A Matter of Trust (The Boston Five Series #5)

by Poppy J. Anderson

  “Yeah, I’m really sad. And it’s so unfair Matt’s dead, too. He’s my little brother, and he often got on my nerves, but I miss him like crazy.”

  “My little brother Connor is a pest, too, but I know I’d miss him if he wasn’t there anymore. Connor’s only four, and he wants to play baby stuff all the time. How old was your brother?”

  From his seat by the wall, Kyle watched Cody’s lower lip tremble before he replied. “Matt was six. His birthday was a few weeks ago. He was a big fan of cowboys, so we went horse riding on his birthday. Ponies, you know. We all had to wear those stupid cowboy hats, but Matt was super happy about it. That was two weeks before the accident.”

  With all the clarity an eleven-year-old could possess, Brady muttered, “Shit.”

  Brady’s mom would have boxed his ears if she’d heard that word from his mouth, but Kyle felt no urge to scold his nephew. Because he was absolutely right.

  It was a truckload of shit.

  There was no better way to put it.

  “Where are you going to live when you get out of here?”

  Kyle felt his blood turn to ice. He still hadn’t mustered the courage to speak to Cody about that. With bated breath, he watched his patient shrug his bony shoulders. But kids apparently understood so much more than adults seemed to think. “I guess I’ll have to go to a children’s home,” he said listlessly. “My grandparents have been dead for a long time, and I don’t have any uncles or aunts.”

  “A children’s home?” Brady’s outraged voice resounded in the room. “Like an orphanage? That’s awful! Orphanages are shit—”

  “Brady,” Kyle interrupted, rising from his seat with a shake of his head. “What would your mom say if she heard you swearing like that?”

  “She would blame Dad,” came his prompt reply.

  Kyle snorted and stepped closer to the bed. His nephew was sitting there looking at him with wide, rebellious eyes, while Cody kept his eyes lowered.

  “I don’t think you should use the s-word so much, and I also think you should find a different subject,” Kyle said gently. “Why don’t you tell Cody about the tree house Uncle Heath built for you guys in his yard?”

  Unfortunately, his nephew was sharp as a tack, which was evident in the way he protested. “Why would I tell Cody about a tree house? That would only make him more sad! When he has to sit here in this hospital, and then he has to go to an orphanage! Uncle Kyle, you have to do something! Orphanages are terrible!”

  Kyle felt a lump in his throat as he watched Cody’s shoulders slump. “That’s nonsense!” Kyle objected cheerfully, forcing as much conviction into his voice as he could. “Children’s homes aren’t terrible at all. Plus, they call them welfare institutions nowadays.” He put on a British accent and tried to make it sound funny, but apparently failed …

  “That sounds even more terrible!” Brady cried in outrage.

  Just then, Kyle could have kicked himself for thinking it was a good idea to bring Brady to meet Cody. He put a gentle hand on his patient’s shoulder. “You have no idea what it’s really like, Brady.”

  His nephew frowned, looking so much like his dad that Kyle almost started laughing. Almost.

  “Don’t you ever watch TV, Uncle Kyle? In every movie about orphanages, all the kids are unhappy and scared. Their toys are taken away from them, and their hair is cut—or shaved completely!”

  Kyle sighed. “That’s nonsense. What you see on TV is rarely ever true. For example, have you ever seen fish that can talk, like the ones in Finding Nemo?”

  Cody stuck out his chin. “Fish live underwater, so I couldn’t hear them if they talked.”

  Kyle groaned and patted Cody’s shoulder to reassure him, wracking his brain for something to say that might comfort the little guy. “The children’s homes are pretty cool, if you think about it. There’s always a bunch of kids to play with, you’re never alone, and there’s always someone there to let you copy their homework. It’ll be awesome.”

  Cody didn’t say anything, and Brady merely gave his uncle a look of suspicion.

  “Why don’t you just wait and see, guys?” Kyle murmured helplessly. “I’m sure before long there’ll be a nice family looking to have Cody in their home.”

  “Cody doesn’t want to go live with strangers!” Brady cried.

  “Brady,” Kyle said with a warning tone, shaking his head with finality. “Enough.” His hand was still on Cody’s shoulder, hoping to instill in the boy what little comfort he could.

  But his nephew was as pig-headed as all Fitzpatricks. “You wouldn’t want to go live with strangers either, Uncle Kyle,” he whined. “Can’t Cody come live with you? You’re not a stranger!”

  ***

  “Did you have a bad day, honey?”

  “Hm?” Kyle looked up from the table in his mother’s kitchen and frowned, lost in thought. “Did you say something, Mom?”

