by Natalie Ann
“A good kitten, taking his training very seriously. As soon as he gets neutered, we’ll be able to leave him out all day.”
“Same with Wendy. I’m amazed how this kitten has helped my daughter learn discipline. Lizzie lectures her kitten on all the rules she’s supposed to follow, and they both follow them.”
“She’s an adorable girl. I’m so happy she and Noah are such good friends.”
“How is Noah’s dad?”
He burst out laughing. “Noah’s dad is very happy to be with Lizzie’s mom.”
“Same here.”
“Seriously, Meredith, I was devastated last night when I realized how much I upset you.”
“We won’t talk about the past. Not until you’re ready to hear my side of the story and accept you’re not always right, Mr. Prosecutor.”
Eagerness and impatience surged through him. He grabbed her hands between his. “I’m ready to listen. Tell me, Meredith.”
“No, you’re not. I’m not ready to talk about it now. Let’s go, please.”
With a repressed sigh, he called the waiter and paid for their lunch. The hospital was a fifteen-minute drive, and he wanted to enjoy the time chatting with her. “Ride with me to the hospital. I’ll bring you back here.”
“Okay.”
He led her to his silver SUV and opened the passenger door for her, but held her back against him and turned her to face him. Without a word, he captured her mouth in a blazing kiss that should reassure her she’d become the center of his life. She kissed him back with the same ardor, and he kept her head tucked against the hollow of his neck for a few seconds, vowing he’d never hurt her again.
When they arrived at the hospital, he led her to Quentin’s room and introduced her to Victor and Patricia Herb, who were sitting near the window watching TV while their son played on his tablet. “Ms. Homer is the experienced psychologist I talked to you about. Dr. Carlos Aroyo, Quentin’s doctor, is pleased you’ll be consulting with her.” He brought a chair for Meredith. “Please, go ahead. I’ll stay out of the way.” He backed up to the door and leaned against the wall.
***
“Mrs. Herb, tell me about Quentin’s school. What grade is he in?”
“He goes to Sycamore Public School. Seventh grade.”
“Okay. What subjects does he take?”
“Huh... English, math, science, and the usual.”
So the mother wasn’t very involved in her son’s homework. “Any after-school activities?”
“Yes, soccer.”
“How often?”
“Huh... Two to three times a week. And Saturday.”
“Okay. Can we step out? I have more specific questions to ask.”
“We can talk here.”
“No, ma’am. There are questions I can’t ask in front of a child just recovering from such an ordeal.”
“A terrible ordeal indeed. Quentin remembers every second of the moment the nasty drunk driver hit him. Right, Quen?”
“Yes.” The boy nodded without looking at her.
Irritated at the mother’s insensitive response, Meredith stepped out of the room. “I don’t think we should discuss the accident in front of Quentin now.”
“It wasn’t just an accident.” Patricia frowned. “It was a horrible hit-an-run that almost killed Quentin. You are here to report how my poor son has been affected.”
The woman was trying to dictate what she wanted to see in the psychological report. “Yes, ma’am. I will report on Quentin’s emotional state. Now I’d like to sit with you in a waiting room, where we’ll be more comfortable talking.” Meredith glanced at Daniel, who rolled his eyes, and then led the parents to a visitors’ room on the same floor.
“Tell me about the night of the accident, Mrs. Herb,” Meredith said after sitting in a chair across from the parents.
“Why do you insist on calling it an accident? I said it was a hit-and-run.”
“Tell me about it. Where were you coming from?”
“I picked up Quentin from school. We walked to the grocery store and bought a few things, and we were walking to the house.”
“Did you have a car?”
“No. It’s a ten-minute walk.”
“Okay, how many bags did you have in hand?”
“Five. Three with me. Quentin had two. He always helps.”
“What a good boy. Two bags and his own backpack, I assume.”
“Yes.”
“Which street was that, Mrs. Herb?”
