The Alphabet of Love Ch. 20

We spent the rest of the day touring the entire clinic; Derek wanted me to see every nook and cranny so there would be no surprises. I knew it would take time to learn my way around and memorize names and faces. He seemed to know everyone and their attitude toward him made me feel good. There was respect but no fear. This told me he'd struck that difficult chord with employees and colleagues - somewhere between being their friend, their peer, and their superior. I had a little more insight into the man I loved, and I liked what I saw.

Derek's mother took a taxi to meet us at what he said was her favorite Asian fusion restaurant. She'd just turned seventy-eight, he told me, and still drove her own car when the weather was good. For evenings like this, when there had been some snow melt but the streets would ice over before morning, she kept a taxi company in her phone contacts.

Oriana Wiley stood by the table waiting for us to arrive. Dressed in a white cashmere sweater and black wool slacks, her white hair in an elegant upsweep, she looked like the matriarch of a prominent wealthy dynasty. She took my hand in both of hers with a warm smile on her face.

"Lovely to meet you, Shiloh. I'm so happy."

"Thank you," I instantly liked her.

Derek held both our chairs, his mother's first. "Such a gentleman," she tapped his hand.

"Shiloh's here for a week or so," Derek told her as we were given menus.

"Wonderful, I hope we'll have some time together," she nodded at me.

"We'll make time," I told her.

"Did Derek tell you I used to be an actress?" she asked me.

"No, he didn't," I gave him a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, I was a bit player in movies. Never got a starring role, however. Enough to keep me around the studios, and that was fun," she spoke as she viewed the dinner choices.

Derek had grown up in southern California, I knew.

"Derek's father, he was a set designer," she went on. "I think I'll have this," she pointed on the menu, and Derek leaned over to look.

"I'll order for us, then," he said. "What did you want, Shiloh?"

I told him, and he gave our orders to the waiter.

Oriana sipped water and went on. "When Richard died, Derek encouraged me to come here. I resisted for some time. I liked my California weather."

"I don't blame you," I smiled.

"But I missed him more," they smiled at each other. "Have you met the grandchildren?" she asked me.

"Not yet," I answered.

"Jonas," she said, shaking her head, "the boy is a genius, but so very serious. Even Derek has better sense of life balance than he does."

"Even Derek," Derek smiled.

"Well? You work too hard. That's why I'm pleased that you've found someone to share life with - who will help you remember what's really important."

Like sex? I thought to myself.

"Like sex," Oriana said to my shock.

"Mother -"

She held up her hand. "You're still a young man," she interrupted him. "Dear," she turned to me, "are you loving him well? He's had a long dry spell."

I couldn't help laughing. Derek just shook his head.

"I know it's not my business," she said, primly folding her hands on the table and looking at each of us.

"We're quite - compatible," Derek told her.

"Yes," I nodded. "Quite."

"What was this business about a murder?" she asked us, completely changing the subject.

"I told you about that," Derek said, glancing at me. Perhaps she had some short term memory loss, I thought.

Oriana thought for a moment. "Oh yes, you did," she smiled, and patted his hand. "Is there any news? Did they catch the killers?"

"Not as far as we know," he answered. "Mom, Shiloh and I are going to Iowa the day after tomorrow. I'm speaking at a medical conference."

She wrinkled her nose. "Iowa?"

"We'll only be there a couple of days. When we get back, Shiloh's going to meet the kids."

She nodded. "That's good." She looked at me and said, "You don't have to get along with them, you know. They're grown up now. Don't let them intimidate you."

"Mom -"

"I hope to get along with them," I said diplomatically. "I certainly don't want to come between them and their father."

She waved her hand. "Brenda's filled their heads with nonsense. She thinks you'll try to keep her from getting what she deserves in the divorce."

"Me?" I squeaked, surprised, and looked at Derek.

"She's projecting," Derek said with a sigh. "Her boy toy is counting on her to rake in big bucks from me so she assumes you're only in it for the money, too."

I tried to control my indignation. "Unlike a 'boy toy,' I don't need your money. I've always taken care of myself."

"I know that," he said. "But the only way Brenda can keep him is if she gets a big fat settlement out of me. He'll probably marry her so he'll have free access to it, it'll be his to blow on . . . blow."

"Now, dear," Oriana chastised him gently, "you don't know that he's putting her - your- money up his nose."

