"Are you sure you had the time to join us for dinner
this evening, Anne? I hope we didn't disrupt your study
plans."
"I can take off a couple hours for dinner, Mother. I
can't study every minute of every day."
Though it felt sometimes as though that was exactly what she
did, Anne Easton thought as she sliced into the roasted
chicken her mother had served for this Friday evening family
meal. Even when she tried to rebel and spend an afternoon
resting or reading or watching TV, guilt and anxiety soon
had her back at her books, working even harder than usual to
make up for the lost time. Just as she would do tonight
after returning to her apartment from this evening with her
family.
"You've lost weight." Her mother, Deloris Easton, a
retired family court judge, studied her intently from across
the table. "And you look tired. Are you getting enough
sleep?"
Anne couldn't help but laugh a little at that. "No. But
don't worry, I'm getting by."
Her father, Dr. Henry Easton, Jr., a prominent and
still-practicing Little Rock, Arkansas, neurosurgeon,
listened to the exchange from the head of the formal dining
room table. His thin silver hair gleamed in the light from
the crystal chandelier overhead. Behind the lenses of his
silver-framed glasses, his dark blue eyes focused piercingly
on his only daughter. "It's all well and good to join
the family for dinner occasionally. We enjoy spending the
time with you. But don't let yourself get behind. You know
what I always say…"
"Yes, Dad. If I fall behind, I'll never catch up,"
she recited, stabbing a glazed carrot with a bit more force
than necessary.
"Back when I was in medical school, I was lucky to have
a sandwich and a three-hour nap most days." Seated at
the other end of the table, Dr. Henry Easton, Sr., retired
thoracic surgeon, dabbed at his silver mustache with the
corner of a linen napkin.
Anne's older brother, Stephen, had once suggested that
Granddad had grown the mustache when the last of his hair
had fallen out years earlier, just to prove he could still
grow hair if he wanted to. Both Anne and Stephen had
inherited their mother's blond hair and light blue eyes
rather than the sandy brown hair and darker blue eyes from
their father's side of the family.
Stephen, a third-year surgical resident and almost five
years Anne's elder at twenty-nine, exaggerated a shudder.
"Remember when I had the flu the second semester of my
first year of med school? It was all I could do not to fall
behind, even though I was feverish and aching and coughing
my lungs up."
Anne focused on her plate, though her rapidly tightening
throat made it increasingly difficult to swallow.
"I never missed a day of school due to illness,"
Granddad boasted. "Not a day of work, either."
Since she doubted he'd never been sick a day in his life,
Anne wondered how many germs he had shared with associates
and patients. Wisely, she kept that irreverent question to
herself.
"You're making time to study for Step 1?" her father
asked, referring to the first part of the medical licensing
exam. "I know it's only early February, but June will be
here before you know it. You'll want to be ready."
"Yes, Dad." She'd actually have three chances to
pass the exam, but she knew her family would be appalled if
she didn't sail through on the first attempt. Failure was
not an option for an Easton, not even the type that would
only set her back a few weeks on her long-term schedule.
"I've already started going through the prep books.
Whenever I'm not studying for a class, I work on the sample
Step 1 questions."
"Not much time left for a social life, huh?" her
brother teased.
Neither of the older men looked amused by the quip.
"She'll have plenty of time for a social life after she
finishes her career training," their dad said firmly.
Their grandfather nodded agreement. "Just be glad you
got rid of that McCright boy in college. Can you imagine how
much harder this would all be if you had to stayed involved
with him?"
"If she'd gotten into medical school at all," her
dad muttered.
That McCright boy. It was the way they always
referred to Liam, even though he was almost seven years
older than Anne. He'd done a hitch in the army before
enrolling in the university where they'd met.
They still blamed him for the B she had received in
chemistry her freshman year. For an Easton, a B might as
well have been an F. Had she not been involved with that
McCright boy, she would have been able to focus on her
schoolwork, they had proclaimed.
