Dr. Dad (7 page)

He'd already lost his wife. He couldn't bear to lose his daughter, too.

“I'll call this friend of yours,” he said, taking the slip of paper and tucking it into his shirt pocket. “Thanks.”

Allison scrutinized him for a moment, then impulsively reached out and hugged him. “You know, when I meet women about to give birth, they're usually frightened. They think their baby is going to come out wrong, or labor is going to hurt too much, or they're not going to be able to deliver for some reason. And I tell them, many, many millions of women have gone through this before they did, and it almost always turned out all right. Now I'm telling you the same thing, Toby. Millions of parents have gone through what you're going through, and most of the time it's turned out all right. Especially when the parent loves his child as much as you love yours.”

In spite of himself, he smiled. “When did you become a psychologist?”

“I'm not a psychologist. I'm a cheerleader.” She
gave his shoulder a final comforting squeeze. “You're going to be okay, Toby.”

Her encouraging words echoed inside him as he strode down the hall to the pediatric ICU, where Andy Lowenthal was awaiting his first grueling round of chemotherapy. What Toby was going through with Lindsey was nothing compared with what Andy would be going through over the next several weeks. Besides, Allison was right. Plenty of people before him had raised adolescents successfully. He wasn't such an ignoramus that he couldn't master the necessary skills, as well.

Still, it would be easier if he had Jane by his side, fighting the good fight with him. Or any woman. Someone who understood the way a girl's mind worked. Someone who could help him make sense of it. Someone Lindsey could confide in, and trust, and admire.

Someone who could whisper to Toby, when desperation threatened to drag him under, that he was a good father and a good man, and his daughter was going to turn out fine.

S
USANNAH HOOKED
the pot of impatiens on the beam in the porch of the overhang and stepped back to look. The delicate pink blossoms spilled over the edges of the pot, soft and drizzly. It still amazed her to think she had managed to escape from one life and transport herself all the way across the continent to another, entirely different life, one with mint-fresh spring afternoons and porches with overhangs from which a person could suspend a pot of flowers. Along with disorientation, she felt a kind of pride that she'd accomplished this.

Her life was really hers. She could do what she wanted—sleep late, read every page of the newspaper over a leisurely breakfast, discuss worldly matters with MacKenzie and shop for groceries at midnight at the all-night supermarket. She'd done that last evening and discovered the store nearly empty at that hour. In her eyeglasses and with her hair pinned up, she'd gone unrecognized by the drowsy cashier.

Sooner or later, she would emerge from behind the eyeglasses and let her hair down. Sooner or later she'd allow the small, safe world of Arlington, Connecticut, to learn who she was. Eventually, she hoped, she would become yesterday's news and no one would give a damn that she'd once been a familiar face on TV.

She heard the high-pitched babble of young voices drifting down the street on a breeze. Turning, she saw a throng of children spilling out of the yellow school bus that had stopped at a corner several blocks away. They separated into twos and threes, chattering, giggling, the boys shoving and chasing one another, the girls conferring in private huddles. A trio of girls walked slowly along the sidewalk. As they drew nearer, Susannah recognized one of them as Lindsey.

The other two girls peeled off, veering onto a side street, and Lindsey continued on toward her house alone. She wore a snug-fitting T-shirt and even snugger jeans that displayed a body just beginning to emerge from gawky little-girl skinniness. Her hair was held off her face with a headband, and her eyes were large and dark above delicate cheekbones.

She was awfully pretty, Susannah thought. In a few years, Toby was going to have his hands full keeping boys away from her. Susannah sensed that Toby was the sort of father who would stand guard at the front door, protecting his daughter's virtue with his fists if necessary.

She shouldn't consider the idea of a protective daddy such a turn-on. But it didn't matter how many times she told herself not to think about Toby Cole as anything more than a congenial neighbor. Merely glimpsing his daughter walking home from the bus stop caused Susannah to remember his intense gaze, his gentle voice, the sensual motions of his hands.

She ought to keep her distance from the Cole family. She ought to apply herself to her new life—writing, decompressing, seeking her own counsel and all that. She ought to steer clear of the sexy doctor next door and his moody daughter.

Every ought-to flew out of her mind as Lindsey drew near. Susannah recalled how Lindsey had bolted from the table last Friday night because of her. Maybe she could repair the damage she'd unintentionally inflicted.

“Hey,” she called out.

The girl stopped at the edge of the lawn and stared.

