Her Great Expectations (19 page)

Sienna glanced at Anthony. “She looks like you.”

Anthony’s sudden smile lit his narrow face. “You think so?”

“I’m not sure that’s a compliment, Dad,” Oliver said. “She looks like a skinned rabbit.”

“You should have seen yourself when you were born,” Anthony replied. “When we get back home I’ll show you some photos I’ve been saving for your twenty-first birthday party.”

Oliver groaned, but he didn’t look entirely displeased.

Amused, Sienna assessed father and son. “Do you get to hold her?” she asked Anthony.

“In the evening we have kangaroo care. Skin to skin,” Anthony explained to Olly. “She’s placed on my chest or Erica’s to promote healing and bonding.”

Oliver stared at the baby as if just now realizing how small she was. “Tamara
is
going to make it, isn’t she?”

“She’s a fighter,” Anthony said, gazing at his daughter. “She’ll make it.”

“Olly, will you wait for me outside?” Sienna said. “I want to talk to your father.” She waited until he’d left to say, “I’ve changed my mind. I want to take Oliver back to Summerside.”

Anthony frowned. “Why?”

“For one thing, Erica and the baby will need all your attention in the next few months. Also, I should have given Olly the benefit of the doubt over the exam. I don’t want him to think I’m getting rid of him. God knows, I’d miss him like crazy if he wasn’t around.”

“I miss him, too. I was looking forward to having him.” Anthony thought a moment. “Erica’s going to be in the hospital for a while yet. Why doesn’t Olly stay with me over his two-week term break, then go back to you when school starts again?”

Sienna smiled. “That sounds like a plan.”

“Are you okay?” Anthony asked, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You seem stressed.”

“I’ve had a tough week,” she admitted.

“You’re too hard on yourself.” Anthony’s arm went around her in a quick hug. “You need to take care.”

“Thanks.” Sienna hugged him back, and to her surprise it felt natural. “Congratulations on your little girl. Make sure you take lots of time for her and Erica.”

“Don’t worry, I will.”

Oliver was studying a vending machine in the waiting room when Sienna found him. She handed him some money from her wallet.

“Gee, thanks,” he said, his eyes widening at the pair of twenties. “I only wanted a chocolate bar.”

“It’s spending money while you’re at your father and Erica’s place.” Oliver started his automatic complaint, but Sienna cut him off. “You’re only staying for the term break.”

“Cool!” Oliver’s face lit. “Thanks, Mum.”

“I would have taken you straight home, but your dad really wants to spend time with you. You’ll be coming back to Summerside to finish school.” She gave him a stern look. “And by ‘finish’ I mean grade twelve. I’m sorry I doubted you,” she went on quickly before he could speak. “I should have known you wouldn’t lie.”

Oliver’s gaze dropped. His shoulders seemed to grow out of his ears.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

“Oliver.”

“Oh, all right,” he mumbled. “I…I did cheat.”

Sienna couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’m sorry, okay?” he said with a return to defiance. “You were expecting me to ace the exam. I stared at those questions and I didn’t know the answers. Robert was scribbling away like mad. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“So you’re saying it’s
my
fault?”

“You pressured me.”

Sienna’s mouth pressed tightly together and she spun away. It was true…up to a point. Turning back, she said, “You need to accept responsibility for your actions. As soon as you get back to Summerside, you’re grounded again. And you’ll have to tell your teacher and the principal.”

“They won’t let me sit the test again if I do that,” Oliver said. “I won’t be able to take advanced math.”

“That’s a price we’ll both have to pay,” Sienna said quietly.

Oliver hung his head. “I’m sorry I lied.”

“Oh, Olly.” Tears in her eyes, Sienna put her arms around him and hugged him tightly. “I’m sorry, too. We both should have done better.”

“I’ll finish grade twelve,” Oliver said, his voice muffled in her hair. “But I don’t want to be a doctor.”

Sienna drew back and wiped her eyes. “How about a veterinarian?”

Oliver sighed with exaggerated patience. “No, Mum.”

“Okay, okay. There’s lots of time to decide.”

