The Doctor's Do-Over. Karen Templeton

he said, standing, “it didn’t feel right to leave it to chance. Catching Ryder off guard if they did cross paths. Besides, aren’t you even curious about her?”

      Talking about being caught off guard. Lorraine sucked in a breath: she’d never, not once, indulged herself in pointless “what ifs?” After all, she’d made the best decision, the only decision, she could have made at the time. A decision circumstances had forced her to make. To change the rules now—

      “What about Jeremy?” she said, grasping at rapidly disintegrating straws. “And Caroline. They’ve only been married six months—” At her husband’s quelling look, Lorraine blew out a sigh. “What if Ryder confronts him? Did you think of that?”

      “I imagine he will,” David said with a shrug. “Hell, I was all for making the boy own up to his idiocy at the time—”

      “Then why didn’t you?” Ryder said quietly from the doorway, making Lorraine jump.

      David waved his nearly empty glass in her direction. “Ask your mother.”

      Wordlessly, Ryder turned his gaze on her, his hands shoved into the pockets of that awful old windbreaker he’d had since college. Whereas her younger son had always been given to flying off the handle—her fault, she supposed—Ryder had always been the even-tempered one, even as a toddler. Just like his father. That had unnerved her, too, his seeming imperviousness to anything that would try to unseat him. Now, however, Lorraine could tell by the glint in his dark brown eyes, the hard set to his beard-hazed jaw—another “style” also picked up in college—that his customary calm masked an anger so intense she almost couldn’t look at him.

      Especially since that angry gaze relentlessly poked at the guilt she’d done her best to ignore for the past ten years.

      Secrets, she thought on an inward wince. You would think she’d have learned her lesson the first time, wouldn’t you?

      Apparently not.

      Ryder watched his mother, still attractive in an old-money, take-me-as-you-find-me way, sink into the sofa’s down-filled cushions, sighing when one of the dogs heaved herself to her feet and plodded over to lay her head in his mother’s lap. A pair of silver clips held her fading red curls back from her sharply boned face; in her rust-colored cardigan, jeans and flats, she gave off a certain Kate Hepburn vibe most people found intimidating. And, to a certain extent, fascinating.

      Most people. Not Ryder.

      “Well?” he prompted.

      She distractedly traced the design of the Waterford lamp beside her before folding her hands on her lap. “The thing between Jeremy and Mel … we had no idea. None. Until Maureen marched Mel in here—into this very room, in fact—that fall and announced that Mel was pregnant.” His mother shot a brief glance in his direction. “Frankly, we assumed the baby was yours.” Her mouth twisted. “Until we did the math.”

      Too angry to speak, Ryder crossed his arms high on his chest. “And when you realized it wasn’t?”

      “Jeremy was barely eighteen,” his mother said, her gaze fixed on the golden retriever’s smooth head as she stroked it. “He’d just started at Columbia …” She pushed out a truncated sigh. “It was perfectly obvious it was all a mistake. That it meant nothing. To him, especially, but even Mel admitted …”

      When Lorraine looked away, Ryder prodded, “Mel admitted what?”

      “That she didn’t love Jeremy. Oh, for heaven’s sake, Ryder—don’t look at me like that. It was a silly summer fling, nothing more. A silly summer fling with dire consequences,” his mother finished on a grimace. “But then, Jeremy could hardly be blamed, could he? Not with the way M-Mel kept flaunting herself in those short shorts and tight tops—”

      As in, cut-offs and T-shirts. Same as every other high school girl wore.

      “And that bathing suit—”

      “So, what? She’s automatically the guilty party because she grew breasts?”

      Twin dots of pink bloomed on his mother’s cheeks. “Of course not. But she didn’t have to be so, so blatant about them. She could have dressed less … enticingly. I mean, you know your brother—”

      Behind them, his father huffed out a breath. “Lorraine, for pity’s sake.”

      “Well, it’s true. She played right into his hand.”

      “Literally,” Ryder muttered, his own fisting inside his pockets. “You know, being neither blind nor gay, I was pretty aware of Mel’s … assets, too. Assets she didn’t flaunt any more than any other girl her age. Less, in fact, than most. That bathing suit—sure, it showed off her curves, but we’re not talking a string bikini, for heaven’s sake.” Ryder glowered at his mother. “Yeah, I know Jeremy. But I would’ve thought …”

      His mother stood. “You can’t lay this whole thing at his feet, Ryder. Even though I know you’d love to do that. I never did understand why the two of you never got along, which is one reason we decided it was better to keep this from you. Because I knew how much it would hurt you, that Mel …” At Ryder’s glare, Lorraine pressed her lips together, shaking her head.

      “However, I refused to let one mistake derail Jeremy’s plans. Not after he’d had to work so hard to get into Columbia. So we struck a deal—one Maureen agreed to, by the way—that in exchange for our financial support they’d leave St. Mary’s for good and we’d never speak of any of this again.”

      As livid as he was, Ryder felt his eyes narrow. Something was off. Not so much what his mother was saying but how she was saying it. But right now he just wanted the facts.

      “So it never occurred to you to make Jeremy own up to his part in this?”

      “At eighteen? What on earth was he supposed to do?”

      “And Mel was sixteen. Something tells me she definitely got the short end of the stick—”

      “I tried to make her see reason!” his mother said, and he caught the flash of desperation in her eyes. “To explore her … options, but she was having none of it. She insisted on having, and keeping, the baby, although for the life of me I never understood why. That was her choice, Ryder. Our choice—”

      “Was to let my brother off the hook by sweeping the whole thing under the rug?”

      “There’s a trust fund for the child. And we sent enough money through the years so they were never in any danger of starving. We honored our obligations, believe me. In the way we best saw fit. Your sister-in-law has no idea, by the way. And we’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell her. It could ruin their marriage. And I’m sure you wouldn’t want that on your conscience.”

      Ryder smirked: although the news had gobsmacked him, nothing coming out of his mother’s mouth now surprised him in the least. To say Lorraine Caldwell was a control freak didn’t even begin to cover it. As far back as Ryder could remember his mother had ruled the household—in her childhood home, the estate having belonged to her surgeon father, her D.C.-socialite mother, long before she’d married the gentle GP who’d stolen her heart, as lore would have it, that summer when she was nineteen. As far as Ryder could tell she’d been Daddy’s spoiled little princess who’d seen no reason to change her modus operandi—as in, always getting her way—when she grew up. That she still seemed to have his father, as she’d had her own, so tightly wound around her little finger was a mystery he doubted he’d ever solve.

      Except Ryder now looked to his father, seeing for the first time in David’s chagrined, embarrassed expression the older man’s constant acquiescence to his mother’s whims for what it was—weakness, pure and simple. For God’s sake, grow a pair! he wanted to shout, even as his heart cracked a little more, that the man he’d so wanted to believe in, look up to, apparently didn’t really exist. For his dedication to his work, his patients, Ryder would always admire him. But