Susannah recalled that the damage had been related to the fact that Lindsey believed she was someone worthy of being stared at. Lindsey had been disappointed that Susannah didn't think highly of her own celebrity. Perhaps, if she could convince Lindsey she was just an ordinary human being, Lindsey would relax around her and they could be friends.

When Lindsey said nothing, Susannah asked, “Do the flowers look okay over there?”

“Um…yeah. They look great.”

“You think so?”

Lindsey seemed to thaw a little. “I love hanging plants. I wish we had a porch like yours so we could have hanging plants, too.”

“The porch was one of the things that sold me on this house.” Susannah scrutinized Lindsey across the expanse of grass. Lindsey's posture was that of a girl who'd just sprouted breasts and was a little embarrassed about them. Her smile was shy, hesitant. Her schoolbag hung from a strap over one shoulder, its waterproof purple surface bulging with lumps from books and clutter.

“I've still got some pictures to hang inside. Any chance you could lend me a hand? I can't decide where I want them. I'd love it if you could give me some ideas.”

Lindsey looked behind her, as if not quite sure Su
sannah was talking to her. She turned back, apparently stunned. “You want
me
to help?”

“We both think this porch is nice, so we probably have similar tastes. You can tell me if I'm hanging the pictures straight.”

Lindsey's face lit up. She started across the grass, then paused and glanced toward her own house. “I'm supposed to go straight home from school,” she said. “Dad'll have a cow if I don't go home.”

“How about if we give him a call and see if it's okay with him,” Susannah suggested.

The light returned to Lindsey's smile. She bounded across the grass, running with the fleet grace of an athlete. “This is so cool,” she said. “I know your house so well because my best friend used to live here. Cathy Robinson. Her dad got transferred to Atlanta and they had to move. But we used to hang out in each other's houses all the time.” Bubbling with energy, she preceded Susannah into the house, her familiarity with it obvious. “We weren't allowed in the living room too much,” she informed Susannah, letting her backpack slide from her shoulder and hit the hardwood floor of the entry hall with a thump. “Cathy's mother wouldn't let us. She had expensive stuff in there. White couches and stuff. It was pretty, but it seemed kind of stupid to me. I mean, what's the point of having a living room if you can't even use it? I like your living room much better,” she declared, marching through the arched doorway into the still starkly decorated room and heading straight for the cat, which lay curled in a patch of sunlight on the rug. “Hey, MacKenzie! Remember me?”

Observing from the doorway, Susannah grinned. This was the Lindsey she'd met Friday afternoon, the
talkative, exuberant girl full of spunk. MacKenzie seemed happy to see her, too. Usually, he didn't take kindly to being awakened from a nap, but when Lindsey stroked his back he stirred, yawning and arching against her hand.

Susannah had intended to have Lindsey telephone her father, but she was too busy stroking Mac. Abandoning them in the living room, Susannah headed for the kitchen alone. She carried her cordless phone to the desk, where she'd left Toby's business card, and punched in the number printed at the bottom.

“Arlington Pediatric Associates,” a receptionist recited. “How may I direct your call?”

Susannah felt nerves pinch her nape. She didn't want to disturb Toby at work, where he might be in the midst of examining a patient. More important, she didn't want the sound of his voice to remind her of the erotic thoughts she'd had while seated in his dining room on Friday night.

But she was an actor. She could conceal her anxiety. “May I speak to Dr. Cole, please?” she asked smoothly.

“One moment.” She was put on hold, and then heard another woman's voice: “This is Dr. Cole's assistant. Can I help you?”

Obviously, he was too busy. Just as well—Susannah could tell his assistant where Lindsey was and avoid talking to Toby altogether. “This is Dr. Cole's next-door neighbor,” she said. “Could you please tell him I've got Lindsey over here, and—”

“Lindsey? Hang on, I'll get him.”

Before Susannah could finish, she was put on hold again.

A smile touched her lips. He must have given his
assistant permission to drag him from whatever he was doing if Lindsey needed him. He was so attentive to his daughter, so available to her—the way good fathers in loving families were supposed to be.

A few seconds passed, and she heard his voice: “Susannah? Is everything all right?”

Her smile grew. If anyone had seen her, they might have thought she was a kid with a crush, grinning like a goofball at the sound of a particular man's voice. She couldn't recall ever having had a crush on anyone in her life. And here she was at the advanced age of thirty-two, having spent most of her life in the high-pressure grow-up-quickly world of television…and she felt almost as young as Lindsey, practically tongue-tied in the presence of the cutest guy in town.

