The Chance (Thunder Point #4)(72)

“It’s gotten worse recently.”

“Which is what happens. I was up late reading. These drugs can be very effective for mild to moderate symptoms but there comes a point they stop working. You can get by for years with occasional, brief episodes until...” She just shook her head because she knew that putting it into words could shatter him. He was proud of his intelligence, his strength, his robust health. It was hard to imagine what he felt at the thought of deteriorating.

As if he’d read her mind, he said, “Maybe if I was ninety... Maybe then I could deal with it....”

“That isn’t how this works, Dad.” She squeezed his hand. “You seem to be feeling quite all right this morning.”

“Mornings are best. If I’ve slept.”

“Do you know how long you might have between periods of confusion?”

He shook his head. “Not anymore,” he said. “At first it was very noticeable but not real to me. You forget things, you know? Especially if your mind is elsewhere, like on work or your dead wife. Your mind wanders and it takes a second to reorient. But then one day you miss the turn to your neighborhood and drive around for a long time. A long, long time, like hours, wondering where you live. And everything around you looks like another country. Then finally you have to pull into a service station for gas and to ask where you are. It’s humiliating. It’s horrifying. There’s no mistaking that for a wandering mind.”

“You must have been terrified,” she said, her voice soft.

“My wife is dead. I’m alone. And I don’t want to live this way.”

“You’re not alone,” she said. “You should have told us.”

He laughed bitterly. “Just what you need—a sick old man to look after.”

“You’re not sick. Not yet, anyway. We need to get a better diagnosis than yours, probably new medication. We’ll worry about how sick you are when you can’t play chess anymore. But for right now, you just don’t operate ever again. It will be a hard transition for your patients, but—”

“What am I supposed to say? I’m not operating because I have Alzheimer’s?”

She leaned toward him. “You’ll say, I’m seventy. I’m financially set. I have grandchildren. I’m retiring. You don’t have to say anything more. I have a feeling your partners will be relieved.”

He seemed to relax a little. “I’ve been asked if anything is wrong. I insisted nothing was wrong. Now what?”

“We’re going to go out today to buy some clothes, since you forgot your bag at the Portland airport. They’re holding it. You’re going to visit for a few days. Pax is going to talk to some people, line up some appointments for you at home. We’ll coordinate by phone. Then I’m taking you back to Boston.”

He looked down. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Dad, you have nothing to be sorry for. There’s nothing you could have done about this.”

“For one thing, I’m sorry I’ve been so hard on you. I have no excuse. Janice always said I’d regret it and I do. It was more than I could handle.”

She frowned. “What was more than you could handle?”

“Everything. Your job, for one thing,” he said. “All that undercover crap.” He sat back and ran a hand over his bald head. “I was jealous of your mother—she could take it. She was always the strong one, wasn’t she? She was excited by it. It drove me crazy. I always worried and those times you were out of touch, I worried more. Worry made me so angry! I wanted to be like her but the best I could ever do was say nothing, and I didn’t do that very well. Then you got shot and I couldn’t... I’m sorry, Laine. I am proud of you. But I couldn’t encourage you. I was scared to death. You’ve always terrified me....”

“Huh?”

“You were so smart, so daring, so...fearless! I had a boy and a girl and it was my girl who wasn’t happy unless she was risking her life! Pax was smart but methodical. Cautious. You? By the time you were twelve you’d broken an arm and an ankle and were lucky it wasn’t worse. Karate, riding, gymnastics, diving, rock climbing, parasailing, skydiving...” He shook his head. “Your mom used to say to me, ‘How can the FBI surprise you? It’s so in character!’ I didn’t want to slow you down, Laine. I wanted to stop you! I wanted you to stop taking chances so I could take a deep breath.”

It all came back to her. Her entire life flashed before her eyes. Good job, Pax! Laine, damn it, back away from the edge! Excellent showing, Pax. Laine! If that horse isn’t going to make the jump, go around! A good competitor doesn’t take unnecessary chances! That’s my boy—A-plus! Laine! Not so fast! Not so high! Not so wild!

She sighed. Fear. Could it be as simple as that? Well, that and the fact that he could never just be honest and admit he felt helpless and let her reassure him. His ego was so big he could never have admitted that he was just afraid she’d get hurt, which of course she did. Instead of being honest, he criticized every move she made. She always felt not good enough and tried even harder, was even more daring.

“I should have just thrown you,” she muttered.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing. Nothing. For whatever reason, you had no confidence that I knew what I was doing. And I knew what I was doing. I hope we can get past this....”