“You can drop the surprised act,” she said dryly. “Nate told me you’ve called him three times to ask about her.”
“I wanted to know.”
“No need to get defensive, Rye. I didn’t accuse you of anything except being a kind and caring human being. I appreciate your concern, and so do the Griffins. You certainly had a vested interest in Violet’s prognosis. It would be nice if she could thank you personally.”
Dodging that, he said, “To hear Lambert tell it, Violet’s turnaround was due to him and his genius.”
“Nate is obnoxious and unlikable—”
“That doesn’t begin to cover it.”
“—but he also did the research along with me. He put in the long hours, too. He’s entitled to take credit.”
“No more than half.”
She gave a modest shrug and became reflective. Voice quiet, she said, “You nailed it, you know.”
“What?”
“To some extent, I was doing it for me. Not for acclaim. Not to become famous, but to—”
“Live down being a convict’s kid.”
“You saw that.”
He shrugged. “Little bit. Anyway, it’s not a sin.”
“No doubt my mother’s death contributed to my ambition. But when I was most ashamed of my last name, the loftiest goal I could conceive of was to become Dr. O’Neal.”
“Doesn’t matter why you did it, Brynn. Matters that you did.”
Her saw her throat work with emotion. “Well, the important thing is that Violet’s improvement will open up clinical trials for other patients.”
He gave her a thumbs-up. “Way to go, Dr. O’Neal.”
God, he loved when she blushed.
“Did Nate tell you the irony?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“The morning following the infusion, I called my answering service for the first time since I’d checked out on Thanksgiving eve. They’d been unable to call me because…well, you know.
“Anyway, there were three calls designated as urgent. I didn’t recognize the name or number. It turned out to be a member of the FDA review board who was considering the compassionate use of GX-42 for Violet.
“The board member had seen the news story about her and recognized the name. She spent hours Thanksgiving night calling other members of the board. By morning she had a consensus. They approved the application for Violet and gave it emergency status.”
He laughed. “No shit?”
“No shit. I’d been given leave to use the drug immediately. I didn’t breach ethics after all.”
“I’ll be damned. Shining the spotlight on Violet actually worked against the Hunts.”
“That’s the irony. And Richard Hunt is in the worst kind of spotlight. He’s got so many spin doctors spinning, he still can’t keep his stories straight. The latest is that Goliad was jealous of Timmy and obsessed with Delores. It’s a muddle.”
She leaned back, propping herself up on her hands. When she crossed her legs, a split on the side of her skirt opened. It took a moment for her words to register.
He said, “I doubt anyone will ever know the whole of it. Hunt will continue to lie and maneuver. Postpone. ”
“Meanwhile fighting for his life,” Brynn said. “Secretly he’s undergoing chemo and radiation, but that only buys him time. According to Nate, he still refuses to apply for the exemption for fear of disclosure. He says that’s all the media would need to ruin him.”
Another lull ensued. Rye remained fixated on the several inches of thigh visible above her boot. He wanted to start there and kiss his way up.
Before he embarrassed himself, he refocused. “How’s Wes?”
“He caught a shoplifter the other day.”
“That’s what they pay him for.”
“Yes, but he let her go without reporting her. She had three children under three years old, and was shoplifting a home pregnancy test. Dad thought she deserved a break.”
They shared a smile, but after a moment hers turned wistful. She sat up straight and cleared her throat. “The other day, Violet asked me about the man in the old leather coat.” She cut a glance toward his bomber jacket where he’d draped it over the back of a chair. “Seems she saw us kissing outside her house. She asked if you were my boyfriend.” She waited a beat before saying, “I told her no.”
He didn’t say anything, but shifted his position against the dresser, telling himself it was because that spot on his butt had gone numb.
Brynn continued, “I told her no because I could never fall for a man who shuts people out. Strangers. Even people who care about him. I told her that no matter how attractive he was, or how amazingly good sex with him was, or how he’d been willing to sacrifice his pilot’s license—the thing he values above everything else—in order to save her life, I couldn’t pine for a man who takes off in an airplane, indifferent to whether or not he’ll safely land.”
She looked down at her open palm and dusted it with the other. “Knowing how others would grieve the loss of his life, it’s selfish of him to have such careless disregard for it. I asked Violet why in the world a sane woman would want a man like that.”
“No sane woman would,” he said. “He sounds like a loser.”
“That’s just it. He’s not.”
“You were supposed to be building up to calling him a bastard.”
“What good would it do?”
He pushed off the dresser and went over to the window. He flicked the tacky drape open. It was cold out. The wind was brisk. But the sky was crystal clear, not a cloud in sight. It had been a perfect day for Brady’s flight.
“I knew a guy like that,” he said. “He was a sullen and self-centered son of a bitch. Thought he had problems. Thought life wasn’t worth living. He was carrying around all this crap over an accident, an airplane crash. Thirteen people died. Anybody would be sick over that.
“But the thing with him was, he was conceited enough to think that somehow he could’ve prevented it. That he could’ve overturned aviation physics, or outsmarted fate, karma, the alignment of the stars, God’s will, whatever, when, stripped down to basic fact, it was their time.”
Keeping his back to Brynn, he looked up at the sky through the window. He’d been wrong: There was a small cloud drifting past, caressing the crest of a hill.
He took a deep breath. “Anyway, this guy thought he should have died that day, and, because he didn’t, he waited for another opportunity. Sure enough, one night, when he really had no business flying, he lost control of his aircraft.
“Odd as it seems, he didn’t just let it crash and death take him. Instead, he fought like hell to survive. Odder still, the crash turned out to be the best damn thing that could have happened to him. It shook him up. Woke him up.
“Over the course of a couple of days following it, he came to realize that maybe there was a purpose to his still being around. A reason for him not to have flown that C-12 that day. Maybe he could help save a kid’s life. Or give a thrill ride to a guy who couldn’t fly himself. Who knows why things turn out the way they do?” He braced his hands on the windowsill and lowered his head between his hunched shoulders.
In a husky voice, Brynn asked, “What happened to him?”
“He cleaned up his act. Some. He’d made a new buddy who flies for a freight carrier. Big, slick outfit. They need experienced pilots. He’s considering it. A necktie is required, but he’ll have a permanent address, and the pay is good. Good enough for his buddy to afford to have his own plane, and he’s always hoped to own one himself.
“He spent Christmas with his family. Held his nephew. He went so far as to firm up a date for a return visit. Told his folks he might bring somebody along, if they didn’t mind.”
“Who?”
“Aw, there was this girl. Woman, rather. Quite a woman. Smart. Sassy. Took no shit. Thick and silky hair. Eyes the color of fog. Or rain when moonlight shines through it. A body that made him want to take his time, go slow, make it last, hold back. Or speed the hell up. Christ, just looking at her made his mouth water. Once, he got so lost, he forgot a condom, came inside her.” He shook his lowered head. “Before that, he’d thought nothing could top being airborne.”
He paused, ran his hands up and down the front of his thighs. “But, he blew it.”