Catch a Falling Star (6 page)

“I think Ian needs to get back to Florida.” Griffin dropped six spoons into the silverware container.

“That's a wonderful idea. Maybe he could come spend a few weeks with us this summer?”

“I called to see if you would consider being Ian's guardians—in my place.”

The silence that followed this statement couldn't be a good sign. Not that he expected an immediate yes. But he had expected some sort of reaction.

“Mrs. Jamison?”

“It never occurred to me that you wouldn't want Ian with you after your parents' deaths. I mean, you're brothers.”

Shutting the dishwasher, Griffin paced through his almost vacant living room. He only had to dodge the overstuffed extra-long couch and the worn-out lounge chair that he needed to replace. The flat-screen TV was anchored to the wall. He and Ian weren't brothers—not really. And the age difference was too much to try to overcome at this late date. “Even though we're . . . family, I'm not sure my parents made the wisest decision when they made me Ian's guardian.”

“But surely you can see why they would want Ian to be with his brother.”

“Quite honestly, I don't think my parents ever expected to die in a plane crash on the way home from celebrating their fortieth anniversary.” Griffin dragged in a breath. “And twenty-two years' difference—Ian and I don't have a lot of things in common.”

“Except your parents.”

Mrs. Jamison was not as open to the idea as he'd hoped. “All I'm asking is that you consider the idea. Maybe talk about it with your husband? Pray about it.”

“Have you prayed about it, Griffin?”

“Sure. I mean, yes, I have.” Griffin came to a halt at the base of the stairs that led up to his brother's room. Ian's door was shut—locking him out, as usual. But any minute now, his brother would come downstairs, ready to leave for school. Griffin needed to speed up this phone call. “Obviously, I'd want Ian to finish out the school year here, so I was thinking, if we agreed to this, that we could make the change in the summer.”

A minute later, Griffin headed down the hall toward his bedroom. He almost paused at his brother's room. Almost knocked on the door. But Ian made it clear he wasn't in the mood to talk. Ever. He knew moving back to Panama City and living with the Jamison family would be the best thing for his brother. He'd talk to Ian once everything was settled.

He hadn't expected Mrs. Jamison to go online and print out a ticket for Ian to fly back to Florida tomorrow. But why couldn't she be more open to the idea, see the benefit to Ian? Why didn't her mom-heart kick in and feel sorry for a homesick teenage boy? Maybe he'd follow up with an email, detail how much Ian missed his school, his friends.

If Griffin was honest, he wasn't much different from Ian. Uprooted. Forced to move, thanks to vertigo plaguing him for over eighteen months. And his own stupidity for downplaying the seriousness of his condition.

God, I want to be in the Springs about as much as Ian does. Help me figure out a way to get him back home. It's challenging enough trying to get my life on track. I don't want to be responsible
for Ian's, too. I'm not the best choice for Ian's guardian. We both know that.

Time to face the day.

Kendall kicked through the water a few more times, slowing the rhythm of her arms and legs. The welcome feeling of buoyancy succumbed to gravity, and she sank so her feet touched the bottom of the pool. Warm water splashed into her face and she sputtered, wiping moisture away from her eyes.

From his perch along the edge, Sully barked.

“Stay, dog.” Kendall held up a dripping hand. “The day you jump into my pool is the day I give you away. Got it?”

The dog whined and paced back and forth but—wonder of wonders—stayed high and dry. Not that she'd do anything more drastic than fuss if Sully decided to go for a swim with her. He'd endured residency with her, adapting to her long hours spent in the hospital. She'd pretended not to notice that he'd slept in her bed, not his. Somebody might as well—she certainly wasn't. Their relationship worked—in a dysfunctional owner–dog sort of way, because, well, she loved the hairy beast.

The water slowing her steps, Kendall walked to the side of the compact pool and tugged off the neon green swimming cap. It clashed with her red one-piece bathing suit, but protected her short hair. Sully came and sat beside her. “Do not—I repeat—do not lick me, dog. There's a reason why you have a water bowl over in the corner.”

She rested for a few moments, considering the somber view out the back of her office windows. A mist shrouded the Front Range Mountains, hinting at snow. This early in April, snow was just as likely as sunshine. But who knew? The
sun might trump all the forecasters' predictions and break through the clouds by midmorning. But by then she'd be preoccupied with patients, tracking between one exam room and another.

Chlorine-scented water evaporated from her shoulders, causing a chill to work its way across her skin. Pulling herself up onto the edge of the pool, Kendall walked over and turned off the endless-current machine before wrapping herself in an oversized yellow towel. Sully followed behind and took a hesitant swipe at her ankle with his rough tongue.

“No, Sully! Go drink out of your bowl.” Kendall pointed to the other side of the room. “Use. Your. Bowl.”

The dog took two steps away from her, then flopped on the floor with a weary sigh.

“You're not a dog, you're a slug.” A low whine elicited a chuckle from Kendall. “My apologies. I'm cranky this morning. You know I love you.”

His ears perked up when her iPhone rang. She grabbed it from the small table in the corner of the room, hoping it wasn't an emergency. Her schedule would be wrecked before the day even started.

“Dr. Haynes.”

“Kendall, it's Bekah.”

An emergency indeed, in the form of her little sister, Hurricane Bekah.

“Morning, Bekah. A little early for you to be up, isn't it?”

“I've got Zumba class today, so I'm out of the house early before school.”

Bekah, the professional college student. She'd been taking classes for eight years and switched career options so many times Kendall struggled to remember her revolving majors. Art? Philosophy? Business? Kendall wove her fingers through her
hair, twisting the short locks and then letting them go in an effort to release tension. How'd that build up so quickly?

