What We Find (Sullivan's Crossing, #1)(45)

“We’ll just have our drinks and catch up. Go ahead,” Walter said. “I’m in no hurry to get back on the road.”

As she walked along the edge of the lake, hands in the pockets of her shorts, her sneakers getting wet and dirty, she remembered with such clarity the night in the emergency room, that night of vivid lucidity, watching Walter save lives. She followed him at three feet, listening raptly, but he only spoke to her twice. Both times he said, “All right, Maggie?” And she had replied, “All right.”

All he’d had in mind was showing her blood and fear and trauma from a car accident, but something had happened. Though a kind and gentle man, until that night she had not appreciated how strong and wise Walter was, how thoroughly competent. That night she learned a new respect for her stepfather.

Later, while in medical school, she’d scrubbed in with Walter a few times, much closer to the sterile field, watching his perfect nimble fingers work magic. That was when she learned that Walter Lancaster was a highly respected neurosurgeon. He was the one to ask for when you wanted the best. She did her fellowship in neurosurgery with him. He had since retired from his practice after a couple of small strokes, unwilling to take any chances on his health or that of his patients. He still worked now and then, taking a few days to go back to Chicago where he was licensed, where he consulted, scrubbed in with another surgeon occasionally, that sort of thing. And he continued to go to neurosurgery conferences where he was often a presenter.

It suddenly occurred to her—maybe their move to Golden wasn’t Phoebe’s idea. Maybe Walter liked the idea.

She dawdled for a half hour or so, just thinking. Then she went back to find someone had wrapped up her uneaten sandwich and Sully was showing Walter the garden. She walked over to take some credit for it—stuff was sprouting up all over.

“Pretty soon we’ll come out here to cut a few inches off the top of the lettuce for salad and it grows back in a couple of days. Tomatoes will be coming all summer. Melon vines are starting to crawl over the yard.”

“I’ve always wished we had a garden,” Walter said, bending to pet Beau. “But between me and Phoebe there was no one to take care of one. And hiring it done just wouldn’t be the same, would it?”

“Mother isn’t sinking her hands in the dirt, Walter. You know better than that,” Maggie said.

“Well, she’s good at other things,” he said.

“Like what?” Maggie asked, sounding insolent.

But Walter laughed. “She’s a genius at hiring a cleaning service and picking restaurants. And she has other gifts—she’s a great decorator. An excellent travel companion. She can entertain with great fanfare. And I think you don’t give her enough credit for being a wonderful mother.”

Maggie reserved comment on that. It might just be there were too many complications given two marriages, the separation from Sully. She was willing to give Phoebe the benefit of the doubt. Maybe under it all she was a good mother, just not that good for Maggie.

“I’m getting back to work,” Sully said. “Nice to see you, Walter.”

The men shook hands and Sully wandered off toward the store, Beau at his heels.

“And I should get back to Golden,” Walter said. “It was nice having lunch with you, Maggie. I think you picked a nice place to hole up awhile.”

“I think you came here to give me things to think about. So let me admit it—I miss my job. The patients, the surgery, some of the staff. It’s just the other forces—insurance, administrators, lawsuits, politics and Jesus, even the media. They make it so hard to help people.”

“I know. It’s very hard to find a way to do what you do on your own terms.”

“Did you? Do it on your terms?”

“Yes,” he said. “There were occasional trade-offs but I managed most of the time. But it’s obvious in one hour here that I wanted an entirely different kind of life than you do. I didn’t grow up in the country, in the mountains. I grew up in a nice house in Chicago. I didn’t play sports. I got a chemistry set when I was seven. I was in the chess club, the debate club, the science club—the old-fashioned version of a nerd. And all I wanted in a wife was everything that would drive Sully and maybe you crazy.” He smiled at her. “No one can live your life but you, Maggie. But if you find a way to use your talents to help people I think you’ll be happier.”

She couldn’t deny it. She was deeply touched that Walter would do this—ditch her mother and drive to the crossing to speak to her alone. No pressure, just a conversation. “You’re a good man, Walter. You’ve been a good father to me.”

He kissed her forehead. “I’m very proud of you. In all your incarnations.”

*



The store was pretty quiet so they left Jackson in charge and went to the house for dinner. Maggie grilled a couple of fish fillets and sautéed some vegetables.

Sully sat at the table. “That was good of Walter to drive down just to talk to you,” he said. “You’re a very lucky girl.”

“Yes, Walter went out of his way, didn’t he? And wouldn’t it be nice if my own father had gone out of his way? When I was growing up?”

Sully put down his fork. “How dare you say that to me,” he said, his voice very calm.