"Are you commissioned to do them?"
"Some of them. And some I just paint and hope that I'll sell them. As a matter of fact, I've got a show coming up in a couple of weeks at an art gallery in Miami."
"Congratulations." He nodded, impressed. "So you must be good," he said.
"Well, I support myself, but not in style. I just stopped waitressing a couple of years ago."
"I like to think I appreciate art. A beautiful painting always seems to remind me that there's more to this life than work—and I definitely need to be reminded of that sometimes."
"So you're a collector?"
"I wouldn't go that far. I just know what I like. I can't tell if a painting's any good or not."
"If you like it then the artist succeeded."
He nodded. "Are you working on anything right now?"
"Actually, I brought a piece with me. I've been having trouble finishing it. And a bunch of supplies. I always have to have my supplies with me."
"I'd love to see your work sometime."
Kim nodded, feeling a slight blush creep over her face. "Sure," she said as casually as she could.
"Hi, Tony." A bubbly blonde in blue scrubs appeared at the table. An attractive tall brunette, also in scrubs, stood beside her. "We waited for you last night. How come you never showed?" the brunette asked.
"I had to work," Tony said, shrugging his shoulders.
"You missed a lot of fun, Teddy," the blonde said, winking at Tony as she called him by what was obviously a nickname. "Well, we've got to run. We're due in surgery in two minutes. Call me later?"
Kim felt a pang of jealousy tug at her heart. She forced herself to sip her coffee, avoiding Tony's eyes.
"Those two are doctors here," Tony said self-consciously. "More surgeons."
"I should have known by the way they were rushing out of here," she said calmly. "Is Teddy your nickname?"
"No," he said. "She calls me that. She thinks it's funny."
Kim put down her coffee. You have nothing to feel jealous about, she reassured herself. You have no claim on this man. He's simply your father's doctor. "She's cute," she said, nodding toward the blonde. "Do all your girlfriends give you nicknames?"
He shook his head. "Whoa. She's not my girlfriend. We're just friends."
"Oh?" Kim said hopefully.
Tony just smiled. He was intrigued by the woman sitting across from him. From the first night he had seen her he had been aware of the intense personal strength that seemed to radiate from within her. He knew that it couldn't have been easy to come back to Michigan to help care for a father whom she hadn't spoken with in years. Yet the minute her father had needed her she had flown to his side, not sure of where she would stay or if she would even succeed in arriving in Michigan before he died.
Kim raised her hand as she sneezed.
"God bless you," he said.
"Excuse me," she said, blinking her eyes. "Allergies."
"It's this hospital air. You should get outside. Get some fresh air. You've been spending all your time in that stuffy waiting room."
"I don't know. I just can't get used to this weather. I'll freeze to death in about a minute."
"Only if you stand still. You have to keep active to stay warm." He paused. "Hey, I have an idea," he said, leaning back slightly as he stared into Kim's eyes. "I like to skate… it's my exercise. I do it whenever I have a chance. Why don't you come with me tomorrow?"
"Ice skate?" she asked incredibly.
He nodded.
She emitted a small laugh as she shook her head. "No," she said. "No thanks."
"Are you sure? I leave from the hospital, and I'm only gone for about an hour or so. Then I come right back."
Kim hesitated. "I haven't skated in years."
"C'mon, it's like riding a bike."
"I don't have ice skates."
"You can rent them."
She shrugged. He seemed to have an answer for everything. "All right" It might be worth a few frozen toes just to see him twirl around. "Thanks."
"Okay," he said, standing. "I'll meet you in the lobby at three."
"See you then," Kim said, holding back a smile.
At nine o'clock Kim left the hospital and walked back out to her father's car. Tony's motorcycle was gone, and a red Mercedes was parked in its place. Kim held her breath as she scooted through the tight space left between the two cars.
