Shirley, Goodness and Mercy (Angels Everywhere #4)(16)

“Oh, yes,” Mercy chimed in. “Stop by again any time.” For good measure, she added a small wave.

Shirley sent both Goodness and Mercy looks potent enough to perm their hair.

Gabriel turned away, then abruptly turned back. “I had no idea you three enjoyed wine.”

Not one of them uttered a word. Shirley swallowed hard, certain they were going to be plucking harp strings on some cloud for the remainder of their careers.

“I don’t suppose you happened to notice the label, did you?” he asked.

No one answered.

“That’s what I thought,” Gabriel said. “It was the Bennett label. Greg Bennett is a talented wine maker. It would be a pity for him to go out of business, don’t you think?” Not giving them the opportunity to respond, Gabriel whisked back to the realms of glory.

Greg Bennett had an aversion to the antiseptic smell that permeated hospitals. It nearly overpowered him the minute he walked through the large glass doors of San Francisco General. His dislike of hospitals was linked to his mother’s long stay before her death, he supposed. That, and his own revulsion to needles and blood.

He paused at the information center.

“Can I help you?” a much-too-perky candy striper asked him.

“Where might I find Dr. Edward Thorpe?”

“Oh, you’re here about the article. That’s wonderful!”

Article? What article? Greg hadn’t a clue, but he played along as if he did. His son had decided he didn’t want to meet him, and that was his choice, but Greg wanted to see Edward. Needed to see him. He wasn’t going to make an issue of it, wasn’t going to announce who he was. He didn’t plan to cause a scene or even call attention to himself. It was just that his curiosity had gotten the better of him….

Greg realized he’d given up his parental rights years ago, but he couldn’t leave matters as they were. Not now that he knew Catherine had borne the child.

Catherine had mentioned the physical resemblance between them, and Greg felt an urge to simply see his son. He doubted they’d exchange a word. Without ever knowing him, without wanting to know him, Edward had rejected Greg.

Like father, like son.

“Take the elevator to the fifth floor.” The young woman at the information desk pointed toward the row of elevators on the opposite side of the lobby. “Tell the nurse at the desk that you’re here for the blood test.”

“Ah.” Greg hesitated. Did she say blood? He was most definitely not interested in anything to do with blood.

“I think it’s wonderful of you,” she added with a sweetness that made him want to cringe.

Greg didn’t feel wonderful. Furthermore, he had no intention of giving anyone a drop of his blood. Not without one hell of a fight first.

“Dr. Edward Thorpe—you’re sure he’s there?”

“He’s on the fifth floor,” the woman assured him. “Just ask for him at the nurses’ station.”

“Thank you,” he said, turning toward the bank of elevators.

“No, thank you,” she called after him.

Greg got off the elevator at the fifth floor and to his surprise walked into a corridor filled with people. As instructed, he headed for the nurses’ station, but before he could say a word, he was handed a clipboard.

“Complete the form, sign the bottom of the page and bring this back to me when you’re finished.”

Greg stared at the woman. “What’s it for?”

“We need you to fill out the questionnaire and sign the release if we’re going to take your blood.” Unlike the perky candy striper, this one looked harassed and overworked.

“I realize that, but—”

“Just read the form. If you have any questions after that, I’ll be happy to answer them.”

That sounded fair enough. Greg joined the others, sat down and read the page. It was exactly what the nurse had said. Basically, San Francisco General was requesting permission to draw blood. Not that he’d give it. Not in this lifetime.

As soon as he finished reading the form, he knew it was time to leave. He was about to pick himself up and discreetly disappear when a physician entered the room.

Conversation stopped as the man stood before the group and started to speak. Greg glanced up and froze. It was Edward. He recognized him immediately, long before he looked at the identification badge that hung around his neck.

“Has everyone finished signing the waiver?” Dr. Thorpe asked. “If you’ve decided this isn’t something that interests you, you can leave now. We appreciate your time. For those of you who wish to continue, we promise to make this as quick and painless as possible. Before you know it, you’ll be on your way.”

Three or four people left the room.

Greg could follow them or proceed with this. Swallowing his natural aversion, he quickly signed his name. Okay, so he had to give a little of his blood. No big deal. He’d give a lot more if it meant he could spend a few minutes getting to know his son.

Catherine was right about one thing. Edward was tall and distinguished-looking, but as far as family resemblance went, Greg didn’t see it. Still, he couldn’t stop staring. This was his son. Edward looked good. Damn good. One glance had told Greg that his son was everything he wasn’t. Dedicated. Compassionate. Smart.