Finding Isadora(54)

I thought about what he’d said. “I do hope Cosmystiques’ business has been hurting. We have a huge poster in our clinic listing the names of cosmetic companies that use animals in their testing. I’d bet not many of our clients ever buy those products again.”

“That’s great.” He tilted his head and studied me for a long moment, and I sensed his thoughts had left the case and moved somewhere else. “I get it that you love animals. I can see why you want to help them. But it has to be hard, putting them down.”

For a few minutes I’d actually forgotten about Valente. I shivered. “Yes. It’s always hard, even when it’s the merciful thing to do. Other times though, it’s really horrible. Euthanizing an animal that could still live a relatively full life without a great deal of pain.”

“But then why would you put it down?”

“The owners want it. The animal is old, incontinent, blind.” We tried to find other homes for the animals, but they were hard to place.

He closed his eyes tight for a moment. “Makes you wonder what people like that will do with their loved ones when they get old and sick.”

I blinked, surprised that this man—the father who had neglected his own son—was sensitive enough to see the analogy, and to be disturbed by it. “I agree. Especially when these animals have been part of their families for years and years.”

Quietly, I went on. “The opposite end of the spectrum is difficult, too. The people who love their animals so deeply it’s almost impossible for them to conceive of having their pets euthanized. In lots of cases, with older folks, the pet’s their closest friend and companion, their daily source of love. They desperately want to keep the animal alive but if the creature’s in serious pain, they realize they’re being selfish. An animal, just like a human being, ought to be allowed to end its life with dignity.”

“I saw that tonight. That’s why you named her.”

I studied him, then asked, as I had earlier, “Are you okay, Gabriel?”

He sighed. “Yes. Now I am. But it was a shock. Finding Valente and then … the rest of it.”

The man had struck me as so macho and confident, it surprised me he’d admit to feelings of vulnerability. I wanted to tell him how much I respected him for staying with me and Valente when I performed the procedure, but I was afraid of getting too personal.

Seeking a safe topic, I glanced around the room. When I saw the guitar I immediately looked away. Gabriel playing the guitar was definitely not safe. Instead I focused on the paintings. “You like art?”

“Yeah. I admire creativity. It makes an important contribution to society. Every culture, no matter how primitive or spartan, has valued it.”

“That’s true.”

“I get so caught up in my work, sometimes I need to remind myself that creativity and beauty really do exist.”

His comment had given me another surprising insight into his personality. “I’ve always had beauty in my life. Because of Grace, mainly. My parents have never had much money, but Grace has a way of making things special. When she buys used clothing she never picks a plain beige shirt, she’ll get a bright turquoise one or, even better, an embroidered or woven one.”

“She’s a fine woman. The name Grace suits her perfectly.”

Damn it, was he seriously attracted to my mother? When he looked at Grace, did his eyes hold that same passionate intensity I’d glimpsed in them when he looked at me?

The expression his eyes held now, as he said, “And what about your name? From the dancer, Isadora Duncan?”

“You know who she is?” Richard hadn’t. Most people my age had never heard of her unless they were involved in the dance world.

“Vaguely. A free spirit. She was into free-flowing dance, wasn’t she?”

“Mm-hmm. The beauty of the human body in natural motion. Some people consider her the founder of modern dance. But in her times—the early 1900s—she was shocking with her unconventional movements and her flowing Grecian draperies.”

“And are you a free spirit, a risk-taker, like your namesake?”

I shook my head nervously. “Not at all. I’m the opposite. I want all the things I didn’t have when I was growing up. A real house, with the mortgage paid. Proper furniture and lots of food in the cupboards. Financial security for the rest of my life.”

Gabriel’s features tightened as I spoke. “Hmm. I can see why you and Richard get along. He’s like his mother when it comes to that stuff.” When he said that stuff, he waved a careless hand, dismissing in one gesture all the things I held so important.

I tried to ignore the insult, not sure he’d intended it any more than I’d meant, with my comments about a house and security, to offend him. “Do you see anything of yourself in Richard?” I asked curiously.

His face darkened.

Suddenly, I remembered. How could I have forgotten that Richard had planned to talk to his father today?

“Sorry, I…” I started, then didn’t know how to finish.

But I didn’t have to. Gabriel scowled. “He told you.”

“Last week,” I admitted.

“And you said he should find out who his real father is.” His tone was flat.

“I didn’t tell him what he should do, just listened. Although I can see his point about wanting to know if there are any genetic problems.”