Page 34 of Free to Believe
Struggling to my feet, I say bitterly. “Yourdaughter was complaining about what a dick you were this morning. I tried to steer her from that line of thinking—God knows what I was thinking.” I shake my head. I ignore the crushed look on Jake’s face. “Instead, I let her know there could be worse things that could happen to her life than being here.”
“By telling her I could be dead.”
“No, by telling her she could have had to watch her parents be murdered in front of her,” I shoot back. “That’s the reality of the world, Jake. The world isn’t perfect for every person growing up in it. And guess what, some of us have to get past hurdles like that to be the people we are. We don’t want to hear about Daddy being an ass because maybe he is, but unless he’s raping you or selling you into slavery or trying to buy his life with yours, then it just isn’t that bad.”
“Jesus.” He freezes in place while I breathe hard. I can’t believe I blurted all of that to this complete stranger, but damn him, there’s something that makes me want to simultaneously shatter his illusions about me being heartless and take shelter in his strong arms all at the same time. Ignoring those feelings, I drop reality on his head instead.
“Life isn’t a damn fairy tale. If you’re so worried about your daughter being tainted by me, keep her away. Better yet, why don’t you both stay away.” Whistling, I call for Mugsy. We both slowly begin picking our way through the sand back up to the apartment.
* * *
My anger ledme to design a tight-fitting bandage dress with three-quarter sleeves and a plunging back down to the tailbone. With the model’s hair slicked back and left in loose curls, the design eerily reminds me of my relationship with Bryan, of trying to fit into a mold I didn’t exactly fit into while being bound due to obligations only I felt. I’m trying to decide if the dress is finished, when there’s a knock at my door. Lying my sketch pad down, I wander over to find a friendly but unfamiliar face. “Yes?” I ask cautiously.
“Ms. Freeman? I’m Dr. Fischer. I—”
I interrupt him. “May I see some identification, please?” I ask politely but firmly.
He blinks. “Obviously Jake didn’t tell you I was coming.”
“Even if he had, I’d still be asking for identification, Doctor,” I drawl. I hold out my hand. He places his wallet into it. “I’ll be right back.” Closing the door in his face, I engage the locks. Loudly.
Pulling my cell from my shorts, I call Caleb. He answers on the second ring. “What’s up, Em?”
“It appears my neighbor is showing a sense of remorse for the bike incident.” I have little doubt Cassidy shared what happened with her husband. “A…” I flip open the wallet. “Dr. Robert Fischer has just landed on my doorstep. Do I have anything to be concerned about?”
“Address?” Caleb doesn’t waste any time with frivolous questions.
Reading off the information, I glance out the window. The doctor has pulled out his cell phone. I suspect he’s calling Jake.Deal with it, buddy. I didn’t ask for your help.“Anything I need to worry about?”
“Nope. He’s good. Tell him Jason will be requesting a copy of your report by the end of the day.”
“Thank you.” Disconnecting the call, I unlock the door. I catch the tail end of his conversation. “…never seen anything like it, Jake. Just took my ID and shut the door in my face.”
“Dr. Fischer, please come in. Here’s your identification.”
Flustered, he turns around. The ruddy cast to his cheeks makes him look years younger than he is. “I won’t apologize for the inconvenience,” I say firmly. “As a single woman, I can’t be too cautious with whom I let into my private space.”
“Of course, I didn’t mean…” he stammers.
“I assume you are here to check on my leg?” I lead him over to the dining room table. Mugsy comes over and sits next to me protectively.
“Well, yes. I’ve been treating Jake, Jenna, and Danielle for years if something ever happened while they were on the island. He asked if I could come by.”
Before he starts giving me stories about the Madisons I really don’t want to hear right now, I interrupt him. “Would it be possible for a copy of your report to be sent to my doctor by the end of the day? He’s expecting it.”
He blinks at me like a disturbed owl. “Of course. By the end of the day, you say? Certainly.” Carefully he removes the bandage Jake applied last night. Suddenly, the jovial face takes on a different cast. One of anger.
“Ms. Freeman, you should have been in my office for stitches the day this happened.”
I smile grimly. “If you could leave that out of the report, I’d be grateful.”
Gently applying pressure to my bruised leg, I let out a hiss when he hits a tender spot. “Why’s that?”
Through gritted teeth, I get out, “Because my doctor is my brother-in-law. I’ll never hear the end of it.”
Looking up at me, he smiles. “Then it looks like you’ll be following my instructions to the letter to get this to heal properly, won’t you?”
I groan in acceptance.
