Wishes and Stitches (28 page)

“No, you don't—”

“You must see my biological father in me.” Naomi wondered how it was that when her entire world was shattering around her, she could think about this so clinically. So rationally. So like her father would have. Her father had always said to take herself out of the equation when dealing with patients. Now, she was the patient, and when she took herself away, she could see the situation clearly.

Her mother had abandoned her in all the ways that counted. “When you divorced the man I thought was my father, you made me live with him. Someone I wasn't even related to.”

“You
wanted
to. You chose him over me. You
always
chose him over me. And Daddy chose you over me, too.”

Naomi gritted her teeth together and spoke through them. “But he wasn't my father.”

“He
was
,” said Maybelle stubbornly. “In every single way that counted.”

Something else struck Naomi with the weight of a bat. “He was from here. My real father.”

“Your real father was Daddy.”

“My
biological
father. Oh, God, that's why you hate Cypress Hollow so much. You passed through here before I was born. Maybe nine months before?”

Maybelle pressed her fingertips to her eyelids, and then covered her mouth. She nodded. “I didn't want to have to come here to visit you. To remember.”

“You always loved Anna. Totally. But never me, not that way.”

“Never the same way, no,” said Maybelle. “But parents don't love their children exactly the same. Equally, yes, but in different ways. And I have
always
loved you.”

Scanning her mother's face, Naomi knew her mother thought she was telling the truth. But that wasn't enough. She pulled her shawl up off the table by the working yarn and clutched it as if it could save her.

“Does Buzz know?”

Maybelle bit her lip. One huge tear rolled down her cheek and then was matched by another. And another.

“I see,” said Naomi. “He does. Of course. Please, for the love of God, does Anna—”

“No! Of course not. And I don't want her to know how alike we are. I'm . . .” Maybelle's voice trailed off. “I'm ashamed. Please, Naomi?”

Naomi laced her fingers through the holes, bringing the mass between her hands. Her mother was ashamed of her, on top of everything else. Naomi was the symbol of a mistake made years ago. It made so much sense, now that she knew. She looked at her mother one last time. “I don't have to agree to do anything you ask of me. Ever again.”

Once in her room, the door safely closed and locked behind her, Naomi buried her face in her pillow and put another one over her head so she couldn't hear her mother's sobs. Maybelle was only crying about revealing a secret.

Naomi had much more to mourn: today she'd lost a real father, a pretend father, an unknown brother . . . and the man she was involved with had gone behind her back, betraying her.

Oh, Rig.
It was because of him that she now knew the truth. That her world was upside down. The weight of it hit her like a bullet, ripping and tearing her flesh.

She wouldn't forgive him.

Her own tears came then.

Chapter Forty-eight

T
he first thing Naomi did at the office the next morning was to go over her patient roster for the day. She was a professional. She ignored the fact that her hands shook on the keyboard—it was lack of sleep, that was all.

Good. She had fifteen minutes before her first patient.

That would be just enough time to let Rig know exactly what she thought of him.

Knocking only once before she swung his office door open, Naomi entered. Rig looked up. The surprise on his face changed quickly to pleasure, and for a terrible second, Naomi forgot what she was going to say. She could only remember the feel of his arms around her, his mouth on hers, the shivers she couldn't control . . .

The green curtains, so sheer they hid nothing from viewers on the street.

Anna chose that moment to pop her head in as she walked by. “Good morning, you two. I'm going for a coffee run, or really, a coffee waddle. Do you want anything?”

“No thanks,” said Rig politely.

Naomi could only shake her head. Anna was next on her list, but first, most important, was Rig.

“Okay, I'll be back soon, then.”

She waited until Anna was down the hall before she pushed Rig's door shut. She supposed it could have been called slamming, but she didn't actually mean to. Not really.

“Hi, you,” said Rig, his voice sweet gravel.

“You told Anna.” She was proud she controlled her voice so that it didn't shake.

“About last night? No, of course I didn't. If she knows, it's because of those damned curtains, and I've told you I'm sorry about those, but I'm happy to apologize again.” His smile was slow and rich. “I'll apologize any way you want.”

