Gabriel dialed a number. “Lloyd? It’s Gabe,” he said. “Lisbeth Kling is here and she’ll be late getting back to you. Yes, it’s my fault. I need to keep her here a while longer. We have some things to discuss.” He smiled across the desk at her. “Sure, thanks.” He hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair.

“Now we have time for your long story,” he said.

She told him everything, letting out the secrets and sadness of her childhood years. She spoke of her love for her sister despite her feelings of bitterness and resentment, emotions she usually tried hard to keep hidden. She cried, but only a little, when she spoke about how hard it was to go home these days. She needed to spend time at Cypress Point, she told him, the way someone else might need food or medicine, but she had not yet figured out a way to prevent her mother’s insults from ruining those visits for her.

Never before had she chronicled the hurt in her life in quite this way. She’d never allowed it to spill out to another soul. Gabriel’s face was full of sympathy and understanding, and she had the feeling he had experienced the same sort of ostracism she had. Not from a mother, perhaps, but from the world at large. Somehow, though, he had overcome it, and she wondered if he might be able to teach her how to do the same. His gentleness, his attentive listening, was seductive and comforting, and by the time she had finished her story she was in love—with Gabriel the man, not Gabriel the fantasy.

“Don’t answer now,” he said as he walked her to the door after their long conversation. “But I would love to go out with you. Sailing, or out to dinner, or just about anywhere. Do you have a phone?”

“I can only use my landlord’s phone in an emergency,” she said, thrilled, but by this point, not surprised, by his invitation. “I can call from Dr. Peterson’s office, though.”

Stepping back to his desk, Gabriel jotted down a phone number on a piece of paper and handed it to her.

“I’m giving you an open invitation,” he said. “If you decide you want to go out with me, please call. I’ll leave it up to you.”

“Dr. Kling. Call the front desk.” The voice came over the hospital loudspeaker, and Carlynn looked up from the chart on which she was writing. She was accustomed to being paged these days, now that she was an intern. The pages were often from Alan, of course, but he was good about using the paging system for business only, keeping their personal relationship out of the hospital. They had been dating for six months now, and after their initial conversation about her “gift,” Alan had found ways to bring her in on cases. A couple of times he’d even spirited her into patients’ rooms in the middle of the night so that she could sit with them while they slept, her hands on their bodies. She’d discovered, though, the mere touching of the patients alone did not seem nearly as effective as when she was able to look into their eyes and speak with them. She and Alan were both fascinated by trying to determine when her skills would work and when they wouldn’t. What made the difference? She truly could not say.

In front of others, they were Dr. Shire and Dr. Kling, but they often couldn’t wait until the end of the day, when they could discuss cases, pore over Alan’s books on the subject of healing, and sometimes, when the serious business of medicine was set aside, laugh together. Alan was fairly good-looking, but he was more scientist than Prince Charming, and she was no empty-headed fairy-tale damsel. Their brains and their passion for their work drew them together and solidified their relationship, so that when they finally did sleep together, it was almost as an afterthought. There was love between them, of that Carlynn had no doubt, but it was not a romantic love, and she told herself that was fine. Next to Lisbeth, Alan was her best friend, the person with whom she could be entirely honest about her gift. If they ever married, something they had spoken about a time or two, he would make a wonderful father, and she was longing to have children. She could ask for little more than that.

Quickly, she finished writing her note in the chart, then picked up the phone to dial the operator.

“This is Dr. Kling,” she said when the operator answered. She waited to hear her say that Dr. Shire was on the line for her, but the operator surprised her.

“Lisbeth Kling on the line for you,” the operator said.

“All right.” Carlynn frowned, a bit concerned. It was rare for Lisbeth to disturb her at the hospital. “Put her through, please.”

“Carly? I’m so sorry to bother you at work.”

“That’s all right. What is it? Are you okay?”

“I’m here in the hospital. I’m fine, though,” she added quickly. “I came here on business for Dr. Peterson, and I need your advice, Carly. Do you have some time?”

Carlynn looked at her watch. “I’ll meet you in the front lobby in five minutes,” she said, then hung up the phone.

The lobby was large, in need of new furniture and very crowded, but she quickly spotted her sister near the entrance and sat down next to her on one of the sofas. “What’s going on?” she asked.

“I met him,” Lisbeth said. Her face glowed with excitement. “Dr. Peterson’s tennis partner.”

“You did?”

“Yes. But I need to talk to you about him.”

Carlynn glanced at her watch again. It would soon be time for afternoon rounds, but she would just have to be late. She moved closer to her sister.

“Talk to me, then,” she said.

“Oh, Carlynn,” Lisbeth grabbed her arm. “He’s wonderful.”

Despite her concerns, Carlynn couldn’t help but grin at the rare joy in her twin’s face. “Go on.”

“I had to bring his tennis racket to him. Dr. Peterson had borrowed it. I was so nervous!”

“And what happened?”

“He was absolutely the best, Carlynn. Just as nice as he’s been on the phone. I talked with him in his office for over an hour, and he asked me out.”

“Hurrah!” Carlynn clapped her hands together, but she felt fear mixed with her joy. Whoever he was, he’d better not hurt her sister. Lisbeth was not stupid, but she could be very vulnerable, a dreamer filled with longing. It was far too easy for her to be taken advantage of. “What’s his name?”

“Gabriel Johnson.” Lisbeth looked at her expectantly. “Do you recognize it?” she asked.

Carlynn frowned. “No. Should I?”

“He’s the chief accountant here.”

“Here?” Carlynn asked. “He works here? You’ve been talking to him on the phone for over a year. Why didn’t you ever tell me he works here?”

