My daughter caught me off guard. "I guess I will. The appointments will impact my schedule at the store, even more so now that school is beginning."
Karen asked if her father and Dr. Graham would get in trouble over lying about her mother's suicide. I told her I thought not, but it wasn't her problem and she shouldn't concern herself about it.
"I know we'll talk about how my mother died. That's the whole point. What else should I say to the doctor?"
"Ask him any questions you want . . ."
"I won' task him questions like I ask you!"
I smiled. "Just be honest." I explained about doctor patient confidentially. "Anything you tell the doctor is between the two of you."
"He won't tell you or Dad?"
I told her I wasn't clear on that point until we met with the man. "Whatever is decided, you'll know ahead of time. Do you want privacy with him?"
She thought a minute. "Not from you," she said. "He can tell you anything I say. I don't mind." The trust she displayed warmed me to no end.
"Thank you," I murmured. "I won't let you down."
"You haven't yet," she answered and turned away to sleep.
I stopped by the toy store the next day and told Mrs. Peck I had a doctor's appointment later in the morning. While she didn't ask for details, I volunteered.
"It's Dr. Mason. My daughter and I are both having issues over losing our mothers."
"That's a terrible time in life," she answered. "When my mother passed on, I was inconsolable for weeks."
"Were you very young?" I asked.
"Heavens, no! It was only three years ago. She was ninety-six, but she went suddenly." When I looked startled, Mrs. Peck added, "a mother is a mother, no matter how old. It's a special relationship." With Mrs. Peck, she so often pulled your leg that it was equally surprising when a words of wisdom came forth.
Dr. Mason's office was in a sea side Victorian home. He lived upstairs. There was no receptionist and his quarters were small and unpretentious, consisting of a waiting area, a closed room and his patient room beyond. While the curtains were drawn, he left the window up and I could hear the surf. The doctor was a tiny man, mustached, rotund and, from Paul's report, in his late seventies. His New York City practice was ten years behind him and his limited Summerside schedule allowed us our short notice and the concession of meeting on a holiday. Our joint meeting went well. Karen was less reserved than I expected, and the doctor was kind to her emotions. We both relaxed and explained our new relationship, giving him general information on our reasons for the visit. He did not press and asked few questions.