Dance with the Doctor (6 page)

“No problem.” He took Carrie’s coat from the peg by the door and offered it to her. “We won’t keep you. Have a good time on your date.”

“It’s not a date,” she protested.

He laughed. “Whatever you say.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek.

“You know I will.” She wouldn’t have gotten through the past two years without Dave’s help. His physical help with things like the snowblower and moving heavy furniture, and his calm, steadying presence in her life, reassuring her that she could go on.

But there were some things a brother couldn’t do.

He couldn’t teach her how to create a new life that looked so different from the one she’d lost.

“I didn’t think of it, sweetheart, but it will be all right.”

“Flowers would make the table look more special,” she said.

Did she want things special for Darcy, or for her mother? Or special because her parents were dining together, something they didn’t ordinarily do? Mike had heard of children who clung to the belief their divorced parents would reunite, though Taylor had never expressed any such desire. Still, it would be natural for her to want that, wouldn’t it?

If Mike had had his wish, he and Melissa would never have divorced. Not because he still believed she was the love of his life—that belief had died in the bitter fights near the end. But he came from a family where marriage was for life. Even imperfect partners stayed together, because they’d promised to do so. Part of being an adult was accepting that life wasn’t all hearts and roses.

But Melissa had felt differently. Maybe she thought she could find the romance she was missing with someone else. Mike certainly hadn’t made her happy, and she’d half convinced him he didn’t have what it took to be a good partner to any woman. “Darcy and your mother are both coming to see you,” he said. “I’m sure they won’t even notice if there aren’t any flowers.”

“Do you think I look okay?” Taylor asked.

Mike set down the fork he’d been using to turn the steaks. He didn’t know whether it was her age or a consequence of her surgery, but lately Taylor had been more concerned with her appearance, a trend that troubled him. “You’re beautiful,” he said. “And that purple sweater looks great on you.” The cowl neck framed her face and effectively covered her scar. She wore it over dark jeans and purple suede booties her mother had given her for Christmas.

His praise eased the frown lines on the girl’s forehead, but they soon returned as she studied him. “You’re not very dressed up,” she said.

He supposed this was the ten-year-old version of the adult female’s
You’re not going to wear
that,
are you?
He glanced down at his khaki trousers and pale blue button-down shirt. “What’s wrong with this outfit?”

“You look like you’re going to the office. You should wear your new shirt.”

The new shirt was another attempt by Taylor to update his wardrobe. It featured maroon, blue and gold stripes with thin metallic threads woven through. “Nick Jonas has one almost just like it,” Taylor had solemnly informed him when he’d unwrapped it. He’d worn it one night, at home, to placate her, and then had hidden it at the back of his closet. “Honey, don’t you think that shirt’s a bit too…flashy for a simple dinner at home?”

Her expression clearly conveyed that Dad was clueless. “Darcy likes flashy,” she said. “Her dance costumes are colorful and glittery. Wear the shirt. Please!”

Mike decided that giving in to Taylor was easier than trying to convince her otherwise. And if she could focus on his appearance maybe she wouldn’t worry so much about her own looks.

Changing shirts also meant changing pants. He decided on dark blue jeans, since all his dress pants looked ridiculous with the stripes. He was buttoning the sleeves and frowning at his reflection in the bath room mirror when the doorbell rang. “She’s here!” Taylor shouted, and thundered across the room.

Mike arrived at the front door in time to help Darcy out of her coat. “I hope you didn’t have any trouble finding the place,” he said.

“Not at all.”

“You look great,” Taylor said of Darcy’s jeans and red sweater.

“So do you,” she said. “I love that turtleneck, and those boots are to die for.”

Taylor grinned and tugged up the legs of her jeans to show them off. “Thanks. My mom gave them to me for Christmas.”

“She obviously has good taste.” Darcy turned to Mike. “Nice shirt,” she said. He was alert for any hint of mockery in her voice, or some sign of sarcasm in her eyes but found none. Did that mean she really liked the shirt—on him?