Noise was good. It blocked out the annoying voice in Jack’s head that tried to tell him Sienna was right—success was trying your best.

Bullshit.
Success was enjoying what you do. If he wanted to spend his time playing golf and kayaking and could finance his lifestyle through investments on the proceeds of his previous life, then who was she to complain? He’d restarted the Men’s Shed. What more did she want?

“Hey, Jack,” a familiar voice called from the door.

“Paul! Good to see you, mate.” He gave Paul’s suit and tie the once-over. “I’m guessing you didn’t come by for your old job as a bicycle grease monkey.”

“No, I’ve got a position as a planner with parks and recreation.”

“Sienna mentioned you had a government job. I knew you wouldn’t be out of work for long.” Jack threw down his screwdriver. “Want a coffee? Jean brought over a chocolate cake.”

“Sorry, can’t stay.” Paul greeted Ralph and nodded to Brett and Ryan. “I’ve got a job for the Shed, if you’re interested. The council is replacing picnic benches in all the parks in the shire. We need twenty-eight new benches. Think you can handle it?”

“You bet!” Jack said, surprised and pleased. “Thanks, mate. Right now we’re building picnic tables on spec but that can be put on hold. When do you want the benches?”

Paul gave him an information sheet on the specs of the project. “It was supposed to go out to tender, so some local contractors won’t be happy about losing out on the job. But the committee unanimously agreed that the Men’s Shed deserved a one-off boost to help get it going. Can you get the costings to me by next Tuesday, when the committee meets again?”

“Sure thing. We’ll need more men, but that shouldn’t be a problem. I’m getting a lot of calls from guys interested in joining.”

Paul glanced around the shed. “Bob didn’t come back?”

“He and his wife opened a stall in Red Hill Market for their kites. They’re doing okay.”

“How’s Sienna?”

“I, uh, haven’t seen her for a while.”

“Excuse me, Jack?” Ryan said. “There’s a man here asking for you.”

Jack turned and saw Steve outlined in the doorway, Smedley at his feet. “Dad! You finally made it. Hey, guys, this is my father, Steve.”

Jack’s grin faded quickly. Steve was gripping the door frame, his heavy belly sagging. His sparse gray hair stood up in wispy tufts and perspiration beaded on his forehead.

“Dad?” Jack strode across to place a hand on his shoulder and peer into the older man’s face. “You all right, mate? You don’t look well.”

“I’m fine.” Steve’s watery hazel eyes blinked behind his steel-framed glasses. He lifted a shaky hand to wave away Jack’s concern. “I’m just a little dizzy. I’ll be all right if I sit down for a minute.”

Brett and Ryan stopped work and watched uncertainly.

“Can I do anything?” Paul asked, worried.

“No, but thanks,” Jack said. “I’ll get back to you on the costings.”

“Okay.” Paul gripped Steve’s shoulder. “Take it easy, okay?” Then he left the workshop.

Jack guided his father over to a chair at the kitchen table. His father had shaved badly this morning, leaving behind patches of gray stubble. “Are you sick? Should I call Sienna?”

“No, no. I’m
not
sick,” he insisted, laboring for breath. “Just, I walked here. And I haven’t eaten yet today. That’s why I’m light-headed.” Steve rubbed his gnarled knuckles across his pants. His gaze drifted past Jack and settled on the chocolate cake.

“Would you like a piece?” Jack asked. “If you haven’t had breakfast your blood sugar’s probably low.”

“It sure looks good,” Steve said, swallowing. “A small piece couldn’t hurt.”

“I’ll get you some coffee to go with it.” Jack cut a big wedge of cake and slapped it onto a plate. “There, tuck in to that.”

Steve picked up the fork and sliced down through the moist chocolate layers. He scooped up a bite, chewed and swallowed, then followed it quickly with a second bite.

“Is something wrong with your car?” Jack asked. “I can drive you.”

“Exercise is supposed to be good for me. I was walking into the village.”

“On an empty stomach?” Jack pulled up a chair at the table, trying to figure out what was going on. “Sienna told me a while ago you were having blood tests. What was that about?”

Steve ignored the question and shoveled cake into his mouth. Smedley, nose down, searched the floor for fallen crumbs.

