54
His last two weeks at the hospital flew by, and they were bittersweet. He would miss working in a level-one trauma center, where everything he could possibly need was at his fingertips. But thanks to Grisham, he got to have his cake and eat a little bit of it, too.
He woke up on Friday morning a member of the active unemployed, and he had to admit that the freedom didn’t feel too bad. He spent an hour loading his belongings into the trunk of his new SUV—he’d traded in his trusty Toyota—and grabbed a breakfast burrito on his way out of town.
It was a long drive, but by the time he arrived he’d be well-versed in his new vehicle, and hopefully he’d know what he was going to say to Clara.
He’d already worked out how to deal with her parents, and the plan was to knock that out first. If he made good enough time he could catch Dr. Wilder at work, and that seemed infinitely better than confronting her and her husband at the same time. The old divide-and-conquer.
He reached Romeo Family Health just before closing. The Maserati was parked beside Yoli’s Jeep Liberty, and there were two cars he didn’t recognize.
The waiting room was empty, and the woman behind the desk was not Clara. She was young, and radiated timidity.
“Dr. Wilder in?”
“Yes,” she said. “But—” She hesitated, probably unsure how to deal with walk-ins at closing time.
“Is she with a patient?”
“No…” She trailed off, and chewed on the inside of her cheek. “I think—”
“It’s all right, Baylor,” Dr. Wilder said, appearing in her office doorway. “You can head home for the night. Yoli will help me close up. Come in, Jesse.”
“Thanks,” he said, following her. Not much of a hugger, she indicated the chair across from her desk, and he sat.
“I’m surprised to see you. Happy, but surprised.”
“It’s a surprise visit,” he agreed.
“Interesting. What’s on your mind?”
“I want to join RFH. As a full partner.”
Dr. Wilder did not look particularly surprised. “Okay.”
He waited. Then, “Okay?”
“We’d be glad to have you.”
“Okay, cool,” he said, getting up to go.
“Well, don’t leave yet,” she objected. “You just got here.”
He sat.
“You’re moving here?”
“Yep.”
She smiled. “Good.”
He shrugged modestly.
“Are you sure you’re ready to leave your job in Austin?”
“Already quit.”
“Quit? Did they give the promotion to someone else?”
“No. I just didn’t want it anymore.”
“Oh,” she said, and after a pause, asked, “You’re thinking soon, then?”
“Stat. My nurse, Margo, comes with me. She’s a battle-axe.”
“That’s good to hear. We haven’t been able to hire another nurse.”
“Well, glad to be useful.”
A moment of silence passed between them, and then Dr. Wilder said seriously, “Jesse, I don’t need you to be useful to me. I think it’s time I explained something. Are you listening?”
He had been looking at the carpet, but he looked up now. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m a poor communicator, always have been, but this is important. I’m going to keep it as simple as I can, for clarity’s sake. The truth is, I haven’t considered myself a mother of four since the day I saw you. Everything I’ve done for you has been for your own sake. Regardless of what you seem to believe, I have no ulterior motive.”
Afraid she would see his disbelief, he looked down at his hands.
“You wanted to know why I paid for your school? I could tell as soon as you started your pre-med courses that you were called to this. You were meant to be a doctor. That’s it. There was no other reason.”
Jesse ran a hand over his stubble-roughened jaw. Nature’s contouring.
“And the reason I made you come here in February? As you suspected all along, I was manipulating you, but I wasn’t trying to be sneaky about it and I didn’t do it for business reasons. I did it because I knew that if I could get you to talk to me , we could clear the air. Do you hear me? You were meant to be part of this family. ”
She was getting to the really hairy stuff now. He was not sure he wanted to think about Dr. Wilder clearing the air because Clara had a crush on him. “We done talking about feelings yet?”
“If you can repeat back to me what I said,” she answered evenly.
“What? Seriously?” he demanded.
“I need to know that you heard me. Miscommunication has tripped us up in the past.”
He rolled his eyes, knowing it was rude. But dealing with her brought out the immaturity in him. “I heard you. You put me through school because you could tell this is my calling.”
“You were meant to be a doctor,” she agreed. “What else?”
“You didn’t make me come here in February on business. You wanted to clear the air.”
“Go on.”
You were meant to be part of this family , she had said. She was bringing him back for her daughter’s sake, which was a little bit better than nothing at all. “Because of Clara.”
She frowned. “No. It doesn’t have anything to do with Clara. I never mentioned Clara.”
“Yes, you did. Why deny it?”
“No, I didn’t,” she said, raising her eyebrows.
Maybe she hadn’t mentioned Clara by name . “But Hart said—”
“Forget Hart. What did I say?”