“I brought wine,” she said, and offered a wrapped bottle, which turned out to contain a very nice merlot. “The clerk at the liquor store recommended it.”

“It’ll go great with the steaks,” he said. “Thank you.”

She looked around expectantly. “Melissa isn’t here yet,” Mike said.

“Mom’s always late,” Taylor added.

Mike hung Darcy’s coat in the closet and trailed her and Taylor into the living room. “Let me show you the house,” Taylor said. “My room is down here.”

As they proceeded down the hallway, Mike detoured to the kitchen to start the stove-top grill for the steaks. He opened the wine and poured two glasses and waited.

And waited. The house wasn’t that large—where could Taylor have taken Darcy? Was she stuck in Taylor’s room, playing Barbies and too polite to extricate herself?

He started down the hallway and soon heard voices. They weren’t coming from Taylor’s room, but from his.

“This is my dad’s bathroom,” Taylor was saying. “It’s usually really messy in here. This is the cologne I gave him for his birthday…”

Darcy turned from the doorway of the bathroom when he entered the bedroom. “Taylor wanted to show me everything,” she said. “I told her we shouldn’t invade your privacy, but she insisted.”

Her smile added to his embarrassment. He picked up the clothes he’d discarded earlier and tossed them on the bed, which at least he’d taken the trouble to make up that morning. “I guess it’s not like you haven’t seen a man’s bedroom before.” He wanted to take the words back as soon as he’d said them. Did she think he was implying something risqué—that she’d seen a lot of men’s bedrooms?

Had she?

“Hmm.” She looked around the room, at the cherry bed and dresser Melissa had picked out, and the book case full of paperback thrillers and suspense novels that served as a nightstand. “It’s been a while.”

It had been a while since a woman who wasn’t his housekeeper had been in this room, too. He felt the same way he had when he’d watched Darcy dance, that awareness of himself as a man without a woman in his life, and of her as a desirable, sexy woman. “Come on, Taylor, let’s go back into the living room,” he said. “Supper’s almost ready.”

“I have one more thing to show Darcy,” Taylor said. “I almost forgot.” She ran to the dresser and picked up a framed photograph. “This is me, right after I got my new heart.”

The picture had been taken only a few hours post-transplant. The girl in the hospital bed was dwarfed by the machines around her, tubes and wires trailing out of her. Despite all this, the image was precious to Mike because Taylor was pink cheeked and smiling, a marked contrast to the sad, blue-tinged girl she’d been only hours before.

Darcy stared at the picture and all color left her face. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. Alarmed, Mike took the picture from her. She swayed, and he put his arm around her to steady her. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes, I…” She tried to smile, but the expression was more of a grimace. “I didn’t recognize you, Taylor,” she said. “You look so…so healthy now.”

“Taylor, put the picture back on the dresser.” Mike handed it to his daughter and steered Darcy toward the door, still supporting her with his arm. “Let’s go into the living room and sit down. There are a couple of glasses of wine on the counter in the kitchen. Taylor, why don’t you get those for us.”

Taylor raced ahead while her father and Darcy made their way slowly down the hall. “I’m sorry,” Mike said. “I didn’t think about how much of a shock that picture can be. As a doctor I forget.”

“No, it’s okay.” She was still very pale, but her voice was stronger. “I just…” She shook her head.

They sat and Taylor brought the wine. After a few sips, Darcy’s color returned. “Thanks,” she said.

“Are you okay?” Taylor asked, eyes wide, lower lip trembling.

Darcy squeezed her hand. “Come sit here with me and tell me what you did today.”

While the two talked, Mike returned to the kitchen to finish preparing dinner. It didn’t take much imagination to realize the kinds of memories that picture must have conjured—memories of her son in a similar hospital bed, hooked to similar machinery, before he died.

It was also easy for him to imagine how the revelation of Taylor’s identity as the donation recipient had hurt her, as she’d been forced to relive the circumstances that had led to the donation.