“So, Beks, what can I do for you today?”

“Well, it's more like what can you give me.”

Uh-oh. Round two about Mina's ruby ring was about to begin. Ding, ding, ding!

“Give you? And that would be?”

“Kendall, I know Mom talked to you about Ryan proposing.”

“She did. Congratulations.”

“Mom said you're being stubborn about Mina's ring.”

Inhaling a gulp of the warm, moist air surrounding her, Kendall wrapped the towel tighter, fending off a chill threatening to seep into her body. “Technically, it's my ring, since Mina bequeathed it to me.”

“Traditionally, the ring should go to me because I'm the first one to get married. Mina should have never given that ring to you.”

“But she did.” Why did Kendall feel as if she were playing keep-away with her sister?

“You're not using it. It's just sitting there in a box, gathering dust.”

“Come on, Bekah, I'm single—not dead!”

Her sister's snort was anything but feminine. The girl needed to be careful or one day she'd jiggle loose her crystal nose piercing. “Let's just keep it simple. You're thirty-six. Somebody might call you an old maid, but I'm not that kind of person.”

Sure she wasn't.

“Come on, you're more likely to be killed by a terrorist—”

“Bekah, have you been watching
Sleepless in Seattle
again?”

“Fine. Ignore statistics. All I'm saying is look at who's getting engaged—and look at who's not. Do you really want to mess up family tradition?”

Kendall slid her feet into a pair of faded green flip-flops, grabbing the inhaler she'd used before her morning swim, and heading for the back staircase that led upstairs to her loft. Combining her office and her home was one of her smartest decisions ever. Sully trailed behind her, nipping at the towel draped over her shoulder.

“No, I don't.”

“What?”

Kendall could hear the faint ring of victory in her sister's voice. “I don't want to mess up family tradition. But I am not going to give you the ring that Mina gave me. She wanted me to have it.”

“Ooooooh!” Her sister's high-pitched squeal almost caused Kendall to laugh. Almost. But she wasn't interested in going another round with Bekah. “You're being unreasonable, just like Dad.”

Kendall stopped her ascent, her hand clenching the railing. “Don't. Don't bring Dad into this.”

“Mom said—”

“You heard me, Bekah. Don't bring Dad into this. Sic Mom on me if you want. Call me morning, noon, and night. Leave me voice mails. Send me snarky texts. But don't talk badly about Dad. Got it?”

“Are you going to send Mom the ring?”

“No. Final answer.”

“Why not?”

“Because it's mine, plain and simple. Mina gave it to me. And I plan on using it.”

“As if—”

Kendall disconnected the call.

And wished she could do another half hour in the pool to drown the internal echo of the conversation with her sister. But
now she was an adult—the doctor, not the patient. And despite what other people thought, she did her best not to keep patients waiting. She needed to shake it off. Her Friday could only get better from here, right?

Were all families like hers? Even now, eighteen years later, memories of her father were still tender. She spoke to her mother and sister on an as-needed basis. And her younger brother Tanner had left home for college—and never looked back.

As she entered the interior back door of her loft, her flip-flops slapped against the cold cement floor. Not for the first time she wondered if she should have opted for something warmer, like wood. Or thick carpeting. Nah. She loved the look of her one-of-a-kind floor, with its broad red marbled strips.

Sully abandoned her in the large open living area, choosing to flop onto his well-worn dog bed positioned by the black Clark Sofa. One day she'd upgrade to a real couch, but she loved the utilitarian lines of the sleeper sofa she purchased during medical school. Paired with two no-frill gray chairs from IKEA and a long, rectangular black coffee table, the furniture gave the room an open feeling—and put the focus where she wanted it: on the floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing a twenty-four-hour view of Pikes Peak.

Kendall couldn't resist stopping to appreciate the ever-changing masterpiece. Yes, the low-hanging clouds obscured the Peak this morning, but she knew the imposing mountain was there, lurking behind the blur of gray. And by the time she came home tonight, she might view a charcoal sketching of a ridge of mountains against a dark blue sky.

Enough window-gazing. It was a workday.

A quick glance at the clock on her bedside table revealed she had time for a fast five-minute shower, thanks to this morning's verbal sparring with her sister. Kendall ignored the
aqua-and-green comforter left in a mound on her bed. She just needed to remember to close her door when she left so that Sully would not assume he was welcome to take an afternoon nap in her unmade bed. Once in the bathroom, she stored the inhaler away before turning on the shower full blast and peeled off the still-damp bathing suit, hanging it on a hook on the back of the door. Pulling back the shower curtain covered with huge pink, purple, orange, and green flowers, Kendall stepped into the shower and adapted one of her favorite show tunes to her mood.

“I'm gonna wash that girl right outta my hair. I'm gonna wash that girl right outta my hair . . .”

By the time she walked downstairs to her office, Kendall determined to forget the conversation with her sister. Bekah asked for the ring. She said no. Done. Now she needed to focus on work. She was the boss. She set the tone for the office. Arriving with a frown on her face would affect everyone from her receptionist to her medical assistants to her nurse practitioner.

She slipped into her office, thankful to see that Evie had left a copy of the day's schedule on her cherrywood roll-top desk. She covered her dress pants and red silk blouse with a starched white lab coat emblazoned with the words
ROCKY MOUNTAIN FAMILY PRACTICE
in deep maroon, scanning her appointments. She was booked, as usual. A few older patients, but mostly children, many with allergies and asthma. Barring any emergencies, she'd be on schedule.

Not that she ever stayed on schedule.

A quick rap on the door and Evie poked her head in. “You ready to get started?”

“Is everyone at the MAs' station?” She followed the receptionist out into the hallway.