Impossible (3 page)

CHAPTER 4

The next day, the Brigham and Women's Hospital human resources manager smiled at the incredible-looking man who'd just taken a seat across the desk from her. Looking at the interviewee, the manager felt almost giddy. This was odd, because three minutes ago, she hadn't wanted to bother interviewing him and was only doing it because her boss had insisted. The interviewee, who was named Padraig Seeley. had applied specifically to work in Soledad Markowitz's midwifery group. But the only opening there was for a midwife, a female one, and Padraig Seeley was a social worker. And, of course, a man.

Very clearly a man.

"Thanks for coming in, Mr. Seeley," she said. "I'm so pleased you applied here."

"Call me Padraig," said the man. He had an accent. Scottish? Irish? Whichever, it was tremendously pleasing to the ear. He leaned one elbow casually on the desk. He smiled—a flash of white teeth.

The manager somehow tore her gaze away from him so that she could glance down at his resume. Even though she'd looked it over before he came in. she now found it hard to remember what it said exactly. That was the effect of his blue, blue eyes. Matched with his black hair, and those wide shoulders and long legs—and that smile! Oh! And the accent!—well. She was only human.

It was no wonder her boss had told her she had to see Padraig Seeley, job opening or no opening. "We can find something for this man," her boss had said. "Be creative. You'll see why when you meet him. He's so—magnetic."

No kidding. It was a kind of magnetism that couldn't be easily described, though. It had to be experienced. It was not about his beauty, stunning though it was. This man—this particular man—would have almost as strong an effect on people who didn't find him sexually attractive. In fact, the HR manager thought, fuzzily, that she had never felt anything quite like this before.

The bottom line was that she would do whatever she could to please him. She would strain every muscle, physical and mental, to deliver whatever he needed. Exactly what he needed.

Right now, she almost felt as if she'd die if she couldn't place him in exactly the hospital group he wanted to work for: Soledad Markowitz's.

With her eyes off him, she managed to regain a professional veneer, and was relieved to see that, indeed, Padraig Seeley had an interesting and relevant background. She wondered how old he was. Thirty, maybe? He looked younger than that, but he had to be at least that old. to have had the experience that his résumé indicated.

"Your background as a social worker is so impressive," she said. "I was also looking at your language qualifications. Spanish. Portuguese, Russian, and Korean. Oh, and Chinese. How did this happen?"

"My father was attached to the diplomatic service." Padraig Seeley shrugged one broad shoulder. "We moved around a lot when I was growing up. Once you get used to learning languages, it's easy to pick another one up."

The HR manager scanned the résumé further. "This is some astonishing work with at-risk teenagers that you've done too." Inspiration struck her. "What I'm wondering is whether we might create a new position for you, as a full-time community outreach liaison in our midwifery program."

"Hmm," said Padraig Seeley. He leaned forward. "Tell me more. This is Soledad Markowitz's group, right?" He used his large well-shaped hands when he talked. The HR woman checked them out. No wedding band.

"Oh, yes. You'd be working directly for Soledad Markowitz. Community outreach in our nurse-midwife program is one of her areas. I totally understand why you were interested in working with her, by the way. She's a remarkable woman. Passionate about reaching teenagers in need—almost obsessed, in a way. In a good way. She's actually famous in certain circles for her innovations. Oh, and of course, we can pay you nicely."

"Ah," said Padraig Seeley, smiling. "That does, indeed, sound perfect. When can I start work? Tomorrow, perhaps?"

CHAPTER 5

On the same day that Padraig Seeley interviewed for a job that didn't exist, that then was invented for him. Lucy and Soledad went shopping for Lucy's prom dress.

Clutching frothy skirt folds in her hands. Lucy came out of the boutique's dressing room and stood before the three-way mirror in the main part of the shop. She dropped the skirt and twirled. She looked over her shoulder at Soledad. "Okay. Mom, what do you say? I'm thinking it should probably be between this and the short white slinky one."

"I love that dress on you!" the salesclerk gushed. "Perfect!"

Lucy smiled, but her focus was on her foster mother.

Soledad's mouth was agape. The long, deep rose taffeta gown left Lucy's shoulders and arms entirely bare, and its fitted bodice was practically a corset—a corset that clung desperately to Lucy's every curve all the way down to her hips. Then the skirt fanned out in glorious swirls to the floor.

"Wow," Soledad finally managed. "You look gorgeous."

And sexy.