"I've been around that art scene," he asserted. "I've seen them in the back room at gallery shows, snorting like there's no tomorrow. Brenda even got into it until I told her I'd turn her in."

I gasped a little.

"What? A doctor can't have a wife doing blow. As far as I know she quit, but she probably got back into it since she left. I don't give a shit now."

The waiter returned with our food, and after our first bites, Oriana said, "You should have divorced her years ago. She's been like an albatross, dear. Holding you back."

"Holding me back from what?" he wanted to know. "She never kept me from expanding my career."

She nodded at me. "Holding you back from finding real love. Everyone needs someone to love, to be loved. Really, nothing else matters."

I smiled at her sentimentality, but I realized that she was right. I'd been seeking love my whole life. From my parents, desperately, and once I grew up I fell into bad relationships constantly, hoping against hope that this time might be different, that I might have found my true love. I'd sort of gotten over that 'true love' ideal. No man would fulfill every fantasy I had, and I'd accepted that. After all, Derek was older than I might have liked, but he had so many other wonderful qualities that he was worth it.

"My work still matters," Derek said, but his tone had softened. "But you're right, now that Shiloh has agreed to marry me, my life is going to have something that it's been missing."

"A baby?" Oriana asked with a smile, looking between us.

"I'd like to," I said vaguely.

"Oh, that would be wonderful," she said, joyous. "You're not too old, you know," she nudged her son.

"I know that, mother. We've talked about it. Having a child would be good for me, I think."

My heart swelled with happiness. His willingness to become a father again meant everything to me.

"How do Jonas and Mercury feel about it?" she asked him.

Ugh, I thought. That could be awkward. My only hope was that, being young adults, they'd have so much going on in their lives they wouldn't really care what their old boring father was doing.

"It's my life," Derek said, polishing off his wine. "I hope they'll understand that."

"Well, they've taken to Killian. He's all Mercury talks about."

"Who? Oh, Brenda's cabana boy?" Derek scoffed.

Oriana nodded. "She wants to write about him for one of her classes or something. Brenda thinks it's great but I don't trust him."

Derek looked alarmed. "What do you mean?"

She shrugged. "Young girl like her, younger man. Some of the things she says he's said to her seem, well, inappropriate."

"I'd better talk to Brenda."

"It might be a good idea," Oriana agreed.

Oh, this was something I really didn't want to get involved in, I thought.

By the time dinner was over, Derek's mother seemed tired. He hadn't told me anything about her health, but overall she seemed astute but for the one small lapse in memory. She planned to take a taxi back home, but he insisted that we take her there instead. She seemed grateful but apologized to me; I assured her we wanted her home safely. It made me feel good to see Derek caring for his mother like this.

He went in with her while I waited in the warm car. When he came back out he had a grim look on his face.

"Is she all right?" I asked.

"Yes, she's fine," he said, backing the Jaguar out of the parking spot. "I'm just pissed about Brenda letting her fuck buddy anywhere near Mercury."

"Is she so naïve?" I asked him.

He nodded. "For all her bluster and political posturing, she's never really had a boyfriend. I'm afraid she'd be blinded by flattery and attention."

Huh, I thought. I understood that. A girl who doesn't get a lot of attention from her father becomes an easy target for unscrupulous men. Hopefully it wasn't too late for Derek to salvage his relationship with her.

At his house, we made hot tea and changed into pajamas. I'd been unable to get Dr. Bailey's outburst off my mind; I knew there had to be more to her story. If Derek truly meant for me to be an equal partner in his clinic, he had to be transparent about everyone and everything.

So I asked him about it.

He took the steaming teapot off the burner and poured our mugs full, pushing one toward me. I steeped a teabag and waited for his response.

"Adrienne is brilliant," he began. "She's co-written some of my best papers. Her bedside manner is a bit abrasive, and she does have an issue with her temper."

"No shit."

He glanced up at me. "I've asked her to come completely into academics, work with me in research and writing, but she doesn't want to give it up."

"So what did Dr. Whaley mean when he said she couldn't get a job anywhere else?"

"That's not what he said."

"I paraphrased."

"She's had conflicts with other physicians and nurses," he said with a sigh. "She's one of those who's so intelligent that if people can't keep up, she gets impatient."

