Jennifer

  She found it amusing, the thought that he might be doing a bit of waiting too, just to see if she would be the one who came chasing. Mid-thirties, nice face to look at, doctor, single—he probably got pursued a lot. He needed a challenge. She’d never been one to be part of the crowd. Any O’Malley would tell him that.

  She pulled the chart for her next patient. Gregory. The little guy was a ball of energy. She proceeded down the hall to exam room two.

  “Jennifer.”

  She paused to let her chief nurse catch up with her and accepted the call slip. She tried not to let the sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach show on her face as she read the note. “Tell Linda to come on in. I’ll see Veronica as soon as they can get here.”

  Four months of working to get Veronica strong enough for surgery and it was going to be postponed once again because of a fever. She could only hope it wasn’t as bad as the note suggested it might be.

  “Should I give Dr. Travers a heads-up as well?” Marla asked.

  “I’ll do it once we’ve got the blood cultures in the works. Alert his nurse for me so he doesn’t leave tonight without us touching base.”

  Marla nodded and then left to make the calls.

  Jennifer pushed the note into her pocket. It wasn’t easy to get ahold of her emotions, but she did it because she couldn’t carry them with her right now. She took a breath, cleared her face, relaxed her shoulders, and opened the exam room door. “Hi, Gregory. How’s my buddy today?”

  The five-year-old boy perched on the exam table threw his hands up in the air, and the balsa-wood airplane he was aiming landed against the wall, the teddy bear hit the floor, and his face lit up in laughter. “Take it off! You’re taking it off today.”

  She grinned. “I am indeed.”

  In their private little hello, she tickled his toes on the foot without the cast and glanced over at the boy’s mom. “I gather he was ready to come in early for a change.”

  “He was encouraging me to drive faster.”

  The cast he wore to keep his ankle together after three rounds of surgery would become just a special boot today. “First we check all these other toes and elbows and fingers, then I’m taking you over to see Jim, and this hard little cast is going bye-bye,” she promised. He had a brittle-bone disease that snapped his bones like they were twigs. The damage to his ankle from simply running and falling had nearly been unfixable.

  She warmed up the stethoscope in her hand. His doctors were finally making some progress in halting the bone disease’s progress, but the drug combinations being used left the boy’s liver badly stressed. He was prone to catching every bug that came around. She listened to his chest and thought he was no worse than his last visit, but not clear either. “Has Mr. Cough come back to visit?”

  Gregory shook his head.

  “How about Mr. Sniffles?”

  “Can I have a sucker if he visited just a little?”

  She offered her lab-coat pocket. “There’s every flavor to choose from this time.”

  “Grape.”

  She handed over the sucker. “So Mr. Sniffles just kind of passed through?”

  Gregory nodded.

  She checked his ears and throat, then got him to hold still while she repeated the temperature check her nurse had done. Her instincts were telling her Gregory was heading for a chest cold, for the minor signs hadn’t dissipated in the last week. “All done, Gregory. Let’s go have this cast removed.”

  “Can I ride in the blue bomber?”

  “You may.”

  Rather than picking him up from under the arms, out of habit she moved him by sliding her hands under him and lifting him up from the exam table and over into the blue, child-sized powered wheelchair. A normal grip would risk breaking his ribs. “Remember, Mr. Blue goes faster on the downslopes.”

  “I remember.”

  She held the door open for him, glad that at least this part of his doctor’s visits was considered fun. It didn’t hurt either that he was best buddies with his bone doctor.

  She followed the boy toward the lab doors, hanging back a few paces from him so she could talk privately with his mom while they walked. “The blood work is still in range, so there are no new worries on that front. His docs are ecstatic at the rate of bone-density growth they’re seeing. I’m worried about the cold that never fully clears, but at this point more medication seems counterproductive. It’s something that will just have to be watched.”

  “I’ll bring him back in if the congestion gets any worse.”

  “Good. Have you noticed anything that has you concerned, anything new in symptoms?”

  “He’s been stable, which is a nice relief.”

  “For both of us.”

  Jennifer moved to open the door for Gregory, and the boy powered ahead in the chair to join the doctor who was already working to size the new boot.

  “He wants it off today, Jim.”

  “So he tells me. I think we can oblige him. Thanks for shooting over the film. Do you want to do the honors or shall I?”

  “I get to be the one to remove the boot when therapy is done.”

  “Okay, then let’s get this show on the road. Do you want to watch, Gregory? Or play your favorite video game and ignore what I’m doing to your foot until I’m all done?”

  “Wanna watch,” Gregory insisted.

  “Then let me show you how this is done,” the doctor said, smoothly transferring him from the chair to the table with his hands under the boy. He set to work arranging the protective mat. “So tell me more about this backyard fort of yours. I hear it’s a masterpiece.”

  Jennifer’s pager vibrated. She looked down and saw the text message that Veronica and Linda had arrived.

