Falling for the MD. Marie Ferrarella

at the raw pain in his tone, not just over the loss of their father, but the opportunity to ever again make things right between them. James and David had not been on the warmest terms at the time of the senior Wilder’s death and Peter was certain that David chafed over words he had left unsaid simply because “there was always tomorrow.”

      Now tomorrow would never come.

      Peter turned away, his attention on the highly polished casket slowly being lowered into the ground. With each inch that came between them, he felt fresh waves of loss wash over him.

      Goodbye, Dad. I wish we’d had more time together. There’s so much I still need to know, so much I still want to ask you.

      Peter waited until the coffin was finally placed at the bottom of the grave, then he stepped forward and dropped the single red rose he’d been holding. It fell against the coffin and then, like the tears of a weeping mourner, slid off to the side.

      “Rest well, Dad,” Peter said, struggling to keep his voice from cracking. “You’ve earned it.” And then he moved aside, letting Ella have her moment as she added her rose to his, her wishes to his.

      One by one, the mourners all filed by, people who were close to the man, people who worshipped the doctor, dropping roses and offering warm words for one of the finest men any of them had ever known.

      Peter had expected Anna to follow either David or, more likely since she’d once been close to her, Ella. But she stood off to the side, patiently waiting for everyone else to go by before she finally moved forward herself.

      He should have realized that she wanted to be alone with their father one last time.

       Last but not least, right, Anna?

      She was saying something, but her voice was so low when she spoke that he couldn’t hear her. He caught a glimpse of the tears glistening in her eyes even though she tried to avert her head so her grief would remain as private as her parting words.

      Peter felt a hint of guilt pricking his conscience. This was his sister. Adopted, yes, but raised with him from infancy. She’d been only a few days old at most when his father had brought her into their house.

      “I brought you an early birthday present, Alice,” the senior Wilder had announced as he came through the front door.

      Until the day he died, Peter would remember the look of surprise, disbelief and then something more that he couldn’t begin to fathom wash across his mother’s face when she came into the living room to see what it was that his father had brought home for her. He was ten at the time and David was six. His mother had just crawled out of a depression that had her, for a time, all but confined to her bed. He remembered how afraid he’d been back then, afraid that there was something wrong with his mother. He’d fully expected her to fall head over heels in love with the baby—that’s what women did, he’d thought at the time. They loved babies.

      But there had been a tightness around her mouth as she took the bundle from his father.

      “She’s very pretty, isn’t she, boys?” his father had said, trying to encourage them to become part of the acceptance process.

      “She’s noisy,” David had declared, scowling. “And she smells.”

      His father had laughed. “She just needs changing.”

      “Can we change her for a pony?” David wanted to know, picking up on the word.

      “’Fraid not, David. What do you think of her, Peter?” his father had asked, turning toward him.

      “She’s very little” had been his only comment about this new addition. He remembered watching his mother instead of the baby. Watching and worrying. His father had once said that he was born old, and there was some truth to that. He couldn’t remember ever being carefree.

      “That’s right,” his father had agreed warmly. “And we need to look out for her.” His father had placed his large, capable hand on his shoulder, silently conveying that he was counting on him. “You need to look after her. You’re her big brother.”

      He remembered nodding solemnly, not happy about the assignment but not wanting to disappoint his father, either. He also recalled seeing his mother frown as she took the baby from his father and walked into the other room.

      And so began a rather unsteady, continuing family dynamic. David saw Anna as competition, while Peter regardedn Anna as a burden he was going to have to carry. And things never really changed.

      For one reason or another, things were never quite harmonious among them. Whenever he would extend the olive branch, Anna would hold him suspect. And whenever she would seek common ground with him, he’d be too busy to meet her halfway. Things between her and David were in an even worse state. Only she and Ella got along.

      And so the years melted away, wrapped in misunderstanding and hurt feelings, and the gap continued to widen.

      It was time to put a stop to it.

      “Anna,” he called to her.

      David and Ella, standing nearby, both turned to look at their older brother. About to melt back into the crowd, Anna looked up and in Peter’s direction. The wind whipped her light blond hair into her eyes. She blinked, pushing the strand back behind her ear, a silent question in her pale blue eyes.

      Peter cut the distance between them. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was on borrowed time, that there was a finite amount of it during which he could bring peace to the family. He had no idea where the feeling had come from.

      However, once he was beside her, words seemed to desert him. Ordinarily, he always knew how to sympathize, how to comfort. His bedside manner was one of his strongest points. He had absolutely no trouble placing himself in his patient’s drafty hospital gown, understanding exactly what he or she was going through. Like his father before him, Peter’s capacity for empathy was enormous, and his patients loved him for it.

      But this was different. This was almost too personal. This came with baggage and history. His and Anna’s.

      Peter did his best to sound warm when he spoke to her, knowing that she had to be feeling the same sort of pain he was.

      “There’s going to be a reception at my house.” David and Ella were standing directly behind him. He wished one of them would say something. “I didn’t know if you knew.” Once the words were out, he realized it sounded like a backhanded invitation.

      “I didn’t,” she replied quietly. Her eyes moved from David’s face to Ella’s to his again.

      She looked as if she wanted to leave, Peter thought. He couldn’t really blame her. He knew there’d be less tension if she did. But then again, it wasn’t right to drive her away.

      Peter tried again. “I thought it might help everyone to get together, swap a few stories about Dad. Everyone seems to have a hundred of them,” he added, forcing a smile to his lips.

      He waited for her response, but it was David who spoke next. “Sounds great, Peter, but I’m booked on a flight that leaves in a couple of hours.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ve just got enough time to get to the airport and go through security.”

      “Take a later flight,” Peter urged.

      He knew that David could well afford to pay the difference for changing his plans. The younger man was, after all, a highly sought after plastic surgeon. People magazine had referred to David as the surgeon to the stars in a recent article. He was certainly the family’s success story—at least, financially. In contrast, Ella had just recently completed her residency. And God knew that he wasn’t making a pile of money, Peter thought. About forty percent of his patients had no health insurance and could barely make token payments for their treatment, not that that would stop him from being available to them if the need arose.

      However, Anna probably did quite well for herself in the business world. Her clothes certainly looked expensive,