The Good Mom (16 page)

“Yes,” she shouted. “Now let's go!”

There was a split second where she got a look from both Aidan and from her son, telling her that she was out of line. She was way, way out of line. Not only that but she was crazy. It was a dark look from both of them. First at her, then at each other.

But what they didn't understand was that stupid rules didn't matter. Brandon was all that mattered. She didn't know who these team people were. Her sister was no longer at Wellness Hospital. The only person she knew for sure that she trusted right now with her son's health was standing next to her. He'd spent the past week plus in their home, helping them both with one of the bigger problems that they'd had to face. Aidan had also cared enough to bring her back here, to her son when he needed her. Aidan would know what to do once they got to the hospital.

She didn't want to think it, but Brandon's arm looked broken.
His writing hand
, she thought desperately. How would he manage his schoolwork? How would it affect the rest of his health? Would it make his cancer come back? So many questions whirled.

But there was no doubt in her heart. Maybe she'd fibbed, but she needed Aidan there, with both of them. What if they needed to start treatment right in the ambulance? She couldn't risk him trying to find them at the hospital. He needed to be consulted immediately on any decisions she needed to make.

“Hurry up!” she snapped at the attendant. “Let's go!”

CHAPTER EIGHT

A
IDAN
HAD
CALMED
Ashley down enough that she was seated in the emergency waiting room, nursing a cup of coffee and filling out forms for the hospital. He was still incredulous that she'd implied he was the boy's father. Furious, too, and with good reason, in his opinion.

But now wasn't the time to go into any of that. Or to think about the fact that he'd kissed her. No, now was the time to concentrate on the patient. And Aidan was very good at concentrating.

He sat opposite Brandon in the examination room, keeping the boy's eyes focused on his.

“I was so stupid,” Brandon was saying. “I don't know how it happened, Dr. Lowe, but I was walking backward and I tripped over a bat.”

Aidan nodded. Brandon likely was waving at a cute girl in the audience. Focus wasn't Brandon's strong point.

But now wasn't the time to go into that, either.

The door to the examination room opened, and Dr. Rodriguez walked in. A former colleague of his.

Dr. Rodriguez did a double take when he saw Aidan. “Dr. Lowe! I didn't know you were back in the country.” Without even greeting Brandon, he shook Aidan's hand.

“Thanks. I, ah, just got back two weeks ago.”

“You'll be joining us on staff again, I suppose.” Dr. Rodriguez took a stool beside the computer. As he spoke, he drew up Brandon's file.

Aidan cleared his throat. “This is Brandon,” he said by way of introduction. “He's a student at St. Bart's. I've been tutoring him lately.”

Dr. Rodriguez glanced at the chart the emergency workers had keyed in. “It says here that you're his—”

“No,” Aidan said flatly. He wasn't the boy's dad, and he didn't want that repeated, especially not in front of Brandon.

Brandon was too distracted by the fracture in his right wrist to worry about what the doctors were talking about. It was a closed fracture. The bone wasn't protruding through the skin, thankfully, but there was obvious displacement. Despite the ice pack the ambulance attendants had applied, the limb was swollen to twice its natural size.

“Brandon,” Dr. Rodriguez said, showing him the X-ray on the computer screen. “It looks like you have a clean break. That's good news. None of the bones in the wrist were crushed. We're going to prep you for surgery, set the break and when you wake up, you'll have a cool new cast on your wrist.”

“I can't have a cast!” Brandon protested. “And I don't want surgery! It's not that bad!”

Dr. Rodriguez exchanged a look with a nurse, who'd just knocked and entered the small examination room.

“The surgery is so you won't feel any pain when the bone is set,” Aidan said quietly to Brandon. “If you can handle some pain and are brave enough, the bone can be set here in the office.”

At this point, Brandon perked up. “I'm brave.”

Aidan nodded. “I know.” Good, he'd hoped the kid would agree to an office procedure. Aidan didn't think that Ashley would hold up so well if her son was in surgery for a few more hours. Besides, when Aidan had first begun training, children's simple breaks were routinely set in outpatient settings. Now surgery and general anesthesia were more often used. In Brandon's case, though, in Aidan's professional opinion, a set in the office was the better choice.

“There will be a big needle involved,” Aidan warned. “And some pain. But the good news will be you can go home in a couple of hours. The cast will be on for just a few weeks, while the bone heals.”

“How long?” Brandon snapped. He looked angry now, rather than scared or hurt. His eyes were red-rimmed and he was no longer crying.

Aidan exchanged a look with Brandon's doctor.