“Is everything okay?” he called. Maybe he should go back into the living room….

“I’m fine,” Darcy answered. She sounded stronger. “What are you making?”

“Steaks. How do you like yours cooked?”

“Well-done.”

“That’s the only way Daddy will let me eat mine,” Taylor said. “He says there could be germs or some thing in undercooked meat, but then he eats his steak all pink in the middle. Yuck.”

Mike shook his head. He and Taylor were going to have to have a talk about boundaries and what constituted proper conversation with strangers.

The doorbell rang again. Mike let Taylor answer it, and heard Melissa greeting her daughter. He wiped his hands on a napkin and went to begin what he hoped wouldn’t be another awkward evening balanced between the adoration of his daughter and the judgment of his ex-wife.

“Yes, it is, dear, but it’s
so
not your father.” Melissa turned and noticed Darcy, who was still seated on the sofa.

Darcy set aside her wineglass and stood. “I’m Darcy O’Connor,” she said, moving forward, hand outstretched. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

“I can’t tell you how much I’ve looked forward to meeting you,” Melissa said, gripping Darcy’s hand firmly. “All I’ve heard since Taylor started classes was Darcy this and Darcy that. And then to find out you’re the mother of that dear boy who gave her his heart—it’s just too amazing.”

Darcy tried not to wince. It wasn’t as if Riley had voluntarily handed over his heart to Taylor.

“Can I get you some wine?” Mike asked Melissa.

“Yes, please.” She settled on the sofa next to Darcy, Taylor on her other side. “So you’re a belly dancer,” she said. “Such an unusual occupation. And you really make a living dancing?”

“Dancing and teaching. And I sometimes do temp work to bring in extra money.” Darcy could tell by the way Melissa’s nose wrinkled that she didn’t think much of Darcy’s financially precarious lifestyle, and her next words confirmed it.

“I suppose you artists don’t really care that much about money,” she said. “I could never live that way. I’ve grown too used to my luxuries, I suppose.”

By the time Mike called them to the table, Melissa had revealed her current relationship with a senior pilot and described her latest shopping trip in Paris.

“That sounds wonderful,” Darcy said, continuing the conversation as they took their seats, she to Mike’s left, with Taylor on his other side and Melissa at the opposite end of the table.

“Even though I wear a uniform to work, I like to look my best in my off hours,” Melissa said.

Darcy purchased most of her clothes from thrift stores and the sale racks at discount merchants. “I’ll admit, I don’t worry much about clothes,” she said. “Except for my costumes.”

“Darcy has some lovely costumes,” Taylor said. “All silky and shimmery with all kinds of jewels and sequins.”

“Not much call for that sort of thing in my line of work,” Melissa said with a chuckle.

“Darcy dances at a restaurant sometimes,” Taylor said. “What was the name of it again? I want to come see you there.”

“Arabica. They serve Middle Eastern food. It’s very good.”

Taylor looked skeptical. “I’ve never had Middle Eastern food before.”

“It’s different, but good,” Darcy said. “Though not as good as this steak, I’m sure.”

“Mike always was a good cook,” Melissa said. “I never wanted to waste the little spare time I had in the kitchen. With my travel schedule I have to eat out too much. But the other night I had dinner in the most fabulous restaurant in Naples….”

Darcy was able to enjoy her steak in relative silence, as Melissa took over the lion’s share of the conversation, segueing from a description of the menu at the Naples restaurant to a long story about her latest trip to Antwerp. Taylor watched her mother with adoring eyes. Why didn’t Melissa pay more attention to the girl? Why didn’t she ask her daughter about school or dancing, to include her in the conversation? The one time Taylor tried to share something that had happened in class, Melissa turned the conversation back to herself.

As for Mike, he focused on his plate. What had this quiet, solemn man ever seen in this outgoing, self-centered woman?

At that moment, Mike looked up and met Darcy’s gaze. A spark of unmistakable warmth lit his eyes. “Let me get you some more wine,” he said, leaning forward to refill her glass. She waved him away.

