar smell, at once metallic and soapy, a mixture of Annie and her tools.
The tools were not in their little pockets but strewn haphazardly as she had left them. Pliers, glass cutters, rolls of solder and copper foil, three-bladed scissors. He was a little embarrassed to have Olivia see this, to see exactly what Annie had been like in all her disorganized glory. He could picture her sitting here in the den, continually fighting with her hair as it slipped into the path of her work. She’d grab the bulk of it in her hands, give it a twist, and toss it over her shoulder, an unconscious gesture he had seen in her since the first night they’d met. It would be good to have Olivia take some of these tools. Put them to good use. Give them a second life.
“Why do you have Mom’s tools out?”
He turned to see Lacey standing in the doorway. Her hair was growing out into an almost comical pattern of red and black.
“Olivia Simon’s going to borrow some of them.”
“Why can’t she use Tom’s??
??
“Tom’s not teaching her right now, and she’s to the point where she needs some tools of her own, so I suggested she come over to take a look at Mom’s.”
“She’s coming here?” Lacey’s eyes widened. “I thought you weren’t going out with her anymore.”
“I was never actually going out with her, Lace. She’s a friend. I explained that to you.” He wondered if asking Olivia over here tonight had been a mistake. He could have dropped the tools by her house. The memory of the last time he was in her living room slipped through his mind, and he shook his head. Well, he could have dropped them by her office.
The doorbell rang, and he heard Clay sprint down the stairs to answer it. He’d spoken to Clay earlier, letting him know Olivia was coming over and why, and Clay had responded with an uncharacteristic, positively lecherous grin. Now Alec heard Olivia’s voice in the living room, and Clay’s laughter in reply.
“I have to study,” Lacey said, taking the door that led to the kitchen rather than the living room so she would not have to pass Olivia on her way upstairs.
Olivia and Clay walked into the den.
“I’m on my way out, Dad,” Clay said.
Alec looked up from the tools. “Okay. Have fun.”
Olivia smiled as she watched Clay leave the room. She had on a pink and white striped jersey dress with a dropped waist. It was perfect for her, he thought, the perfect camouflage. No one would know if she were pregnant or not.
“Your son looks so much like you it’s uncanny,” she said, setting her tote bag on the chair by the work table. She dropped her eyes to the tool case. “Wow.”
“These are kind of a mess,” he said. “Annie would have been able to pick out what you need without any problem, but I can’t begin to tell you.”
“I think I can figure it out.” She glanced up at him and caught sight of the oval windows through the door of the den. “Oh, Alec.” She walked into the living room and over to the windows. It was still light enough outside so that the designs and their colors were vivid. “They’re beautiful.”
He stood next to her. “Your husband was fascinated by them, too.”
“Was he?” She pointed to the one in the center. “Why did she make this one clear?”
“She didn’t. I broke it a couple of weeks ago. I threw a glass at it.”
She looked at him. “I didn’t think you were the violent type.”
“I’m not, ordinarily.”
“Were you aiming at someone?”
“At God, I think.” He laughed, and she touched his arm.
“Tom’s trying to put it back together for me.” He started toward the kitchen and she followed him. “Want some iced tea?”
“Please.”
He took the pitcher of iced tea out of the refrigerator and got two of the green tumblers from the cabinet over the sink. “So, how’s Olivia doing?” he asked as he poured. “I really haven’t spoken to you since the day we went to Norfolk.”
She took the tumbler of iced tea from his hand and leaned back against the counter. “Olivia’s a little mixed up.” She looked down at her glass, and her eyelashes lay dark and thick against her cheeks. “A lot’s happened since the last time we spoke, besides the fact that I’ve become the least popular physician in the entire Outer Banks.”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
“But the other day I got a job offer. The medical director of Emerson Memorial called to offer me a position in their trauma unit up there.”
“Really?” Alec set his tea on the counter, a little disconcerted. “Will you take it?”
“I don’t know. I like it here, and I’ll like it even better if I begin to feel trusted as a physician again. But there’s more.” She sipped her tea, looking at Alec over the rim of her glass. Her eyes were the same green as the tumbler. “Paul returned from his trip a changed man,” she said. “He’s being very attentive.”
Alec’s smile froze into place. “That’s great, Olivia. Is he over…old what’s-her-name?”
“I don’t think he’s completely through with her, but he’s really trying. The thing is, he says the Outer Banks make him think of her, so he wants us to leave here.”
“Ah. So the job in Norfolk would be ideal.” He picked up his tea and started walking toward the den. “I thought it was just a matter of time,” he said. He wanted to know more. He wanted to know if they’d made love. “Have you told him about the baby?”
“Not yet.”
