The Good Father

DRIVEN BY A tension he couldn’t assuage, Brett finished business on Friday afternoon and sped most of the way to Santa Raquel. Was he that worried about Jeff? Just determined to be there for his friend as his friend had been there for him? Or that eager to get the business with Ella behind him?

He asked the questions. And had no answers.

Something he didn’t usually abide. There would be no unanswered questions in his life. He’d made the promise to himself when he’d left his marriage with the intention of living alone for the rest of his life.

He wasn’t going to risk hurting anyone as he’d hurt Ella. Or worse, risk hurting anyone as his father had hurt his mother and him. The nightmares he’d had after finding out he was going to be a father had ceased. The memories had faded. But they’d served their purpose.

He’d spoken to a counselor about them, of course. Who’d talked to him about fear versus reality. About the residual effects of growing up in an abusive home. But he knew that statistically, abusers had very often grown up as victims. That the pattern of abuse perpetuated itself. His parents had both grown up i

n abusive homes, had promised each other that abuse would not enter their home. Trusting that, because they knew better and so badly needed and wanted a safe home, they’d break the pattern.

His father had failed first.

And then, according to his mother, she’d failed, too. Brett didn’t agree with her assessment, knowing that when she’d lashed out at him the afternoon of Livia’s funeral, beating him on the chest with blows that didn’t even leave bruises, she’d been railing at life, distraught with grief, and clinging to him as much as pounding her fists against the wall he presented between her and her need to die...

She’d cut herself off from him after that day. And shown her son by example how to be accountable to the intense emotions that could be smoldering inside him. No one had been able to assure him that there was no chance he’d be capable of becoming his father. Of someday exploding. Just as no one had been able to guarantee him that those dreams he’d had after Ella had finally become pregnant hadn’t been a warning from his unconscious mind.

His phone beeped with a text message, but he didn’t stop to read it. He was low on fuel, noted that his dashboard computer told him he had enough miles until empty to make it home and passed on the fill-up for now.

Ella’s shift ended at three. He needed a few minutes of her time. Without Chloe.

After pulling into the visitor parking lot of Santa Raquel’s new children’s hospital—a building he’d visited during the grand-opening ceremonies—he strode inside and had Ella paged, saying only that someone was there to see her for personal reasons. And then waited.

If she was with a patient, he could be there a while.

So be it. This was going to get done.

“Brett?” Her face was ashen as she came hurrying toward him from behind a locked door. “What’s wrong?”

He’d always thought her scrubs were sexy. Something years and distance apparently hadn’t diminished.

God, she was beautiful.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said a bit curtly. For both their sakes. “I just needed to speak with you.”

“I’m working,” she said, pointing out the obvious. “A phone call wouldn’t do?”

“I wanted to make certain that Chloe wasn’t around.” Lame. But also true. There was good reason for him to control this situation. To protect everyone involved.

Leading him over to a deserted conversation pit, Ella sat on the edge of a brown tweed couch with piping that reminded him of his parents’ old sofa. “Is this about Jeff?” she asked. “Is he going to be a problem with the phone calls?”

He remained standing. But didn’t want to be rushed. “You’re off in half an hour, correct?”

“Yeah. There about.”

“You think you’ll be later?”

“Not much. Most of my charting’s done.”

“Go ahead, then. I’ll wait. I’ve got some work to do.” He motioned to the satchel he’d carried in with him. It contained his tablet and laptop. The hospital had free Wi-Fi in the lobby.

Frowning, Ella shook her head. “No, this is fine. I skipped my last break.”

She hadn’t smiled since she’d seen him. Had lines around her mouth that he recognized. Ella wasn’t having a good day.

Convincing her of the viability of his plan might take a few minutes.

“I’ll wait,” he told her. And then had another thought. “Better yet, let’s go to the Bistro and get a glass of wine.” He stopped short of adding You look like you could use one. Or I need you a bit more relaxed than you appear at the moment.