Choosing You

by Stacy Finz

  But fun?

  She laughed at his quizzical expression. “If my work involved as much pressure as yours I wouldn’t think of it as fun either.”

  “I suspect there is plenty of pressure in advertising.” But yeah, fun to him was teaching Roni to ice skate. It was riding Reggie across a field at breakneck speed. It was watching the National Finals Rodeo from a lower level seat in front of the bucking chutes. It was sex in the bed of his old F-150 under a full moon.

  “There is. Lots. But it’s a different kind of pressure. It doesn’t involve life or death situations.”

  Once again, she’d exaggerated. Like any surgery there were risks of fatality. But for the most part, he fused bones back together. His pressure came from the devastating disappointment his patients had when he had to tell them they’d never walk or throw a ball again.

  “What’s the strategy then . . . for Griff’s houses?”

  “First thing is identifying a target audience. I don’t know that he’s done that yet. From what I can tell Sierra Heights has been marketed the way you traditionally sell real estate. Classified ads in the local newspapers, open houses, all the typical stuff. Unfortunately, that only works to attract buyers in the general vicinity. But if it turns out that his target audience is an avid outdoors person who has a home on the beach in Florida but likes to spend his or her summers in the forest on a river then Griffin has to figure out how to let those folks know Sierra Heights is here and what it has to uniquely offer.”

  “Ah, and that’s where you come in.”

  “Sort of. Most of my clients have that end already covered. My job is to come up with catchy jingles and taglines that hold the brand together, basically give consumers a reason to choose my client over the competition. But in a case like this I can do the marketing and advertising.”

  He added ardent to his list of the many things he found attractive about her. She’d said she had been working behind the scenes while raising Henry. Yet, she still seemed to have her finger on the pulse.

  “Is this to get your feet wet before diving back in?” he asked.

  “No, I wouldn’t say that. Before Mason . . . before the accident I worked on a number of campaigns from the sidelines. Even here . . . well, I never completely left it.”

  “That’s good because it sounds like you enjoy it.”

  “I do.” She beamed.

  He’d been so engaged in their conversation that his hot chocolate had gotten cold. Ethan drank it anyway, raising the mug to his lips one handed. His other hand was still wrapped around Brynn’s.

  Chapter 12

  It snowed all day Tuesday, covering the fields like a white goose-down blanket. Brynn and Henry stayed in, cuddling up in front of the fire, reading books and watching TV. Soon, Brynn would have to brave the weather to get more logs from the wood pile.

  She wanted to clear the walkway but didn’t know where to find a shovel. And no one was home at Ethan’s.

  It was pretty as a post card, she thought as she stared out the window, looking at the white capped mountains. They looked as if they’d been dipped in whipped cream. And the trees flocked in pearly white powder.

  It was her idea of a perfect day if not for the fact that first thing in the morning they’d have to drive nearly an hour in this weather. She didn’t need the stress on top of everything else. But what could she do?

  Maybe by tomorrow the temperature would rise and the sun would come out and melt the snow. The forecast on her phone promised clear weather after midnight.

  But it only seemed to get worse as the hours passed. The wind blew so hard she could hear it whistling through the trees. And the sky was so dark it felt like night at three in the afternoon. When Brynn finally reached Alma she was reassured that it was just a passing storm.

  “I’ll send over Cody to shovel the walkway. He’s the teenager Ethan hired to muck out the barn.”

  At this point it seemed like a waste of time. The snow was coming down so fast and hard that by the time he cleared the path it would only get covered again. But she thanked Alma anyway, hoping that it would let up soon.

  She switched the television to the local news and waited for the weather report. The forecast echoed what everyone else said. The weather would be clear by morning.

  By the time the eleven o’clock news rolled around, though, the forecaster had changed her tune, predicting another snowstorm was moving in and the state put out a high-winds alert and might even close Donner Pass. She had no idea where Donner Pass was and pulled up a map on her laptop. From what she could tell Nugget was past the pass but she’d never been great at geography.

  She deliberated on whether to call Ethan but decided it was too late. Besides, if there were any changes in the plan the hospital would’ve notified her.

  She checked in on Henry, who was sound asleep. After an hour of obsessing, she turned in for bed. But sleep evaded her. She got up regularly to peer outside the window where all that stared back at her was a blur of white. And judging by the whooshing—it sounded like a freeway outside her window—the wind had picked up.

  Her heart sank. What if they canceled the procedure? Was that even possible? She had no idea if there was an expiration date on Henry’s stem cells. The idea of him having to go through another bone marrow harvest made her chest ache. She wasn’t even sure it was possible. How many stem cells did an eight-year-old have?

  She had just drifted off to a fitful sleep when she was awakened by a banging on the door. At first she thought she’d dreamed it but someone was calling her name. She bolted upright and glanced at the time. Four o’clock.

  She got up and padded to the door in her bare feet. Ethan was there, bundled up in a down jacket and a plastic cover over his cowboy hat.

  “Come in, come in.” She moved out of the doorway while he knocked the snow off his boots. “Have you come to cancel?”

  “I don’t want to but I’m not sure the roads will be passable.”

  “Do we take Donner Pass? I heard on the news that they’re closing it.”