They were back in the den, back above Annie’s old tools, and the scent of them was almost too much for him. “That would do it, Olivia,” he said. “Paul’s such a romantic. If you told him…”
“I can’t yet.”
“He’s going to figure it out soon enough, don’t you think?”
She glanced down at the pink and white stripes of her dress where they hung loosely across her stomach. “Is it that obvious?”
“Not at all to look at you. But…I’m assuming…he’s your husband…” He felt himself flush, and Olivia smiled.
“I’m not letting him get that close to me yet.”
“Ah, I see.” He moved her totebag from the chair to the table. “Well, have a seat.”
The phone rang just as she sat down, and Alec picked it up on the desk. There was an emergency at the animal hospital, the operator told him. A dog with a burr in its eye.
He hung up and explained the situation to Olivia, smiling. “You’re the one who talked me into going back to work,” he said. “Take your time with this.” He gestured toward the tools. “I don’t know how long I’ll be, so don’t feel as though you have to wait. Lacey’s here if you need anything.”
He went upstairs to tell Lacey he was going. She was sitting on her bed, books and papers spread out in front of her and nerve-jangling music blaring from her radio. “I have an emergency at the hospital,” he said. “Olivia’s still here looking through Mom’s stained glass stuff. I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”
“Dad,” she whined. “Make her go if you’re not going to be here.”
“She just got here, Lace. I’ll call if I’m going to be really late.”
He left her room before she could offer anymore objections and walked down the stairs. He stopped in the doorway of the den, but Olivia was deep in concentration. A sheet of graph paper lay on her lap, and she bent over it, her lower lip caught pensively between her teeth and a pair of Annie’s scissors in her hand. He left without disturbing her.
Outside, the damp, salty air enveloped him. It covered Olivia’s Volvo with a faint mist, glistening in the pink light of the sunset, and he ran one hand down the warm, slick side of the car as he walked out to the street and his Bronco.
Lacey appeared in the doorway of the den. Olivia looked up from the tool case and was struck by how much older she looked than fourteen. “Hi, Lacey,” she said. “How are you?”
“Okay.” Lacey slipped into the den and pulled her father’s chair from his desk to the work table. She sat down, hugging her knees, her bare feet up on the chair. It was difficult to look at her hair and keep a straight face. “What are you working on?” she asked.
Olivia thought for a minute. She couldn’t tell her she was making a panel for a nursery—she could hardly let Lacey know she was pregnant when her own husband had no idea. “I’m making a panel for one of the bedrooms in my house,” she said.
“Do you have a design? Mom always worked with a design.”
“Yes.” Olivia lifted the graph paper from her lap to the table. The hot-air balloons probably looked simplistic to Lacey after the kinds of things her mother had done. But Lacey smiled.
“That’s nice,” she said, and she sounded sincere. She watched as Olivia pulled a roll of copper foil from the case. “You never told my father you saw me in the emergency room,” she said.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because what happens in the ER is confidential.” She looked up at Lacey. “How’s your friend doing?
The boy who used crack?”
Lacey wrinkled her nose. “He wasn’t my friend. He’s gone back to Richmond. He was an asshole, anyway.”
Olivia nodded. “He took a major risk with his life.”
“He didn’t care. Some people’s lives are so screwed up they don’t care.” Lacey picked up one of the spools of solder and began playing with it. Her fingernails were chewed short; a couple of her fingertips looked red and sore. There was a scared little girl behind that tough facade.
“Your father told me you have a collection of antique dolls,” Olivia said.
“Yeah.” Lacey didn’t look up from the solder. “My mother used to give them to me for my birthday.”
“Could I see them?”
Lacey shrugged and stood up, and Olivia followed her up the stairs. They passed what had to be the master bedroom, the bed a beautiful four poster covered by a quilt. Lacey opened her bedroom door and Olivia could not prevent a laugh. “Oh, Lacey, this is great,” she said. There was a shelf going three fourths of the way around the room on which delicate, ruffle-dressed dolls sat, wide-eyed and prim. Above and below the dolls were posters of rock groups—young men in leather pants and vests, bare-chested, long-haired, ear-ringed and insolent-looking.
Lacey smiled at her reaction.
“Is this room a good description of you?” Olivia asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean half angel, half devil.”
“Three quarters devil, I guess.”
Olivia saw the textbooks on her bed. “What are you studying?”
Lacey groaned. “Biology and Algebra.”
Olivia picked up the biology text and skimmed through the pages, remembering how enthralled she’d been by her own biology book in high school, how she had read the entire book by the end of the first week of school. “What are you up to?”
“Genetic stuff.” Lacey picked up a worksheet from her bed. “This is my homework. I hate this stuff. I’m supposed to make this pedigree study into some kind of chart or something. It doesn’t make any sense to me.”