She turned on the radio, and classical music flooded the car as she drove the short ride home. When she arrived back at her father's house, she walked in the front door and flicked on the light She had so many memories of this house, many of them pleasant. Her parents had rarely fought, and although she was aware of her mother's deep unhappiness with her father, Kim had had a happy childhood. There was summer camp, and birthday parties, ice-skating, skiing, and tennis. Unfortunately, her father had been so busy with work that she had few memories of him.
Kim put her purse down and walked into the kitchen.
The same heavy dark oak cabinets. The same fake brick vinyl floor. She opened up the refrigerator, looking for a bottle of wine. Nothing. Her father obviously still did not drink.
She shook her head. Her poor father—didn't drink, exercised regularly, ate healthy foods, and he's in the hospital with a heart condition.
She wondered if he had even known that he was critically ill before his most recent attack. She guessed not. Her father would have ignored the signs that he was once again having heart troubles, just as he ignored everything else that did not fit into his tightly structured world.
She poured herself a glass of water, made a mental note to pick up a bottle of wine tomorrow, and wandered toward her father's office, otherwise known as the den.
She flicked on the light and peeked inside. Her father's heavy mahogany desk sat in the corner. Kim noticed some pictures on top and walked over. She picked them up and turned them around. They were pictures of her, taken the summer before she left.
Kim set the pictures back down on his desk and sighed. If he had loved her, why hadnt he bothered to try to maintain a relationship with her? How could he cut her off, disown her as he had? Maybe not disown her totally, she reminded herself, remembering the child support payments that her mother had received regularly. But certainly he had cut off contact with her. She had written him letters that he had never bothered responding to.
Kim sat behind his desk and opened up the top drawer. Paper clips, pens, everything neatly arranged. Everything in its place.
She pulled open the large drawer to the right. Two pictures that she had painted with watercolors in grade school were neatly placed at the top of the drawer. Kim smiled as she picked them up. One was a picture of the sun and the earth, the other a picture of what she knew was supposed to be a little girl standing next to her father. To Daddy, Happy father's day, was written in neat cursive handwriting on the bottom. She set the pictures down and glanced back inside the drawer. She saw a group of letters neatly robber-banded together. She knew they were hers immediately. It looked as though her father had saved every single letter she had ever sent him. She picked up the bundle and took the rubber band off. Taking the top letter out of its envelope, she saw that it was dated Christmas of 1982. She scanned through the letter, which was basically filled with details of her plans for Christmas. It was boring, really, just details of where she and her friends had shopped and what the weather was like. What was extraordinary about the letter was where the blue ink had run. The letter had tear marks on it, as though her father had cried when reading it.
Kim quickly folded the letter up and put it back on top of the bundle. Slipping the rubber band back on top she put the bundle back in the drawer. After she replaced the pictures she had drawn, she picked up her water and turned off the light.
Back in her room, Kim tried to busy herself with unpacking but was unable to stop thinking about her father. She needed to understand the feelings that were flooding through her. The guilt, the anger, the confusion
. If her father had loved her, why hadn't he made more of an effort to stay in touch with her?
Kim took out her portable easel and the painting she had been trying to finish.
She needed to express her feelings the only way she knew how. The same way she had when she was six years old. She wanted to paint a picture for her dad.
* * *
Chapter Five
Kim waited inside the lobby. She tried to appear as casual as she could, even though her heart was racing. Why was she so nervous? It's not as if this was… a date or something. It was merely a chance to get out of the hospital and do something different.
The elevator doors opened, and Tony walked out with his skates swung over his shoulders. He was wearing jeans and big heavy construction boots. He had his hands tucked into his Patagonia jacket. "Hi, Kim," he said with a smile.
"Hi… Dr. Hoffman," she replied.
Tony grinned at her. "Cmon," he said, nodding toward the exit. As soon as they stepped outside, he said, "Can you call me Tony now? I mean, we're not in the hospital anymore."
"I don't know," she said with a laugh. "I can try."
"Are you bundled up warm?" he asked.
