Second Chance Dad (11 page)

Now and then the creek narrowed and the water rushed through exposed rocks in the creek bed, and Josh paddled again until they were back on a more languid section.

Intrigued by the powerful play of muscle beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, Sophie jerked her attention away from the man in front of her and fastened her gaze on the banks of the creek, watching for snapping turtles and other wildlife. “Tell me about the horses.”

“Horses?”

“You mentioned them back at the sporting goods store. So what did you do—ride western? English?”

He remained silent for a few minutes, then sighed. “My family had quite a few when I was growing up. Hunters, mostly. My mother and sister were into eventing trials. Are you familiar with what those are?”

Sophie nodded and drew in a slow breath, imagining the world he'd grown up in, which couldn't have been farther from her own. Expensive horses. Trainers. Beautiful facilities, no doubt. That a recluse living in a rundown cabin had come from all of that now left her speechless.

He looked over his shoulder with a wry grin. “I liked the cross county and show jumping part, but the precision of dressage training wasn't really my thing. As a boy, I always figured I'd rather be a cowboy and
go rope something, then sit around a campfire and spit tobacco. Like in the old Westerns on TV.”

“I'll bet your mom loved
that
idea.”

“Not exactly. The one time I went whooping and hollering bareback across a pasture at a dead gallop, I believe I was grounded for two weeks. Maybe three.”

She could envision him, a little boy clinging to that horse's mane and having the time of his life. The image made her smile.

“It's not too late,” she teased. “You could still be a cowboy, if you wanted to be. Is your mom still into horses?”

“Nope. She developed MS and couldn't safely ride any longer, and then she and dad divorced when I went off to college. Everything from the past is gone.”

His tone was offhand, without a hint of rancor or disappointment, but she could well imagine how hard it must have been for him to move from a life so privileged to one of emotional upheaval. “I'm so sorry.”

“Don't be. Dad married again and claimed he was a happy man right up until his accident. He always told us that he felt as if he'd been blessed in this world, but he looked forward to spending eternity with his Lord.”

“And your mother?”

“She went back to school for a master's in nursing
and teaches at the University. She can still get around with just a cane, and goes on medical on mission trips to Haiti every year, all summer long. So everyone is happy again. Even my sister.”

“What does she do?”

“Badgers me, mostly. It was quite a relief when I could tell her that I'd finally started physical therapy again.” He laughed. “She has an MBA, but left her corporate job to homeschool her four kids. I think she still considers herself the CEO and Operating Manager of the entire McLaren family, though.”

“She sounds interesting.”

Once again, he twisted in his seat and looked back at her. “Though now that you've heard about the McLarens, you probably hope you'll never meet any of them.”

Just in the space of a few hours, he'd surprised her, awed her, and now he'd drawn her into his family's world of offbeat and interesting people, and she found herself longing to learn even more about him.

Not that it was likely to happen.

A small town, struggling widow and a doctor with his sophisticated past were hardly likely to find common ground.

“Dinner?”

Startled out of her thoughts, she jerked her chin up and stared at him. “What?”

“Would you like to go out to dinner tonight?”
There was a touch of hesitance in his voice, as if he wasn't sure she would agree. “Eli, too, if he hasn't eaten by the time we get back. I've heard about some nice little places along the river that might be fun. And one, believe it or not, even has a Harley motorcycle theme.”

“I—I'd like that. A lot. And as you well know, Eli will love it.”

It was just a meal between friends. She expected nothing more than that. But even if she never had another chance like this, it was going to be an evening she would remember, long after Josh McLaren left town.

 

The month of July flew by. Now, faced with his last formal therapy appointment with Sophie, Josh paced the porch waiting for her to arrive.

She had done so much for him, he hardly knew how to thank her for the way she'd refused to take no for an answer, and had returned again and again until he finally agreed to physical therapy. The way she'd pushed and cajoled and teased, making him work harder at his strengthening exercises until he'd regained steady ambulation skills, and no longer suffered the degree of back pain that he'd endured before. The dexterity in his hand was markedly improving, as well.

He would never practice medicine again. That desire was well and truly gone. But he would have
far better quality of life, and for that he would always be grateful.

But now, she was coming one final time, and he had to find out if there could be more to this relationship than one framed by her scheduled visits.

Sophie and Eli had spent many evenings with him these past few weeks. Canoeing. Sightseeing. Short hikes in the surrounding state parks, though he still wasn't up to more than a mile. Meals at little cafés tucked away in the surrounding small towns.

All low-key, simple pleasures, nothing like the glitz and glamour his late wife had enjoyed. And yet…he'd never felt such a sense of peace and contentment.

He wasn't expecting any sort of romantic commitment with Sophie. He might never be ready for that again. But without Eli and Sophie brightening up his life, what would be left?

