Page 85 of Doctorshipped
“How do you draw that conclusion from what I just said? I hope your skills of diagnosis aren’t slipping in your later years.”
“I draw the conclusion by being your father. I haven’t forgotten our phone conversation about her a few weeks back. And I’m only here in your new town for a short visit, so let’s cut the crap and be honest with one another, Grant. I’m your father, after all.”
“Okay,” I reluctantly admit. “I find her intriguing.”
“Intriguing?” My dad raises an eyebrow like he knows I’m still holding one hand behind my back.
And he’s a patient man. He’ll get all the details about how I feel about Jayme from me before he boards his next plane one way or another. I can make it hard or easy.
So, I do what any well-loved son would do in this situation. I spill my guts to my dad, my best friend, the one person who always thinks the best of me and never allows me to get away with quitting on life or myself.
“Look, Dad.” I scrub a hand down my face. “I solve problems for a living. Diagnosis. Prognosis. Treatment.”
He nods.
“But Jayme refuses to fit that model. She keeps throwing me curve balls, sending me new signals, revealing sides of herself that surprise me in ways I’ve never experienced.”
“I like her better already.”
I roll my eyes like a teen. Of course my dad wants me to find someone ornery who doesn’t say,how high?when I sayjump. And in some secret corner of my mind, I know he’s right.
“She’s not what I expected. In fact, she’s so utterly unexpected, I’m not sure of myself around her anymore, and if I’m anything, it’s a man who’s sure of himself when almost everyone else loses sight of what’s certain. My capacity to be sure makes me a good physician. Having that ability has literally saved lives. But, where Jayme’s concerned, I’m off kilter.”
My dad looks like the love child of the Joker and the Cheshire Cat—an ear-to-ear grin nearly splits his face. He’s smart enough not to comment right now, but his smile says it all.
“I don’t like this,” I say, my words coming more quickly now. “Not at all. I don’t like the myopic focus she elicits from me, and the way she unhinges everything orderly and predictable in my world. I don’t like this raw need. And I certainly don’t like not being free to act on the urges I have around her, all the while wondering what man could ever be worthy of the sweet breeze and light she effortlessly carries with her into any setting.”
My dad’s mouth is nearly hanging open.
I clear my throat and stand up. “How about some lemonade! Fiona made it earlier this week.”
“Sit down, Grant.”
How about I don’t sit down? What if I pack up and flee the country? Of course, I can’t, because of Fiona. But I’d do just about anything right now to escape from my dad and the embarrassing confession of feelings that flowed like water from a broken dam a few moments ago.
“Sit,” Dad says again. “I’ll be gentle.”
Oh brother.
I sit.
My dad leans back, lacing his hands in his lap. He inhales a long breath through his nose and lets it out slowly. His lips thin into a thoughtful line. He doesn’t take his eyes off me. I know he’s measuring his words.
“When you and Margot decided to get engaged, your mother and I had one of those bedtime conversations that resemble the illustrations you see inThe Night Before Christmas. I in my kerchief and Ma in her cap, and all that.”
He pauses to chuckle at his own joke.
“We were concerned about you. We cared deeply for Margot and could easily see why the two of you felt well-matched. But, your mother, being the soft-hearted intuitive she always was, said something that stuck with me ever since.”
I wait. Words from my mom feel even more precious now, since she’ll never say another one to me in my life.
“She said, ‘Margot doesn’t undo Grant, and that worries me.’”
Dad lets that truth sit between us. It scrapes against some raw places, fresh and painful in light of all we’ve endured. But, as soon as that pain recedes, a deep comfort takes its place.
“You see,” Dad says. “Your mom knew you better than anyone. And she knew what would happen to you if you really fell for a young woman. She knew your heart—always reminding me you were more tender and sensitive than you let on. And she knew that true love would set you on your ear.
“I’m not here to condemn your relationship with Margot. For heaven’s sakes, we have that beautiful, extraordinary girl upstairs as a result. And you two were matched in many ways. Your marriage wasn’t a mistake. But, I’ll say this. I wish your mom were sitting here next to me right now to witness you coming undone over this adorable tutor of yours.”