Soledad held on to what she had told Zach and then, later, her husband. She would not fret. That Lucy should be dating was perfectly normal and right. She needed room to be exactly who she was: a lovely and. most importantly, fearless young woman.

Still, Soledad wished she could meet this Gray Spencer person before the prom. However, she had in the end agreed with Leo that while they could hint, they could not insist. It was Lucy's business, and they would meet the boy in a few days anyway, on prom night.

"Really?" Lucy said. "You like this dress?" She rose on her bare toes and kicked playfully at the skirt. "Don't you think it's too, well, Princess Barbie?" She paused to consider her feet. "Although if I wore it with my high-top sneakers, that would take care of
that
problem."

Behind Soledad, the salesclerk choked. Soledad imagined Lucy's dirty high-tops below the amazing gown and sympathized. "Don't you want pretty shoes?" she asked. "I can picture a gold slipper with a little heel with that gown. See, there's a hint of gold in the skirt color, and there's also that gold embroidery on the bodice."

Lucy shook her head. "No. This dress needs a little irony." Regarding herself thoughtfully in the mirror, she added, "I'd wear my hair in braids."

"Pinned to your head? In a crownlike thing?" asked the salesclerk with interest. "We have some ivory combs—"

"No. The braids would just dangle. Like a four-year-old."

"Irony, remember?" Soledad said to the salesclerk. She gestured to Lucy. "Come over here and let me look at the price tag. Uh. Okay. You're sure we wouldn't have to buy you new shoes?"

Lucy grinned down at Soledad from her superior two inches of height. "No, we wouldn't. But actually, I'm not sold on this. Let me put the other dress on again, the short white one. I think I like it better." She disappeared back into the dressing room.

Once there, however the smile faded from her lips. She peered at her face in the dressing room mirror.

Miranda had not left as Lucy had hoped. She had come to the track after school again today. And, for the first time, she had done more than sit and stare at Lucy and sing her version of "Scarborough Fair" under her breath.

"You're too pretty!" Miranda had called to her today. "I wish you were an ugly girl! Ugly! Expect less from life!" Miranda had stood there. leaning on the fence, her face contorted, yelling directly at Lucy for a full five minutes. She had gestured with her hands too, a strange gesture, as if she were flinging water—or a curse—on Lucy. "Expect less! Expect less!"

It had been so hideously embarrassing, even though all the other kids had merely grimaced and ignored Miranda, seeming to think that Lucy had been singled out randomly for harassment. Even Sarah did not know the truth.

Pretty? Ugly? In her own face, all Lucy could see was worry. Worn—and anger too.

Anger at Miranda, for complicating Lucy's life even when she wasn't there. Yes. And, if she was honest, anger at Soledad too, irrational rage, for being all focused on prom while totally missing that maybe Just maybe, there was something else going on right now in Lucy's life. Because, even though part of Lucy didn't want to tell about Miranda's return, another part of her irrationally believed her mother ought to be able to guess.

Her shoulders slumped. She reached behind her to undo the zip of the gown, wishing briefly she hadn't refused to let Soledad or the salesclerk in to help. But she had had to have some privacy on this shopping trip that had been Soledad's idea. Some place to think her own thoughts without worrying about what was showing on her face.

What if Miranda turned up at the hotel where prom was being held next weekend? Turned up and began singing at Lucy again? Or worse, screaming. It had been hard enough to have it happen in front of the track team and the coach today. But at least they had ignored it. Nobody had called the police on Miranda or anything.

Lucy reached out with one finger and gently touched the nose of the girl in the mirror. Hang on, she whispered to her soundlessly. Don't cry. Let them think you're entirely happy. Just a girl going to prom. They need that. Be calm. There's nothing you can do anyway. God knows, even thing has been tried. And tomorrow, Zach is home, and you can talk to him.

The girl in the mirror nodded back, gravely, decisively.

CHAPTER 6

Within two days of Padraig Seeley having started work, everyone in the midwifery practice at the Brigham and Women's hospital was thrilled that someone in human resources had had the brains, the vision, and the sheer creativity to have hired the new social worker. Nobody could have exactly said why, as he hadn't been there long enough to have done anything, in fact, it wasn't quite clear to any of the midwives or doctors or assistants or support staff in the practice what work it was that Padraig Seeley was going to do. It didn't matter. Whatever it was, it was going to be spectacular, because Padraig Seeley was spectacular.

Soledad also liked him. It was impossible not to. She believed he was going to be useful, and she had more reason to think it than his peculiar charm and magnetism. She had taken him with her yesterday to a neighborhood health center in Dorchester, where she w as conducting a class in prenatal nutrition and general health for teen girls.

