Chapter 8
AS IT TURNED out, visiting Chet had not been one of my better ideas. The “Law of Unintended Consequences” struck again. Forty-eight hours after I landed in Arizona, I was back again at John F. Kennedy International Airport.
I was surprised to see Nancy, instead of a network chauffeur, waiting for me on the sidewalk.
“I had Betty cancel the studio limo,” she said. “I wanted to pick you up.”
My immediate reaction was that I was very glad to see her; I needed to talk about what had happened with Chet. But then cold tingles of fear shot up my spine. Why was she here? Had something bad happened?
Nancy must have seen worry on my face because she quickly assured me, “Magic is fine. And nobody’s been murdered while you were gone. Come on, my car’s in the garage over there.”
When we reached her little blue Mercedes two-seater, I said, “You haven’t asked me if I had sex with Chet.”
“Don’t need to. You haven’t.” Nancy unlocked the car door.
“You’re right. At any moment his father might have gone into cardiac arrest. That’s not a romantic atmosphere.” I opened the passenger door, tossed my duffel into the compartment behind the seats, and climbed in. “Besides, we slept in the hospital’s guest quarters, where I shared a room with Chet’s mother.”
Nancy buckled herself in behind the wheel, but didn’t turn on the ignition. “So you still don’t know whether or not Chet snores, but you know if his mother does.”
“She’s a sweet woman,” I said. “I liked her.” For just a moment, I thought my voice was going to crack, but I got a grip. Not quick enough, though.
“What’s wrong?” Nancy asked. “Did Chet do something to knock himself off your romantic radar?”
I didn’t answer directly. Instead, I told her about Doctor Teddy.
“In the hospital’s gift shop I found this big, stuffed bear about three feet tall. It was wearing a doctor’s scrubs, and even had a little stethoscope around its neck. Mr. Thompson was still in the ICU, but Chet and his mother got a big laugh out of it. When it looked as though Mr. Thompson was stable, and it would be safe for us to leave him for a little while, Chet took the bear and we went to the therapy room in the Children’s Wing. Chet introduced it to the kids as ‘Dr. Teddy,’ and proceeded to do a ventriloquist act with it.”
Nancy gaped at me. “Chet can do ventriloquism?”
I laughed. “No, he’s terrible—probably the worst ventriloquist in the free world. But the kids were crazy about him. And I saw something . . . Chet adores kids.”
Sensing what was coming, Nancy reached over and squeezed my fingers in sympathy. “Did you tell him?”
“That I can’t have children? I had to. For nearly two days, I’d seen how close he is to his family, how much he loves his mother and father. Chet’s brother is a doctor in the Navy. Married, two small children. He’s stationed in Guam, but he’s on his way back to Arizona on special leave to be with his dad. Chet showed me pictures of his niece and nephew—he carries them in his wallet . . . When we were alone for a little while this morning, I knew I had to tell him.”
“What did he say?”
I shrugged. “The comforting things you’d expect. He said doctors make mistakes about that all the time. I told him this wasn’t a mistake. I’m really not able to have children.”
I was silent. Nancy waited quietly until I was ready to go on. “Chet made a joke, or tried to. He said if we ever managed to spend enough time together to get to that point, at least we wouldn’t have to use birth control.”
Nancy frowned. “That’s not funny.”
“He realized it, and apologized immediately. He kissed me, and told me that if two people really come to love each other, it won’t matter.”
“He’s a good guy,” Nancy said.
“Yes, he is.”
“How did you two leave things?”
“We’ll get to know each other better, and see what happens. But it does matter to him, Nance. That’s the simple truth.” Eager to get off the subject, I asked, “How are you and Arnold? Did he wonder where you were this weekend?”
Nancy’s lips narrowed into a grim line. “He never called to find out.” Seething with anger, she turned the key in the ignition with uncharacteristic force.
To lighten the mood in the car, I said “On the way back from Arizona, I thought of a stunt Link can pull on Penny’s TV show tomorrow. I called him from the plane, and he’s willing.” When I told Nancy what he was going to do, it got a genuine laugh out of her.
“Did you tell Penny?” she asked.
I shook my head. “She should be just as surprised as the audience.”
Nancy was dubious, but she agreed. “TV is your field, not mine. Besides, I’d rather worry about what Penny’s going to do tomorrow, than what Arnold might be doing tonight.”