Patricia gave her the name.
“It was about three in the afternoon, right after school?”
“No, six. Quentin stayed in the aftercare until I finished my work at the store.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Herb. I hope he will feel better soon.”
“Thank you. I hope they can catch the man, put him in jail, and pay us for all our misery.”
Meredith stood and asked to talk to Quentin. They returned to the patient’s room.
The Herbs settled in their chairs, determined not to leave.
“I need to talk to Quentin alone.”
“Why? You already got all the answers.”
Meredith threw a glance of appeal to Daniel.
“Ms. Homer is doing her job. She can’t write a report about Quentin without talking to him.”
“Talk to him. But we’re staying.”
Why weren’t the Herbs comfortable with her questioning their son? She faced Daniel and met his gaze. He shrugged with a go-ahead expression.
She brought a chair next to the bed and smiled at the boy. “How are you feeling, Quentin?”
“I’m better, but not completely normal. I’ll be better when they catch the nasty man who almost killed me.” He sounded like he was reciting a lesson.
“Is your leg hurting?”
“No. I do my therapy. I can walk now.”
“Good boy. How about your chest? Any trouble breathing?”
“No.”
“Lift your arms for me.” He did. “I’m glad they work well. Do you like school?”
He grimaced.
“Who are your friends, Quentin, and who are the kids you don’t like?”
He told her about a girl he liked a lot, about a boy that was nice and defended him, and about several mean big kids who always teased him.
“Would you like to go back to school soon, or would you prefer to wait a while?”
“I have to wait until I don’t limp at all. I won’t be able to run if the mean kids come after me.”
“Would you like me to come and talk to you again?”
“Yes, come again, Ms. Homer.” His eager expression showed he’d relaxed in her presence.
“I’m going to leave you now,” she told the Herbs.
“What about the report for the drunk driver to pay us compensation?” Victor said.
“It’s the insurance company that should cover all your hospital bills and continuing medical expenses. Mr. O’Malley knows more about it than me. I will certainly recommend a few sessions with a psychologist. I can do it, if you agree. And then group therapy with other children in the same age group.”
“Would they pay us?”
Meredith opened her hands. “I don’t know. You should talk it over with your lawyer and see if you can reach a settlement with the insurance company.” She threw a pointed look at Daniel. “I’ll be back on Thursday to spend an hour with Quentin.”
“Thank you, Ms. Homer.”
She shook hands with the Herbs and held Quentin’s hand between hers. “I want you to become strong, Quentin. I will help you.”
While Daniel drove, she opened her phone and googled the name of the street where the accident had happened.
“What are you searching?”
“That street has no sidewalk. So Patricia and Quentin were literally walking on the curb. At six o’clock, a driver, especially if not fully alert, could easily miss them. Also, a kid carrying a heavy load and bending his head to see where he steps may not have paid
enough attention to an approaching car to instantly react by jumping away.”
“You mean you don’t think the driver is guilty—”
“Of course he’s guilty, but I’m not a judge or a jury to pass a verdict. Just telling you my observation. On the other hand, Quentin is a sweet kid who needs help, regardless of the accident. I’ll take care of him.”
Chapter Eight
Halfway through reading Meredith’s official report, Daniel paused and whistled. She certainly hadn’t lost her talent for writing excellent dissertation. In her report, she referred to Quentin’s physical suffering as listed in his doctor’s diagnosis, described his agony and the anguish of his parents during the last three weeks, and explained the emotional impact of the accident and the necessity to pursue psychotherapy for several months.
She also noted that the narrowness and condition of the street, absence of a sidewalk, and lack of street lights could lead to more accidents. Damn it, she was good. She could have been a successful lawyer.
That report would probably prompt the insurance company to offer a settlement before waiting for a trial that would cost more to the insurance company and hurt the driver, but maybe earn less benefit to the victims.
After reading it a second time, he decided not to interfere. Basically, he’d recommended Meredith for the help she could provide to Quentin, and he trusted her professional competence.