She'd wondered beforehand if the girls would accept his presence. Most of them were easily embarrassed by talking about female physiology and the specifics of pregnancy in front of males, even when those males were doctors.

But Padraig's charm, or his looks, or the combination, had enchanted the girls. She wasn't sure how it had happened. Soledad had only said he was a colleague of hers, there to observe the class. He had sat quietly on a chair drawn slightly out of the circle formed by the girls. He had been very low-key, watching alertly, saying little, but she had seen the girls sneaking glances at him. The girls had preened before him too, which was not a good thing, but was, perhaps, inevitable given his glamour. Some of the remarks from the girls were aimed at impressing Padraig rather than furthering the discussion, and Soledad had felt the class go subtly but definitely off track.

But then, somehow, she had ceased to mind. Padraig had handled the girls so well. He had nodded calmly back at them when they sneaked looks at him. He had leaned in respectfully, attentively, when the girls talked. He had learned their names with speed and accuracy. In the course of the two-hour session, he managed, by manner alone, to compliment each of the girls individually—with a smile, or a quick few words—without being in any way leering or patronizing. He'd been warm yet professional. And then, as the girls got ready to leave, he'd said easily, "If any of you want to bring your boyfriends next week or the week after, I'd like to meet them. I'm thinking about starting a regular basketball game for teen dads." Promptly, most of the girls had said they would.

Soledad explained all of this to her friend Jacqueline Jackson over lunch in the hospital cafeteria, leaving half a grilled cheese sandwich uneaten as she got involved in talking about it. "Obviously, our main focus remains the girls and their babies," she said. "But it would really be great if we could also find a way to involve the teen fathers."

Jacqueline said, "I'm curious. Do you know if Padraig has kids of his own? Is he married?"

"I don't know. He hasn't mentioned a wife or children."

"People don't always talk about their personal lives right away, when they start a job."

"We can't ask him directly," Soledad pointed out. "Or I can't. I'm one of his managers. Plus, it's prying."

"You may have noticed over the years," observed Jacqueline, "that I myself have no problem with prying."

Soledad grinned. "I may have. But don't do it here, okay?"

Jacqueline stood up. "Okay. Fun's over. Appointments."

It was only after Jacqueline had disappeared that Soledad realized that she might find out about Padraig Seeley's personal life herself, soon, and without needing to pry. After the meeting in Dorchester yesterday, she'd invited Padraig to dinner at her home.

She hadn't meant to invite him; she was not the type to get too friendly with the people she managed at work. But somehow, the invitation had popped out of her mouth, and he had accepted.

It would be this very Saturday night. Lucy's prom night. It was a good idea, Soledad told herself. The pre-prom hoopla would be fun for Padraig to witness. The whole American ritual was going to unfold before their eyes. That Gray Spencer person would arrive in a limousine, with a corsage. Lucy would be stunning in the white silk dress that she had chosen. They would take pictures.

"Be sure to come early enough for my Lucy's prom send-off," Soledad had told Padraig, after he accepted her invitation.

"Don't worry, Soledad," said Padraig Seeley, smiling. "There are no circumstances on earth that could make me not be there to meet your Lucy. Or may I call her Lucinda? That's her full name, isn't it? I prefer that. It has a musical quality."

CHAPTER 7

"Zach!" Lucy pounded on the bathroom door for the third time. "Can't you use my parents' bathroom? Seriously. It's my prom!"

Zach's voice was muffled but distinct. "You had the place all afternoon. I've been in here one minute. And I'll be out again in half a minute—"

"You'd better be." Lucy leaned against the wall in her slip and bare feet, with her long damp hair, and began counting loudly. "Thirty. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight."

On zero, Zach emerged. He looked ostentatiously at his watch. "Your date is due here in, what? An hour? Cutting it a little short on the prep time, aren't you, since you haven't done hair and makeup yet? Were you seriously taking a bath for two hours?"

Lucy grinned at Zach. "So what if I was?"

"Didn't it get cold?"

"I added more hot water."

"Environmentally unsound, and also—" But Zach was now talking to a shut bathroom door. He laughed and headed on downstairs, where he could smell wonderful aromas coming from the kitchen. He wandered in and took a seat at the table. Soledad's friend from work. Padraig Seeley, was already settled in. drinking wine and talking to Soledad and Leo as they worked on dinner. Zach looked around automatically for Pierre, who usually hung out in the kitchen when cooking was happening. But the dog was nowhere to be seen.