“Everything's fine,” she said. “How did you know it was me?”

“Mary said it was my next-door neighbor,” he said, “and I knew it wouldn't be my neighbors on the other side. No one's ever home there during the day.” As he spoke the tautness left his tone. “So everything's okay?”

“Yes. Lindsey just got home from school, and I invited her in to help me hang pictures. I thought we ought to check and make sure that was all right with you.”

“She wants to help you hang pictures?” He sounded bewildered.

“Well, actually, I thought we could sort of make up from Friday night. If we don't get around to hanging pictures, it's no big deal.”

He said nothing for a minute, then, “Are you sure you want to do that?”

“Do what? Make friends with Lindsey?” It didn't
seem like such a risky undertaking to her. “Is there something wrong with my wanting to do it?”

“No. Not at all.” Again he fell silent. Closing her eyes, she visualized his thick, dark hair, his earnest smile, his lean, lanky build. “Actually, I'd be very grateful.”

“Don't be. This is between Lindsey and me,” she said. She didn't want to believe Toby had anything to do with her attempt to befriend Lindsey. It was just that she'd been a moody teenager once, too—a girl with two parents whose ideas of how she should live her life rarely took her feelings into account. Lindsey had a father who seemed truly attached to her, but she lacked a mother. She was facing challenges no less difficult than what Susannah had faced as a teenager.

Susannah would have been thrilled to have a neighbor who cared for her, cared enough to make sure she was all right. If she could be that kind of neighbor for Lindsey, it would be good for them both.

Toby had nothing to do with it.

“Can I talk to her for a minute?” he asked.

“Sure. Hang on.” She strode out of the kitchen to find Lindsey lying on her back on the floor stroking MacKenzie, who sat happily on her belly. As soon as Susannah entered the room, Lindsey bolted upright, depositing MacKenzie onto the rug. Lindsey looked embarrassed, although there was no reason for her to be. She wasn't the first human being MacKenzie had wrapped around his paw, and she wouldn't be the last.

“Your dad wants to speak to you,” Susannah said, handing the phone to Lindsey.

“Oh—okay.” Lindsey pressed the phone to her ear, her wide eyes fixed on Susannah. “Yeah?” she said into the phone. “Dad?”

Susannah lifted one of the framed prints she'd been planning to hang on the living-room wall, not so much because she cared about the print but because she wanted to assure Lindsey she wasn't eavesdropping. “Just some math,” Lindsey said. “I can do it tonight…. No, I promise I won't forget to do it. I know you're meeting with Ms. Hathaway. Your plan, Dr. Dad, not mine.” She ran her free hand through her hair, which had gotten matted from lying on the rug. “No, I won't stay too long. I won't be a pest…. I
know,
Dad.” She rolled her eyes. “Okay. Here's Susannah.” She handed the phone back to Susannah, making a great show of looking exasperated.

Susannah gave her what she hoped was a placating smile and returned to the kitchen alone. “I told her not to stay at your house all afternoon,” he said.

“I don't mind.”

“I do.” He half sighed, half laughed. “If she starts getting on your nerves, send her home.”

“She won't get on my nerves,” Susannah assured him.

“You don't know her the way I do. And I'd hate to destroy a good neighborly relationship over the fact that my daughter can be a pain in the butt when she wants.”

Was that what he envisioned for them? A good neighborly relationship? She supposed that would be appropriate.

But did a good neighborly relationship include her having outlined a plotline for an episode of
Mercy Hospital
that revolved around a charismatic pediatrician with soulful eyes and a heart-melting smile? Did it include her sprawling out in bed, imagining what that doctor's hands would feel like twining through her hair
or caressing the underside of her chin, what that doctor's mouth would feel like on hers?

Surely that wasn't what Toby had had in mind when he'd mentioned good neighborly relationships. And if Susannah was wise, she'd be satisfied with what he
did
have in mind. If she didn't want to get hurt again, if she didn't want to get caught up in other people's agendas, if she wanted simply to live a normal life as an anonymous human being in a quiet, peaceful community, she would be wise to keep things neighborly with Toby and everyone else she met in Arlington.

“I know more about pain-in-the-butts than most people learn in a lifetime,” she told him. “Don't worry about Lindsey and me.”