Naomi folded her arms in front of her and took another step forward. “You told Anna what I told you about my mother.”

He blinked. “Oh. Yeah. I thought she might know how to make you feel better, and she knew your mother would come.”

“So you knew Anna would tell her.” It was even worse than she'd thought.

“She said she might. It's what she thought would be best.”

“You
plotted
with her about it?”

Rig sat heavily in Dr. Pederson's old chair, the leather creaking under him. “I'm sorry, Naomi. I was worried about you, and you were so sick. Anna said she knew your mother loved you, and that maybe it would be good for you to hear that from her.”

“It was awful. Horrible. Not only did the fact that she
has
never loved me the same as she loves Anna come out, but so did the fact that the man I thought was my father was never actually related to me. The same man she gave me to when she remarried.” The sharp, slicing pain cut into her again. She met Rig's eyes, choosing to ignore his look of bewilderment. “Your betrayal was bad enough. I spoke to you in confidence. I
trusted
you.”

“And then to have your mother's betrayal follow so closely.” Rig's voice was gentle, as were his eyes. “Of course you're upset.”

“Upset?” He had no idea. How dare he
agree
with her? “I'm so far beyond upset the word doesn't even seem to apply.”

“I'm sorry, Naomi.” He stood and came around the desk toward her.

Scrambling backward, Naomi almost tripped on a pile of books on the floor. She raised her hands to hold him off. “Don't touch me.”

“Okay, okay. Don't worry.”

“Don't worry? I'm now officially worried about everything. The town probably hates me. I didn't even dare go to Tillie's this morning.”

“I went. I got a couple of high fives, but no one actually said anything. And Shirley wasn't there, so I couldn't get the real scoop.”

Naomi's vision blurred as she shook her head. “High fives. You're kidding me, right?”

“I don't know what they were about. Could just have been guys saying hello . . .”

Naomi groaned. “I'm going to kill you.”

“Before you kill me, will you accept my apology? I'm deeply sorry that I betrayed your confidence. I acted in a hasty manner, and I didn't think it through. I know you're a private person, and I should have known better. I'm sorry, Doc.”

“Don't you
Doc
me.” She pressed her fingers to her temples in a vain attempt to dull the headache. “It's done. Whatever it was between us is completely over. The trust is gone.”

A frown cut a deep furrow in Rig's brow. “Naomi. I just said I was sorry. And I think your mother's revelation is definitely a huge betrayal, too. You want to talk about it?”

Naomi's laugh was hollow. “With you? No way.”

“I'm a good listener.”

“Yeah. You're good at listening and then sharing my secrets.”

He took another step forward, moving into her space. “Naomi, what's it going to take to get you to believe that I'm truly sorry?”

She just shook her head. Nope, she couldn't think of a thing. “I just had to tell you that we . . . that whatever this was, we're done.” She couldn't scoot any farther back—he had to stay away. If he touched her . . .

“So that's it?” His voice was rough.

“What do you expect me to do?”

Rig raised his hand as if he would reach out to her, and she felt herself flinch away. He noticed, and the pain in his eyes was obvious. But then he just rubbed the back of his neck and said, “I expect you to be angry and then to accept a heartfelt apology and move forward. Like a grown-up.”

“You're calling me a child?”

“If the kid's shoe fits . . .”

“I can't believe this.”

“You?” Rig's face matched his tone—shocked and hurt. His eyes darkened like a sudden storm over the ocean. “I can't believe that you aren't seeing this for what it is. I made a mistake. But that's because I was thinking so hard of how to make your surprise special. Fixing up the center was a big deal, I knew, but helping fix an actual, emotional problem between you and your mother was even bigger. That was more important to me. And I thought it would be to you, too, even though I was wrong.”

“See? You were keeping secrets from me, too. What if Anna had told me about what you did with the center? How would you have felt?”

Rig sighed and jammed a fist in his hair. The way it stuck up afterward reminded Naomi of how he'd looked when she'd woken in his arms during her illness. “A surprise is different from a secret. Did you ever stop to think about that? It's okay to keep secrets when you're planning a surprise for someone. Your problem is that you hold emotional secrets inside about everything, locked away in the darkness. You don't let people in. You don't let anyone get close, and my God, that's what this life is for. Letting people in. Living with an open heart. I thought you were letting
me
in, and I'm not talking sexually, although that was beyond amazing. But now you've shut me out again.”