"Warm enough."
"Good," he said. "Because I had to bring the motorcycle today."
His motorcycle? It couldn't be any warmer than thirty degrees. "Don't you have a car?" she asked suspiciously.
"I have a car, but it's got a hundred and fifty thousand miles on it, so it's continually in the shop. I need to go pick it up, but I haven't had a chance to get over there. Up until recently, though, it's been a great car. I can't quite bring myself to trade it in. Anyway," he said, nodding to the left, "my bike is right over there."
"We can take my car. Or rather, my dad's car," Kim offered hopefully.
"I like the fresh air. Do you mind? The park isn't far. It’s right up the street."
"No," she said, resigned to making the best of the situation. "It's fine."
He stopped at his motorcycle and slipped his skates into one of the containers he had fastened on the back. He handed her a helmet. "You keep an extra one?" she asked. Smooth operator.
He shrugged. "Sometimes." He slid onto the bike and motioned for her to get on behind him.
She winced as she pushed up her coat, straddling her legs over the banana-shaped seat, and sat up against him. This was way too intimate. What was she doing with this doctor without a cause? She looked for a place to hold on and, not finding any, folded her hands neatly in her lap. "So what kind of car do you have," she yelled. "A Jeep?"
"No."
"Saab?"
"No."
"Volvo"
He lifted off his helmet and twisted around. "Wrong again. This is Detroit, remember? I drive a Ford. A Taurus."
She looked at him as though she didn't quite believe him. He didn't look like the kind of guy who would drive a Ford Taurus. Too practical. She thought at the very least he'd be in a Jeep.
She must have looked confused because he bit back a smile and said, "Have you ever ridden on one of these before? "
She shook her head.
He laughed. "Well, you better hold on. I don't want to have you fall off. I'd have a hard time explaining it to your father." She uncomfortably placed her hands on either side of his waist He revved up the engine, and they were off.
Kim tightened her legs around the side of the motorcycle and leaned forward. The cold, damp air sprayed in her face as she turned back toward the hospital. She wondered what her father would think of Tony taking his daughter for a spin on his bike. She had a sneaky suspicion he wouldn't approve. Still, he must like Tony. Of all the doctors he could have chosen for his team, he had picked Tony.
Tony pulled the bike into the park and drove down to a pond that had frozen over. "C'mon," he said, pulling off his helmet and nodding toward a large wooden building. "That's the lodge. They rent skates in there."
Kim followed Tony inside. Before she could stop him, he had rented her a pair of skates.
"You didn't have to do that," she said.
"Do what? " he asked.
"Rent me skates."
"Why? Did you plan on wearing those?" he said, pointing toward her cute little suede flats. She had lived in the south so long, she had found herself without boots or anything even close to resembling snow shoes. "You'd probably get the same effect."
"True," Kim said good-naturedly. "Well, thanks, Dr. Hoffman," she added somewhat awkwardly.
"Tony," he corrected her patiently, sitting down on the bench. "Please call me Tony. That's my name. I don't call you Artist Kim. Besides, it makes me feel old."
"Hmm. Old. I'm sure that's a word that's not usually used to describe you," Kim teased.
"Oh? And why not?" Tony asked hesitantly, not certain he was going to like her answer.
"Well, you certainly try your best to act young."
"Oh, really?" he said, looking at her playfully. "That wasn't meant to be a compliment by any chance, was it?"
"Well, you know what I mean. Motorcycle. Leather jacket. You just have an aura about you. You probably date college girls."
"I have a college girl aura?" He laughed. "The last time I dated a college girl was when I was in college." He looked at her and shook his head. "You think you've got me figured out, don't you?" he said as he stood up and skated onto the ice.
He turned around to face her and started skating backward.
Kim stood up to follow him, but hesitated, still at the edge of the pond, It had been a long time since she had been in a pair of skates—and she couldn't say she felt like a natural. "I wouldn't say I've got you figured out… but I think I understand you. Your type."