  She coded a reply, then looked over at Gregory’s mom. “After Jim fits the special boot he’ll wear, why don’t you come back to my office and we’ll talk about what makes sense for physical therapy this summer. I’ll have copies of his latest lab work and X-rays for you as well. When you see the specialist in Maryland next month, he’ll use them as the new baselines.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  Jennifer exchanged a wave with Gregory and headed back to her office to meet Linda and her daughter Veronica.

  Marla met her in the back hallway of the practice. “Veronica is in exam room six. She was fine last night but woke with a bad headache, developed a fever midmorning, and vomited twice in the last hour. I’ve already called over to see if pediatrics has a bed available.”

  “She’s deathly afraid of the cardiac unit since her friend passed away. Ask them to give me a bed in orthopedics if they have to.”

  “Will do.”

  Jennifer tapped on the exam room door and then opened it. She offered a smile to Linda, then looked to her patient. “I hear you’re not feeling so good today, Veronica. What’s happening, honey?”

  Jennifer clicked off her desk light, picked up her briefcase and the box she planned to drop into the outgoing mail, and stepped out into the quiet hall. Gregory had forgotten his bear. She’d found it tucked in her office couch cushions and had boxed it to mail back to him. Her partners in the practice, along with the nurses and support staff who worked with them, had all left for the night.

  Going home didn’t appeal. She turned the lights on in the waiting room and sat down at a child-high table in a matching chair. She searched for a piece or two to fit into a jigsaw puzzle. Friday nights in Dallas didn’t seem much different from Friday nights in Chicago, where she’d grown up and done her residency. There always came an hour when the work for the week was done and a few hours of downtime stretched ahead unfilled. A movie didn’t appeal either. Maybe she should go buy herself an ice cream.

  “I hear you had a tough day.”

  She looked up.

  Tom was leaning against the glass entry doors to the practice, watching her. She was surprised to see him here at this time of night. She knew he had offices in the same medical building, but surgeons tended to work the ver
y early hours of the day over at the hospital.

  “One of my patients developed a fever,” she said. “Her surgery likely will have to be postponed, and she can’t afford the delay. She’s got a mass the size of a walnut trying to grow in her chest and it’s pressing on her esophagus.”

  Veronica had been a patient since the girl was three years old, and every year brought something new to fight. The growths were not malignant, didn’t have a known cause, and didn’t respond to treatment. The first one had appeared beneath her heart and nearly pinched off a major artery by the time it could be surgically removed. The second had affected her right lung. The third had appeared in the soft tissue behind her knee. This latest one had hit when she was too weak from other medical problems to handle the surgical procedure. The poor kid just couldn’t get a break. “I’m hopeful the fever is only the flu.” But she was worried, and it was one of the reasons she couldn’t settle tonight.

  She held up a hand and offered Tom a puzzle piece. “Come on, help me out.”

  He walked over. Rather than risk a child-sized chair, he sat down on the carpet.

  He worked on the puzzle with her, filling in the puppy ears.

  He leaned into her space with another puzzle piece. “Want to get a bite to eat with me?”

  She glanced at him, but his attention was on orienting a furry piece of white. “Maybe.”

  “You should say yes. I know all kinds of good places to eat that are still open at this time of night.”

  Jennifer nudged him over so she could work on the puppy’s eyes. “I may need to come back to check on Veronica if her fever gets worse.”

  “Not a problem.” He finished the ears and got to his feet. “Come on, Jennifer.”

  He offered her a hand up from the child’s chair. She didn’t think her legs would hold her and shifted her hand to grasp his arm. She shook off the weakness with an apologetic laugh. “Sorry.”

  He was frowning. “Your back is still bothering you.”

  “Just at the odd moments when I act younger than my age.” She gestured to the short chair. She picked up her briefcase and felt no further twinge even holding its weight. “Do you know a place that does a Chicago-style pizza? I’m getting desperate for a taste of home.”

  “That’s a challenge.” He thought a moment and nodded. “But one I think I can meet.”

  He was keeping the conversation and meal low-key, and she appreciated that. The tables were small and round, squeezed around the cramped edges of the café. There were pizzas on the menu called New York and California, and even a challenger from Ohio. Tom had ordered two Chicago-styles, and they were massive deep-dish offerings. The pizza arrived on paper plates with plastic forks and knives.

  “Close enough to the real thing?”

  “It’s not bad,” she agreed happily after the first couple of bites, wondering how she had not discovered this place before. “Actually, it’s rather good. Okay, you’ve heard about my day. How was yours?”

  “A kid skateboarding tried to jump down a flight of concrete stairs and ended up putting his knee square into a riser with the full weight of his body behind the contact. I spent most of the day assisting while Dr. Sandover put the puzzle of broken bones back into some semblance of order.”

  “Was it successful?”

  “He’s got a chance, which is about as far as anyone wants to predict with this one. He’ll likely end up as the first fourteen-year-old in his school with an artificial knee.” Tom rose to get them more napkins. “Talk to me about how a Chicago native ended up in Texas,” he said when he returned and handed her several. “You grew up in Chicago. You went to medical school there too?”

