“Why can’t you?” he asked matter-of-factly. It seemed so simple to him, but for her it wasn’t.
“It’s a little more complicated than that. I’d have to be appointed by the court to represent the child, and I wasn’t. I’m considered tainted because I represent the father. And they’re right. It would be a conflict of interest for me to represent the child, although I’d much prefer it to representing her father.”
“I had a case like that, a kid in the trauma unit who they claimed had been beaten up by a neighbor. They wanted to bring charges against him and they told a very convincing story. I was suitably outraged. Turns out the father was beating the child, and he had brain-damaged her by the time she got to me. There wasn’t a hell of a lot we could do about it. They took the child away from them, once she got out of the hospital, but she begged the judge to go back to them. I was afraid the father would kill her. The judge sent her to foster care for a few months, but eventually the child went back to her parents.”
“And then what happened?” He had piqued her interest.
“I don’t know. I lost track of them, which seemed too bad. My work is so immediate and so acute, once people get well, I lose them. It’s the nature of the beast in trauma and emergency. You do what you can in the immediacy of the moment, and then they fade out of your lives.”
“Don’t you miss having a long-term relationship with your patients?”
“Not really. I think that’s part of what I like about it. I don’t have to worry about solving problems that aren’t really mine to solve, or can’t be. This way it’s much simpler.” He was clearly someone who didn’t want long-term relationships of any kind. But she liked him in spite of it. And every now and then, when he said things like that, she felt sorry for him. His life, and philosophies, were everything hers weren’t. Everything about her life was long-term and deeply involved. There were clients who stayed in touch with her for years after their divorces. It was just a difference in style, and clearly, she and Bill Webster were very different. But it was equally clear that they liked each other.
It was late again when he left that night. He sat and talked to her till nearly one o’clock, and he was sorry when he left that he couldn’t stay longer to talk to her. But they both had to get up early the next day. She had to go to court, and he was due on duty at the trauma unit at seven in the morning.
And Peter had a sly look in his eye when he asked her at breakfast the next day if he’d won his bet.
“No, you lost this time,” she smiled, and laughed.
“You mean he didn’t kiss you, Mom?” Peter looked disappointed and Megan made a face of utter outrage.
“You’re disgusting,” she accused him. “Whose side are you on?”
“Mom’s,” he said clearly, and then he turned back to his mother. “Would you tell the truth if he did, or would you lie just to win the ten bucks?” He loved teasing her, and she laughed as she made them all pancakes.
“Peter, how insulting! I have more integrity than to lie to my own flesh and blood to win a bet.” She handed him a plate of pancakes and poured syrup on it.
“I think you’re lying, Mom,” Peter accused her.
“I’m not. I told you, we’re just friends, and I like it like that.”
“Keep it that way, Mom,” Rachel added. Another country heard from. Liz looked at her youngest daughter with interest.
“When did you get interested in this?”
“Peter says he likes you, and Meg says you’re going to marry him.” In some ways, she was sophisticated for eleven. She was nearly twelve, but not quite. She had just turned eleven when her father died, and like all of them, she had grown up a lot in the past year, as had their mother.
“Let me reassure you all,” she said with a broad smile, as they finished their breakfast, “two dinners do not constitute an engagement.”
“It’s too soon for you to be going out,” Annie added, looking at her sternly.
“And when do you think it would be appropriate?” her mother asked her with interest.
“Never,” Megan answered for her younger sister.
“You’re all nuts,” Peter said, as he got up from the breakfast table. “Mom can do whatever she wants. And Dad would think it’s fine. Dad would be dating by now, if it had happened to Mom instead,” and she realized as she listened that by the grace of God it could have. And she thought Peter’s comment interesting, as she mulled it over on her way to work. Would Jack have been dating by then if she had died instead? She had never thought about it, but she suspected he might. He had a healthy attitude about life, and too much joie de vivre to get buried in a closet, mourning her. Peter was right. Jack probably would have been dating. It made her feel better about seeing Bill Webster.
He called her in the office that day, and asked her to go to the movies with him again the following weekend. They seemed to be seeing a lot of each other suddenly, and she didn’t mind. She enjoyed him.
And this time when he came to take her out, Jamie let him in, and brought him up-to-date on the situation.
“My sisters don’t think you should be taking Mom out. But Peter thinks it’s all right, and so do I. The boys like you, and the girls don’t.” He summed it up for him nicely, and Bill laughed out loud and mentioned it to her on the way to a small French restaurant in Sausalito.
“Are they really upset that we’re dating?” he asked with interest.
“Are we?” Liz asked easily. “I thought we were just friends.”
“Is that what you want, Liz?” he asked her gently. They were at the restaurant by then, and he had just pulled into the parking lot as he turned to look at her. He was anxious to hear how she answered the question.
“I’m not sure what I want,” she said honestly. “I have a good time with you. This just kind of happened.” It was how he felt as well, but he was beginning to feel more for her than he’d expected. At first, he would have been satisfied to be her friend, but now he wasn’t as sure. He was beginning to think he wanted more from her. But they didn’t press the point any further, as they walked into the restaurant, and stayed off heavy subjects for the rest of
