The Seven Year Secret

“I hope so. He didn’t mince words when he closed the subject of Liddy’s father.”

“Dad never minces words. Nor do I. Liddy’s my child. It’s my decision. And her father’s, assuming he’ll listen…” Mallory snatched the pen from the doctor’s limp fingers and scribbled her name at the bottom of the surgery authorization form.

Dahl accepted the paper she shoved back. “I recall Brad mentioning your…uh…former husband lived out of the country. On a remote atoll in the Pacific, I believe. That’ll pose a huge logistics problem, Mallory.”

“Connor’s stateside again. And he’s not my ex. We were never married. In fact, he’s unaware he fathered a child. Believe me, Fredric, if I could see another donor on the horizon, I’d let things stand. But I’ll go to any lengths to ensure Liddy’s health and happiness.”

After an uncomfortable silence, she ventured in a less certain voice, “When is Liddy scheduled for surgery? I’ll have to run downstairs and arrange with Alec for more time away from work. Poor Alec. It’s only mid-May. I feel like I’ve barely gotten back into the swing after taking those months off to give Liddy Bea a kidney.”

Dahl leaned over and patted her shoulder. “From what I hear, Dr. Robinson and his staff would make any accommodation to keep you. Our esteemed administrator has said repeatedly how lucky we are to have you heading our fund-raisers.”

Mallory dredged up a thin smile. “I always thought he only offered me the PR job because I’d more or less become a fixture at the hospital during Mom’s illness. It coincided with my pregnancy, and I dashed out of her room so many times to throw up, Alec stopped to find out what was going on.”

“Your family’s suffered more than its share of medical setbacks. Odd how it sometimes works that way. But the illnesses aren’t related. Although, your dad’s arteriosclerotic heart disease has likely been exacerbated by worrying about your mother and Liddy and you. Not to mention all his responsibilities as a state senator.”

“Dad’s heart condition is exacerbated by the rich food he eats, the nightly brandy he drinks and those dreadful cigars he refuses to give up.”

This time Dahl’s chuckle was dry. “Your diagnosis may be closer to the mark than mine. Tough old codgers like Brad can be set in their ways. That’s why I wonder if you ought to reconsider contacting Liddy Bea’s father.”

“If anyone understands doing whatever it takes to help the people we love, it’ll be Dad. I haven’t seen or heard from Connor O’Rourke in almost seven years. But if there’s a chance in a million that one of his kidneys will lengthen Liddy Bea’s life, I’ll crawl to Miami on my hands and knees to beg.”

The slightly stooped, balding physician stared at her gravely. “I know you will, Mallory. I know you will.” He passed a hand over his sparse hair. “Lord knows, I want a perfect donor for Lydia, too. Yet I have to weigh that against worry over what you might be walking into. I’ve been involved with this business of begging for donor organs for twenty years. I’ve witnessed verbal squabbles, fistfights and actual bloodshed. I’ve seen parents divorce and families so torn apart they never speak to one another again. You, Mark and Bradford are rare in that any one of you would have given Lydia a kidney.”

Mallory stuffed the mutilated tissue into her pocket and stood to brush the remaining lint from her skirt. “Once upon a time, the man who fathered Liddy Bea had a tender heart buried under a tough outer shell. Surely it’s still there. Connor may hate me for not telling him he has a child, but he wouldn’t let his anger extend to his daughter.” Although the hand she placed on the doorknob wasn’t steady, Mallory hauled in a deep breath and squared her shoulders before leaving the conference room.

“Liddy’s surgery is at four o’clock.” Lowering his voice, Dahl fell in step with Mallory as they walked back along the cheerily lit hall. “We’ll insert a new cannula and start dialysis immediately. Peritoneal, if the abdominal wall is in good shape. So there’s no dire urgency about confronting her biological dad. I want Liddy recovered from this surgery before attempting another implant. Perhaps a donor will turn up on the national list by then.”

Mallory stopped outside Liddy’s room. “Every piece of literature you’ve given me says blood relatives are the preferable donors.”

Dr. Dahl twisted his lips. “True. But if I set aside the fact that I’m a doctor and view it instead from the perspective of a friend and a father of three—well, I’m worried you’ll be opening a can of worms. Fathers today demand and get parental rights in the courts.”

Mallory stared at Dahl from cloudy blue eyes, all the while twisting a strand of hair around her index finger. “I must be more exhausted than I thought. I don’t understand what you’re implying.”

“Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. Put yourself in Mr. O’Rourke’s shoes. Liddy is a bright, charming child. And you’ve had her all to yourself for six years.”

A burst of light exploded inside Mallory’s head, leaving her slightly woozy. She groped the doorknob to Liddy’s room for support. “You think Connor may decide it’s time to…share custody?”

“It’s a possibility.”

“Then it’s a possibility I’ll have to deal with.” She inhaled quickly. “Liddy Bea was barely two when her kidneys first failed. For the next year and a half, she underwent hemodialysis. I sat there holding her night after night, listening to her sob in pain as one after another her veins collapsed or got horribly infected around the shunt. I rocked her throughout the long, dark hours when it seemed all either of us could do was cry. If only you knew how I prayed for a match on the national donor list—but…there were none. I thought giving her one of my kidneys, even though it wasn’t a hundred percent match, would be better than nothing. For eight months it was. For eight glorious months, she was normal. Happy. So, Fredric…I’d make a pact with the devil to see her that way again.”