Copies of Ms. Homer’s report had been sent to the doctor, hospital, police and insurance company. Daniel would wait and see. Meanwhile, he called her to praise her report, but she didn’t answer, even though he let it ring for a good while.
On Wednesday, she picked up Noah from his school and brought him to her house to play with Lizzie, as agreed upon the week before. When Daniel arrived to take his son, Meredith was on the phone, involved in what seemed to be a deep discussion.
With the phone glued to her ear, she left her chair in the kitchen and signaled to the children to come, then hugged Noah and accepted Daniel’s peck on her cheek.
“Talk to you later,” she mouthed to Daniel.
Puzzled by her seriousness, Daniel pondered for hours about her call. Who had she been talking to? Why couldn’t she interrupt her conversation for a minute to say hi? At night, he waited for her to call or text, to no avail.
Annoyed by her silence, he didn’t try to contact her on Thursday, the day she’d scheduled her first session with Quentin. Was she waiting for him to call again? Or was she trying to space out their get-togethers?
By Friday evening, he wondered if something serious had unsettled her.
Noah didn’t have the same qualms about respecting her silence. “When are we going to see Lizzie and Wendy, Daddy?”
“Not sure.”
“I wanna see them. I wanna see them this weekend. Can Taco and I have a slumber party with Lizzie and Wendy?”
“Not sure. I think I should call them.”
“Yes, you should. Right away, Daddy.”
“All right.” By now, Meredith must be home with Lizzie, maybe cooking or playing with her daughter.
Surprisingly, the line kept ringing. Was she ignoring him? Or was she busy talking to someone else and refusing to interrupt it?
“She’s not answering,” he said out loud.
“Call again, Daddy.”
“In fifteen minutes. She must be talking to someone.”
“To who, Daddy?”
“Good question.” Who the hell was so important that she couldn’t pause for a minute and take Daniel’s call?
Unable to focus on anything else, Daniel put a frozen pizza in the oven and paced the kitchen for twenty minutes until the pizza was cooked. “Come and eat, buddy.”
“Call Auntie Mommy.”
He did, and the phone rang nonstop. Daniel was about to end the call when a little voice answered.
“Hey.”
“Lizzie?”
“Yes.”
“This is Uncle Daddy. Where is Mommy?”
“Mommy’s crying.”
“What? Why?”
“Mommy’s sad.”
“We’re coming, sweetie.”
“Yes, come.”
“Noah, are you done eating?”
“Almost.”
“Wrap the rest of your pizza in a paper napkin. You’ll eat it in the car. We’re going to Lizzie right away.”
“Okay. Are we taking Taco?”
“No,” Daniel said with a sharp tone that didn’t brook discussion.
While driving the short distance to Meredith’s house, he recapped the situation. She hadn’t answered her phone since Tuesday, and she’d been on the phone for hours talking with someone. And she hadn’t trusted Daniel enough to mention her calls or the caller or the problem.
Were they back to the starting line? Was it worth it for him, and for Noah’s emotional state, to get involved with a woman who couldn’t open her heart and confide her problems?
Damn it, who had been on the phone with her for hours at a time for the past few days?
Someone more important to her than Daniel.
You were already a prosecutor in the making. Passing judgment without evaluating the reason behind the facts. Her voice resonated with reproach. He was doing it again, judging her without knowing her reasons.
What if someone had hurt her deeply? She’d been involved with three men she didn’t like to mention: Dodd, her ex-husband, and more recently, the secret Uncle Les whom she’d dismissed from her conversations.
But why was she hiding the whole situation?
Exasperation and worry swirled in Daniel’s heart. By the time he parked in her driveway, he couldn’t think clearly and forced himself to take a few deep breaths. He jumped from the car and ran to the front door, with Noah following him, and banged several times.
“Lizzie,” Noah shouted while kicking the door. For a change, Daniel didn’t ask him to stop.
