Finding Isadora (32 page)

This was shaping up to be one of the most peculiar, and memorable, days of my life.

“Well, then,” she said, and without a word of farewell jogged off, leaving Pogo and me staring after her.

“
Am I so emotionally wrecked I’m hallucinating,” I asked him, “or did that really happen?”

He gave an impatient yip and strained at the end of his leash, eager to be off.

“Thanks. You’re a big help.”

We were pressed for time by now, so we speed-walked back home and I got ready for work, still doing my best not to think about Richard.

I wasn’t going to the clinic this morning, but starting my work day with house calls.

The first client was Mrs. Jesperson, a wealthy elderly woman with so many health issues that she should have been in a nursing home. She didn
’t want to leave the apartment where she’d lived with her husband, and she had the money to pay for home care and all the other services she required.

She was a petite, gentle, great-grandmotherly woman. If dogs matched owners, she
’d have had something tiny, fluffy, and white like a bichon frise, maltese, or shih-tzu. Instead, she had a rugged bull mastiff named Rocky. His exercise was handled by a private dog walker who took him out for two hours a day, and other than that he seemed content to keep Mrs. Jesperson company in their penthouse apartment with its fabulous view of English Bay.

A couple of days ago, Rocky
’d had surgery for an inverted eyelid. I examined him and was happy to say he was in great shape and healing quickly.

I left the two of them sitting outside in the rooftop garden, and walked a couple of blocks to the cheap studio apartment where Henry Melnick, an emaciated, wheelchair-bound man in his
sixties, was dying of AIDS. His family shunned him and he’d outlived most of his friends. Like Mrs. Jesperson, he was dependent on home care, but in his case it was the sort offered by the state, supplemented by local charities.

Henry was one of the people Gabriel had talked about when he
’d said that, for some folks, their only source of love was their animal companion. In Henry’s case, that was a Siamese cat named Spooky.

While we discussed Spooky
’s symptoms and I examined her, Henry wheeled into the kitchen and made tea for both of us. “No cookies, I’m afraid,” he said. “The cupboard’s pretty bare.”

“
Do you need someone to go shopping for you?”

“
No, I can still get out on a good day. But the government cuts have really hurt. By the time I’ve paid for all the medical stuff that health care doesn’t cover, there’s almost nothing left for food.”

And, I knew, Spooky got fed before Henry did.

“How’s my sweetie?” he asked as I completed my exam. “I hope it’s nothing awful.”

I shook my head.
“I’ve taken a culture and I’ll need to test it to be sure, but I think it’s a bladder infection, and that’s very treatable. Get her to drink lots and lots of filtered water.” I walked into the tiny kitchen. “Show me what you’re feeding her.”

“
It’s in the cupboard to the left of the sink.”

I opened the door and checked, then separated the containers.
“Stick with the ones on the right side. They have low protein and magnesium, and that’s what she needs now.” I fished in my medical bag and handed him a bottle of pills. I’d thrown them in yesterday, when I’d looked at Spooky’s file and read her symptoms. “These should fix her up, but don’t start them until I give you a call to verify that it really is a bladder infection.”

“
Thanks, Doc Izzie. How much do I owe you?”

I waved a hand.
“It’s a freebie. One of those samples we’re always getting. Let me know how they work, so I can report back.” It was a lie, and likely he knew it, but it allowed him to preserve his dignity. And he deserved that dignity.

For the same reason, and because I knew he didn
’t get much company, I had accepted his offer of tea. As we sat drinking it, I said, “Some people I know are putting together a test case to challenge the government cuts. Would you be interested in talking to them, to see if you might be one of the plaintiffs in the action?”

He gave a wry laugh.
“I’ll be dead before it ever gets to court.”

That was his reality, and I didn
’t belittle him by denying it. “Getting to court isn’t the only goal. They’re hoping for publicity and public reaction. With any luck the government will cave, and increase funding.”

“
Probably too late to do me any good, but if my voice could help others like me…” A light sparked in his eyes. “Yeah, tell them to give me a call. Maybe there are other ways I can help. Things I could do at home, when I’m not too tired.”

Things that could give the remaining months of his life a sense of meaning and purpose. Oh yes, I
’d have Grace give him a call.

In that moment, I made up my mind.
“I’m going to work on the case too,” I told him, “so we’ll be colleagues.”

“
Excellent!” He pumped a fist into the air and we both laughed, then shook on it.

As I prepar
ed to leave, he said, “It’s time we talked about what’s going to happen to Spooky when I’m gone. You’ll find her a home, won’t you, Doc Izzie?”

“
Of course I will.”

For some reason, Alyssa
’s name popped into my mind. Once Cassie McKenzie was feeling better and capable of working again, perhaps they’d be able to adopt Spooky. Alyssa would love it, and Henry’s cat would be in the best of hands.

“
Thanks. And thanks for not”—he waved a weak hand—”not mouthing a bunch of platitudes, like how I’ve still got lots of time and shouldn’t be so pessimistic. You’ve no idea how insulting it is when people put on those fake cheery voices and spout that crap.”

“
If I ever start spouting crap, you have my permission to whack me.”

Henry wheeled his chair to the door to see me out.

I touched his shoulder in farewell. “Life’s unfair.”

“
Life fucking sucks sometimes,” he agreed. “But then there’s Spooky and folks like you who make it worthwhile.”

As I left Henry
’s apartment, feeling sad for him but warmed by his compliment, I thought how lonely and empty his, and even wealthy Mrs. Jesperson’s, lives would be without their animal friends. Just as Gabriel had said last night.

