Rogue

“That is not my definition of extended family.” He knew by then that he had fallen into a very unusual group of people. There was nothing ordinary or “normal” about them, and it was even stranger to realize that he was marrying the former wife of Blake Williams. That took them out of the norm right there. “Do whatever you want,” he finally said. “I can sense that we're going to be pushing the outer edges of the envelope here. Who am I to tell you what to do? I'm only the groom.” He was only half-teasing, and it still seemed remarkable to him that his future wife was telling him that her ex-husband would be hurt if he wasn't invited to their wedding. Unless he wanted a major battle on his hands, and stepchildren who would hate him even more than they did, he felt he had no choice but to give in.

“He isn't going to walk you down the aisle, is he?” Charles asked, looking worried.

“Of course not, silly. My father will do that.” Charles looked relieved. And she knew, without Charles admitting it, that he had always had an issue about Blake. It was hard for any man to feel he measured up to him. If money was the yardstick for success used by most people, then Blake was at the top of the heap. But that didn't change the fact that he was irresponsible, and always had been, and was never there for her children. Blake was fun to be with, and she would always love him. But Charles was the man she wanted to be married to, without question.

He kissed her when he left that night, and they had discussed most of the details. They both laughed with pleasure as she flashed her ring.

“Goodnight, Mrs. West,” he said softly, and as he said it, she realized that she'd probably have to keep “Williams” for work. It would be too complicated to change it for all her patients, and all the professional things she did, so even though she would be Mrs. West socially, she would still be Dr. Williams, and carry Blake's name forever. There were some things you just couldn't change.

Chapter 16

Blake called Maxine in the office between patients, and it had already been a crazy day for her. She had dealt with three new referrals, and she had just been arguing with the caterer in Southampton about the price of the tent for their wedding. The price was insane, but there was no question that they needed one. Her parents had offered to pay for it, but at her age she didn't feel right letting them do it. On the other hand, she didn't want to get screwed over by the caterer either. Tents were expensive, especially with the clear sides she wanted. It would be too claustrophobic otherwise. She still sounded annoyed when she took Blake's call.

“Hi,” she said brusquely. “What's up?”

“Sorry, Max. Bad time? I'll call you back if you want.” She glanced at her watch, and saw that it was already late for him. She wasn't sure if he was in London again, or still in Morocco, but either way it was late in the evening, and she could hear in his voice that he was tired.

“No, no, it's fine. I'm sorry. I have a few minutes before my next patient. Are you okay?”

“I am. But no one else is around here. I'm still in Imlil, about three hours outside Marrakech. Amazingly, they have a mobile phone mast, though not much else, so I could call you. I've gotten involved with these kids here, Max. What's happened to them is just awful. They're still pulling people out of the rubble, where they've been buried with all the dead members of their families for days. Others are just wandering around the streets looking dazed. They're dirt poor here in the villages, and something like this just wipes them out. They're assessing that more than twenty thousand people were killed.”

“I know,” Maxine said sadly. “I've seen the stories in the Times and on CNN.” It struck her that she couldn't reach him when her own son got hurt, but suddenly he was trying to heal the woes of the world. At least it was better than his flitting from party to party on his jet all over the world. Disaster scenes weren't unfamiliar to her because of her work. But it was the first time she had heard him so upset about something that didn't involve him directly. But he was seeing it firsthand. She had been in situations like that herself, in natural disasters where she'd been sent to consult, both in the States and abroad.

“I need your help,” he said. He was bone tired; he had hardly slept in ten days. “I'm trying to organize assistance for the children. I've met some very interesting and powerful people over here, since I bought the house. The government systems are so overwhelmed that the private sector is trying to see what they can do to bail them out. I've taken on a huge project for the kids, and I'm doing it myself. I need some advice about what kind of assistance they're going to need, both long term and now. It's right up your alley. I need your expertise, Max.” He sounded tired, worried, and sad.