Upon a Midnight Clear Read online

  "Are you commissioned to do them?"

  "Some of them. And some I just paint and hope that I'll sell them. As a matter of fact, I've got a show coming up in a couple of weeks at an art gallery in Miami."

  "Congratulations." He nodded, impressed. "So you must be good," he said.

  "Well, I support myself, but not in style. I just stopped waitressing a couple of years ago."

  "I like to think I appreciate art. A beautiful painting always seems to remind me that there's more to this life than work—and I definitely need to be reminded of that sometimes."

  "So you're a collector?"

  "I wouldn't go that far. I just know what I like. I can't tell if a painting's any good or not."

  "If you like it then the artist succeeded."

  He nodded. "Are you working on anything right now?"

  "Actually, I brought a piece with me. I've been having trouble finishing it. And a bunch of supplies. I always have to have my supplies with me."

  "I'd love to see your work sometime."

  Kim nodded, feeling a slight blush creep over her face. "Sure," she said as casually as she could.

  "Hi, Tony." A bubbly blonde in blue scrubs appeared at the table. An attractive tall brunette, also in scrubs, stood beside her. "We waited for you last night. How come you never showed?" the brunette asked.

  "I had to work," Tony said, shrugging his shoulders.

  "You missed a lot of fun, Teddy," the blonde said, winking at Tony as she called him by what was obviously a nickname. "Well, we've got to run. We're due in surgery in two minutes. Call me later?"

  Kim felt a pang of jealousy tug at her heart. She forced herself to sip her coffee, avoiding Tony's eyes.

  "Those two are doctors here," Tony said self-consciously. "More surgeons."

  "I should have known by the way they were rushing out of here," she said calmly. "Is Teddy your nickname?"

  "No," he said. "She calls me that. She thinks it's funny."

  Kim put down her coffee. You have nothing to feel jealous about, she reassured herself. You have no claim on this man. He's simply your father's doctor. "She's cute," she said, nodding toward the blonde. "Do all your girlfriends give you nicknames?"

  He shook his head. "Whoa. She's not my girlfriend. We're just friends."

  "Oh?" Kim said hopefully.

  Tony just smiled. He was intrigued by the woman sitting across from him. From the first night he had seen her he had been aware of the intense personal strength that seemed to radiate from within her. He knew that it couldn't have been easy to come back to Michigan to help care for a father whom she hadn't spoken with in years. Yet the minute her father had needed her she had flown to his side, not sure of where she would stay or if she would even succeed in arriving in Michigan before he died.

  Kim raised her hand as she sneezed.

  "God bless you," he said.

  "Excuse me," she said, blinking her eyes. "Allergies."

  "It's this hospital air. You should get outside. Get some fresh air. You've been spending all your time in that stuffy waiting room."

  "I don't know. I just can't get used to this weather. I'll freeze to death in about a minute."

  "Only if you stand still. You have to keep active to stay warm." He paused. "Hey, I have an idea," he said, leaning back slightly as he stared into Kim's eyes. "I like to skate… it's my exercise. I do it whenever I have a chance. Why don't you come with me tomorrow?"

  "Ice skate?" she asked incredibly.

  He nodded.

  She emitted a small laugh as she shook her head. "No," she said. "No thanks."

  "Are you sure? I leave from the hospital, and I'm only gone for about an hour or so. Then I come right back."

  Kim hesitated. "I haven't skated in years."

  "C'mon, it's like riding a bike."

  "I don't have ice skates."

  "You can rent them."

  She shrugged. He seemed to have an answer for everything. "All right" It might be worth a few frozen toes just to see him twirl around. "Thanks."

  "Okay," he said, standing. "I'll meet you in the lobby at three."

  "See you then," Kim said, holding back a smile.

  At nine o'clock Kim left the hospital and walked back out to her father's car. Tony's motorcycle was gone, and a red Mercedes was parked in its place. Kim held her breath as she scooted through the tight space left between the two cars.

  She turned on the radio, and classical music flooded the car as she drove the short ride home. When she arrived back at her father's house, she walked in the front door and flicked on the light She had so many memories of this house, many of them pleasant. Her parents had rarely fought, and although she was aware of her mother's deep unhappiness with her father, Kim had had a happy childhood. There was summer camp, and birthday parties, ice-skating, skiing, and tennis. Unfortunately, her father had been so busy with work that she had few memories of him.

  Kim put her purse down and walked into the kitchen.

  The same heavy dark oak cabinets. The same fake brick vinyl floor. She opened up the refrigerator, looking for a bottle of wine. Nothing. Her father obviously still did not drink.

  She shook her head. Her poor father—didn't drink, exercised regularly, ate healthy foods, and he's in the hospital with a heart condition.

  She wondered if he had even known that he was critically ill before his most recent attack. She guessed not. Her father would have ignored the signs that he was once again having heart troubles, just as he ignored everything else that did not fit into his tightly structured world.

  She poured herself a glass of water, made a mental note to pick up a bottle of wine tomorrow, and wandered toward her father's office, otherwise known as the den.

  She flicked on the light and peeked inside. Her father's heavy mahogany desk sat in the corner. Kim noticed some pictures on top and walked over. She picked them up and turned them around. They were pictures of her, taken the summer before she left.

  Kim set the pictures back down on his desk and sighed. If he had loved her, why hadnt he bothered to try to maintain a relationship with her? How could he cut her off, disown her as he had? Maybe not disown her totally, she reminded herself, remembering the child support payments that her mother had received regularly. But certainly he had cut off contact with her. She had written him letters that he had never bothered responding to.

  Kim sat behind his desk and opened up the top drawer. Paper clips, pens, everything neatly arranged. Everything in its place.

  She pulled open the large drawer to the right. Two pictures that she had painted with watercolors in grade school were neatly placed at the top of the drawer. Kim smiled as she picked them up. One was a picture of the sun and the earth, the other a picture of what she knew was supposed to be a little girl standing next to her father. To Daddy, Happy father's day, was written in neat cursive handwriting on the bottom. She set the pictures down and glanced back inside the drawer. She saw a group of letters neatly robber-banded together. She knew they were hers immediately. It looked as though her father had saved every single letter she had ever sent him. She picked up the bundle and took the rubber band off. Taking the top letter out of its envelope, she saw that it was dated Christmas of 1982. She scanned through the letter, which was basically filled with details of her plans for Christmas. It was boring, really, just details of where she and her friends had shopped and what the weather was like. What was extraordinary about the letter was where the blue ink had run. The letter had tear marks on it, as though her father had cried when reading it.

  Kim quickly folded the letter up and put it back on top of the bundle. Slipping the rubber band back on top she put the bundle back in the drawer. After she replaced the pictures she had drawn, she picked up her water and turned off the light.

  Back in her room, Kim tried to busy herself with unpacking but was unable to stop thinking about her father. She needed to understand the feelings that were flooding through her. The guilt, the anger, the confusion