The Good Father

Lila called from the kitchen, asking Ella if she wanted milk in her tea. Ella declined.

She wasn’t going to think about Brett.

Not yet.

Not until she had to.

And only then until she could get what she needed from him.

CHAPTER THREE

BRETT HAD TO be in Chicago for an eleven o’clock meeting Wednesday morning. He’d be spending the few hours he had in his first-class airline seat studying the agenda for Music Muscles, a nonprofit music-therapy organization that was one of his newest clients. One that, so far, gave him no cause for concern. From there he’d head to Detroit, where he was spending the night before an early Thursday-morning meeting, and then it was off to Washington, DC, that afternoon.

Leaving his black BMW in secured parking, he pulled the carry-on out of the trunk, slung his leather garment bag over one shoulder, his matching briefcase satchel over the other and strode straight to the preferred security line in the terminal at LAX.

After he’d checked in, with limited time before they’d be calling him to preboard, Brett reached beneath his suit coat to the holster secured to his leather belt and pulled out his cell phone.

Her number had been on the High Risk team email he’d received the morning before. He’d typed it into contacts only so that her name would come up if she phoned, and he could avoid answering.

He found the name. Hit call. And then waited. Airline staff had opened the Jetway door. He only had a minute or two.

One ring. Two. And then three. He glanced at his watch. It was before seven in the morning. Her shift at the hospital didn’t start until eight, and her apartment was a twenty-minute drive away. He was, after all, the king of online investigating. He’d sold the dot-com. Not his abilities.

He still sat on the board of the company he founded—with his percentage of the take being donated to The Lemonade Stand every month.

On the sixth ring a flight employee announced that it was time for him to board. And he was sent to voice mail.

Brett didn’t leave a message.

* * *

ELLA GOT A new patient on Wednesday. A three-pound, nine-week-old girl who came to them from the Santa Raquel hospital with a peripherally inserted central catheter and a ventilator. The tiny thing was only now at thirty-four weeks gestational age. But if all went well, she’d be running and playing with her siblings soon enough, with no memory of how rough her life had been at the start. She was a lucky one. Her heart was good. Her lungs appeared to be developing normally. And as soon as her organs were mature enough to function on their own, she could hopefully go home.

In the meantime, she’d need a diaper change every three hours, a daily assessment and very careful monitoring.

Ella felt as if she needed monitoring that day, too. She must have checked her voice mail half a dozen times. And looked for text messages twice as often. Maybe she should have picked up Brett’s call. But if she was going to do this, she had to be the one in charge.

But she’d wanted him to leave a message so she’d know how much of a problem he was going to be.

She hadn’t thought for a second that he’d be glad to hear from her—or to know that she’d invaded his home territory. Maybe she’d even taken a tiny bit of pleasure in having done so—in having a legitimate reason to rock his boat.

A reason he wouldn’t be able to refuse.

Because one of the things she was certain of in her life was that she knew Brett Ackerman. He wouldn’t turn his back on a friend in need if he felt he could help. Ever.

And most particularly, he wouldn’t turn his back on Jeff.

Jeff, Ella’s brother, had been Brett’s college roommate. They’d met in their freshman year. Right after Brett’s little sister had died. And his mother had had a breakdown resulting from the loss and from having withstood years of domestic violence at the hands of Brett’s father. She’d lashed out at Brett. And then put herself in self-imposed isolation for having done so. Leaving Brett alone to cope.

Alone except for Jeff. Who’d been a solid rock in Brett’s life, refusing to let him suffer in solitude. Brett had credited Jeff with saving his life.

Now it was time for Brett to save theirs.

* * *

ELLA WAITED ALL DAY Wednesday for him to call back. To leave a message. Clearly he’d heard that she was there. He had her new cell phone number. And Brett was definitely one who faced his battles head-on.

There’d been a time when she’d admired that about him.