Dr. Dad by Judith Arnold Read Free Book Online Page B

sloppy. Something in the hunch of his shoulders and the angle of his head, something in his utter silence and stillness, made him seem terribly alone to her. “Daddy?” she whispered.
    He spun around, startled. Then he relaxed and smiled. “What are you doing up, Hot Stuff?”
    â€œI was hungry.” She padded into the room. The oversized T-shirt she slept in fluttered around her thighs, and her hair felt heavy on her neck. She was so ready for summer. She wanted to wear T-shirts all the time, and shorts, and go barefoot.
    She peeled back the aluminum foil on the plate. “Want a brownie?”
    â€œThanks.” He helped himself. She took one, as well, and put the plate on the window seat.
    â€œWere you leaving messages on the phone?” she asked, taking a bite of her brownie. It was dry.
    His mouth full, he only nodded. Once he swallowed, he said, “I was thinking, before I go to the supermarket tomorrow I’d like to stop by Arlington Memorial to visit a patient of mine.”
    â€œWho? How come?”
    â€œHe’s a very sick little boy. He was diagnosed this morning with leukemia. Do you know what that is?”
    â€œIt’s a kind of cancer, isn’t it?”
    â€œThat’s right.” He popped the rest of the brownie into his mouth. “He’s under a specialist’s care now, but I’d still like to see him, just to cheer him on. He’s got a rough stretch ahead of him.”
    â€œChemo?” Lindsey asked. She knew more about medicine than any of her friends, mostly because of her dad, but a little bit because of her mother, too. And maybe a little bit from watching Mercy Hospital.
    â€œChemo and radiation both. Not much fun, huh?”
    â€œPoor kid.” She took another bite of her brownie and sat on the window seat, bending her knees to her chest and pulling her T-shirt over them so it covered her to her ankles. “Is he going to be all right?”
    â€œI promised him he would be, so I guess he’d better.”
    Lindsey chewed thoughtfully. “Maybe you should bring him some brownies.”
    Her father smiled, but he still seemed sad to her. “I don’t think he’ll have much appetite. But you’re a sweetheart to suggest it.”
    â€œActually, these brownies aren’t very good,” she said as she reached for another.
    She got a laugh out of him. “Sue warned me they weren’t. Susannah,” he corrected himself, then took a second brownie, too.
    â€œDid she tell you to call her Sue?”
    â€œOriginally. I think she was trying to hide her identity from me. Little did she know I’d never heard of Susannah Dawson.” He joined Lindsey on the window seat, the plate of brownies between them. He’d taken off his shoes, she noticed. He had on dark socks, but with the desk lamp providing the only light in the room, she couldn’t make out the color.
    â€œWhy would she want to hide who she was? It’s so cool being famous.”
    â€œMaybe she doesn’t enjoy it as much as you would.”
    â€œI wish I could trade places with her,” Lindsey admitted with a sigh. “On top of being famous, she’s so beautiful.”
    â€œYou’re beautiful, too.”
    Yeah, right. Fathers always said icky things like that. It was like some obligation, a clause in the Daddy contract: Even if your kid has three eyes, green hair and zits, tell her she’s beautiful.
    â€œYou look more and more like your mother every day,” he added quietly, and Lindsey felt her skepticism slip away. She knew her father wasn’t just doing the standard dad routine. He was telling her something important.
    Her own memories of her mother were sometimes vivid, sometimes blurry. But in her dreams her mother came to her perfectly clear. Maybe Lindsey did look like her. She didn’t remember her mother as being beautiful, though. Sure, she was beautiful because Lindsey loved her,