Gabriel.

Two weeks ago I hadn’t met the man, yet now I didn’t want to think what my life would be like without him.

Not as a lover, not a potential mate. But maybe a friend? Was that possible?

Why had he come to the clinic last night? Did he feel the same attraction I did? My instincts told me he did, and he was fighting it as hard as I was.

I shook my head vigorously. That was the bottom line. It was irrelevant whether the attraction was mutual, because nothing would come of it. I couldn
’t come between son and father. Richard and Gabriel’s relationship was badly screwed up, yet I was certain they both wanted something better. I’d like to bring them closer together, not fuel the problems between them.

Besides,
Gabriel was absolutely not the right man for me. He might be—surely would be—terrific for hot sex, but I wasn’t that kind of woman. I wanted a serious relationship, one with a future.

I wanted a man who was a mix of Richard and Gabriel.

I realized I was standing in front of Henry’s building, staring off into space. Giving myself a shake, I consulted my appointment book. My next house call was an elderly woman with crippling arthritis, who had brother and sister cats plus a parakeet that had lost its voice.

This morning was good for me. Seeing people dealing with serious illnesses and death put my worries about Richard and Gabriel into perspective.

* * *

The first to arrive at India
Gate that night, I asked for the most private of the empty tables. It was across the room from the buffet, which featured a variety of vegetarian and meat dishes. The air was redolent with the smell of spice, but my stomach rolled with nerves rather than hunger pangs. I ordered chai tea but, when it came, twisted the mug between my fingers. I couldn’t imagine forcing anything down my throat, which ached with unshed tears.

When Richard walked over to the table, a big smile on his face, I knew I had to tell him right away.

He dropped a quick kiss on the top of my head. “It’s been ages. I have so much to tell you, Iz.”

“
Good things, I hope.” I gulped nervously. “Richard, before you do, there’s something I need to say.”

“
Sure.” He turned to the waiter who had just approached. “Could I have coffee, please?” Then, to me, “I’m sorry, but something came up and I have to go back to work after dinner.”

“
You work so hard,” I murmured, barely conscious of what I was saying.

“
Well, partly I’m doing it this week because— No, wait a minute, you wanted to tell me something?”

I waited for the waiter to deliver Richard
’s coffee, then sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Now I wished I’d managed to prepare that speech. I started with the most important thing. “I love you, Richard, I really do.”

He frowned slightly.
“I love you, too.”

I gulped.
“But I’ve been doing some thinking and… Oh damn, this is so hard to say.”

His expression
went solemn. “Iz? What’s wrong? Is this about your father?”

“
Jimmy Lee?” Startled, I gaped at him. “No, not at all. It’s about, uh, us.” I stalled again.

He frowned, then s
hoved his glasses up with a stabbing gesture. “I’m getting the drift.” His gaze dropped to my left hand. The diamond ring wasn’t on my finger; it was in my purse, in the box it had come in. The earrings were there, too. Richard was a smart, perceptive man. “Just say it, Iz.” There was an edge to his voice I’d never heard before.

“
I … don’t think we should be engaged any more.”

His eyes widened momentarily, then he wiped his face blank of expression.
“Why not? You just said you love me.” He was in lawyer-mode. His speech snapped out like cross-examination.

It broke my heart, even more than if he
’d cried. I wanted to reach for his hand, but guessed he would push me away. “I do love you, R-Richard.” My voice broke and I choked back a sob. “But I’ve come to realize I love you as a friend.”

“
A friend? You have sex with your friends?”

He was attacking me and I deserved it.
“No, I don’t. And the sex—everything about our relationship—has been great. It’s just that…” I broke off, not sure how to continue.

“
What? Everything’s great and you love me, but you want to break up.” The words spat out sarcastically. “What is this, Iz? Is it because I’m spending too much time at work, or because of what I’m planning with Eric? You told me you understood.”

“
I do.” For the first time it dawned on me that maybe, if I’d been more passionately in love with Richard, I’d have been jealous of the time he spent with others. But I couldn’t tell him that. “It’s not about those things.”

He studied me, his eyes narrowed. Then his jaw dropped and his eyes widened
again. “You’ve met someone else.”

Every muscle in my body jerked.
“No!” I hadn’t. Not in the way he meant.

He scowled.
“So, you haven’t met someone and you’re not upset with me. You’re not making any sense.”

I took a deep breath. At least I was no longer on the verge of tears.
“I’ve been thinking about relationships, and everything that goes into them. And I thought about … passion. I love you and the sex is really good, but we don’t have that passionate chemistry.”

He looked insulted, then frowned slightly and his eyes went out of focus as if he was remembering something. Perhaps another woman, for whom he
’d felt passion? “Maybe you’re right.” But then he squinted his eyes and shook his head. “But hell, the sex is good, isn’t it? Who wants that irrational kind of passion? It can get you into trouble.”

Oh yes, it could.
“Sure, I know. And I’m not saying passion’s enough. There have to be other things as well. Common goals and philosophies of life. Compatibility. The ability to really talk to each other, to share problems and face challenges, to make decisions and compromises.”

He shook his head, looking as if he found me unbelievably naive.
“You forgot to mention that the guy has to understand about your parents and how you may end up supporting them. Oh yeah, and be willing to live with a menagerie of abandoned animals. You’re going to find all that in one man? Good god, Iz, you’re the one who just used the word compromise.”

My heart gave a sickening lurch. After all, I
’d been up all night worrying about that very thing. “I honestly don’t know what I’m going to find,” I said softly. “But I’m only twenty-seven. I want to try.”