"My type!" he said incredulously, skating forward to help her onto the ice.
"You know… you're a doctor, so you feel like the creative side of you is being… well, denied. So you adapt this bad boy persona—i.e., motorcycle and leather jacket. Single guy—never been married… it's your way of letting people know that you're really a creative, multitalented individual."
"Is that so?" he asked, amused. "I'll have to remember that the next time I'm with a woman. I'll let her know that I can't possibly marry her, because, well, my bad boy image would go down the tubes."
"That's right," she said.
"Would you like some assistance onto the ice?" he asked, his eyes twinkling mischievously. She smiled, looking into his eyes as she accepted his outstretched hand.
"So what else do you think you know about me?" he said, resting one arm around her waist as he pulled her in close so that they were skating side by side.
She paused, thinking. "You're up on hip music," she said. "You're definitely a Democrat. You typically date about three women at the same time. You're spontaneous and… a little wild."
"Wrong, right, wrong, right, not really sure. What's wild?"
She smiled. "Trust me, you're wild," she said, breaking away. She skated toward the edge of the pond, her confidence increasing with her speed.
"Oh yeah?" he teased, following her. "You were wrong about the three women. I'll have you know I date no less than four women at a time," he joked. "And they're quadruplets to boot."
Kim laughed as she skated around the rink, her arms outstretched. Tony followed her, and soon they were doing turns around the ice, showing off their limited skills and laughing like schoolchildren. After a while, Kim got a little cocky, and when she completed her spin, she finished it off with a clumsy half-jump.
He clapped his hands in approval. "Excellent!"
Kim pretended to bow. "Now you," she said, moving out of the way.
He skated away. She watched him pick up speed, and then, in an exceptionally graceful move, he jumped up and spun around, landing on one foot.
She clapped her hands, which turned out to be a mistake. She fell down, her rear end hitting the ice with a loud thump.
Tony was by her side in a flash, helping her up. He began to brush the snow off her rear end. Embarrassed, she s
aid, "I'm fine. Really." She pushed him away and proceeded to fall right back onto her rear.
This time, embarrassment gave way to laughter. Kim sat on the ice and threw her head back as she howled with laughter. Smiling himself, Tony helped her up. He stood in front of her, gently holding on to her arms.
"How do you do that?" she asked. "That spinning around thing?"
"Practice. You could do it, too."
"I don't think so," she said, laughing. "It would take a miracle."
She suddenly realized that he wasn't letting go. Nor did she want him to. She glanced up at him.
Both of them stopped smiling as they stared at each other, aware of the electricity between them. "Now it's my turn," Tony said softly, still staring into her eyes.
"For what?" she asked, swallowing.
"Let's see…" he said, thinking. "I'd say you're the opposite of what one would imagine an artist to be. You prefer classical music to, as you called it, 'hip' music, you're a Republican, you're compulsive to the point of driving your friends crazy, and you have trouble dating more than one person at the same time."
"Right, wrong, right, right," she said.
"So we're more alike than you thought Because I, too, like classical music. And I also don't like to date more than one person at a time."
"And are you dating anyone right now?" she heard herself ask.
He shook his head. Kim glanced away, mortified that she had been so forward. And so obvious. She noticed that he hadn't bothered to ask her that question. He may not be dating anyone, but he still wasn't interested in her. He was just being nice. And she had misinterpreted it.
She heard a quiet beeping noise. Tony pulled out a small black beeper and looked at it.
Turning it off, he stuck the beeper back into his belt. "That's the hospital," he said, all trace of humor gone from his face. "We should get back."
Kim stayed with her father until he went to sleep. Before she left she tucked the blankets in around him. He had seemed quite a bit improved from the day before, but he was still groggy and tired.
As she walked down the hall she continued to think about her father. He had asked her several questions about her life, like if she was married, if she had kids. He asked her about her career and seemed happy that she was doing well.