“That's not fair—” Naomi started.

“No, what's not fair is letting me get close to you for a second or two, and then pushing me away like this.”

“I have to—”

“You don't. That's a lie you're telling yourself. But when you find out you're wrong about this, you can lock that knowledge up, too. Add it to your box of deep, dark secrets.”

“You don't understand.” Naomi felt a desperate longing for . . . what? Rig's arms around her? No.

Rig's cell phone beeped, and he pulled it out of his pocket while stepping backward, away from her. “I guess there's only one secret you don't know about me.”

Naomi felt herself pale. How had this become even more broken than she'd thought it was? “What?”

His words fell heavily into the room, his voice raw with emotion. “I fell in love with you. Now lock
that
away, because I'll be working on getting over it as soon as possible.”

Something shattered in Naomi with an almost audible
snap.
Darkness folded in at the edges of her vision.

Then Rig made a strangled noise in the back of his throat as he stared at his phone. He snapped it shut and ran out of the room without saying another word.

“Rig?” Naomi followed him. What had his phone said? Something even worse than what had just happened? Was that even possible?

He'd already exited the side door at a dead run when Bruno caught her in the hallway.

“The ER just called,” he said. “Rig's dad was just brought in, code three. They're working him now.”

“As in
working
?” CPR couldn't be in progress. No, please,
no.

Bruno nodded. “You'd better go.”

Chains couldn't have held her. Naomi flew.

Chapter Forty-nine

T
he floor was buzzing—the three nurses on duty looked swamped. A motor-vehicle accident victim was in one bed, his head bandaged, blinking rapidly. An older woman clutched her stomach in another bed, crying quietly. Naomi felt an urge to go to each one, but kept moving, kept looking.

Frank lay in the farthest bed, his eyes closed, his skin gray. The back of his hand was already bruised from the lines the nurses had prepped.

Naomi felt her knees go weak with relief. He was alive.

Jake and Rig stood next to their father. Milo, sitting on the metal chair next to them, looked at Frank with wide, startled eyes, a green plastic dinosaur dangling from his right hand.

Rig barely glanced at Naomi. “How is he? What the hell happened?”

“Shirley Bellflower happened,” hissed Jake.

“I heard that,” said a voice from behind Naomi. Shirley stood just outside the pulled-back curtain, dressed in what looked like a black peignoir that had been stuffed into jeans. The black material puffed out at her waist, and Naomi tried not to notice that it was obvious she wasn't wearing a bra. “I didn't
happen
. Don't forget, I'm the reason he got here at all.” But her voice belied her words—it shook, just like her hands.

Naomi felt like she was putting together a puzzle, but half the pieces were turned over, so she couldn't see the pattern.

“You're right,” snapped Jake. “You
are
the reason he's here. If he'd been home where he should have been, if he hadn't been grabbing a morning quickie at your house, this wouldn't have happened.”

Rig stepped forward so his body was partially between them. “Jake. Just tell me.”

Rolling his eyes, Jake said, “Dad was with Shirley, here. And they apparently wanted to have some fun with blue pills, if you get me. He went out in her kitchen, hit his head on the way down. I talked to Lucy Bancroft, who was staffing the ambulance today, and she said he coded briefly on the way in.” Jake's voice was strangled. “They had to zap him back.”

“He coded?” A vein beat in Rig's neck so hard Naomi could see it pulse. “
Viagra?
”

Frank's eyes fluttered. “Don't tell Shirley.”

Shirley looked at Naomi and clasped her hands in front of the black lace tie at her navel. “They keep saying that.
Coded.
What is that?”

Naomi said, “His heart stopped.”

Shirley gasped.

“But obviously,” she hurried to say, “the defibrillator worked. He's here.”

“Oh, God,” said Shirley, her face drawn. “I didn't know about the Viagra. I swear. I just thought he was—”

“Don't say it,” warned Jake.

Rig already had the blood pressure cuff on Frank's IV-less arm, and kept his eyes on the screen. “So what next?”