“Four weeks,” Dr. Rodriguez said.

Aidan relaxed. Better to say that to Brandon than four to six weeks and hope there were no complications.

“Four weeks! That's a month. I can't do that.” He looked at Aidan, pleading. “I'm supposed to be Romeo in the play with St. Brigid's. They won't let me do it if I'm wearing a cast.”

“I'm sure they'll make an exception.”

“They won't! My friend Allen wanted to try out for Romeo, and they said he couldn't because he has his foot in a cast. They said it's an active role. He had to be the narrator instead!” Brandon pouted.

Dr. Rodriguez was looking mildly annoyed. Annoyed with Brandon's protests, annoyed with Aidan's presence.

“I'll scrub in and do the bone set, if you want,” Aidan said to him.

Dr. Rodriguez shook his head. “Can't. You know protocol.”

Yes, he knew all the rules with insurance, with lawyers.

“In fact, you probably shouldn't even be in here,” the doctor said.

“Brandon's mother asked me to be here. She's signed all the appropriate forms.” Aidan turned his attention to Brandon. “This is the best we can offer you,” Aidan said to the boy. “I'll help you through it. We'll work with your teachers at school.”

A tear leaked out of Brandon's eye. He was angry and frustrated and disappointed. Aidan could see it. In some respects, he was still very much a child.

Aidan leaned forward and caught his eye. “Hey. We have a lot to be thankful for. I just did a year in Afghanistan, working with kids your age and younger. I just wish I was setting simple bone breaks for them. Instead, I fitted prosthetic limbs for kids who'd lost their own when their towns and even schools were bombed.”

Brandon's mouth fell open.

“Your wrist is going to heal a lot faster than you think. You'll be out of the cast by Halloween. By Thanksgiving, you'll be wondering if it had even ever been broken at all. The only thing it will do is give you a little bit more of a roadblock to overcome. You'll come out of this more resilient than ever.”

Brandon's lips set. Aidan figured that the pain medication had kicked in, that the wrist wasn't hurting him. The thought of what he was losing at school in the short term had been what was hurting him. Aidan hoped his instincts were right. He wasn't the boy's father. He wouldn't even be in his life by Halloween.

“You ready?” Aidan asked him. While he'd been speaking, he'd become aware of the movement in the room behind him. The nurse had come in. Aidan remembered that her name was Nurse Hinton—and he also remembered that she didn't like him. He didn't blame her for that. Aidan always
had
been pretty aloof, bordering on rudeness. He knew some people had attributed it to his being Vivian Sharpe's grandson.

It didn't matter now. He hadn't been feeding Brandon a line of bull about being grateful and recognizing the good things he had. What Aidan had seen and done in Afghanistan, plus his interaction with Ashley, was going a long way toward changing his attitude.

Aidan turned slightly. Yes, Nurse Hinton had brought in the equipment Rodriguez would need to set the break.

“Everything's here now,” Aidan told Brandon. “You sure you want to do it like this?”

“Yes. I'm tough. I beat childhood leukemia, you know.”

“That's the spirit.” Aidan nodded to the doctor. The doctor nodded to the nurse. She took Brandon's right hand and began applying the traps to his fingers that would attach to the traction apparatus.

Brandon looked at what they were doing, and the bravery seemed to drain from his face. From his point of view, Aidan was sure the contraption looked like a medieval torture device.

“Look at me,” Aidan said. “Don't look at them. They're going to put a needle in your wrist. You'll feel it, but don't look at it.”

“I'm not afraid of needles,” Brandon insisted.

“Excellent. I don't want to put any added pressure on you, but your mom is out there waiting for us.”

“I'd never let her see me cry.”

Aidan distinctly remembered him crying when his phone was taken away, but he wouldn't embarrass the boy by mentioning that now. “Yeah, we know how brave you are,” he said, speaking quickly, keeping the kid's focus on him instead of on the foot-long monster of a needle that was about to go into his wrist. As it did, Brandon flinched and gritted his teeth, but to his credit, the boy only made a slight groan.

“You're doing awesome,” Aidan said. He gave a quick glance to Rodriguez. His former colleague was less experienced than Aidan, but Aidan knew him to be a good doctor.

The local anesthesia he'd injected was powerful, and worked quickly.

“Does your wrist feel numb now?” Aidan asked.

Brandon nodded. “Yeah. It...feels weird.”

Dr. Rodriguez maneuvered the boy's arm, doing everything right to set the bone cleanly and properly. To a layperson, though, it would look upsetting—the arm being pulled and twisted in positions and directions that a healthy arm shouldn't go.