Out of breath from her impassioned speech, Mallory wrenched open Liddy’s door, inadvertently banging it against the wall. The child’s translucent eyelids fluttered twice, revealing gray irises so like Connor O’Rourke’s. The gray eyes focused on Mallory, and a huge smile blossomed on Liddy’s face.

“Is it morning, Mommy? Are you here to take me home?”

Mallory steeled herself against the pain of telling Liddy Bea she’d be losing the kidney and going back on dialysis.

Bradford Forrest’s timely arrival gave Mallory a reprieve. The senator always entered a room as if he owned it. And considering the amount of money he’d donated over the years to the private hospital he’d been instrumental in seeing built, he probably did own a fair portion. Florida’s senior statesman remained a suave, handsome man, if one overlooked his tendency toward portliness.

Because Mallory loved him, she overlooked many of his faults. Friends and acquaintances were prone to say that her thick brown hair and direct blue eyes came from Brad, even though his hair was shot with silver now. The same folks joked that it was fortunate his daughter’s slender build and sweet disposition came from Bradford’s beloved wife. Beatrice had died just the day of Liddy’s birth, and he’d never truly recovered.

Recently reelected for a fifth term, Bradford was a powerful and influential force in Tallahassee and in many parts of the state. This man who made others quake turned to mush in the presence of his only grandchild. Like now, he drew a huge stuffed bunny from behind his back and plopped it on Liddy’s bed.

“Grandpapa!” The girl’s face lit up as her arms circled the toy. “Thank you! I’ll call her Flopsie Rabbit. Are you going to give me and Mommy a ride home? And will you and Davis drive me to school tomorrow?”

It was well-known that Liddy Bea loved riding to school in her grandfather’s chauffeured limousine, and that he often rearranged his busy schedule to accommodate her. He kept the limo’s bar stocked with her favorite juices, since hydration was of the utmost importance with her condition.

Senator Forrest was a man always in charge of any situation. This might be the first time he’d ever been at a loss for words. He flashed Mallory a helpless glance and mumbled, “I…uh…came because Fredric’s office left…ah…a message with my secretary.”

Mallory understood. Dr. Dahl, who’d become a good friend of the family, hadn’t wanted her to go through Liddy’s impending surgery alone. They’d moved out of their own apartment and in with her father a few weeks before the first transplant, and ever since then, the three Forrests had functioned as a more traditional family might. Just now, Mallory appreciated having her dad’s strength to draw on.

Pushing the huge rabbit aside to sit on the edge of Liddy’s bed, she cradled the child’s smaller, warmer hand between her cold ones. “Liddy Bea, baby…the kidney Mommy gave you isn’t working right.” Mallory’s breathing grew labored. “It’s, uh, what’s been making you sick lately. Dr. Dahl has to take it out.”

Liddy blinked away tears, her stoicism another O’Rourke trait. At birth, Liddy Bea had appeared so like him, Mallory was moved to name her baby after Connor’s mother and hers. Even if he wasn’t around to set eyes on his child, Mallory determined then and there that Lydia Beatrice would forever be a composite of both Forrest and O’Rourke. If only she’d informed Connor then that he had a daughter. Maybe…

“Will…it…hurt?”

Bradford wheeled to face the window overlooking the pediatric nursing station. He rammed his hands deep in the pockets of an expertly tailored jacket. Mallory couldn’t help noticing how the stalwart shoulders bent. Perhaps she should’ve sent her dad off on some fool’s errand. He’d weathered his wife’s premature death, his daughter’s unplanned pregnancy and his granddaughter’s kidney failure. Was it any wonder the man’s heart had weakened?

While Mallory was solicitous of all her dad had been through, she’d made a point of never lying to her child.

“It’ll hurt some. About like it did when Mommy gave you the kidney. But anytime you feel pain, tell me. Or if I’m not here, push this bell and the nurse will give you something to make you feel better.”

“Will I be able to go to school tomorrow?”

“No. We’ll have to ask Dr. Dahl if you’ll get to finish out this year. Liddy, do you remember the tube you used to have in your arm, then in your leg? You may have another of those for a while. Until we can find you another kidney.”

The little face puckered. “I didn’t like those things. Why can’t we find ’nother kidney today?”

Yes, why? Mallory wanted to rage and shout. “That’s what Dr. Dahl, Mommy and Grandpapa are going to do. Search until we find the perfect kidney.”

“Okay. But hurry, please. I hafta get back to school, ’cause my teacher said we get a vacation party on the last day.”

“I’ll hurry my fastest. And I’ll ask Dr. Dahl if I can take you to the party.”

Bradford fumbled for his handkerchief, found it and blew his nose. He turned slowly, discreetly blotting his eyes. “Listen, sugar pie. If Fredric says no, I’ll bring the party to our house when you’re better. I’ll hire the clowns we had for your last birthday. And we’ll have cake and all the ice cream you kids can eat. And—”

“Dad.” Mallory interrupted, cautioning him with a glance.

“What? Are clowns too extravagant? I commissioned a three-ring circus for your tenth birthday, missy.”

“A circus? Oh, goody.” Liddy clapped her hands.

Mallory rolled her eyes. “Dad! You promised not to overindulge Liddy Bea if we moved in with you.”

The practiced southern statesman didn’t look the least bit contrite.

“Liddy, play with your bunny a minute,” Mallory said. “Mommy and Grandpapa are going to walk down the hall for a soda.”