The party thinks he has a good chance. Youth, looks, charisma.”
“With the Sullivan machine behind him?”
Congressman Sullivan’s laugh boomed. “Absolutely.”
Cooper’s younger brother had followed the rules of the Sullivan household and gone into law with an eye to politics. Cameron was now viewed as the good son. Not that Cooper was complaining. Cameron’s natural propensity for their father’s profession took some of the pressure off Cooper. Some, but not all.
Congressman Randall Sullivan dreamed of creating a political dynasty to rival the Kennedy clan. The trouble was his elder son had not cooperated, and this had caused more than a little tension within the family.
“Cam’s still young, Dad. He needs to be certain this is what he wants.”
“Jack Kennedy was in the Oval Office at forty-three. A man has to make his move when the climate is right. That’s politics. If you had stayed the course, you’d be in the Senate by now.”
The censure was there, subtle, but sharp like a sticker in a sock.
“Dad,” he said simply, not wanting to revisit this old wound.
“This is what you were born for, Cooper, what your mother and I reared you to do with your life. The Sullivans are public servants. It’s our responsibility to care for those less fortunate. There’s still time for you to throw your hat in the ring. I know the party would be interested. Two Sullivan brothers running for office this election year would make great press and garner big voter turnout.”
Cooper bit back his usual argument. Putting broken hearts back together was public service. Sure he was paid well, but so was the congressman.
“I’m a doctor.” He glanced at the letter, wanting to say that he wasn’t just a doctor, he was a good doctor, a surgeon moving up through the ranks at a rapid pace. But the senator was only interested in one game, and it wasn’t medicine.
His fingers tightened on the acceptance letter, euphoria seeping out like a leaking oxygen tank.
“A good strategist can use the doctor angle,” his father was saying. “The surgeon who comes to politics to heal society’s wounds. Something like that. What do you say?”
“I don’t think so, Dad. I’m—”
“Don’t say no yet. Think about it. That’s all I’m asking. Think about it.”
Trying to talk to his father was like spitting into the wind. He was always the one who was sorry.
“Okay, son? You’ll do that for the old man, won’t you? Think about it?”
Cooper swallowed against the tightness in his throat. This was why his father was one of the most influential men in the state. He knew how to get what he wanted. “I’m sorry, Dad.”
Truly, he was sorry. Sorry to be a disappointment. Sorry he couldn’t be what his father needed and wanted him to be.
The silence that extended from his father’s line to his buzzed for several painful seconds before the congressman cleared his throat. When he spoke, his voice was tight with disapproval.
“We’ve got our first fund-raiser for your brother scheduled on the thirtieth. I hope you can find it in your busy schedule to be there.”
Cooper didn’t miss the subtle jab. “I’ll be there. Tell Cam to let me know if I can help in any other way.” Short of running with him.
“Will do. Now, wasn’t there something you wanted to talk to me about?”
Cooper glanced once more at the letter, crumpled in one corner by his ever-tightening fingers. The joy he’d wanted to share with someone close was so far gone he couldn’t even remember what it had felt like. “Nothing important.”
“All right then. You’ll have to excuse me. I have a meeting to attend. Senator Steiner thinks he can sway my vote on that worthless bridge project of his.” He chuckled roughly. “Maybe I’ll let him if he makes all the right noises about helping Cameron. Come for dinner on Sunday. Make your mother happy.”
It was more of a command than an invitation. “I’ll be there. Thank you, sir.”
As deflated as a child’s balloon, he flipped his cell phone closed and stared at the criss-cross pattern in the tile floor. He shouldn’t let his father get to him, but he always did.
It would be different when he made chief. The congressman would see far more advantage in a position of prominence than just being a member of the team. No matter how prestigious the group, according to his father, Sullivans weren’t team members. They were the head man. Anything less was not acceptable.
In a fit of frustration, Cooper wadded the letter into a ball, aimed it toward the trash can and, with a flip of his wrist, arched the paper like a miniature basketball. The white vellum hit its mark. Cooper’s mouth turned up in a self-deprecating grin.
“Two points,” he murmured.
The action reminded him of his old buddy and one-on-one opponent, Justin Thompson. They must have shot a million paper wads during medical school, and they’d bet on every single one. Right now, he’d give a year of his life to see his former friend. Even though Justin would be green with jealousy over the journal acceptances, he would also be happy for Cooper’s success. That was the fuel that drove their friendship—fierce competition coupled with a deep respect and affection. If he couldn’t win, he wanted Justin to take first place. He knew Justin had felt the same.
His foot dropped to the floor with a thud. He stared at the wall. Justin was dead. Unbelievable.
The shock still stung like an injection of xylocaine. One of the brightest guys he’d ever encountered, gone. A good man, a great competitor, a true friend.
A motorcycle wreck. He shuddered at the thought. But that was Justin. A man who pushed the envelope, ready to take chances, to try new and exciting things. It was what had made their friendship so exhilarating at times. He’d never known what Justin would do next.
Regret pulled at him. They hadn’t parted on the best of terms. His fault, he was sure. But he should have kept in touch, should have called, should at least have known a friend had died before his time. A physician of all people knew how frail life could be.
Two young doctors entered the lounge, both yawning with the exhaustion common to overworked residents but bantering with the black humor that kept them awake and alert for thirty-plus hours.
He and Justin had done that, although their jokes had always been competitive, each trying to outdo the other.
Funny how he hadn’t thought about that in a long time, but now the camaraderie came back with the clarity of HDTV.
An ache pulled at his gut. He missed that kind of friendship.
As he skimmed into his street clothes, his mind strayed to the sprite of a woman Justin had left behind. Encountering Natalie at Dr. Craggin’s wedding had been a surprise. A pleasant one. When he’d seen her across the room, he’d done a double take. Ten years ago, she’d been a cute girl, but now she was a woman, all grown-up and looking good. Real good.