Jack began to drum his fingers on the Formica. Steve’s behavior wasn’t normal. He didn’t look well. His breathing was shallow and rapid and a pulse throbbed visibly in his throat.

Steve held out his empty plate. “More.”

“Are you sure that’s smart?” Jack asked. “I’ll cook you a proper breakfast—porridge, eggs, toast, whatever you like.”

Steve blinked and squinted, rubbing at his eyes. “This’ll do.” He reached for the cake plate and pulled it across the table toward him. And kept pulling…

“Dad!” Jack jumped up.

The plate slid right off the table and crashed to the concrete floor. “Sorry. I thought…” He rubbed at his eyes again. “Peepers…bit blurry.”

The other men started forward, but Jack held up a hand. Inside his head, alarm bells were clanging. Steve was sweating profusely now and his skin was a sickly shade of white. “I’m calling Sienna.”

“She’ll be mad at me.”

“Join the club,” Jack said, then added, “Why should she be mad at
you?
”

“Those blood tests. Tell her I’m on my way.”

“Blood tests for…?”

“Di’betes.”

Hell. Jack went cold all over. “What have you been eating since Mum’s been away?”

“Cookies, mostly. Lotta ice cream.”

Without fuss Jack got up and took Steve’s arm, exerting a firm upward pressure. Shards of crockery crunched underfoot as he guided his father, protesting, to the door. “Stow the complaints, mate. I’m taking you straight to the hospital.”

“What about Smedley?” Steve said. He stumbled over the doorstep. “I can’t leave Smedley alone.”

“Don’t worry about your dog,” Jack said, his fear rising. “I’ll look after him.”

bounced once and rolled away. “What’s my schedule like this morning? Can we juggle anyone?”

“You’ve got Mrs. Bannister at 10:40, but she just called to say she’ll be delayed half an hour. Timmy Robinson’s here. Natalie could squeeze him in. But you’ll have to get back for Mrs. Rothwell. The results of her biopsy are in and I’m sure she’ll want to hear the news from you.”

Sienna snatched her purse out of a drawer. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Fifteen minutes later she pulled into the hospital parking lot, grabbed her M.D. tag and ran into the E.R. “Dr. Sienna Maxwell,” she informed the blond nurse in reception. “Steve Thatcher is my patient. Where can I find him?”

“Through those doors, down the corridor and second room on your left.”

“Thanks.” Sienna hurried past the packed waiting room. One bed of the three-bed ward she’d been directed to was occupied by an elderly woman. A young boy with a bandaged head lay in another bed, looking at a book with his mother. In the third bed lay Steve Thatcher.

Steve, gray-faced and eyes shut, had been raised into a sitting position, an IV unit dripping saline into his left hand. Heart rate, oxygen saturation and blood pressure monitors beeped quietly in the background.

Jack sat beside the bed. He hadn’t noticed her yet and she had a moment to watch him unguarded. But what she saw scared her. His eyes were hollow and his face drawn. Although his gaze was fixed on his comatose father, he seemed to be looking inward.

Sienna wanted to go to him, to comfort him.

Then he looked up and saw her. The blank hollow look filled with anger and accusation.

Sienna avoided Jack’s gaze and kept a tight grip on her emotions. She moved past him to press her fingers to Steve’s wrist. Pulse—130. Gently she lifted a thin wrinkled eyelid. His pupil didn’t contract. Unresponsive. She moved to the end of the bed to check his chart. The admitting doctor had noted severe dehydration. Steve’s blood glucose reading was through the roof.

Finally she turned to Jack. “What happened?”

“He walked over to the Shed and more or less collapsed. Sweating profusely, blurred vision… Why didn’t you tell me he had diabetes?”

“Doctor-patient confidentiality. And it was never confirmed. I did try to warn you. Do you know if he’s eaten or drunk anything this morning?”

“He hadn’t eaten when he got to my place. I gave him a piece of cake—”

“
Cake?
That’s the worst thing you could have given him.”

“I didn’t know! How could you let a man this sick run around?”

“He wasn’t this sick when I examined him,” Sienna said. “How did he look before he ate the cake?”