"So she's rocking the fabled 'Doctor God' complex," I nodded.

"We all have it, to some extent," he nodded, eyeing me. "I'm sure you've had an incident or two with people."

I shrugged. "When you're dealing with patients' lives, you have to assert yourself. It's not about thinking I'm the all-knowing deity of medicine. I'm not sure she's all about being smarter than anyone else. She's awfully territorial. Like she was afraid if I came into home hemo I'd try to change how she's doing things."

"Of course she's territorial," he smiled.

"She can't be the only physician seeing home hemo patients."

"She has a PA working with her."

"How many do you have?"

"Home hemo patients? Around a dozen. We're a specialty clinic, most of them are with the bigger nephrology groups with Tufts."

"Who oversees her program?"

"The clinic board. Every physician in charge of a program presents their report to us every month."

"So," I said carefully, "I don't suppose I can see any of those reports until I'm 'official,' right?"

"It would be irregular," he said, but I sensed some leeway in his voice.

"If you were to leave it open on your desk and you happened to get called away . . . " I trailed off.

"That would be a HIPAA violation," he finished for me. "Shiloh, I know you're anxious to come aboard, and I'm anxious to have you. Unfortunately, you don't have any status with us as yet. We don't have your credentials transferred or anything. I just wanted you to come and meet people."

He was right. I was getting ahead of myself.

"Look, tomorrow I'm going to be working on my presentation in Des Moines. You can come with me to the clinic, but you can't involve yourself in any care situations, personnel - anything like that."

"Then what's the point?" I folded my arms in a pout.

"When we get back from the conference, I'll present you to the board officially, we'll have it on record that you're a pending co-owner and board member. I'm going to let them vet you. So be prepared to answer a lot of questions."

I nodded. "I'm fine with that."

"So if you want to do something else tomorrow, I understand."

"I don't know my way around Boston," I told him. "Or I'd go shopping."

"Take a cab," he suggested. "If you're planning on that, there are a couple of things I could use."

I shrugged. "I might as well get out and get a feel for the place. I'm noticing the dress code is somewhat more professional here."

"You think so? You looked great today."

"Well, yes, that's a pretty conservative outfit," I acknowledged. And that was why I'd worn it.

"I'll give you my credit card. If you don't mind going to my tailor, I left a suit to be altered. It should be ready and I'd like to take it with me to Des Moines."

"Sure," I nodded. I'd never known a man who used a tailor. I hoped I was ready for this lifestyle.

"We're flying out early on Friday," he said. "So we'll need to be ready to go tomorrow night."

"I can cook dinner here," I offered.

"That would be great," he smiled. "I'd love a home cooked meal."

I moved toward him. "I can do other things for you, too."

"Is that right?" he reached for me, and I let him pull me close. We kissed.

"I'm overwhelmed," I admitted, "but I'm excited, too. This will be the biggest change I've ever made."

"I'll make sure you don't regret it," he kissed me again. "I love you, Shiloh."

"I love you."

I didn't mind spending the day alone in a strange city. I'd shopped on my own all my life and rather liked it. I found Bostonians generally friendly, though some of their New Englandisms confused me. I learned that there was far more to see than I'd ever manage in one day, and it left me wanting more. Nearing four o'clock, I collapsed, tired, into a taxi heading back to Derek's house. I'd been so busy trying on clothes that I hadn't checked my phone in a couple of hours. When I pulled it out of my purse, my heart stopped.

Missed call. Trevor.

With shaking hands, I listened to the voicemail he'd left. He just wanted to say hello and apologize for not contacting me. His father's presidential campaign was stalking Iowa, and Trevor was busy doing any and everything that needed to be done. He said he'd been thinking about me and hoped I was well, and hey, whatever happened with that whole mess in Nevada?

I sighed. I might have time to call him before Derek got home, but I still had to make dinner. I settled for a text; telling him I was in Boston with Derek, that we were going to Des Moines tomorrow for a nephrology conference.

He texted me back right away. Des Moines? He was going to be there for the next two days. He wanted to see me.

I stared at his words. He couldn't come to the conference, or anywhere near the hotel; I couldn't risk anyone seeing us together who might tell Derek. But I did need to see Trevor, I had to tell him I'd accepted Derek's marriage proposal. I couldn't do that in a text message. I told him I'd find a way to see him, and left it at that.