Anne took a sip of her iced tea, pleased her hand was steady
as she lifted the glass to her lips. It was her right hand,
and a pretty little diamond and sapphire ring glittered on
her finger. She'd worn it home from her year studying abroad
after her college graduation, telling everyone she'd bought
it as a souvenir in London. She never took it off.
"I saw him on TV the other night when I was flipping
channels to find a good movie to watch." Her mother
shook her ash-blond head in disapproval. "He was filming
in another one of those dangerous, unstable places he's
always going to. That long, floppy hair looked like it
hadn't been trimmed in months, and he had at least a week's
worth of stubble on his face. He looked like a pirate. I
don't know how any woman could handle being involved with
such a restless adventurer. I believe he's one of those
adrenaline addicts I've read about. Never really happy
unless he's risking life and limb somewhere."
Reckless, impulsive, footloose. Terms her family had used to
describe Liam when she'd dated him that year. He had been
all of those things, of course, and more. Had it been
despite those traits or because of them that she had fallen
so desperately in love with him?
Her dad abruptly changed the subject, as he always did
whenever her college romance came up. "How's your car
performing, Anne? Is it still giving you problems? Don't
know why you won't let me buy you a newer one."
"I like my car, Dad. And it's running fine since you had
your mechanic work on it for me. I don't need you to buy me
a new one." It was the same car he'd given her for a
high school graduation present six and a half years earlier.
She had always intended to buy her next car for herself. She
had certainly inherited her share of the Easton pride.
"Humph." He looked both annoyed and pleased by her
refusal. "You always have been stubborn about letting me
help you."
She smiled at him. "You raised me to be independent and
self-sufficient, remember?"
His eyes softened. "So I did. What was I thinking?"
"Isn't this nice? I'm so glad we could all be here this
evening. It's the first time we've all been together since
Christmas."
"Not quite all of us, Mother." Stephen glanced
pointedly at the empty chair beside him.
"Oh, I know, and I wish Danielle could have been here,
too. Tell her we missed her, will you?"
Danielle Carpenter, another surgical resident, was on call
that evening and couldn't leave the hospital. She and
Stephen had been engaged for a few months, though they were
in no hurry to set a wedding date. They seemed quite content
for now to live together in their downtown Little Rock loft
and focus all their attention on their jobs. Her family
approved heartily of Stephen's choice for a mate. They
considered the ambitious, brilliant and attractive Danielle
a fine addition to their overachieving clan.
Both Stephen and Danielle had admitted they weren't sure
they wanted children, though they weren't ruling out having
one child in the future. Of course, they would be extremely
busy in their surgical careers, but that was what nannies
were for, right?
Having been cared for by several nannies during her own
childhood as the daughter of career-obsessed parents, Anne
knew it was possible to hire daily child care and still
remain active and involved in a child's life. Her mother and
dad had certainly kept a close eye on her. Still did, for
that matter.
She had no doubt Stephen and Danielle would be just as
successful at parenting as they were at everything else.
Anne prepared to leave not long after finishing her dessert.
As much as she loved her family, she was ready to get back
to her own apartment. She'd thought an evening break would
do her good, but she was more stressed now than she'd been
when she'd arrived. Her family didn't try to detain her; all
she had to do was mention that she needed to study and they
practically shoved her out the door.
Leaving the men in the den to discuss Stephen's chances of
becoming chief surgical resident—something Anne had no
doubt he would achieve—her mother offered to walk her
to the door. Anne waited patiently while her mother reached
for her aluminum cane, which she used to steady herself as
she moved carefully through the large house.
Though only fifty-nine, Deloris Easton had suffered a
massive stroke nineteen months earlier. It had happened only
a month before Anne started medical school, only a few days
after she had returned from abroad. Anne had brought home a
secret she hadn't been able to share with her family while
her mother lay near death for several days, nor during the
long, still ongoing period of recuperation. Her mother had
made great strides since her stroke, but it still broke
Anne's heart at times to see the formerly robust and
fiercely independent woman looking so frail and vulnerable.
