Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
“ I must learn to be content with being happier than I deserve .”
~Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice
“ Y our proposed expansion plan is interesting,” mused Malcolm Sloan, Elle’s boss.
They were on a last-minute video call to discuss her proposal to fund their foundation’s rural clinics by offering specialty care telehealth services at primary care clinics in affluent areas. The strategy would increase profits, which in turn would be used to pay for clinics in underserved communities.
This initiative was important to Elle, who’d grown up in an underserved community. Accessible healthcare shouldn’t be a luxury for the rich.
Malcolm slapped his hands gleefully. “I want to include this as one of the key objectives for our annual presentation to the board and I’d like you to present it with me. When are you back again?”
On screen, Elle appeared cool and collected, but beneath the Little Red Barn’s desk her slipper-clad feet did a jig.
“I’m physically back in the office September eleventh.”
“Perfect. The board meets on the twenty-first. Plenty of time to go over a few things. Very good work, Elle.”
“Thank you.” She looked at Braedon, who sat quietly grinning on the screen. Braedon was in all her meetings, as her assistant and to prepare them for the day they jumped to their next career step. “I also want to recognize my team. They were integral in the research for this plan.”
“Of course. Nice work, Braedon.”
“It’s Ms. Davidson’s vision,’ Braedon said.
“Elle, your people love you. I hear the same thing from your regional directors when I’m visiting our sites. Nice leadership.” His eyes darted off screen as if being flagged. “Ok, I’m off. Braedon, get all the travel info for Elle from my assistant. This year’s board meeting will be in Chicago after the ribbon cutting for our new Oncology Unit. Elle, I’d like you to attend that with me, as well.” With a wave, he popped off the screen.
For a moment, they were both silent before Braedon snapped their fingers. “Totally bad-ass, boss!”
Elle barely contained her excitement. Not only would she be presenting to the board, but with the meeting being in Chicago she’d have an excuse to see Beth. Elle had worked for Sloan-Whitney since she’d graduated with her Masters, and in all that time, she couldn’t remember a single National Director presenting to the board.
Picking up her cell, she texted the good news to Clayton, and his response was instant.
Fitz’s Human: You are such a boss! Let’s celebrate with dinner Tuesday. I’ll cook.
Elle: A date?
Fitz’s Human: For the record, anytime we’re together it’s a date.
Elle squealed, then slapped a hand over her mouth. Far too undignified for a thirty-six-year-old woman with a very important job. Tuesday couldn’t come soon enough.
Thank god she was going to get some one-on-one time with Uncle Pete tonight to distract her. He was coming over to help her put together the new desk chair.
Pete arrived twenty minutes after she logged off for the day.
After they’d assembled the chair, Elle made tea and served some of the leftover wedding cake.
“Tea and cake. I feel like the King of England,” Pete jested, taking a large bite.
“Take a sip of the tea after each bite. It complements the flavor of the cake nicely.” She demonstrated this, taking a sip of the still steaming tea after her first bite of the lemon chiffon delicacy.
“Oh, that is good.” Pete moaned with pleasure. “You have a tea convert but only with cake.”
“Thank you for saving me some.”
“Of course.” Pete’s lips trembled as if debating whether he should speak.
Her right brow ticked up. “What?”
Pete hissed out a long breath before saying, “You left the wedding early. I saw you dancing with Doc, then you were gone. Then he was.”
“It wasn’t like that. I ran into him as I was coming out of the bathroom, and he saw I wasn’t feeling well and offered to take me home.”
“Yes, but you didn’t tell me.”
“You were busy. I didn’t want to bother?—”
“You didn’t text me,” he interrupted, hurt shaded the blue of his eyes. “That’s not like you to not let me know where you are.”
“I should have sent a text. I’m sorry you worried,” she apologized.
He shrugged. “When I went looking for you, I ran into Jerome’s dad. He said when he was walking to the bathroom, he saw you leave with Doc. I knew you were safe with him. I didn’t know why you left. Was it your mom? Did she approach you? Did she try to talk to you?”
Tightness spread in her chest and crawled up her throat. “No.”
He reached out one hand.“What did she do? Please tell me.”
“She came into the bathroom while I was there. She just shrugged and walked into a stall.”
“What?”
“She saw me but went into a stall like I wasn’t her daughter. Like I was someone she was indifferent to. Someone not worth it.”
“We asked her not to approach or speak to you.”
“I know,” she gritted through clenched teeth. “This was the one time she gave me what I asked for, so I shouldn’t complain or be upset.”
She wasn’t angry at Pete but at herself for being disappointed that her mother didn’t prove her wrong. The woman was selfish and would always choose herself over her daughter.
“I don’t know all of what happened between the two of you. You just stopped speaking to her and then slowly stopped coming home.”
The sadness in his eyes sliced Elle’s heart. I’ve done this. I’ve hurt him.
“Pete, I am sorry. I know that I’ve made this hard on you. I know that I?—”
“No.” His interruption was firm, but gentle. “You haven’t done anything. You’re the kid. If it was Tobey and me or you and me…” he croaked. “…I would never listen to anyone who told me not to approach or speak to you. I would never shrug and close a door on you.”
“I know you wouldn’t.” A slight wobble shook her voice.
“I was jealous of her because she got you.” Pete frowned. “I remember standing in front of the glass watching you in the hospital nursery the day you were born. Everyone else was in the room, visiting your mom and dad. I was there watching you. I swore you could tell I was there, when I put my hand on the window telling you I was your Uncle Pete, and you better get used to me because I’d always watch over you.”
Elle drew a shaky breath. “And you have.”
“I think if I had been watching closer, if I had done a better job…I would have seen what was happening. I worry that you stayed away for so long not just because of your mom failing you but also me failing you.”
“Pete.”
He shook his head. “I worry that I put too much on you. You’ve always been so grown up, so independent. I keep thinking about when your dad left and how I told you your mom needed you. Then when your mom came back from the hospital, I sent you back with her. I sent you back every fucking time.” He slammed a hand on the table, and she flinched.
She’d never seen Pete this angry, not at anyone and not at himself.
“She was my mom. You were just doing what you thought was best.” She laid a reassuring hand upon his larger fist.
“You were hers, not mine. That’s what I kept saying. Each time I sent you back. Each time I dropped you off from a school event she didn’t make it to. Each time I grabbed you for dinner because she was out. I saw the disappointed coolness of acceptance in your eyes that this was just how it was.” He blew out a harsh breath. “Each time I told myself to keep you, but I didn’t… I was wrong.”
Her heart both broke and swelled. This man had been so much to her. Her rock. Yet, he felt lacking, just as she had.
“I am yours,” she affirmed, standing and walking to him and wrapping her arms around him.
He wasn’t just Uncle Pete; he was her dad. Dads aren’t made by blood but by the big and small things a man did out of love. Pete was the man who’d wiped tears that accompanied skinned knees. A man who’d taught her to ride a bike without training wheels, holding on ’til she screamed “Let go.”
Here sat the man who put together this chair and unknowingly was helping put her back together. Pete always had, and always would, love her like a father.
“I am yours,” she repeated and added, “I love you, Dad.”
“I love you, kiddo,” he sniffled, placing his hand on her head gently stroking the soft strands.
He is hers and she is his. They are enough.