Page 30 of Quinton's Quest

“Oversight. I can delete it right now—”

“Please don’t.”

I wasn’t going to, of course, but the desperation in his voice had my attention. “What’s going on, Leo?”

“It’s…been a rough week.”

“How’s the transplant patient?”

“Holding her own. For now. I just checked in to see how she was doing.”

And how I’d known he’d be doing that was beyond me—but I’d been certain.

“You did your best, Leo. That’s all anyone can ask.”

He chuckled. “That’s what my ex-husband said.”

“Oh?”Try not to sound too eager…

“Yeah. Well, something like that. He still knows me well.”

“How many years were you married?”

“Around fifteen.”

“And neither of you cheated?”

“No.” Solid. Emphatic. Uncompromising.

Much like the man.

“Well, then I’d say there’s a good chance you know each other fairly well.”

“You realize you can be married to someone for sixty years and still not know them, right?”

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, I suppose. My parents were open both with each other and with me.”

He sighed. “I endeavor to be honest. I was just remembering I made that promise when we brought Melodie and Trevor home—that I would never lie to them without a damn good reason.”

“Ah, the promise of parenthood. Finding it tough these days?”

A long silence followed.

“You know, in all our talking the other night, you didn’t tell me how your kids came into your life.” Part of that was an oversight on my part—I should’ve asked. Part, undoubtedly, was his desire to hold that piece of himself outside of my reach.

Another sigh. “When I started my residency, Gideon and I decided to explore adopting. We were approved and, within a few months, the social worker contacted us. She had a young woman who’d just given birth. She had a two-year-old, a newborn, and no way to support herself. She was also…in a bad headspace. After a long discussion with the social worker, she decided she wanted to give her kids up for adoption. Together.”

“Jesus.”

“Right? And she saw our profile and felt a surgeon and a longshoreman who’d been married thirteen years would be perfect for her children.”

“Wow.” I swirled some beef, potatoes, and peas with my fork. This was one of my favorite meals…but I was no longer hungry. I pushed the plate away.

“We offered to take the kids as fosters. We offered, if she insisted on adoption, that it could be an open one.” He blew out a breath. “She said she needed a fresh start and that meant walking away entirely. I couldn’t fathom it. I worried she might be suffering postpartum depression. And that she might change her mind.” He sighed. “She never did, though. She walked out of our lives, and we haven’t heard anything since. That was more than four years ago.”

“So your kids are how old?”

“Melodie’s almost seven and Trevor’s turns five this year.”