Finding Isadora(73)

I waved a hand. “It’s a freebie. One of those samples we’re always getting. Let me know how they work, so I can report back.” It was a lie, and likely he knew it, but it allowed him to preserve his dignity. And he deserved that dignity.

For the same reason, and because I knew he didn’t get much company, I had accepted his offer of tea. As we sat drinking it, I said, “Some people I know are putting together a test case to challenge the government cuts. Would you be interested in talking to them, to see if you might be one of the plaintiffs in the action?”

He gave a wry laugh. “I’ll be dead before it ever gets to court.”

That was his reality, and I didn’t belittle him by denying it. “Getting to court isn’t the only goal. They’re hoping for publicity and public reaction. With any luck the government will cave, and increase funding.”

“Probably too late to do me any good, but if my voice could help others like me…” A light sparked in his eyes. “Yeah, tell them to give me a call. Maybe there are other ways I can help. Things I could do at home, when I’m not too tired.”

Things that could give the remaining months of his life a sense of meaning and purpose. Oh yes, I’d have Grace give him a call.

In that moment, I made up my mind. “I’m going to work on the case too,” I told him, “so we’ll be colleagues.”

“Excellent!” He pumped a fist into the air and we both laughed, then shook on it.

As I prepared to leave, he said, “It’s time we talked about what’s going to happen to Spooky when I’m gone. You’ll find her a home, won’t you, Doc Izzie?”

“Of course I will.”

For some reason, Alyssa’s name popped into my mind. Once Cassie McKenzie was feeling better and capable of working again, perhaps they’d be able to adopt Spooky. Alyssa would love it, and Henry’s cat would be in the best of hands.

“Thanks. And thanks for not”—he waved a weak hand—”not mouthing a bunch of platitudes, like how I’ve still got lots of time and shouldn’t be so pessimistic. You’ve no idea how insulting it is when people put on those fake cheery voices and spout that crap.”

“If I ever start spouting crap, you have my permission to whack me.”

Henry wheeled his chair to the door to see me out.

I touched his shoulder in farewell. “Life’s unfair.”

“Life f*cking sucks sometimes,” he agreed. “But then there’s Spooky and folks like you who make it worthwhile.”

As I left Henry’s apartment, feeling sad for him but warmed by his compliment, I thought how lonely and empty his, and even wealthy Mrs. Jesperson’s, lives would be without their animal friends. Just as Gabriel had said last night.

Gabriel.

Two weeks ago I hadn’t met the man, yet now I didn’t want to think what my life would be like without him.

Not as a lover, not a potential mate. But maybe a friend? Was that possible?

Why had he come to the clinic last night? Did he feel the same attraction I did? My instincts told me he did, and he was fighting it as hard as I was.

I shook my head vigorously. That was the bottom line. It was irrelevant whether the attraction was mutual, because nothing would come of it. I couldn’t come between son and father. Richard and Gabriel’s relationship was badly screwed up, yet I was certain they both wanted something better. I’d like to bring them closer together, not fuel the problems between them.

Besides, Gabriel was absolutely not the right man for me. He might be—surely would be—terrific for hot sex, but I wasn’t that kind of woman. I wanted a serious relationship, one with a future.

I wanted a man who was a mix of Richard and Gabriel.

I realized I was standing in front of Henry’s building, staring off into space. Giving myself a shake, I consulted my appointment book. My next house call was an elderly woman with crippling arthritis, who had brother and sister cats plus a parakeet that had lost its voice.

This morning was good for me. Seeing people dealing with serious illnesses and death put my worries about Richard and Gabriel into perspective.

* * *

The first to arrive at India Gate that night, I asked for the most private of the empty tables. It was across the room from the buffet, which featured a variety of vegetarian and meat dishes. The air was redolent with the smell of spice, but my stomach rolled with nerves rather than hunger pangs. I ordered chai tea but, when it came, twisted the mug between my fingers. I couldn’t imagine forcing anything down my throat, which ached with unshed tears.

When Richard walked over to the table, a big smile on his face, I knew I had to tell him right away.

He dropped a quick kiss on the top of my head. “It’s been ages. I have so much to tell you, Iz.”

“Good things, I hope.” I gulped nervously. “Richard, before you do, there’s something I need to say.”

“Sure.” He turned to the waiter who had just approached. “Could I have coffee, please?” Then, to me, “I’m sorry, but something came up and I have to go back to work after dinner.”

“You work so hard,” I murmured, barely conscious of what I was saying.

“Well, partly I’m doing it this week because— No, wait a minute, you wanted to tell me something?”