Wild Honey. Veronica Sattler
His mother’s sigh brought Travis back to the present. “Well, your brother does try hard, but sometimes I think he ought to have pursued another specialty. Your aunt Louise did suggest he join her at Stanford and go into research, you’ll recall. But as I told her, your father…”
And so it goes…
“Right.” Travis’s voice was tight with anger. “Nothin’ would do for his sons but to follow in his illustrious footsteps. No matter that the shape of those feet, as they tried to follow—tried so hard, Mother!—was so different. No matter that they longed to take another path.”
“Now, Travis, your father—”
“Is a cold, selfish bastard who never had time for any of us while we were growin’ up! And made it plain only one thing mattered to him—that we live our lives to please him. To be a self-perpetuatin’ testament to the great Dr. Trent McLean, heart surgeon nonpareil!”
“Oh, Travis, I know he’s hurt you, but try to understand. In his own way, your father loves you. I know you find that hard to believe. I didn’t believe it myself at one time. But in the last few years…well, I think he’s mellowed. And perhaps…perhaps even begun to realize what his unbendin’ ways have cost him.”
Travis’s smile was bitter. “Like a son, maybe? Well, that shouldn’t faze him, Mother. He has one to spare.”
“Travis, I don’t s’pose I can blame you for feelin’ bitter, but—”
“What do you want from me, Mother? Why’d you really come here? It wasn’t entirely to see how badly injured I was. Wally Reston could’ve given you all the particulars—and very likely did.”
Travis leaned toward her and didn’t let go of her gaze. “So what is it you really want from me?”
She made a helpless gesture with her hands. “I—I was hopin’ that maybe there was some way to…to put an end to this terrible estrangement. Maybe if you were to go to your father, Travis, and try to—”
“Forget it. He’d never listen, and I…” He sighed, ran a hand through his hair. “Well, let’s just say I’m well past tryin’, okay? I have my own life now, and while it’s—”
“But what kind of life, Travis? A life where you’re constantly in danger? Where you’re shot at and could be gunned down at…at any moment? Dear heaven, sometimes I think I’ll go out of my mind, worryin’ ‘bout you! And missin’ you so!”
She’d begun to cry now, and Travis felt like a twenty-four-carat heel. He should’ve withheld his anger, done his best to soothe her.
And so it goes… Not exactly a banner day for Southern manhood, he thought, again echoing the famous phrase from Slaughterhouse Five. Shifting to the side of the bed, Travis put his good arm around his mother’s shoulders.
“Shh, don’t cry. It’s really not as dangerous as all that. A desk job more often than not, honest.”
Judith made an effort to pull herself together. Taking care not to jolt his injured side, she embraced him quickly, then groped for a handkerchief in her purse. She nodded gratefully when he handed her a tissue from the bedside box.
“You won’t even consider…?” she said tentatively after drying her eyes.
“What? Goin’ to see him? D’you recall how many times I tried to—unsuccessfully, I might add—five years ago?” Travis snorted. “I’m not in the habit of knockin’ my head against a stone wall, Mother.”
Judith bowed her head and sighed. “I s’pose that’s what I expected you’d say, but—’ she met his eyes again “—I hope you’ll understand that…that I had to try?”
He nodded grimly.
“And on the outside chance you’ll change your mind, I’ve taken a room at the inn across the street—just for this evenin’, that is. I’ll need to leave by—”
“Save your money, Mother. And your hopes. I won’t be callin’. I can’t.”
She nodded, silently rose from the chair and bent to kiss his cheek. “I’ll be leavin’ now, son. Get yourself well real soon now, hear? And remember, I do love you, no matter what I might’ve foolishly led you to believe these past five years.”
He wanted to ask her about that. About how she could have stayed away all that time, no matter what her husband threatened. But somehow he hadn’t the heart for it. What good would it do? Likely just hurt her more than he’d already managed with his less-than-genteel tongue. And so it goes…
“I love you, too,” he murmured softly, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. But as he watched her turn to leave, he saw the tears in her eyes, and the remorse was back.
A FEW MINUTES LATER Travis stood at his third-floor window looking down at the street facing the Johns Hopkins Inn. He’d managed, one-handed, to strip off the hospital gown, wrap a towel around his hips and secure it at the waist—all the nod to modesty he was willing to make at the moment; if any more unannounced visitors dropped by, he was more than ready to tell them to go to hell if they complained.
His mood was sour again, and he didn’t need to wonder why. A sardonic smile twisted his lips. At one time he’d reckoned a visit from his estranged mother would have made his day. He supposed he’d always been given to optimism in his life, and that had applied even to the one corner of it that rankled. But instead of heartening him, seeing her had only served to make him realize how hopeless it all was.
He caught a flash of red below, and he watched his mother walk toward the street. To a stranger she’d appear utterly poised, her head held gracefully erect, her carriage straight. But he could see things a stranger would miss. The suggestion of a defeated cast to her shoulders, a certain hesitance in her step as she approached the curb, the last lingering look she cast in the direction of his window before she entered the inn.
Sighing heavily, he was about to return to the Vonnegut novel when something else caught his eye. A blonde with a knockout figure emerging from the hospital. She headed toward a dark red Saab that had just pulled up out front.
Nurse Randi Terhune.
“Well, well, well.” Travis’s first genuine smile of the day accompanied the softly drawled syllables.
Her legs looked longer than ever in a pants uniform with a tunic top that stopped just where they began. Sunlight glinted off her honey-colored hair. Worn loose now and minus her nurse’s cap, it hung down her back nearly to her waist. Lord, Lord…
He was able to make out the Saab’s driver as she reached across the passenger seat and said something to Terhune. A brunette who bore a strong resemblance to Nurse Randi. He supposed they could be sisters, despite the difference in coloring. Beautiful features like theirs leapt out at you and—“God almighty!”
Travis sucked in his breath and closed his eyes, fixing on the image that filled his mind’s eye. An image from the past. Now he realized why the dumb stunt he’d pulled in Cambridge had been teasing his brain, just as Randi Terhune’s face had been nagging at him. He opened his eyes and gazed into space in stunned awareness. Terhune had been in the clinic that day! She was the nurse who’d admitted him!
His gaze shifted to the scene below. The passenger in the Saab was now opening the door and climbing out.
Travis hadn’t noticed him at first, and no wonder. This little guy stood only about three feet tall, if that. He was all tousled blond hair and energy about to explode as he gave Terhune a whopping big hug.
It became apparent the boy was giving up the navigator’s seat to Terhune, who opened the rear door; there was a car seat in back, and he took a step toward it. Then she said something to him, and he turned toward her, affording Travis his first clear look at the child’s face.