But Brandon wasn't looking. He'd followed Aidan's instructions. He'd trusted him.

Aidan took satisfaction in that.

The bone was set. Dr. Rodriguez wheeled his stool over to the computer screen, where patients' charts were shown. Nurse Hinton took over and removed the traps from Brandon's fingers. Then she quickly gathered up a bucket and the materials to make a plaster cast.

“Wait,” Aidan said. “He'd like a waterproof cast.” In his opinion, the boy would be much better off in a lighter fiberglass cast with a waterproof liner.

“Well...” Rodriguez muttered, still staring at the screen.

“He's an active kid. It may help him with his ball boy duties for the Captains,” Aidan said. “Brandon LaValley is the volunteer spokesperson for the Sunshine Club.”

“Oh!” Nurse Hinton smiled at Brandon. “We've seen you on television. My daughter loves your promotional spots.”

Brandon smiled genuinely back at her.

“We've got a celebrity here,” Dr. Rodriguez murmured. He showed Brandon the sample clip with the color choices for the fiberglass casts. “You can have any color you want.”

Right on top was a royal-blue color that matched not only the Captains team color, but the blue St. Bartholomew's blazers, as well. But Brandon pointed to the black. “That one. It's badass.”

Badass?
Was that because he'd survived the bone setting?

But Aidan remained silent. He sat back as the doctor and nurse made small talk with Brandon as they finished putting on his cast and giving him his routine instructions for home care.

“I'll need to talk to his mother about a follow-up appointment next week,” Dr. Rodriguez said.

“Fine. I'll bring you out to see her.”

The three of them—Dr. Rodriguez, Aidan and Brandon—headed back to the reception area where Ashley, hopefully, waited.

Aidan felt the tension increasing in his neck. When they'd left her, she'd been emotional, worried about her son. Excessively so, in Aidan's opinion. He'd gone with Brandon because that was the only thing that seemed to appease her. Now he hoped he'd done the right thing.

As they walked down the corridors, Brandon walked ahead of them.

“Now that you're home, are you coming back on staff?” Dr. Rodriguez asked him, his manner friendly.

“No,” Aidan said. “I don't think so.”

“That's too bad. Well, keep in touch. Let me know where you end up.”

“I will,” Aidan said. But the truth was, he was shaken up. His former colleague hadn't asked a word about Fleur. Nothing. It was as if she'd been forgotten.

Or maybe she didn't matter to people at Wellness, because people at Wellness hadn't mattered all that much to Fleur. She'd always been looking further ahead. Boston had never meant to be the pinnacle of her career. She'd wanted more.

He'd wanted less.

The truth was he liked working with Brandon. It gave him some meaning. Even if he wasn't—and never would be—the kid's father.

Once in the waiting area, Brandon met his mother first, and let her cover him with hugs. He hugged her back, speaking bravely, telling her that everything was fine.

He'd kept all the bad moments from her. Maybe it was for the best. Aidan wasn't sure.

Dr. Rodriguez filled Ashley in about the details of the procedure, the particulars of his care and the importance of a follow-up appointment. And then, within five minutes, the three were alone again.

“I need to go to the bathroom before we leave,” Brandon said.

“Okay, honey. We'll be right here waiting.”

They both watched him walk off, still in his team uniform.

When he was out of earshot, Ashley asked him, “Is he really okay? Tell me the truth.”

“He's on painkillers right now. When he gets home, he'll probably want to sleep for a few hours.”

Ashley nodded. “Good. I'll see to that.”

“What I'm really wondering about is how you're doing,” Aidan said quietly.

“I'm better.” Frowning, she sat again. “I know I was pretty upset. Out of control even.” She sighed, looking at her hands. “Brandon being hurt is one of my triggers. I...learned that through my work with my counselor. So I called him just now. We talked. I did some centering meditations.” She glanced up at Aidan. “I want to apologize to you. You helped Brandon and me more than you'll ever know, and I reacted badly to it.”

From the corner of his eye, Aidan saw Brandon returning with his black “badass” cast.

He forced a smile at Ashley. They still had stuff to talk about, but not here, not now. “I'm glad you're okay.” And now that he thought about it, she'd been brave, too. Her kid had been through childhood leukemia. That had to affect a parent in really difficult ways. “He's strong, Ashley. He didn't make a sound when the bone was set.”

Brandon joined them. “Can we go?” he said petulantly.

Aidan wondered if he'd had trouble using the bathroom. Soon enough, Brandon would realize all the things—everyday tasks that most people took for granted—that would be difficult if not impossible to do with a cast on his dominant hand.