Brenda Harlen - One Man's Family

One side of his mouth quirked up in a half smile. “No.”

“That’s right, you were a cop,” she said, remembering what Jordan had told her.

“Yeah, but my father’s a psychologist.”

“And you think that gives you license to perform an amateur analysis of my character?”

“No,” he denied. “But I am curious.”

“About psychology?”

“About you,” he said. “About how a woman who already juggles a full-time job and med school ended up with legal guardianship of her brother’s children.”

“He asked,” she said simply. “And there was no one else.”

“Their mother isn’t around?”

“Joe was granted full custody in the divorce,” she said. “That should tell you something about Yvette.”

“Grandparents?”

She shook her head. “Yvette cut all ties with her parents a long time ago. I don’t even think the Solomons have ever seen their grandchildren.”

“What about your parents?”

“They died almost four years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely.

“There was a fire in the restaurant they owned. They lived upstairs. I know it probably sounds weird, but I actually found comfort in the fact that they were together. They’d been married forty-two years and devoted to one another for all that time.”

She slid open the cutlery drawer, dropping in forks and knives as she dried them.

“They were the reason I got interested in reproductive technology,” she continued. “Because my mom suffered through so many miscarriages, both before and after Joe and I were born.

“She and my dad always said they wanted a dozen kids, but it took a lot of years before she finally had Joe. Then, when she had me less than a year and a half later, they thought their luck had turned around.

“But I was the end of the line, and although we never had reason to doubt how much they loved us, we knew they were both saddened by the loss of the other babies she couldn’t carry to term.”

“So now you help other women have the families they want,” he said.

She nodded. “Not all of our patients get the results they want, but for those who do…well, it really is a miracle.”

“And for those who don’t?”

“It’s just one more heartbreak,” she admitted.

“It must be hard dealing with those emotional highs and lows.”

His insight and understanding surprised her, and made it impossible for her to hold back. “A while ago, I was reprimanded by one of the doctors who caught mecrying in the staff room. She said that tears were unprofessional and I had no business working at the clinic if I couldn’t hold myself together.”

“That was harsh.”

“Dr. Logan thought so, too. He—” She narrowed her gaze on him. “Dr. Jake Logan?”

“My brother,” he admitted.

“I should have guessed,” she said. Jake was a little taller and Scott’s shoulders were a little wider, but otherwise the physical resemblance was striking.

“You were telling me about crying in the staff room,” he reminded her.

“And your brother came in and interrupted Dr. Morningstar’s lecture to tell me that, in his opinion, compassion was more important than professionalism. Then he handed me a box of tissues and steered Dr. Morningstar outside so I could finish crying in peace.”

She allowed herself a smile before admitting, “I cry a lot—tears of sadness and despair when a procedure fails, tears of happiness and gratitude when one of my patients experiences the joy of giving birth.”

He rinsed the stir-fry pan, then pulled the plug. “Does Dr. Morningstar still give you a hard time about that?”

“She transferred to another clinic a couple of months ago—just after the Sanders adoption case hit the headlines.”

“That was a nasty one, wasn’t it?” He wiped around the inside of the sink as the water swirled down the drain.

“I’m not sure it’s over yet.” She put the pan away and folded the towel. “Now Robbie Logan—” She paused.

“My cousin,” he told her.

“Okay. Robbie has resigned and apparently disappeared, and there are still rumors that the agency might close.”

Despite her boss’s reassurances that they would weather this latest scandal, Alicia was concerned. Not just for the patients who desperately needed the hope the clinic offered, but for herself personally. If the Children’s Connection shut down, she’d lose not just the job she loved, but her means of supporting herself and her brother’s children.

“I thought LJ’s campaign had turned things around.”

“LJ?”

“The PR guy who was brought in from New York to help spin things for the media—LJ Logan,” he explained. “Another brother of mine.”

“How many of you are there?” she wondered aloud.

“Four. LJ’s the oldest, then there’s Ryan—he’s an architect—then Jake, and myself.”

“Four,” she echoed. “I’ll bet you kept your mother hopping.”

“She blamed us for every one of her gray hairs.”

She smiled. “What is it like, being part of a big family?”

“It’s crowded,” he said. “And noisy. But it’s fun, too.”

“You’re close to everyone?”

“Mostly,” he said, and left it at that.

“Joe and I have always been close,” she said, turning on the tap to fill the coffeepot with water, then dumping it into the reservoir. “And now—” she shook her head “—I just can’t believe any of this is happening.”

He didn’t offer any platitudes, for which she was grateful. There was nothing anyone could say that would make her current situation any easier to accept. There was no way anyone could understand what it was like for her brother to be locked away in prison, knowing he shouldn’t be there.

Still, she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “What would you do—if it was one of your brothers in jail?”

Scott started to shrug off the question. After all, he knew his brothers, and he knew that none of them would ever end up in the kind of situation Joe Juarez was in. Except he realized that Alicia felt the same way about her brother as he did about his, and that was why she was such a passionate advocate for his cause.

He also knew, from his years on the police force, that human beings were inherently volatile and anyone was capable of almost anything given the right motivation.

Could he imagine LJ smashing the window of an electronics store to lift a new stereo system? Or Ryan going door-to-door to scam people out of their savings in the name of home improvements that would never happen? Or Jake stealing cars to sell on the black market overseas? Of course not—the idea of any of his brothers involved in such criminal activity was ridiculous. On the other hand, he didn’t doubt that they were all capable of inflicting serious bodily harm on anyone who threatened someone they cared about.

“I’d do exactly what you’re doing,” he finally responded to Alicia’s question. “And leave no stone unturned in trying to prove his innocence—or at least understand why he’d done whatever it was that landed him in jail.”

“Joe didn’t take the engine or those plans.”

“I know you believe that, and you might be right. But maybe you should think about what circumstances might have forced him into a situation where he decided to take them.”

“Joe wouldn’t sacrifice his integrity under any circumstances.”

“What if his integrity demanded he do it?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if he believed the emissions of this alternative fuel were carcinogenic?”

“That isn’t what happened here.”

“What if something like that did happen?”

“Then he would have urged the company to scrap the project.” She handed him a mug of coffee. “Cream? Sugar?”