There was the foundation he was establishing for the medical care of low-income kids in the area. Good would come of that, and a sense of satisfaction. Named for his late wife and their unborn son, Thomas, it would honor their memory for decades to come.

But he couldn't think of anything in his life now that made him as happy as Sophie's silvery laugh, or watching Eli avidly pore over textbooks and magazines, then hearing the boy's remarkably astute, insightful questions.

The boy was
brilliant
. Having the chance to see him grow and develop, and move on to do amazing things would be such a privilege—

Josh stopped himself short.

Eli would have a bright future, but Josh had no right to imagine himself a part of it.

Bear roused himself from a nap on the porch, woofed and stood at attention at the top of the stairs. Sure enough, a plume of dust soon rose above the trees, and then Sophie's car came bouncing up the lane to the house at a good clip.

She pulled to a sharp stop and for a moment her car disappeared within a cloud of dust boiling up into the air.

Sneezing, she climbed out of the car but stayed in the lee of the open door. “I just got a call a minute ago. Alberta stopped in to see Gramps but he didn't answer the door, so she peeked in the windows and saw him on the floor.”

“Did she call 911?”

“He never locks his doors, so she went on in. He's talking and isn't in pain, but she needs help getting him up. I'm sorry—but I need to go.”

He started down the steps. “Do you need help?”

“Thanks, but no. I've done this before. I'm really sorry about this—I can come back later for your last appointment.”

“Don't worry about it. Is Eli with you?”

“Yeah, and he's very disappointed that we have to leave.”

“Then let him stay. We can work on the Harley while you're gone. If you'd like, I've got some nice rib eyes for supper.”

Eli was already bolting out of the car, but she still hesitated. “You're sure?”

“No problem. I'll watch over him like he was my own.”

 

Eli stared at all of the gleaming engine parts laid out on a blanket. The replacement parts, that had arrived yesterday, from various sellers on eBay. And the original parts, that were now cleaned and oiled and gleaming. “Do you think it will work?”

“I sure hope so.” Josh smiled. “If not, we'll have to box it all up and take it to a shop for the experts to figure out. But I've enjoyed this, haven't you?”

“You bet,” Eli breathed. He ran a reverent hand over the front fender. “Do you think you'll be able to match the paint?”

“That's a really good question. I found out that it's custom order Birch White, but the original paint has over forty-five years of patina on it, so it won't be easy to just touch up the chips with fresh paint. What do you think we should do—try that, leave the chips be, or repaint the whole thing?”

Eli studied the fender. “My mom likes
Antiques
Roadshow
on TV. Sometimes people clean and paint something to make it pretty, but then it isn't worth lotsa money 'cause it isn't original. Is it the same with motorcycles?”

“Another good question. Maybe I need to ask an expert about that.” He studied the skeletal frame of the Harley. “We'd better not put the fender, gas tank and saddlebags back on, until we know for sure. Right?”

Eli nodded.

“And, we should think about the touring accessories. Should we add a bigger gas tank, or stick with the original? It's just five-gallons.”

The boy stood a little taller, his expression serious. “If you want it like when your dad had it, then it should be original.”

Josh grinned at him. “Good point. Hey, I need to run up to the house to pull a package of steaks out of the freezer. Will you be okay out here for a minute or two?”

Eli nodded.

“You won't touch anything, right? There's a lot of dangerous stuff out here.”

His pained I'm-not-a-little-kid look begged Josh to treat him like an adult.

Josh hesitated, then turned on his heel and headed for the door. “Be right back.”

He'd barely made it to the front door of his cabin when he heard the child's first scream.

 

Alberta met Sophie at her grandfather's front door with a worried frown. “I'm so glad I stopped by, dear—I don't know when he fell, but I think he's been there quite a while. He's rather upset about it.” She twisted her hands in a fretful knot. “If I had the strength, I could've helped him up, but he's just too big.”

“I'm just glad you found him. I wouldn't have stopped in today until late evening.”

Sophie patted her on the arm and headed for the kitchen, where she found Gramps leaning against a cupboard, propped on one arm.

She knelt at his side. “Are you okay? Does anything hurt?”

He scowled at her. “No. Just help me up.”

“In a minute.” She ran a hand down each of his legs. “Is this tender here—or here?”

“No.”

“What about your hips?”

“No.”

“Your back?”

His scowl darkened. “I'd
tell
you if it hurt. Just get me off of this floor. And don't be telling your father about this, you hear?” His gaze skated over to Alberta. “You, either. He'll try to dump me in some nursing home.”

“Don't worry, Gramps. But I do think you should let me get you set up with one of those pendants, so you can call for help if this happens again.”