  “I did. I came to Texas because I wanted Dr. Marish as my pediatrics mentor ever since I read the book she wrote, Thriving Kids, and there was an opening in the residency program here. I gambled on liking her enough to make up for the move.”

  “I hope Texas has grown on you a bit more since then.”

  “It’s been giving its best shot. I do like it here. But I miss home.”

  “I remember you mentioned your sister was coming to town. Did you have a good visit?”

  She grinned at the memory of what it was like having Kate around her place for the all-too-brief thirty-six-hour visit. That’s all they’d been able to squeeze in given Kate’s schedule. “We had a great time. Think energy explosion and lots of laughter, and you’ll come close.”

  Because it was easier to show what was unusual about her life than try to explain it, she reached for her billfold and unzipped the back compartment. A cascade of photos slid out into her hand, the majority of them current and former patients, but toward the back she found a few of the snapshots she sought. She held one of them out to him.

  “The O’Malleys. There are seven of us, but it’s not exactly a traditional family. We’re all orphans. Kate, who I mentioned,” she said, pointing her out, “and that’s Marcus. Stephen. Lisa. Rachel. Jack. We sort of adopted each other. Legally changed our last names, became our own family.”

  He looked at the picture, looked at her, and then looked back at the picture. “Wow.” He shook his head. “I’d say something about how creative a solution that is, and how strong the desire is to be part of a family, but I’d just sound even more stupid than wow. Really?”

  “We might not share a blood connection, but the group is as strong as if we do. We’ve been together twenty-plus years now, and I don’t think a single one of us regrets it. We’re constantly stepping in and out of each other’s lives.”

  He smiled and handed the picture back. “You look happy in that photo, and I can hear the joy in your voice just mentioning them. I envy you a bit—that closeness you have with them.”

  “Only child?”

  “Hmmm. And have regretted it for a decade.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Mom wants grandkids.”

  She laughed at his rueful tone.

  “One of the trials of being the only son. I can’t blame her. Family matters. The older I get, the more I enjoy my parents’ company, and them mine, I think.”

  “They live here in town?”

  He nodded. “They do. I see them at least a couple of times a week, talk to them even more often. Dad’s a research doctor, which is where I got the love for this work in the first place. They’re getting to be in frail health and can no longer travel like they once did, but otherwise are doing well.” He gestured to the larger stack of photos. “May I see?”

  “Sure.” She handed them over. “My kids,” she explained, suddenly feeling awkward about the personal connection she made with so many of her patients.

  He laughed at the animal costumes. “You do believe in laughter being good medicine.” He turned one of the birthday-party pictures toward her.

  “Boredom is a problem when you have to spend days and nights and more days in a hospital ward.”

  “No need to explain. When I worked the pediatrics floor, I was thrilled when there was someone like you around to keep their spirits up.”

  She finished her pizza while she watched him turn photos.

  He’d had the tact not to immediately ask how she’d ended up an orphan, how her parents had died, and she quietly gave him points for that. Some memories still hurt when they were stirred up, and the memory of the night the drunk driver hit her parents’ car was still painful. The added hurt that there had been no one stepping forward to take her in after her parents had been killed only intensified the pain.

  She knew how rough life could be for a child when things went wrong, when the promise of two parents and a stable home disappeared. It was one of the reasons she was so determined to help kids who were ill and to do whatever she could to brighten their days. The orphanage, Trevor House, had given her the O’Malleys, along with her focus on becoming a doctor.

  She gestured to one of the photos. “My sister Kate was the one who thought up the sheriff’s badges for those who were fighting cancer.”

  “You
mentioned she was a cop?”

  Jennifer nodded.

  “I think I would like her a great deal.” Tom turned one of the photos to show her. “Can I keep this one? You have two prints here.”

  She blushed, for it was one of her smiling at the camera, blue twinkle stars hand-painted on her cheeks and silver-glitter eye shadow highlighting her eyes. She shrugged. “Sure. If you want.”

  He slipped it into his shirt pocket. “I’ve watched you with the kids. I think you are a doctor because you love kids first and enjoy medicine second.”

  “Probably so.”

  “No desire to start your own family?”

  “When the time is right,” she finally said, not sure what to do with the question. She shrugged again. “If I end up waiting too long, I’m not opposed to adopting.”

  He finished his pizza. “Loving kids as well as treating them makes being a doctor much more of a lifestyle than a career for you, I’m guessing.”

  “Yes, I think it is.”

  “I like that fact.” He nodded toward the front counter. “Care for dessert?”

  “I’ll pass and suggest a walk. It’s a nice evening out, even if it’s pretty late.”

  “Good idea.” He stood and gathered up their plates, carrying them to the trash. “Let’s wander toward downtown and enjoy the lights?”

  Jennifer smiled. “Please.”

  The fountain by city hall was brightly lit. They walked toward it in mutual agreement, the sound of the cascading water welcoming in the night. She took a seat on the wide encircling bench. The coins at the bottom of the shallow pool sparkled, and she pitched a penny upward, watching it circle in the air before landing with a soft plop in the water.