He stared blankly at her. She cocked her head to one side.
He knew he was missing something obvious, but his brain was refusing to make the leap. He went over the conversation again.
Haven’t been a mother of four since the day I saw you.
She waited, watching him.
“Wait, you’re saying I’m—like—one of your kids?” he said doubtfully, frowning.
Eyebrows still raised, she nodded once.
It hadn’t sunk in until he’d said it aloud. “Lady, you’re not my mom,” he exclaimed, shocked.
“I love you, I want only the best for you, and I consider you my son,” she confirmed, with utter calm.
“ No .”
“You need time to process,” she observed. “That’s okay. Did Hart tell you I was matchmaking or something?”
His head was feeling strangely lightweight. “Uh, I kind of thought so.”
“I would never involve myself in Clara’s love life,” she told him. “Or yours, for that matter.”
“So you say. But if you chuckle evilly when I leave the room, I won’t know.”
“Well, I guess you’ll have to trust me.”
“I’ll try,” he said grudgingly.
“Do you trust Clara?” she asked.
“Clara?”
Clara had thought her mom had just wanted to see him again, and he’d called her na?ve. She’d also thought her mom had beautified the medical practice because she’d been getting it ready for him, and here he was at the door, begging entry.
Did he trust the girl who’d put out road flares when he’d been kneeling on the highway in an eighty-miles-per-hour zone, and cried with him when he lost a patient? “Yeah, I trust her. Why?”
“I just wondered if your deeply suspicious nature is restricted to mother figures or all women.”
“Neither. Just you,” he admitted. And why was that? Clara probably knew that, too.
She nodded slowly. “Well, at least I’m special.”
He took her hand, and surprised her by kissing it. “Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t take a bullet for you, Doc.”
She smiled. “Thanks.”
He couldn’t help it—he was halfway through the waiting room when he stopped, tiptoed back to her doorway and peeked around the corner.
Dr. Wilder was crying .
“That’s the opposite of an evil chuckle,” he accused, and she jumped at the sound of his voice. “You women are so emotional.”
It wasn’t as harsh as it sounded, because he was kneeling by her chair and putting his arms around her.
She hugged him and cried on his shoulder, and it was the saddest sound he could remember hearing.
“Doc,” he said finally, keeping his voice gentle, and he drew back to look at her.
She gazed at him—they were at eye level with one another—with such pain in her overflowing eyes that he was stunned. Her little sniffles and hyperventilating breaths were almost childlike in their honesty.
“Jesse,” she said woefully, “I’m so sorry I let you think that we didn’t want you for s-so many years. You don’t know how bad I feel. I should have gone to see you after the first angry email from you, but I was so hurt, and it was just p-pride and vanity. Won’t you ever forgive me?”
He stared at her, agape. Calm, scholarly Dr. Wilder! Hiccuping!
“Doc,” he managed, utterly horrified by the depth of her emotions.
“I wasn’t there for you at your father’s funeral,” she added, and then she covered her face and started to sob again.
Jesse didn’t know what to do but pull her into his arms again and hold on tight. “Jeez Louise, Doc.”
“I can’t go back and fix it,” she wept.
“Hey, that’s okay,” he said automatically. “I’m not a kid anymore. You don’t have to be my fairy godmother. We both screwed up.”
He blew out a slow breath, and because she was too busy crying to say anything, he kept thinking out loud.
“I spent six years wondering how you could have gone from the best mother on the planet to the Wicked Witch of the West. Like flipping a switch. I had to figure you were just a sociopath, you know? And then I rewrote every memory I had of you, putting evil little twists on everything. Giving you ulterior motives, finding the manipulation behind every kindness. It didn’t make any sense otherwise, and I needed it to make sense.
“After we figured out what happened, I knew you weren’t the villain. But I’d never been hurt by anyone so much in my whole life. It was like my heart didn’t get the message. Ugh, Clara warned me about this and I didn’t take her seriously.”
She lifted her head, frowning and sniffing. “She warned you about what?”
“It’s like being mad at someone for something they did in your dream.”
She watched him with big, tragic eyes.
“Never did fully believe you’d want me for a son in the first place,” he murmured. “It was so easy to believe that you’d been lying about everything, for the fun of breaking my heart later.”
“Like your mother did,” she said hoarsely.
“Over and over.”
“What about now?” she ventured. “Do you still think I’m evil?”
“No,” he answered seriously. “I know you’re not.”
Her eyes filled. “But can you ever forgive me for abandoning you?”
“Turns out, I can,” he said, and then grimaced as she dissolved into more sobs.
A couple of minutes later her last sniffles had let up, and he left the office again, glancing at the grandfather clock in the lobby.
Now for Phase Two. He should just have time.