“Because I didn’t want you to go peek at him and tell me something about him that would wreck my…” She lowered her voice. “My idea of what he looked like.” She started to laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

Lisbeth shook her head, but she was still grinning. “Oh, Carlynn,” she said. “Here comes the problem.”

“What?”

“If you go stop by the business office, you’ll see.”

“Tell me!”

“He’s colored.”

Carlynn caught her breath. The first thought in her head was “You’re kidding,” but that was not what Lisbeth needed to hear. She wasn’t certain what she should say to her sister. She could think of no colored professionals working at the hospital, but then recalled noticing a nice-looking Negro in the corridor once or twice, a man obviously not a patient, carrying a briefcase. He was missing fingers on his left hand.

“Carlynn?” Lisbeth sounded worried.

Carlynn laughed. “You caught me off guard there,” she said. “I might know who he is. Is he tall and good-looking? Is he missing two—”

“That’s him!” Lisbeth nodded.

“I’ve never spoken to him, but he looks nice,” Carlynn said. “He’s a lot older than you, though, I think, but then Alan is ten years older than me, so I guess I can’t say anything about that.”

“But Alan isn’t colored.”

She knew Lisbeth was waiting for her opinion of her dating a Negro. “Does it matter to you that he’s colored?” she asked her.

“I really like him, Carly,” Lisbeth said.

“Then go out with him.” Carlynn was unsure if that was the right advice, but she’d never heard such joy in her sister’s voice before.

“What about Mother?” Lisbeth asked.

“What about her? Mother won’t like anybody we pick. She doesn’t even like Alan. No one’s good enough for me, in her eyes.”

“Well, maybe she’ll think a colored man would be just perfect for me, then,” Lisbeth said.

Carlynn laughed, but without much spirit. “Look,” she said, “it doesn’t matter what Mother or anyone else thinks. Not even me. None of that matters, Lisbeth, if you really like him. You can’t live your life trying to please everyone else.” Mother, she thought, must never know. Perhaps this man would just be the start of dating for Lisbeth. Perhaps Mother never would have to know that Lisbeth had seen him. “So, did you accept his invitation to go out?”

“I’m supposed to call him,” she said. “He left it up to me to decide if I wanted to or not. He understood that I might feel…uncomfortable.”

“Do you?”

“I think he’s the most. He sails, Carlynn. He has his own boat.”

This was one unusual Negro, Carlynn thought. She knew how much Lisbeth loved sailing. “Then call him,” she said. “Do you want Alan and me to go out with you the first time? A double date? As long as it’s not on a boat, that is.”

“Oh, would you?”

“Of course.” It was strange. She had been intimately involved with Alan for half a year, yet she had no idea how he would feel about a white woman dating a colored man. “How are things with you and Alan?” Lisbeth asked, as though she felt rude for having focused the conversation on herself.

“Great,” Carlynn said, and they were. But just then she wanted to feel some of the passion that Lisbeth clearly felt. She wanted a man whom she could be certain was in love with her, not just with her gift.







19






THERE WAS NO BETTER WAY TO LET YOU KNOW YOU HAD NO FRIENDS than spending a birthday alone, Joelle thought. It was early Saturday morning, July fourteenth, and she was seated in front of her computer checking housing prices on the internet. She had looked at Berkeley and Chicago and was now surfing through a real estate site for the third city she’d added to her list, San Diego, since a social worker she’d known from Silas Memorial was living there. It would be best if she could stay in California, she thought, so that she wouldn’t have to worry about getting a social work license in another state.

She’d decided she’d rent when she first moved, putting her condo on the market and using her savings for her expenses until it sold. At that point, she could decide if she wanted to buy something in her new town. Right now, though, she couldn’t imagine taking that permanent a step. It was hard for her to picture herself living anywhere but here.

She was sixteen weeks pregnant and still able to hide her belly, although that feat was getting more difficult by the day. If anyone wondered why she now wore loose dresses and tunic tops, no one said a word. At least, not to her. She would have to leave within a month, though, to be able to keep her secret, and she worried that waiting that long might be pushing her luck.

Happy birthday to me.

“Feeling a little sorry for ourselves, are we?” she said out loud as she clicked the “rentals” button on the real estate site. She was now officially thirty-five years old. She’d hear from her parents sometime during the day, of course, but knew she would receive no card from them and certainly no gift. She and Mara used to take each other out to dinner on their birthdays, just one of several rituals they’d had. No one at work had said a word to her about her birthday yesterday, but, of course, she hadn’t reminded anyone, either. The only people who were showing any serious intention of acknowledging the day were Tony and Gary, who had invited her for dinner, an invitation she’d accepted because she knew she would be depressed tonight if she didn’t have something to do. They would make a cake and fuss over her, and she would be eternally grateful for their kindness.

She planned to visit Carlynn that afternoon, and thought she might tell her that today was her birthday. It was possible Carlynn might even remember, since she’d actually been there at Joelle’s birth. That thought made her laugh out loud, but then she realized that the thirty-fifth anniversary of Carlynn’s sister’s death was also this week, so perhaps she would keep her mouth shut about her birthday, after all.

After her phone conversation the week before with Liam, Joelle had called Carlynn to tell her she’d been, essentially, forbidden to bring the healer to visit Mara again. She wanted to say to the older woman, “But I’d still like to see you sometimes. Can we be friends?” but she’d felt awkward making that statement. It was Carlynn who said it for her, as she seemed to read her thoughts. “Then you come see me,” Carlynn had said with certainty. “We never know how these things work. Perhaps Mara can get better through you, if you occasionally visit with me.”