"Your career is everything to you, huh?" he said, thinking. "Sounds like you're more like me than you care to admit."
Kim paused, thinking about what her father had said. For so long he had represented everything she resented. Was she so busy resenting the choices he had made that she hadn't noticed herself doing the same thing?
"You're a beautiful, warm girl," her father said paternally. "And you're not married. You've never even come close. How come?"
She shrugged. "I haven't met anyone interesting. I work by myself all day, and at night I'm too tired to go out." "I don't know Tony very well, but he certainly seems interesting to me... and I know a lot of women at this hospital would agree."
"Then they should marry him."
"He doesn't want them. He wants you."
Kim shook her head. "You're wrong."
Her father watched her carefully. The pain was evident in her eyes. She cared about Tony, and regardless of what she said, her eyes could not deny the intensity of her feelings. "Are you afraid that Tony will treat you like I treated your mother?"
"What?" she asked, surprised.
"Tony isn't like me. He's a different man... from a different generation--"
"Dad," she interrupted.
He raised his hand, silencing her. "Your mother and I had our issues. They were ours, and our alone. My job didn't drive a wedge between us, Kim. I did. It wouldn't have mattered what kind of job I had."
"What are you trying to say?"
He paused. "I don't think Tony should pay for my mistake."
"What is this? I thought you didn't like him!"
He shook his head. "I like him. I just don't like what he represents."
"Which is?"
"Change. I think there are some people around here that would like to see Tony replace me as head of thoracic surgery."
Kim shifted her eyes downward.
He continued, "I'm beginning to think that might not be a bad idea. You see, I'm not afraid of change anymore--or the future. In fact, I look forward to it. I have a chance to change, a chance to correct some mistakes I've made."
Kim smiled sadly. "I look forward to the future, too.
Her father hesitated. "Where's my wallet?"
Kim wrinkled her forehead, confused. "Your wallet?"
He nodded.
She pulled open a drawer next to his bed and pulled out the worn, brown leather case. "Right here."
"Look inside the top fold there. Behind the credit cards."
She opened the fold and glanced at a worn piece of paper, neatly folded up. What's this?" she asked.
He nodded. "Read it." She unfolded the note. In large, light script was written:
Dear Daddy,
Because I haf skwandired my alowance, I am giving
you Max for Christmas. Plese take care of him.
Love, Kimberly Risson
When she was finished reading the note, she looked up at her father, surprised that he was sentimental enough to have kept this letter in his wallet for all these years.
"You were six years old when you wrote that. You probably don't remember, but I was always telling you..."
"Not to squander my allowance."
He smiled.
"Who's Max?"
"Max was a stuffed duck that you took with you everywhere. It was a total, unselfish gift of love."
"And you've kept this note in your wallet... ?"
"Ever since."
Kim smiled. Her father was certainly full of surprises. Surprises that she was more than happy to discover.
I learned a lot from that gift... and I've learned a lot from you. I hope this Christmas I can give you something that will mean as much to you."
"You already have," Kim said.
Harold just smiled. He knew what his daughter really wanted, and he had every intention of getting it for her.
Chapter Seven
"Welcome home, Dad," Kim said, as she pulled into the driveway. It was the evening of December twenty-third, and as Tony had promised, her father was coming home. Tiny white lights glimmered from the branches of the trees.
"Who helped you put the outdoor lights up?"
"No one. I did it myself."
"You climbed up on a ladder?"
"Yes," Kim said. "Wait until you see the back. I've strung lights all around the ice rink."
"How do you like that," her father said, smiling proudly.
Kim stopped the car and hurried around, helping her father inside the house.
"A Christmas tree," her father said happily, glancing inside the living room. "I don't think there's been a tree in this house since... well, since you were here last."
Harold sat down on the couch as Kim turned on the tree lights. He smiled. "Beautiful."
"Do you want dinner, Dad?"
He shook his head. "Actually, I'm feeling a little tired. And I want to be well rested for tomorrow." He pushed himself up and Kim hurried to assist him. "That's okay, Kim," he said. As he stepped into the hall he glanced in the den, his eye catching sight of her easel. "What's that?"
"Oh," Kim said. "I've been working in your den. I hope you don't mind."
"Of course not," he said, stepping inside and turning on the light. "What are you painting?"
"Well, actually, it's your Christmas present."
He smiled. "Can I see it?"
"You don't want to wait until Christmas?"
He shook his head. "I've never seen your work before."
She led him around the easel. He nodded his head slowly, a proud smile creeping up his lips. "It's beautiful. Absolutely beautiful."