“I should have warned you, I’m a real lightweight when it comes to alcohol. I can only have one glass if I’m going to drive home later.”

“You could just spend the night here,” Taylor said. “In my room.”

Melissa’s laughter was too loud, and Darcy felt her face heat. “That would be fun, but I need to get home.”

The awkward silence stretched only a few moments before Taylor came to their rescue. “Next Saturday my mom is taking me to Disney On Ice.”

“Is that the one with all the Disney princesses?” Darcy asked. “And the Olympic champions?”

“Yes. I can’t wait. I always watch all the ice-skating at the Olympics. It’s so beautiful.”

“I’m able to get tickets through the airline,” Melissa said. “It’s one of the perks of my job.”

“I wanted to go last year, but Mom wasn’t in town,” Taylor said. “And Dad didn’t want to take me in such a big crowd—that germ thing.” She made a face. “He still doesn’t really want me to go, but now that they’re not married anymore, he can’t tell Mom what to do.”

“I never told your mother what to do before,” Mike said.

“Your father is not that dumb,” Melissa said. The words were complimentary, but her tone imbued them with a sting. Darcy cringed.

“What will you wear to the show?” Darcy quickly asked Taylor.

The rest of the meal was filled with talk of clothes, from the story of how Mike had come to own a Jonas Brothers–style shirt to Darcy’s various dance costumes.

By the time Mike announced dessert, Darcy was feeling more relaxed. Melissa wasn’t the type of woman she’d normally have befriended—she was too brittle and self-centered—but she clearly loved her daughter and had the facile charm of someone used to navigating a variety of social situations.

“What are we having for dessert?” Melissa asked as Mike cleared the table.

“Strawberry tart.”

“From Michelson’s? That was always my favorite.”

“Taylor’s, too,” he said drily. He caught Darcy’s eye and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

With dessert, Melissa had more wine—too much wine, Darcy thought. Her teasing tone with Mike took on a harder edge. “He’s a better cook than I was and he certainly makes more money,” she said at one point. “Taylor and I will have to put our heads together and see if we can’t find him some equally studious teacher or librarian, someone who will appreciate his good qualities.”

“I’m sure plenty of women appreciate Mike,” Darcy murmured.

“You, for instance?” Melissa laughed before Darcy could answer, as if the idea was ridiculous.

Across the table, Mike looked ready to spit nails. Darcy rose. “Thank you for the lovely dinner,” she said. “I really should be going now.” She nodded to Melissa. “It was nice to meet you.”

Mike made no protest. “Thank you for coming,” he said as he walked her to the door.

“I had a nice time,” she said. “And it was nice to meet Taylor’s mother.”

“I’ll make sure she takes a cab home,” he said. “She doesn’t always behave like this.”

“It’s fine. You don’t have to apologize.”

She hurried to her car, wanting nothing more than to be home in her pajamas, her hand wrapped around a mug of tea. She’d need more than flannel pj’s and tea to soothe her, though. The evening had shaken her—starting with Taylor dragging her into Mike’s bedroom. Yes, it was just a room, but seeing his books on the nightstand, his clothes on the floor and his razor on the edge of the sink had felt so intimate. It made him less intimidating, more accessible.

When he’d joined them in the bedroom, she’d felt the attraction between them heating up.

But that picture of Taylor in the hospital had been like a whole refrigerator truck of ice dumped on her. Seeing the child connected to all those machines—the way Riley had looked the last time she’d seen him—had jerked her back to that moment of horror.

And now she’d run away from him and from his happy family. No, he and Melissa were no longer married, but they had a child they both clearly loved. A happy, but fragile child who took handfuls of pills multiple times a day and who was one bad cold away from ending up back in the hospital, hooked up to those awful machines. Darcy shuddered at the thought. She wasn’t ready for that. No matter how much she was attracted to a man, she would never be ready for that again.