She pulled a kitchen chair next to him, then hooked her elbow under his arm and bent her knees. “Okay now, you know the drill. We'll take this slow. One…two…three…”

When she managed to lever him up into the chair, she kneeled at his side. “How did this happen? Did you fall very hard?”

“Just…slipped.”

“Where's your walker?”

He ducked his head.

“You
know
you have to use it. Even short distances. If you don't, one of these days you're going to end up in the hospital, and then you
will
end up in a nursing home for rehab. And you won't have any say about it, either.”

He looked away.

“Do you have any bruises? Sore places?”

He didn't answer.

“Are you dizzy at all? Did you hit your head?”

When he stubbornly remained silent, she knew he was humiliated to have them both here, and aware of his fall.

Alberta pulled up another chair and sat down beside him to rest a heavily veined hand on his arm. “I'm going to make us a nice hot cup of tea, Walter.
We can sit here and visit a while. Maybe you'd even like a sandwich. Did you have lunch?”

He studied his hands with a morose expression. “Guess not.”

She looked up at Sophie and smiled. “Don't you worry. His color is good and he didn't get hurt. I'll stay and visit, and we'll be fine.”

“That's nice of you, but—”

Sophie's cell phone rang. “Sorry.”

She grabbed it from the depths of her purse and read the caller ID. “It's just Josh McLaren. He's probably wondering when I'll be back to get Eli.” She flipped it open. “Hey, Josh—”

“It's Eli,” he barked. “We're on our way to Aspen Creek Memorial. Meet us there.”

Eli?
Stunned, she felt the blood drain from her face. “Th-the
hospital
?”

But the connection was already dead.

J
osh slammed his car to a halt outside the emergency entrance of the small community hospital, rounded the front bumper, and carefully lifted Eli out of the backseat, cradling him in his arms.

Eli's skin was clammy, cold with shock. His pale, frightened face sent Josh's blood pressure up another notch.

Years of working in emergency medicine had prepared him for just about anything—but hadn't even touched his panic at seeing Eli covered with blood, his eyes wide with terror.

Knowing that most of the blood had poured from a small laceration on the boy's skull, and that the bleeding was already stopped, didn't lessen Josh's massive feeling of guilt.

The automatic doors to the E.R. opened with a whoosh and brought him face-to-face with a heavy
set receptionist at the desk. Her grandmotherly smile did nothing to settle his raw nerves.

“I need assistance, here. Stat.”

She shuffled the folders on the desk in front of her, picked one and withdrew a form. “You need to fill this out, sir.”

“No—I want an exam room
now
. And I want an E.R. nurse out here. I can fill that out after we go back.”

“Sir. You don't underst—” She took a second look at Josh's face and punched a button on the console in front of her. “LouAnn—I need you up here.” She punched another button and her voice sounded over the loud speaker. “Code Six—Zone One. Code Six—Zone One.”

She cautiously stepped out from behind the desk. “Come with me—over here by the double doors. The triage nurse will be here right away.” Her voice dropped to a gentle, soothing note. “Can you tell me what happened?”

He brushed aside her question as if she were an irritating fly, his attention focused on the doors leading back into the E.R.

If the nurse didn't show up in another ten seconds, he'd take Eli on back himself.

“I-it hurts,” Eli whispered brokenly, his voice barely audible. “Hurts…so bad.”

Josh held him close. “I know, son…but you'll be fine. I can promise you that.”

A security guard burst into the waiting area, a hand on the gun at his side. At almost the same instant, a slender young nurse pushed through the double doors.

Josh stood and brushed past her. “What room?”

“Sir—”

“I'm a doctor,” he snapped. “And this boy has been hurt.
What room?
”

Her protest died on her lips. “To the left. First cubicle.”

She swept aside the curtains and Josh stepped inside, then gently laid Eli down on the gurney. “You have a doctor here now?”

“O-on call. But—”

“I work in Emergency Medicine, but I don't have privileges here. This is Eli Alexander, and his mother is on the way. He was apparently playing next to a stripped-down Harley and it fell on him. He was pinned under around eight-hundred pounds when I found him.”

“How long?”

“A few minutes at most. I suspect possible internal injuries so he needs a CBC to check for internal bleeding and some scans. He also has a couple of lacerations, on his head and arm, but they've been bandaged and stopped bleeding.”

“Your name?”

“Dr. Josh McLaren.”

She grabbed a phone on the wall and made one
call, then another. “Dr. Olson can be here in ten minutes. He's already ordered the labs, and I've let the lab know. They'll be here in a minute.”

Josh leaned down to smooth the tousled hair away from Eli's forehead. “How are you doing, pal?”

Eli stared up at him with terrified eyes.

“Now don't you worry. It shouldn't be much longer and your mom will be here, and the doctor is going to make sure everything is just fine.”

