Chapter Twelve

Warning – strong language in this chapter!

Trapper had worn his jeans that morning, intending to leave right after his surgery. Leah drove to the rental car lot, where Trapper found a convertible, and then followed her home where she changed into casual clothes. Since they had stepped out of the elevator, neither had said more than 'turn here' or 'follow me.'

Now, on their way to lunch, Leah said softly, "I'm not angry."

Once again, they shared a tense silence.

Stopping at a restaurant in Pacifica, they were led to a table with a view of the ocean. Leah sat quietly, looking out the window until the waiter took her order.

"Chef salad with avocado and light Italian. Just water to drink," she said, smiling up at the young man.

"I'll have the same," said Trapper. "At least you're eating right."

She gave him a blank look, propped her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand, and turned back to the window. "I'm not angry. I'm permanently numb."

"How can you say that after yesterday…Leo and Carlotta…the children behind the museum? And what about the children at the children's hospital?"

Moving her hand to her forehead, she looked down at the table. "I thought I was supposed to relax today, McIntyre. I don't want to talk about this."

"Why don't you call me Trapper?"

"Why?"

"Because my friends call me Trapper," he said, taking a sip of the water that had just been delivered.

She snorted. "You're not my friend."

Trapper watched her make every effort to avoid his eyes. "Why did you come with me then?"

Folding her lips into a tight line, she glanced upwards and nodded. "You're just full of questions today, aren't you?"

"How else am I going to find out what makes you tick?"

"I told you. My job makes me tick. Without it, the old ticker might as well stop ticking."

"If you don't want to call me Trapper, call me John." Again, he watched her eyes, and as he expected, she lowered them.

It took her a while to answer, and when she did, her words were barely audible. "I can't call you John."

"Why not?"

This time she looked him right in the eye. "Did you ever meet my husband, Dr. McIntyre?"

Both leaned back when the waiter brought their salads, and when he left, they unrolled their stainless out of the napkins and moved the napkins to their laps. Trapper took a bite before he answered. "I met him at some of the medical conventions we both attended over the years. I wouldn't say I really knew him. We were acquaintances."

"So you never spoke to him."

"We shook hands, we said hello and goodbye, but other than that, no, not really. He was interested in bones and joints, I was interested in organs, so we went our separate ways to separate sessions."

"You remind me of him."

"Oh? In what way?"

"Well, you'd both be the same age." Trapper turned his head to the side, looking at her suspiciously. Smiling, she said, "Remember, I have access to everything.

He stopped eating. "You looked up my personnel records?"

Scowling, she answered, "Don't give me that violated look. You looked up my medical records before you were my doctor."

"I'm not your doctor."

"See, that's even worse." She rolled her eyes. "You're the same build, same height, you have a beard, he had a beard…you're both surgeons." Chuckling, she continued, "You know it's funny. I met him because I injured my knee in a skiing accident. I met you because of my heart…his heart."

"Ah, there, you see? You are attached to that heart as much as it's attached to you." There was that silence again. "Why are you angry at him?"

"Who?"

"John."

"Why would I be angry at him?"

"Anger is just another emotion, Leah, just like the grief you feel for your children."

The clatter of her fork against her salad bowl made the other diners turn and look as she stared at Trapper with tears welling in her eyes. She nervously glanced out over the restaurant, and then turned back to the window. "I know you're doing this to me because I won't talk to Dr. Matthews? So now you're going to play shrink?"

Trapper didn't answer, but rather took another bite of his salad. "Tell me about your car."

"What about it?"

"You just don't see too many of those in cherry condition," said Trapper with a wide grin.

Sitting back, she crossed her arms in front of her. "It was John's baby…his project. He loved that car."

"So you kept it."

"Sorry to disappoint you, Doc, but nothing so noble. My car was destroyed. That was the car that was left."

"Still, it must be fun to drive," he said, winking.

"It serves a purpose."

"Mm hm," he said, taking another bite.

Once on the Pacific Coast Highway, Leah pulled her hair back in a pony tail to prevent it from flying in her face. She closed her eyes and turned her face up to the sky, enjoying the warmth of the sun. Trapper glanced over and smiled. She seemed to be enjoying the ride…relaxing.

"How far are we going?" she yelled.

"Have you ever been to Pescadero?"

"I stopped once to get gas. Does that count?"

"No," he said, grinning widely.

"What's in Pescadero?"

"It's sort of a little village…artist enclave, very old-fashioned and very friendly."

They spent several hours walking through the shops of Pescadero; antiques, handmade furniture, metal works, an artisan bakery, a soda fountain. When they left, they drove across the highway to the beach. Parking the car, they removed their shoes and walked out onto the warm sand, strolling toward a trail that went up a gentle slope to the top of the cliffs. Even though it was a very nice day, there weren't many people on the beach.

"Thank you, McIntyre. It's been a long time since I've taken the time to explore places I've never been."

Walking beside her with his hands in his pockets, he chided, "But you've been to Pescadero...for gas."

"Yes, but I didn't take any time to explore it."

"Why not?"

She stopped and looked at him, squinting and holding her hand over her eyes to block the sunlight. "I guess because it's not as nice to explore alone."

"Leah, you don't have to be alone. There is life after..."

Squatting, she picked up an auger shell, then stood and continued to walk, twirling the shell in her fingers. "No, not really. Not when…." She stopped and brought her hand up to her mouth, then continued, walking a little faster.

Trapper waited and watched her go. Looking out at the waves, he took a deep breath, and then trotted to catch up to her, dreading what he thought was about to come, but ready to catch her when she finally let it out. "Not when they were your life? Not when he was your life?"

"Leave me alone, McIntyre," she barked before she began to run up the trail. When she reached the top, she stopped and bowed her head into her hands, shuddering in tears.

Trapper caught up and held her arms, but she angrily shrugged him away. "Leah, why are you so angry at John?"

Darting toward the cliff, she stopped only a few feet from the edge, punching violently in the air and yelling out over the ocean, "You bastard! You dirty son-of-a-bitch! You took my children, and you left me here. You and your damned attorney!" By this time, she had wrapped her arms around herself, and as she slowly collapsed to the ground, she sobbed, "I don't even know if my babies knew what was happening to them…or if they were afraid." Trapper wrapped his arms around her, pulling her away from the edge and holding her as she went down.

It took a while for Leah to bring herself back under control. Holding her, Trapper patiently waited, and when she began to quiet, he released her and leaned back next to her, propping on an arm.

Leah sat crossed legged in the grass beside him, taking the handkerchief he was holding out to her, and wiping her face. "John's attorney said his instructions were if something happened, and we were all together, the children and I were to be saved first." She sniffed. "The attorney said there was nothing he could do for the children. They were already gone. Even though I was dying, I wasn't dead yet. There were several law suits filed immediately by the families of people who were on the waiting lists for a heart. They said they had been waiting first, and it wasn't likely I would survive, so I shouldn't get it. But the court said the family was always first in line for a relative's organs."

"That's true, no matter the chance of survival."

Tearing up again, she said softly, "He should have let me die. Why would he think I'd want to go on without them?"

Trapper took her hand. "Leah, you make it sound as if John planned all this. He didn't. It was an accident. It seems he loved you and the children very much." She looked over at him, and he could see in her eyes that she was spent. Standing, he held his hand down to her. He felt she might not take it, and smiled when she did. Pulling her up off the ground, they walked over to a bench where they sat in silence until the sun set.