Saving Meghan(78)

“It happens a lot?” Zach asked.

“From time to time, yes,” Dr. Abruzzo said.

“This was one really bad time for it to happen, Lucy.”

There was nothing more for them to say. The damage was done. Now Zach had the difficult task of breaking the news to the parents.



* * *



“WHAT DO you mean, you have to redo the procedure?” Carl Gerard, veins throbbing at his temples, jaw firmly set, looked ready to reach across the cluttered desk to put his fist through Zach’s teeth.

His clear intention was a far cry from the confusing exchange Zach had had with Becky in the hallway outside his office moments ago while they were awaiting Carl’s arrival. She had taken hold of his hand, leaned in close so that he could smell her perfume, whatever that scent was, and whispered in his ear, “Thank you for all you’re doing for us, for Meghan. You’re a godsend, Zach Fisher.”

For a second there, Zach had thought she was going to try to kiss him. Of course, he would have resisted. Even as it was, he was shocked into near paralysis. Her hair was free from the ponytail she often wore, flowing like a golden waterfall across her slender shoulders. She wore a formfitting white blouse with French cuffs and dark slacks. He saw the way she looked at him. It was not the normal doctor-parent interaction he had had thousands of times.

He thought It would be so easy to fall for her charms. She was seductive, incredibly alluring, and he was lonely. But what was she really all about? After all this time, he still wasn’t sure. Jill Mendoza had made it a point to keep in touch with Zach ever since he’d sent her that somewhat biting email about DCF’s medical incompetence. She told him about the alternative placement option for Meghan that had fallen through because Becky threatened to sue anyone who took in her daughter.

“Does that sound like a mother with her child’s best interest at heart?” Mendoza wrote in her email. She also mentioned the pattern of Meghan getting sick whenever Becky came to visit. Zach did not have to cast a wide net to catch a lot of doubt. A crazy thought came to him about the ruined sample. If Becky Gerard is willing to use her feminine allure to charm doctors, is it possible she used it on some guileless lab tech?

More than possible, Zach thought.

“What do we do now?” Becky said, her voice strained.

“Like I said, we have to redo the biopsy.”

“No,” Carl said defiantly.

Becky snapped her head around to appraise him harshly. “What did you just say?” Her voice shook with anger.

“I … said … no!”

“You can’t,” she said. “I’m her mother.”

“And I’m her father!” Carl stood. “I have rights, too. And I say enough. Enough of this! Enough tests. Enough procedures. Enough. Enough. Enough! I’ll make sure Jill Mendoza refuses to honor any request, including if it comes from Meghan.”

Carl slammed his fist into a towering pile of Zach’s research papers.

“You and you,” Carl said, pointing an accusatory finger first at Becky and then at Zach, “are in on this together. That’s what I think. Are you screwing my wife?”

Zach’s expression widened with surprise. “What?”

“Careful with her,” Carl said, sneering. “She knows how to get what she wants.”

“Carl! How dare you!” Becky snapped.

“Dr. Nash has been right all along,” Carl said. He paced the room, not minding the stack of papers he tipped over with his foot. “I should have listened from the start. I should have … I should have paid more attention.”

“Carl, calm down right now,” Becky said. “We’re going to redo the biopsy, and we’ll prove that Meghan has this condition. It’s that simple.”

Carl looked strangely calm. “I see it now,” he said, his voice turning softer. “So clearly. I mean I’ve always known, but now, now I have no doubt. It’s you, Becky. You’re the problem. I don’t know how you’ve gotten inside Meghan’s head the way you have. I don’t know why. But everywhere you go, bad things happen when it comes to our daughter. I, for one, am done.”

“That’s crazy talk, and you know it,” Becky said.

“I’m not subjecting Meghan to any more torture,” Carl said flatly. He put on his sport coat. “I’m not doing it.”

Becky rose from her seat and followed Carl to the door. “Where do you think you’re going?” she asked.

Carl turned and looked back, his eyes haunted, his face showing the strain of years of difficulty, of all he’d endured, all he’d lost. “You want this procedure done again for you, Becky,” Carl said. “Not for Meghan, but for you, and for Cora, and Sammy, and whatever shit you’ve carried around all these years. It’s poisoned you. It’s made you not right in the head. You need help. But I can’t be that person anymore, because I don’t believe you. I don’t honestly believe Meghan is sick at all.”

“You saw her the other day,” Becky said, sounding panicked.

“What I saw was a girl acting sick, like Dr. Nash explained. They examined her and found no physical cause for her distress. Nothing to explain it! Whatever is wrong with you, you’re passing it on to our daughter, and I won’t stand by and watch it happen. I won’t. I’m done, Becky. I’m done with this whole charade.”