“Noah,” Lizzie answered from behind the door. “I’m not allowed to open the door.”
“Get your Mommy to open it, please,” Daniel said with a calm he was far from feeling. “We’re waiting.”
They heard Lizzie screaming, “Mommy, Noah’s here. Mommy, move, open the door. Go, Mommy, go.”
Silence followed. And Daniel contemplated breaking the door down.
“Coming,” Meredith said, and he breathed better. She was able to move and reached the door. And she finally opened it...but in what shape...
Her hair was mussed around her face, her mascara leaking in black spots on her cheeks.
“Daniel? Why are you here?” Her wobbly voice betrayed her inner turmoil.
Without a word, he closed the door behind them and drew her into his arms, stroking her back, pressing his cheek against her temple, and then covering her face with tender kisses.
“Sweetheart, I don’t know what’s bothering you, but I’m here to help. Whatever it is,” he repeated. “Tell me how I can help.”
She collapsed against him, sniffled a few times, and heaved deep breaths. “It’s Steve.”
“Huh...” He arched his eyebrows. Who the hell was Steve?
“My ex. Steve Homer.”
“Is he bothering you?”
“No.” She glanced toward the children sitting on the carpet in the family room with Wendy in Lizzie’s lap. “He’s dying,” she whispered against his ear.
“Oh, I’m sorry. What happened?”
“He discovered three months ago that he had cancer of the liver. And it’s spreading despite aggressive chemo. But there’s more... I’ve been on the phone with him, and with his lawyer and children, since Tuesday.”
“I see.” That explained the phone ringing nonstop without answer.
“I’ve got so much to think about. Decisions to make.” Her face clouded with anxiety.
“Are these things you can share? Can I help?”
“Yes, I can share things.” She blinked, then focused her gaze on him. “Not sure you’ll be interested or able to help.
”
“Anything affecting you and Lizzie interests me, Meredith.” For a short moment, he studied her face intently, feature by feature. “Obviously, you’ve been under a lot of stress. I have a suggestion. Noah wanted to have a slumber party with Lizzie and Wendy. Why don’t you pack and come spend the night at my house?”
Startled, she frowned, and he hastened to add, “We have a lot to talk about. The kids will play, watch cartoons, eat snacks, and doze in sleeping bags in the family room. And we’ll stay in the living room, chatting. The house is big. You can sleep in any guestroom. And the next day—”
“Not sure yet about what I want to do this weekend,” she muttered in a quivering voice.
“All right. You’ll decide in time. But I want you to relax. And I can’t stand the idea of you by yourself here, suffering, and me by myself, worrying about you.”
“Thank you, Daniel.” She laced her fingers behind his neck and kissed him.
And he finally relaxed, not only because she’d kissed him, but because she’d agreed to trust him and share her problems.
***
Meredith couldn’t believe Daniel would go out of his way to that extent to help her relax. Her week had been a week from hell, with unending phone calls and one discussion after another, exhausting her frazzled nerves. She could share with Daniel the long discussions with Steve and his sons, but she couldn’t breathe a word about Les and his erratic last call—the last straw that had her collapsing in sobs on her bed.
Oh God, what a mess.
Daniel spread two sleeping bags in the family room and went to microwave some popcorn. Meanwhile, the children changed into their pj’s and brought the kittens’ beds, and then settled in front of the TV.
“Here are bowls of popcorn, cookies, and lollipops. If you want milk or juice or ice cream, help yourself in the kitchen. You can play or watch cartoons, and when you get sleepy, just lie down in your sleeping bag.”
“When do we have to sleep?” Noah asked.
“Anytime you want. Tonight is your slumber party. No specific bedtime.”
Both kids squealed. “Yeah.”
“I’m warming my pizza and will change too.”
“Go change,” Meredith said. “I’ll keep an eye on your pizza and prepare some tea for us.”