  “No, Donner Pass is about ten miles west of Truckee. But we’ve got our own challenges.”

  He unzipped his jacket and hung his hat on the hook by the door. She had the heat cranked up for the sake of Henry and it was hot.

  “What if we can’t make it to the hospital?”

  Ethan let out a breath. “Then we’ll have to postpone.”

  “Will the stem cells keep or will you have to do the process all over again?”

  He motioned for them to sit in the family room, his eyes drifting over her, making her suddenly aware that she was in her nightgown. She excused herself, threw on a robe, and returned.

  “I can bank Henry’s stem cells,” he said. “Frankly, I don’t think it’ll make a difference in his recovery. But if we postpone I’ll have to exclude Henry from the trial. All our subjects were injected exactly seven days after harvest. We can’t deviate from that. It will skew the data.”

  Brynn was fully aware that the cottage, and more importantly Ethan, were the fringe benefits of participating in the study.

  “And what would that mean for Henry?” They both understood what she was asking. If Henry could no longer be part of the trial would Ethan still be his doctor?

  He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it over the back of the sofa, then glanced at the time. “I could use a cup of coffee.”

  Apparently, Ethan wasn’t planning to go back to bed. She went in the kitchen and put a pod in the Keurig.

  “Cream? Sugar?”

  “Just black, please.”

  She brought him the mug and remained standing until he answered.

  “I’d finish the procedure and refer you to a new orthopedic surgeon in New York.”

  She hung onto the words “finish the procedure.” At least he wouldn’t abandon the treatment altogether. From wha
t she could tell the experimental surgery was Henry’s only chance for a full recovery. But Brynn didn’t want a new surgeon. She wanted Ethan.

  “I understand that we would have to leave the cottage. But we could get a place in Reno, even here if it’s more convenient for you. But why couldn’t you remain Henry’s doctor?”

  “Sit.” He took both of her hands in his. “I’ll complete everything we talked about. It will be the same as if he was still in the trial.”

  “But afterward you won’t monitor his progress to make sure it’s working?”

  There was enough pain in his expression that Brynn knew the answer before he spoke. “There’s still a chance we’ll make it in time, Brynn. We’ll keep watching the weather.”

  “Ethan?”

  He squeezed the bridge of his nose. “The heavy lifting will have already been done, Brynn. The rest is recovery. I’ll find you someone with excellent credentials to monitor that. Someone even better than Brunswick. And make no mistake about it, Brunswick is one of the best. I will be there for consultation every step of the way.”

  “Consultation,” she scoffed. “But you will no longer be Henry’s doctor?”

  “We’re jumping way ahead of ourselves here. But no, I can’t be Henry’s doctor if he’s not part of the trial.”

  “So you won’t even be part of his physical therapy?”

  “Brynn, I was only going to be part of Henry’s therapy in a tangential way. Only to document his progress.”

  If she wasn’t Henry’s mother she might’ve understood. The study was integral to Ethan’s life’s work. But all she felt was discarded. It was as if Henry’s well-being didn’t count unless he could be a statistic for Ethan’s study.

  She began to cry, despite her best effort not to break down in front of him.

  “Brynn . . . ah, Brynn.” He pulled her into an embrace. “It’ll be okay. This won’t affect Henry. He’ll have all the treatments that he’s supposed to. Very little will change. You have to trust me on this.”

  “I did trust you and now you’re deserting us.” She was angry with him and should’ve pulled away, yet she remained nestled against his chest.

  “Shh.” He rocked her. “Please don’t cry. All I care about is making Henry well. That’s why I do this, that’s why I became a surgeon. But the rules are the rules.”

  She didn’t care about the goddamn rules. She only cared about her son. “If I have to crawl to that hospital tomorrow with Henry on my back, I will. Just tell me you’ll do the same.”

  “I will do whatever is humanly possible to get there. I have a friend with a plane who used to be a fighter pilot . . . was awarded a damned Silver Star for his bravery. Even he won’t fly in this.”

  He absently ran his fingers through her hair. It felt so good that she burrowed in deeper, resting her cheek against his flannel shirt. Her body shuddered with new tears. She knew it was a combination of exhaustion, fear and disappointment. Of shouldering all of this—the accident, Mason’s death, and Henry’s injury—on her own. Her parents, Mason’s sister and Lexi had all done what they could but in the end only she could fight for Henry.

  Ethan pulled her closer. “I’m so sorry, Brynn. No one could’ve predicted this, not even the weather guys. According to the chief of staff, they’ve gone to their back-up generator at the hospital. Still, they’re encouraging anyone who can, to reschedule.”

  Weather conditions and other unforeseeable situations happened all the time, but she couldn’t help but feel like the world was conspiring against her. The last eight months had felt hopeless until two weeks ago when Ethan had agreed to accept Henry into the Osteoform trial. Getting a surgeon of Ethan’s caliber and renown and being part of an experimental treatment with an almost miracle track record had given her something to cling to. And living here in this sweet little cottage in this welcoming town had been idyllic. Healing for a child who not only lost full use of his legs but had lost his father.

  And now, because of one stinking storm, this second chance for Henry stood to be ripped away.

