" "Think you can handle it yourself? " She rolled her eyes.
"Da-deee!
" "Okay, but only half a cup." He slid off the bench to let her out.
"Got enough money? " Another roll of the baby blues. "Free refills, Dad! " "Right. I knew that." He sat down again but never let her out of his sight as she made her way to the drink dispenser. She knew exactly what to do, and half of her fun in coming here was holding the cup under the ice dispenser and letting the cubes clunk into it, then filling it from the Mountain Dew spigot. So he let her do it on her own. But Gerry was watching her and everybody around her. Anybody got the least bit frisky with Martha and he'd been on them like a pit bull on a T-bone.
"She's a doli, " Gin said.
That she is, " he replied, never taking his eyes off her.
'"You never mentioned her mother." He glanced at Gin's intent expression, then back toward the drink dispenser.
"Remember Karen Shannick? The tall blond? " "The cheerleader?
Sure.
" '"Well, she went to U.V.A too. We got serious in college and were married right after. Martha came along about a year later."
"You still together? " He pointed to the scars on his face and spoke quickly to get the story out before Martha came back.
- "These are from a windshield. A rainy night on 50. Truck jackknifed in front of us. I was driving, Karen was in the passenger seat, Martha in her car seat behind me. We slid right into the truck. Martha was fine, my face was hamburger, and Karen . . . Karen didn't make it. " Out of the corner of his eye he saw Gin's hand dart to her mouth.
"Oh, my God! I'm so sorry! " Not as sorry as I was.
"The really sad part is, Martha doesn't remember her mother. We have pictures, but that's all Karen is to Martha. I wish . . . " His throat constricted. Karen had been the careful one, and she'd been wearing her seat belt, Gerry hadn't bothered with his that night. Yet Karen was dead and Gerry was alive.
Wasn't fair.
He saw them sliding across the wet pavement, swerving out of control, his hands hauling on the steering wheel as he rammed the brakes to the floor, watching the rear corner of the truck loom in the passenger window before It smashed through the glass into Karen. . . .
Not fair.
He'd been an emotional basket case afterward, and his cutup face only added to the misery. Martha hadn't recognized him, screamed whenever she saw him. He looked like the Frankenstein monster. And Dr. Duncan Lathram had refused to treat him . . .
He blinked and saw Martha hurrying back to him with her brimming plastic cup of Mountain Dew clutched between her little hands. She'd never finish it all, but so what? She'd gone and filled it herself.
'"So Martha and I are managing on our own, " he said as he helped her back into her seat. "And trying to spend as much time together as my schedule permits." Which wasn't nearly enough for him. But what could he expect as a field agent? This wouldn't last much longer, he hoped. As soon as he was offered an S.S.A spot, he was taking it, no matter where it was, so he could get on a nine-to-five schedule and be with her more.
Right now she went to kindergarten, then after school to Mrs. Snedecker's. Thank God for Mrs. Snedecker.
He smoothed Martha's blond bangs and adjusted her Minnie Mouse barrettes. Incredible how much he'd learned. He could bathe Martha, shampoo hair, wash clothes, iron dresses, buy tights. His mother had helped some, but last year her heart had given out.
So it was Gerry and Martha. And God he was glad to have her. She'd filled some of the void Karen had left in his life. He might have gone to pieces but he'd had to hold together for Martha.
He still saw Karen. She came to him in his dreams. He'd ask her how he was doing with Martha but she never answered.
How was he doing?
Martha'smiled up at him and he kissed her forehead.
"But enough about me, " he said to Gin. "What were you doing in the Hart Building today? It's not exactly a doctor hangout." She told him about her quest to have a say in the Guidelines bill, her lackluster interview with Senator Marsden's chief of staff, and her aborted interview with Allard.
"All that medical cramming and you want to hang with the pols? " She laughed, "You sound like Duncan."
"Well, maybe he's got a point."
"It's not all I want to do, just a part. And I am going to do it. All of it." She rattled the cubes in her cup. "I think I could use a refill too. ' Gerry reached for her cup and started to rise. "Let me, " "Thanks, " she said, holding it out of his reach, "but I may want a different flavor this time" Gerry watched her stroll to the drink dispenser, watched most of the other guys in sight follow her progress.
Yes, she was definitely worth a second look. Even a third.
And I am going to do it. All of it.
The fiery determination in her eyes made her even more attractive. A self-made woman. She'd gone from a girl who could only be described as a schlub, to a woman with Iimitless possibilities. "Martha, " he whispered, "I do believe I'm becoming infatuated. " Martha didn't look up. "That's cause there's beans in this stuff.
Gerry laughed out loud.
"But don't worry, " Martha said. "We can tell Gin about it. She'll make you better She's a doctor. ' '"No, no, " Gerry said, gently pressing a finger over her lips. "We won't tell Gin anything about it.
At least not yet." DUNCAN -)UNCAN AND BRAD STEPPED OUT OF IL GIARDINELLO INTO the sulfurous air of Georgetown's M Street. The traffic streaming in from Virginia was stop-and-go, and the carbon monoxide from the idling cars mixed with the light fog drifting up from the nearby Potomac. The concoction hung in the still fall air like a toxic pall.
They turned east and headed back toward the car, passing a gallimaufry of restaurants, bars, bistros, upscale clothing and jewelry stores, alternative music shops, and, yes, even a condom shop.
"Not a bad meal, ' Brad said.
"No, not bad at all if you like your pasta overcooked, your veal practically raw, air thick with smoke, and acoustics so bad you can barely hear yourself think. The service was dilatory and indifferent at best, the decor was like one of the Borgias' bad dreams, the wine list wouldn't pass on the Bowery, and the espresso . . . " He shuddered.
"Execrable." Suddenly he smiled. "I must remember to recommend the place to your mother." Brad gave his father a gentle punch on the shoulder. "Come on, now.
None of that."
"All right."
"I guess we won't be back here real soon."
"Of course we will. As soon as it changes its name, owner, and chef."
Brad only shook his head, smiling.
Duncan loved this boy, this young man, this good-natured twenty-something with his open face and guileless blue eyes, his long, lean body, his too-long brown hair, the way he never wore socks and never cinched his tie all the way up and never fastened the top button on his shirt.
Memories swirled around him like the leaves starting to drop from the trees, swimming lessons in grammar school, middle school science projects, the trauma of not making the varsity cut for the high-school basketball team, all the ups and downs of raising a child.
Somehow, he thought, we did all right with Brad. We weren't the best parents, what with our preoccupation with Lisa and all her problems, my own self-absorption, but somehow, in spite of everything, Brad turned out all right. A testament to the primacy of nature over nurture.
Impulsively, Duncan threw an arm around his son's shoulder and pulled him close. He wasn't given much to outward displays of affection, but God he loved this boy.