“I—I didn't mean to c-cause trouble,” Eli whispered.

Guilt swept through Josh. “It was my fault, not yours. I never should've left you alone out there. Not for a minute.”

The lab tech came in with a tray of test tubes. “Hey, little fella. This will take just a minute, okay?”

Eli whimpered, tried to edge away as the tech prepared his arm and applied the tourniquet. Josh held Eli's hand and moved closer. “Pretty exciting stuff, huh?” He smiled. “But you're doing really,
really
well. Your mom will be so proud of you.”

Eli moaned when the tech drew the sample, tears trailing down his cheek. “I just wanna go home. Please, can you take me home?”

The curtain rustled as the lab tech left. A moment later, Sophie appeared, her face as pale as Eli's. Her eyes widened with shock at the bloodstains on Josh's shirt.

“The nurse just told me about what's going on here.” She moved to the side of the gurney and kissed Eli's forehead.

“Hey, Eli—I hear you've had an exciting afternoon.” She looked up at Josh, her eyes wide and frightened, searching his face as if looking for answers that the nurse had withheld.

“The on-call doc will be here shortly,” he said quietly. “They're doing blood work to check for internal bleeding and I suspect they'll be doing some scans as well, just to be safe. He'll need a few stitches for the lacerations on his arm.”

She drew in a sharp breath, then turned back to Eli and managed a wobbly smile. “You
have
had an exciting day.” She rested a loving hand against his tear-streaked cheek. “But everything will be fine. Don't you worry at all. We'll have you back home in no time.”

She didn't spare Josh another look as she murmured encouraging words to her son. After a few minutes, he withdrew, knowing that he was probably the last person she wanted there, since he'd been the one who had failed his responsibility for Eli.

He hadn't paid attention on his way in, but now he slowly paced the emergency department waiting area, taking in its smudged and dreary mint-green walls, and the chipped 1960's tile squares on the floor. A handful of wooden chairs were strewn haphazardly along one wall. The place looked more like a set
from the old movie
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
than any modern hospital he'd ever seen. Were they even capable of providing adequate care, here? Should he have driven to the next town?

Lost in his thoughts he didn't notice the newcomers—a couple in their sixties—until the woman was already seated on the chair nearest the double doors leading back into the emergency department. The man paced in front of her, his jaw rigid. Slender, narrow-eyed, his face appeared to be set in a permanent scowl.

He stared at Josh for a long moment, then stopped pacing and folded his arms over his chest. “Are you here with Sophie and Eli?”

Josh hesitated as a renewed sense of guilt slid through him. “I'm Josh McLaren. I came with Eli, but Sophie is with him now. Are you her parents?”

The woman swiveled in her chair to look at him, a frown deepening the vertical line between her eyes. “We're the Millers. I'm Sophie's stepmother. And this is Dean, her dad.” Her hand crept up to her throat. “Do you know how Eli is?”

“A doctor is on the way. They're doing some tests to make sure he's all right, Mrs. Miller.”

Dean's eyes narrowed even more. “I've heard about you, McLaren,” he snarled, his voice rising sharply. “You're that patient of Sophie's—the one who's been hanging around her. It's all over town.”

His face mottled with anger, he'd moved closer, silently forcing Josh to take a step back.

And then, slow realization dawned in his eyes. “But I know I heard that name before. Didn't you, Margie? He was in the news—something real bad.”

Josh stilled, waiting for him to remember. Knowing that he would.

“It was…it was a car accident.” A note of triumph crept into the man's voice. “Real suspicious circumstances—wife died in a fiery crash, but her ‘loving' husband survived unscathed. That's what the papers said.”

“Not unscathed, exactly,” Josh said quietly, leaving his burn-scarred hands in his pockets. “I couldn't save her.”

“And now, my daughter apparently leaves her boy in your care?”

“Only for an hour or so. She needed to—”

“So you have one small boy for an hour and he ends up in the
hospital
?” His voice rose to a roar. “Stay away from my family, McLaren. Maybe my Sophie is nice to you, but if you're a patient of hers, she
has
to be or she'll lose her job. She doesn't need the likes of you hanging around.”

The security guard reappeared, and glanced uneasily between them. At the desk, the receptionist rose, holding a phone receiver to her ear—probably calling 911 for backup.

Josh stepped away. “I'm sorry, Mr. Miller. Maybe I'd better leave.”

He nodded to the guard and the receptionist, stopping to look over his shoulder before going through the exit doors.

His heart stumbled over a beat when he saw Sophie standing in front of the emergency department door, a hand at her mouth, her face pale as snow.

She'd overheard everything—he could see the shock in her eyes. But she didn't say a word.

And now he knew that she'd judged him, and found him guilty in every possible way.

And any chance he'd had with her was gone.