"There's something I want to give you before you go,
Anne. I found it when I was cleaning out my jewelry armoire
earlier, and I thought you'd like to have it. It belonged to
my mother." Her voice was only a little slurred, though
it had taken a great deal of effort and therapy to achieve
that success. Resting one hand lightly on the cane handle,
she reached with the other into the pocket of the
melon-colored blazer she wore with a matching shell and
camel slacks. From that blazer pocket, she withdrew a small,
flat jewelry box.
Anne opened the box curiously. She studied the necklace
inside with a lump in her throat. Small baguette diamonds
surrounded a larger, round-cut diamond that caught the light
from the foyer chandelier and reflected it cheerfully back
at her. The pendant hung from a deceptively delicate-looking
gold chain. "It's lovely, Mother. I think I remember
Grandma Henderson wearing this."
"It was one of her favorite pieces. My brother gave it
to her not long before he died in Vietnam. I know you'll
treasure it."
"Of course I will." Almost unbearably touched, Anne
reached up to fasten the chain around her neck. She'd worn
her long hair pinned up, so it didn't get in the way as she
secured the clasp. The pendant nestled into the neckline of
the crisp blue shirt she'd worn with black pants for this
family dinner. "Thank you."
"It looks lovely on you." Her mother sighed lightly.
"I still miss her, you know. Every day."
"I know you do." Anne's heart clenched at the memory
of how close she had come to losing her own mother.
"Thank you again for the necklace. I'll take very good
care of it."
"I know what a difficult time you're having now. I
remember from Stephen's experience that the second semester
of the second year is one of the most challenging parts of
medical school. Several of his friends suffered severe
burnout during that time, and I suspect Stephen was more
stressed than he allowed us to see. I just want you to know
your father and I are so very proud of you."
Anne was immeasurably affected by her mother's words. Yet,
why did she now feel even more pressured than she had
before? "Thanks, Mother. I'll try to live up to your
expectations."
Her mother laughed and reached up to kiss her cheek.
"We'll always be proud of you, no matter what."
Anne left without responding to that sentiment. As sweet and
as heartfelt as it had been, she was fully aware she could
disappoint her parents all too easily.
Anxious to get back to her studies, she parked her aging
compact in front of her West Little Rock apartment and
hurried up the stairs. Her small, two-bedroom apartment was
on the second floor of the two-story, outward-opening
building. She was already thinking about what subject she
would study first when she paused in front of the door to
insert her key in the lock. She wondered how much her study
group had accomplished that evening. Maybe she should have
met with them instead of taking the night off to dine with
her family.
If she fell behind, she would never catch up.
Liam had always accused her of requiring too much of
herself, on top of the expectations of her family. He'd told
her she couldn't hope to be perfect, that she didn't have to
live up to anyone's expectations but her own—which
were set much too high for an ordinary mortal. He'd never
quite understood what it was like to be an Easton.
Less than half an hour after arriving at her apartment,
she'd let down her hair and changed into comfortable
clothes—a T-shirt and yoga pants with fuzzy socks. She
booted up her computer in preparation of a few hours of
studying before she crashed for the night. It was only 9:00
p.m., so she figured she had three or four solid study hours
before her brain shut down.
She had just plopped down in her chair to get started when
her doorbell rang.
She wasn't expecting visitors that evening, and certainly
not at that hour. Approaching the door warily, she ran
through a mental list of possibilities. Maybe it was Haley
from her study group, bringing by some notes or study
materials, though Haley usually called before dropping in.
Could be one of her neighbors, though she didn't know any of
them very well, since she was rarely home and usually locked
in with her books when she was there. Her brother, maybe?
Had she left something behind at her parents' house?
When she looked through the peephole in the door and saw the
face on the other side, she realized she never would have
guessed correctly. It actually took her a moment to
recognize him.
Disengaging the locks, she threw open the door. "Liam!"
"Hello, Annie."
"What on earth are you doing here?" Had she somehow
conjured him with her earlier thoughts of him?
Perfectly fitting the description, "tall, dark and
handsome," Liam gave her the kind of wickedly charming
grin that could make an impressionable young woman do all
kinds of crazy and irresponsible things.