  “I’m so angry,” she said and whimpered as her body spasmed with a new set of sobs.

  “Me too.” He lifted her face away from his chest and brushed away her tears with his thumb. “If I could change it, I would. I swear to you.”

  They locked eyes and then his lips were against hers, soft and pure and perfect. She closed her eyes and let his kiss take her away to a place where there were no worries and no hurt little boys.

  She heard her own hums of pleasure as his lips moved over her, as his tongue explored.

  Reveling in the strength of his arms, acting on two weeks of pent up attraction, she wanted the kiss to go on forever. For the hot pull of his mouth to take until she had nothing left to give.

  But just like that he stopped and jerked away from her so fast she didn’t have time to catch her breath.

  “Ethan.” She reached for him. “Please. I—”

  He shook his head. “This is wrong . . . unethical. I’m Henry’s doctor. You’re upset and I took advantage.”

  “We’re friends,” she protested lamely.

  “Friends?” He shoved his hand through his hair and quickly pushed to his feet. “Jesus Christ, Brynn, we both know what’s going on here. We’ve been dancing around it for days. And here we are at your most vulnerable and I—”

  “Nothing. You didn’t do anything. You were comforting me, that’s all.”

  “There are rules, Brynn. Rules designed to protect the patient. I broke them.” He hurriedly put on his jacket and collected his hat off the hook. “Try to get a couple of hours sleep and I’ll monitor the roads and the weather.”

  He walked out, leaving her alone to repeat her earlier sentiment. She didn’t care about the goddamn rules.

  * * * *

  At dawn the weather hadn’t improved. If anything it was worse. Brynn switched between the morning news and her phone for updates. None of them good.

  The entrance to US Route 395 from Highway 70 had been closed. It was the road Brynn needed to take to get to Reno.

  Ethan had called three times to keep her informed that there hadn’t been any changes. But he hadn’t come in person. It didn’t matter, she told herself. The bottom line was that they were stuck here.

  Henry, oblivious to how this would complicate things, celebrated the postponement of what he called “his shot” by eating packaged coffeecake from the Nugget Market for breakfast. Brynn was too glued to the weather report to insist on something nutritious.

  The wind blew so hard that it was a wonder that one of the enormous pine trees didn’t crack in half. The sky had turned pink from the reflection of light from the falling snow. Any other time it would’ve been beautiful. Now, it only served as a reminder of how much Brynn’s life sucked.

  At ten, she changed out of her wool slacks and cashmere sweater into jeans and a fleece hoodie. The chance of them making it to the hospital looked bleaker every second. Even Nugget schools had closed, which according to the local news site was a rarity. Challenging weather was nothing new here. But from what Brynn had ascertained the roads were typically cleared in a matter of hours as many people in the region commuted to Reno for their jobs.

  In this case, though, the problem wasn’t so much the snow. It was the visibility factor.

  Unable to look at her laptop anymore, she broke away from the latest update on road conditions and made herself another cup of coffee. She deliberated on whether to scramble a couple of eggs and make toast but settled on the same packaged coffeecake Henry had eaten for breakfast. It tasted like bitter disappointment.

  By noon she lost all hope and curled up with Henry on the couch. They would get through this, she told herself. Even without Ethan they would get through this. Yet, the voice in her head told her she had failed her son.

  She considered calling Ethan and beggi
ng him to break the rules just this once. He would argue that it was twice. But she refused to think of their kiss as breaking the rules. Despite all the reasons why kissing her son’s doctor was a bad idea, Ethan had not taken advantage. In fact, the kiss was the best thing that had happened to her in a long time. And, yes, he’d been right. They’d been dancing around it for days.

  Forget about the kiss, she told herself. She needed to channel all her energy into Henry. Now more than ever.

  His head was in her lap while he played Froggipedia on the iPhone 11 Pro Mason had gotten him for his seventh birthday. She and her late husband had fought over the iPhone. It was too extravagant for a child, she’d argued, worried they weren’t teaching Henry the value of a buck and that they were turning into the same materialistic parents she abhorred. Mason hadn’t been moved.

  “He’s a kid, Brynn, and all his friends have the same phone. He has plenty of time to learn the value of a buck. Why do we have to start that lesson on his birthday?”

  Ironically, that phone had become her salvation in the months following the accident. Ever since the crash, she had a desperate need to know where he was. At school, she’d called him at least five times a day.

  She played with his hair, letting his baby fine strands sift through her fingers like silk. She used to do this when he was a toddler, sitting in her lap while they glided back and forth on his rocking chair, singing “Baa Baa Black Sheep.”

  The memory warmed her as she started to nod off, exhausted from her restless night. She was somewhere between that gauzy floating feeling and actual sleep when Henry shoved her awake.

  “Mom, there’s a police car outside.”

  She jerked up, cleared her eyes, and went to the window, her chest tightening with dread. The last time a police officer had called her it had been the worst day of her life. Her mind immediately went to her parents, then Lexi.

  The lights flickered on and off as they had been doing for most of the morning. And for a second, she convinced herself that the police were here to warn her of a pending power outage. But of course that didn’t make sense. Law enforcement did not run the local utilities.