The Lucky Ones(42)

Dr. Capello sighed loud as the ocean breeze.

“How old are you now, Allison?” he asked as they walked to the deck door.

“Twenty-five.”

“Stay that way, kiddo. Never, ever get old.”

Dr. Capello certainly looked older and he looked ill, but Allison couldn’t quite wrap her mind around the terrible fact that he was dying, and dying very quickly. He walked slowly, but steadily. The tide was out and the wet, bare sand was packed solid, which made for easy walking when they reached it.

“Now this is nice, isn’t it?” Dr. Capello asked as they reached the edge of the water. That afternoon it was blustery and cool, but the sun was out and the water was a bright blue.

“It’s perfect,” she said. “You come out here a lot?”

“Every chance I get,” he said. “Ten years ago, I was out here on a day like today and it was so damn beautiful I said to myself, ‘Vince, you’ve done enough. You’ve done work you can be proud of. You’ve helped as many kids as you can. Time to call it quits and enjoy your family.’ I quit working that very month. Maybe I should have quit sooner.”

“I read the article on the wall in your office. You helped a lot of kids.”

“I tried,” he said. “I certainly tried. Failed with some. Succeeded beyond my wildest dreams with others. Did my best with the rest.”

“No one can ask for more than that from a doctor,” she said.

“You could,” he said. “Couldn’t you?”

She tensed, shrugged. She hadn’t planned on having this conversation with him so soon, or ever.

“You did your best with me,” she said.

“I failed you, doll. You and I both know it. You would have been back here to visit years ago if I hadn’t. It’s all right. You can say it. I carry the guilt with me every day.”

He seemed to want to clear the air between them and she admired him for not pretending everything was okay when it wasn’t. Pretending things were good when they weren’t was one of her talents. “I wanted to come,” she said.

A gust of ocean wind blew hard into them, a taste of the chilly autumn days to come.

“Roland said you don’t feel safe staying with us, even though he’d like you to.”

“Would you feel safe here if you were me?”

“Probably not,” he said. She appreciated his honesty.

“I don’t know how it all happened. I don’t know why. But it still scares me a little,” she said. “Wish it didn’t.”

“Let me ask you this—what do you remember about that whole situation?” he asked.

“Not much,” Allison said. “There’s an entire week I’m missing in my mind. I remember everyone going to the park but me and Roland.” She hoped she wasn’t blushing. “After that...nothing much. Isn’t there a name for that? When you forget stuff that happened before an injury?”

“Retrograde amnesia,” he said. “I was afraid of that. You hit your noggin so hard it scared me, and I fixed kiddo noggins for a living.”

“I kind of remember coming to in the hospital and my aunt being there. I’d never met her before, just talked to her on the phone. I definitely remember her telling me I couldn’t come back here.”

“I can’t say I blame your aunt.” He stuffed his thin hands deep into the pockets of his too-loose khakis. “But I shouldn’t have let her take you. Not without a fight, anyway.”

“Can I ask why you didn’t fight for me?” she said, and then immediately regretted the question. This was an old man, a dear man, a dying man. Surely it was wrong to give him the third degree five minutes after reuniting.

“Fear,” he said. “It’s integrity’s worst enemy. I was afraid your aunt would fight me for you. I was afraid she’d sue me. I was afraid the state might try to take the kids away from me for letting one of you get hurt so badly on my watch. Your aunt clearly cared about you. I knew you’d be safe in her hands, and I couldn’t say for sure anymore you were safe with us.”

“So you think someone did push me?” Allison asked.

“I think so, yes. And I even think I know who it was.”

“Who?” Allison asked, forgetting in the moment Dr. Capello was old and ill and dying. “Why?”

Dr. Capello grimaced.

“Dad?”

“It’s hard,” he said. “I took an oath.”

Allison understood. The Hippocratic oath. Doctor-patient confidentiality.

“Still...” he said. “I suppose it doesn’t really matter anymore. I don’t think you’re here to have a little boy arrested for a thirteen-year-old crime.”

“No, of course not. But if you know something...”

She waited, nearly holding her breath in her nervous excitement.

“You remember Oliver, don’t you?”

“Of course,” she said.

“He was a very troubled little boy.”

“Oliver,” Allison said. “I just... I mean, I believe you. You knew his situation better than I did.”

“Try not to let it upset you,” Dr. Capello said. “He was very young, and I doubt he knew what he was doing.”