Zach reached out to shake hands with Padraig while Soledad did the introductions.

"Shall I pour you a glass of this excellent wine?" Padraig asked him.

"I'm only nineteen." Zach glanced at Leo and Soledad.

"No," said Soledad, while simultaneously, Leo said, "It's just wine and we're at home. Zach, if you want one glass, you can go ahead."

Zach decided he didn't want it. He slouched in his kitchen chair. He had been in a great mood a minute ago, glad to be through with finals, glad to be in a familiar place that if it wasn't exactly his home, was as close as possible. He'd felt amused by Lucy, and. fast but not least, he was looking forward to eating whatever it was that Soledad and Leo were cooking.

But the business with the wine suddenly had made him feel a little uncomfortable. Young, and not in a good way. He felt… adolescent.

"Lucinda is upstairs getting ready for her big date?" asked Padraig.

"Yeah." Zach slouched again. The uncomfortable feeling was growing. And growing. A new thought inserted itself into his head: that it had been a mistake for him to stay here this evening, Lucy's prom evening. He should have made plans to see high school friends instead. If Leo and Soledad hadn't invited someone over, it would have been different, of course, but as it was, he wasn't needed. And there was no chance of this turning into the kind of evening he loved spending at the Markowitzes', with some pals of Leo's coming over later with their instruments, and Leo sitting down at the piano or picking up his guitar, and everybody singing old folk songs

Would it be rude if he called Dan or Mike or Jessica to see if they were home? If he left to go hang with one of them?

Nobody would mind. Zach could almost feel how strongly he wasn't wanted in this kitchen or this house right now. He could leave. He ought to go away. It was a force pushing at him. A command.

Go. Go. Go.

"Zach!" It was Lucy, calling from the top of the stairs. "Where'd you put the hair dryer?" Her voice penetrated the command and made him remember that he didn't want to leave. He had to stay and see Lucy off to prom. That was what he wanted to do. How come he had nearly forgotten? He lived here, after all. He wasn't going anywhere. He belonged!

He set his will to it. He was going to stay right here.

He reached for the cheese and crackers, and yelled back to Lucy. "I didn't touch it!"

Upstairs. Lucy dried her hair, braided it, and put on makeup, lightly. There had been no sign of Miranda the last few days, and Lucy was beginning to feel excited after all. Prom would be fun. Gray was so sweet and funny and he had said he liked to dance. He had been spending time with her lately, between classes and at lunch. Their table often would be all friends.

Yes. it would be fun tonight.

She wriggled into the short white silk dress, put on the long, triple-strand necklace of red, green, yellow, and orange hard candies in wrappers that she'd painstakingly sewed together, and looked in the full-length mirror. The final decision: high heels, or the new (clean) red high-top sneakers?

The high-tops. Definitely.

No. The heels.

"Pierre?" she asked the poodle, who was lying almost completely under her bed, with only his nose and eyes peeking out from under the dust ruffle. "What do you think?" But Pierre only whimpered pathetically. He edged back farther under the bed.

Lucy shrugged. She picked up a different shoe in each hand and ran lightly down the stairs to the kitchen. "You guys! I need an opinion." And then she stopped, blinking confusedly at the handsomest man she'd ever seen in real life.

Tall. Dark-haired. Blue-eyed. Slender and broad-shouldered. But it wasn't just this man's looks that were remarkable: something about him bespoke intelligence too, and hinted at that most seductive quality of all: humor.

And yet, Lucy was faintly repelled. Was it the glint of arrogance in his eyes? He knows he's handsome. Lucy thought. And smart. He knows it and he uses it. And most people just cave. I bet, and give him every thing he asks for before he even asks for it.

The man—Padraig Seeley—was now standing up and holding out a hand toward her. He smiled, and it was dazzling. "Hello. Lucinda," he said. "I've been looking forward to meeting you."

Lucy immediately disliked him more, for using her full name. "Just Lucy," she said.

"Lucinda," Padraig Seeley repeated firmly. "It's a beautiful name, which should be used. And it suits you, or will, when you grow into it. Whereas 'Lucy' is, well, mundane."

For a second Lucy glanced at Zach. He crossed his eyes. She repressed a grin.

Padraig Seeley's hand was still outstretched, waiting for hers.

Soledad and Leo were smiling. They had invited him over, or rather. Soledad had. He worked with Soledad, Lucy remembered. She really didn't want to touch him, but it was important to be polite. And it wasn't like it truly mattered.

Lucy reached out to take Padraig Seeley's offered hand.