Love, Marriage And Family 101

Bumping into James McKenzie at the door of her mother’s room was another thing Hally could have lived without.

“Father,” she exclaimed, too tired and rattled to try to keep the appalled tone out of her voice or to edit her words for diplomacy. “What in the world are you doing here?”

“Well, I am a doctor,” her father said mildly, looking Hally up and down in that way he had, that way that had always made her feel inadequate. It galled her to realize it still did. “And this is my hospital,” he went on. “At least to the extent that I’m the chief here.”

“Oh. I didn’t, er, didn’t know…”

“There’s a lot you don’t know, Halloran.”

“Yes, well…” Despising herself for reverting to the very behavior—awkward ineptness—that had always drawn scathing comments from her father, Hally clenched her teeth and met his gaze with much of the same youthful defiance that had always been her defense. And here she’d been so sure she had outgrown that sort of response, too. “If you’ll let me by, I—I came to see my mother.”

“Of course.” James McKenzie stepped aside. “It seems your mother fell and hit her head on the edge of her workbench. There was some bleeding, but nothing too serious. She’s sedated, but she’ll be all right.”

Hally drew herself in so that she could move past without touching him in any way. Her gaze flicked to his once more, and what she saw in his eyes made her gasp. He actually looked hurt.

Furious with herself even more than with her father, she jerked her eyes away and stumbled almost blindly into her mother’s room.

The nurse at the bedside looked up at Hally’s entrance. She put a finger to her lips. “She’s just drifting off,” she whispered in very British English as Hally tiptoed closer. “Doctor gave her a sedative.”

Hally mutely nodded her understanding. She was still undone by the unexpected emotions she’d glimpsed in her father’s eyes, and horrified by the sight of her mother’s bandaged right hand on top of the bedsheet. She let the bag drop to the floor and leaned closer to peer into the dear but pale and too-still features. They were usually so animated. A rather nasty-looking purple bump and bruise marred the high forehead.

Ever so gently, lovingly, Hally touched the injury, letting her finger trail down the velvety cheek before pulling her hand away. I love you, Mom.

“Concussion?” she asked in a low tone.

The nurse shook her head. “Doctor wouldn’t have sedated her if he thought that. You’re family, of course.” It was a statement rather than a question.

Hally nodded. “Her daughter.”

“Oh,” the nurse said, her interest obviously aroused. “In that case, you’re…”

“Doctor McKenzie’s daughter, too,” Hally finished for her. “Yes.” Wanting to forestall any further comments, she asked, “Will my mother be asleep all night?”

“I would think so, yes.”

“I’ve brought her some things.” Hally picked up the bag. “Where should I put them?”

“In the nightstand would be fine,” the nurse said, leaving the room. “She’ll be discharged in the morning.”

Hally took her time unpacking the small bag. Rather than hang it up, she draped her mother’s robe over the foot of the bed. Likewise, she arranged the satin slippers she had packed so that they were ready to be stepped into should her mother need to get up in the night.

She glanced often at the still form on the bed, hoping against hope that her mother would wake and know she was there. When everything was done, feeling helpless, needing to be needed but realizing that there wasn’t anything else she could do, Hally softly kissed her mother on the lips and took her reluctant leave.

“I’ll be back, Mom,” she whispered. “First thing in the morning.”

After a drive home that was filled with a heavy silence neither Michael nor Corinne Parker was inclined to break, father and daughter walked single file into their house. Corinne would have proceeded straight to her room, but Mike stopped her.

“I want to talk to you.” He jerked a chair away from the kitchen table and pointed to it. “Sit.”

Folding her arms across her chest, ignoring the chair, Corinne pointedly propped her hip against the counter and didn’t move.

A rage that was the culmination of everything that had gone before brought Mike over to her in one long stride. He gripped her upper arm with viselike strength.

“I said sit,” he bellowed, yanking the chair closer still and pushing her down onto it. “And by damn you’ll sit, young lady.”

Releasing her as abruptly as he had grabbed her, Mike pivoted and stalked over to the window. He was breathing heavily as the veil of red fury slowly receded from in front of his eyes. Never could he remember having been this angry. He shoved a trembling hand through his hair, inhaling deeply and struggling for a modicum of calm before facing his daughter again.

“Things are going to change around here,” he finally said when he trusted himself to be rational. “You are going to act like a civilized human being…”

“Yeah,” Corinne drawled, her voice and expression full of contempt. “Like you just did, right?”

“Oh, no, you don’t”. Mike glared at her. “You’re not going to turn the tables and lay a guilt trip on me for manhandling you just now. Granted, I lost my temper, but you’d push even a saint to mayhem with your stubbornness and rotten attitude. And it’s going to stop.”

“Pfuh.” Lips twisted, her arms once again folded across her chest, Corinne turned her face aside as if bored.

Mike had to silently count to ten to keep himself from exploding all over again. He knew that if he hoped to get anywhere with her, it wouldn’t be by shouting. On the other hand, he had no intention of letting her off the hook. She had become a liar, a thief and a truant He intended to put a stop to those practices before they became ingrained.

He walked to the shelf, took down the porcelain cat and brought it over to her. He set it on the table. When she refused to look at it, he firmly but not roughly took her chin and forced her face around.

“There was two hundred dollars in that jar,” he said. “Now there’s seventy. I want to know what happened to the rest of it.”

“How should I know?” Corinne muttered. But she wouldn’t look at him, and her face flushed a deep red. The sight of it filled Mike with relief. It proved to him that she still had a conscience, that she wasn’t too far gone to be reached.

“Look at me,” he ordered, still holding her chin.

She complied with deliberate slowness, defiance blazing from her eyes.