“They're giving him Activase, talking about a stent. Operating in a few hours, probably.”

“Who?” Naomi asked. It mattered here—in a town this size, they didn't have their pick of surgeons. The ones they had regularly rotated on and off duty, and Naomi trusted some more than others.

“Hayashi,” said Jake.

Milo mumbled, “Hayashi hayashi hayashi,” as he pulled the leg off the dinosaur and then snapped it back on.

“Is he good?” Rig looked at Naomi, and the emotion written in his eyes took her breath away. He loved his father.

Goddamn. She loved
him
.

She felt her right knee dip with the realization, and it felt like she was physically dragging herself back into answering the question. What was the question again? Oh, yeah. “Hayashi's the best. You couldn't have better.”

Naomi loved Rig. She dropped her gaze to the rumpled blanket covering Frank's legs. Was it all over her face? Could he see? Was there ever in the history of the world anyone with worse timing than hers? His father had stopped breathing earlier tonight. She'd broken up with him right before he admitted he loved her.

Oh, God. She had to get out of here. “I'm going to—”

Rig interrupted, saying, “Where did he get the Viagra?”

Frank spoke again, not opening his eyes. “Mexico. Internet.”

“Dad!” said Rig.

“Frank!” said Shirley. “Honey, you didn't need that. You'd be a sex pistol no matter what.”

Jake groaned.

An image of herself, holding condoms in the drugstore, flashed in Naomi's mind. “Viagra and nitro don't mix,” she said. “Worst combo ever.”

Rig shook his head, fiddling with the blood pressure cuff. “He's not on nitro. He suffered hypovolemia last time, so they took him off it.”

Naomi's thoughts stalled briefly, whirred, and restarted. “I refilled his prescription. He asked me to.”

“Excuse me?” Only the beep of the heart monitor and the hiss of the cuff broke the silence in the small, fabric-enclosed area. Rig's jaw worked.

“He . . . said he was out, that his was expired. He didn't want to worry you two. He was supposed to come in to see me last week, but he didn't. We talked about it last night at dinner.”

“
Shit.
He'll need a transfusion before the surgery, then. Goddammit. He wants the nitro for the angina, but he can't be on it. Period. And mixed with Viagra, we're lucky he's alive.” Rig's face was stone, his jaw rigid. The eyes that had heated her last night were now cold as liquid nitrogen. “How could you have—I can't believe you'd put my father in jeopardy like that.”

“I'm—”

Rig glanced at his father as if to determine whether he was listening or not, and then said in a thin, tight voice, “What kind of doctor
are
you?”

“I'm a—” Naomi's voice broke. She was a good doctor. She knew she was. Just because she'd made a mistake . . . a critical mistake that had threatened,
was
threatening the life of the father of the man she loved . . . “I didn't mean any harm.”

“But the phrase you're obviously forgetting is,
do
no harm.” Rig's words cut the air.

Jake's voice was as cold as Rig's. “You should go.”

Shirley grasped her forearm. “I'm sure she didn't mean—”

“He's right. Go,” said Rig. The fury pulsed from his body, but she could also see, deep in the blackest part of his dark eyes, a pain she'd never before witnessed, a pain darker even than what she'd caused him earlier.

Naomi bit the inside of her lip so hard she tasted blood. The air she breathed tasted crystalline. Shards of ice filled her lungs, and she couldn't move. What kind of a doctor
was
she? For Christ's sake, she knew better.

“
Go.
”

“It was just—but he said . . .” She stumbled backward, the curtain rings clinking over her head.

Jake snapped the fabric shut and she heard Rig say, “Don't worry, Dad. We're here.” A nurse stepped around her, chart in hand. A phone rang, unanswered.

She'd never known that hearts could actually break. Naomi had always thought it was a poetic description for something that was most likely sentimentality mixed with stomach upset. But when he pulled the curtain closed, Naomi's heart shattered into hundreds of fragments, the shrapnel of his words twisting through her body. No surgery, no treatment in the world would fix her. She knew it was too late for her.

For both of them.

And God only knew how Frank would fare.

Naomi turned and fled.