“Not great.” Jack ran a hand over his face. “As I said, his vision was blurry, he had trouble walking, his breathing was rapid…”

“He must have already been suffering from high blood sugar levels.” Sienna chewed on her lip, frowning.

“He told me he’d been eating a lot of cookies and ice cream.” Sienna glanced sharply at Jack. “My mother’s still away,” he explained. “Steve’s angry at her.”

“This could be a bid to get her to come home,” Sienna said, recalling things Steve had said about Hetty. “Have you called her?”

Jack nodded wearily. “The leaders of the retreat wouldn’t let me speak to her. She’s taking part in five days of silence.”

“Give me the number,” Sienna said. “I’ll talk to them.”

“If he was lonely he could have come to my house anytime,” Jack said, fishing the scrap of paper out of his wallet. “He knows that.”

Sienna took the phone number. “It’s Hetty he wants.”

“It’s bloody childish if you ask me.” Jack gazed at his father and shook his head. “If he was trying to punish her it was dumb. He only hurt himself.” He turned back to Sienna. “What’s going to happen to him?”

“He’ll stay in the hospital for a few days until he stabilizes,” Sienna said. “The doctors here will check him for damage to his kidneys and retinas. He’ll have to go on medication to regulate his blood sugar levels, at least for a while.”

“I offered him porridge, eggs…” Jack trailed off, watching his father.

“I should have tried harder to convey my concerns to you.” Sienna checked Steve’s pulse and blood pressure again. His eyelids fluttered occasionally but stayed closed, his breathing was labored and his fingers twitched now and then. His condition was serious but appeared to be stable. There was nothing more she could do for now. The nurses would monitor him and administer the meds as needed.

Sienna glanced at her watch. “I have to get back to the clinic. I have a cancer patient waiting.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Jack said. “I could use some air.”

Sienna retraced her steps through the hospital and out the doors of the E.R. to the parking lot. Jack walked silently at her side. She paused beside her car. “Jack, is there something else?”

“I— Forget it. It’s history.”

“Tell me. Please.” Whether it was for her sake or his that she wanted him to confide in her, she had no idea. She was confused about a lot of things but she knew he was hurting, and that was painful to her.

“Seeing my dad like that, cold and gray as death, brought it all back.”

“Brought what back?” she prompted.

“Don’t you have a patient?”

“I’ve got a minute.”

“Okay.” He drew in a deep breath. “Leanne was pregnant when she died.”

Pregnant.
Sienna’s heart contracted. “Oh, Jack.” She slipped her hand into his and squeezed.

“When we left on that flight to Merimbula for the weekend I didn’t know,” he went on. “She was excited about something and begged to go with me. I tried to put her off because I was testing the GPS and needed to focus on the instruments. But…” He cleared his throat. “She could be so damned persistent.”

His face worked as he fought for control. It was a moment before he could continue. “She didn’t tell me until we were on the way home. Then I was excited, too. We were making plans, talking and laughing. I didn’t pay enough attention to the instrument panel.”

Sienna felt his anguish like a physical pain in her chest. “It was an accident. A tragic accident. Life
is
short. Too short to punish yourself.”

“I’ve never told anyone else this,” Jack added, sounding bewildered he was doing it now. “The coroner knew, of course, but no one else.”

“Why not?”

“Everyone loved Leanne. My sisters, our friends and of course her family. I didn’t want to add to anyone’s grief. It seemed easier to let the baby die a secret.”

“So you’ve carried this for three years all by yourself?”

He glanced away, blinking.

She raised a hand to his cheek and slowly turned his face until he was forced to meet her gaze. “You didn’t kill Leanne. You didn’t kill your baby. It’s a tragedy, but it’s not your fault.”

“I know.” He dragged in a breath. “I just haven’t been able to let it go.”

Tears filled her eyes. “You’re a good man, Jack. The best.”

Suddenly she knew that his occupation, or lack of it, didn’t matter to her anymore. She loved him. Whether he ran his own business, won a Nobel Prize, got a bunch of unemployed men interested in life or just kayaked around the bay all day every day.

How could she not have understood that before?