I went inside the house, laden with my bags, and took them upstairs. I hung up my new clothes and Derek's suit, and went downstairs to start dinner preparations. This was no way to start a marriage, I thought, chopping onions. I wouldn't be someone who sneaked around behind her man's back. But I knew if I told him I was going to see Trevor, he wouldn't like it. My only hope would be if I convinced him this was the last time, that it was over.

But was it? Did I want it to be over with Trevor? My god, what was wrong with me? I couldn't marry Derek with the idea that I still might want to be with Trevor. Absolutely not. But then where did that leave me? Should I lie to myself? Lie to him? Lie to Trevor? And why did I still have misgivings about marrying Derek? Because if I didn't, I wouldn't be tempted by Trevor.

Derek couldn't be offering me any more - to be co-director, co-owner of a successful nephrology clinic was an honor, an accomplishment - that I'd probably never have attained on my own. This house was every bit as wonderful as I'd hoped it would be; it was a dream home for any woman. I'd already envisioned my children sprinting around the kitchen while I cooked or baked; turning one of the bedrooms into a nursery. Derek had committed to spending more time with me, with any family we might have. I had no doubt that he loved me and he wasn't afraid to show me. So honestly, why was I still hesitant? I rarely thought of his age unless someone else brought it up. He treated me like the medical professional that I was as well as his woman.

Maybe it wasn't Derek at all. It was me. Somewhere deep in my psyche, did I doubt that I deserved all this? The unloved little girl was unloved for a reason. Not good enough, not pretty enough. Derek could do so much better. No, no, I couldn't start negative thinking. Derek loved me. That sad girl was gone, I'd replaced her with a strong woman, a successful woman. I'd become the woman I'd always wanted to be.

So was it Trevor? The unattainable ideal? The tousled blond hair, blue eyes, mischievous smile? He promised sweet surprises, he'd been dogged in his resolve to keep us a possibility. He was like the fantasy that every girl wants, but how would he be on a daily basis? I'd been with Derek one-on-one for days at a time during medical conventions; we'd stayed in the same room, shared the same toilet and endured police questioning. I'd seen him in situations I'd never seen Trevor in. If that had been me and Trevor in the desert, how would it have been different? Probably not much, I thought, although my gut feeling was that Derek had been more decisive than Trevor would have been.

I had to end it. That's all there was to it. And I'd tell Derek tonight.

He came home around six-thirty, briefcase and computer bag in hand. I was setting the table for us with good china and crystal. Maybe wedding gifts to him and Brenda, for all I knew. He came to me, held me, and kissed me a few times.

"I missed you today," he said, nipping at my neck a little. "Did you have fun?"

I nodded. "I did. I got your suit."

"Good. Something smells good."

"I put together a little chicken divan," I told him.

He followed me to the oven, his hand hovering over my butt, touching me gently. I turned and kissed him again.

"You have no idea how it feels to come home to someone," he said.

"I know it's nice having someone come home to me," I smiled, and we gazed at each other for a few long moments.

"I'll open wine," he said, and moved away.

I brought out the casserole and took our salads to the table. He filled our glasses and we sat at the sturdy dining table with its elegant curves. It might be an heirloom; it certainly wasn't new. He smiled a little when he saw the table settings, and glanced at me.

"I haven't seen these plates in years."

"I washed them," I assured him.

He smiled. "They belonged to my grandmother. When my Mom sold her house in LA she couldn't part with them but she doesn't have room for them where she is."

"They're lovely," I said. "I hope we'll use them more often."

"I'd like that," he nodded.

"How's your presentation?" I asked him as we dished up the food and started on our salads.

"It'll be good, I think. It's hard to jazz up these things. I try to make them interesting enough that people don't fall asleep."

"I've had struggles with that, I'll admit," I said, thinking of the last conference we'd attended together. Our amorous adventures had kept us up late and even after gallons of coffee I'd nearly collapsed during a lecture.

"As soon as we get there I'm meeting with the local nephrology association," he said. "You can come along if you want, or just go to the hotel."

I nodded. "Um, well, there is something . . . I need to do."

"In Des Moines?" he said with a smile.

I took a deep breath. "Trevor is there. His Dad is campaigning there."

His face showed nothing, but he put down his fork. "You're going to see him?"