  His mother put a plate with a peanut butter sandwich before him and placed a hand on his shoulder, which felt very comforting. It was just as comforting as the time he’d been sitting at the very same table, aged twelve, crying like a baby because Ryan was in the hospital with a broken arm. They’d jumped off the Gallaghers’ roof into a kiddie pool, on a stupid dare. Ryan had jumped first and missed the tiny pool, landing on his arm. The memory of his twin brother’s terrible cry had kept Kyle from sleeping for weeks after. While Ryan was in the hospital getting a cast put on, Kyle had sat sobbing in the kitchen, blaming himself for the fact that Ryan had been taken away in an ambulance.

  And his mother had fixed him a peanut butter sandwich and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, just as she did now.

  “You look like you’ve had a really bad day, love. A critical case maybe? One of your patients?”

  He shook his head silently and took the first bite of his sandwich, chewing mechanically, as his thoughts whirled.

  Without pushing him further, his mom started to tidy up the kitchen. As he looked around, he couldn’t help noticing that the room, with its eggshell-colored cabinets, the old linoleum floor, and the brightly colored children’s drawings on the walls, had seemed so much bigger when he was a child. But then, as now, there was no other place he felt more at home. He and Ryan had done their homework at this oval table while their mom washed the dishes or fixed dinner. And Kyle had also sat here at this table when his dad put Band-Aids on his bruised knees and showed him how to tie his shoes.

  Dad.

  Now the sandwich tasted like cardboard in his mouth.

  Slowly, Kyle put it back on the plate and swallowed the rest of his bite. Pushing the plate away, he hesitantly looked over at his mom, who stood with her back toward him, washing a few glasses at the sink.

  Kyle licked his dry lips. “Mom?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you …” Feeling indecisive, he chewed the inside of his cheek, leaning back in his chair. “Do you think I’d make a good father?”

  His mother’s back stiffened, and the glass slipped from her hand, splashing into the dishwater. She turned around with her eyebrows arched.

  “Are you trying to tell me something, Kyle?”

  He shook his head. “No, Mom, I didn’t get anyone pregnant, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  His mother wiped her hands on a dish towel and came over to the table, sitting down across from him. “Then why are you asking?”

  He shrugged vaguely. “I was thinking about Dad.”

  “I see.”

  Kyle looked at his mom for a brief, hesitant moment, before asking softly, “Do you miss him?”

  “Of course,” she replied gently. “I miss him every single day, and there are so many situations where I wish he was here with me.”

  “What situations?” he asked around another lump in his throat. “Can you give me an example?”

  “Well.” His mom folded her hands and inclined her head a little. “I wanted him to be there when Heath and Hayden got married, and when Joey was born. And I thou
ght it was awfully sad he couldn’t get to know Thorne and Brady. I also know how much he would have liked Aidan. And …” She swallowed before continuing hoarsely, “And I needed him when Ryan was shot. Really … I’d have given a lot if he could have been with me in the hospital, when your brother was in the ER.”

  “I know, Mom,” Kyle whispered.

  “Your dad would have been so proud when you received your doctorate,” she went on. “It would have made him very happy to witness you become a doctor. I’m sure of that. He was always incredibly proud of you—all of you.”

  Kyle had to blink away tears. He cleared his throat and tried to man up. “I wish he was here with us quite often as well, Mom. And sometimes I really need his advice.”

  “I know.” His mom gave him an indulgent smile and reached across the table for his hand. “I can’t take his place, but if you want advice, I’ll always be here for you, honey.”

  Kyle squeezed her hand and returned the smile. “Thank you, Mom.”

  “Do you want to tell me what’s bothering you right now?”

  “You would have me declared insane,” he murmured.

  “I’m sure I wouldn’t. The role of family nutcase has already been given to your sister,” she teased.

  After making a face, he exhaled loudly. “As a doctor, I’m not supposed to establish an emotional bond with a patient, because it might harm the success of the actual treatment. But …”

  “But?”

  “I’m afraid I’ve failed in that respect.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  He studied his mother, searching for words. Finally, he confessed, “I’m considering becoming Cody’s foster father.”

  If he had expected his mother to be surprised, he was wrong. She continued to look at him with an encouraging smile, and then she slowly nodded. “Okay. And how can I help you with that?”

  “Wait a minute.” He pulled his hand away and ran it through his hair. “Shouldn’t you be trying to talk me out of this?”

  “Aren’t you a little too old to be talked out of anything by your mom?”

  “You know what I mean.” He shook his head. “I’m a doctor, and Cody’s my patient. How can I assume custody of him? And what do I know about raising kids? Okay, so I’m a pediatrician with a few nieces and nephews. There are probably hundreds of people better suited to taking Cody than me!” Kyle rose quickly from his chair and started to pace his mother’s kitchen.

  “Think about it, Mom,” he raged on, “I’m living in a shared apartment and ride a bike to work! And my workload is murderous! I wouldn’t be there when Cody got home from school most days. I mean, he could come here sometimes, or maybe go home with Brady, but … but what about my night shifts? The kid needs a stable environment and a family. He needs someone he knows.”

  He gave his mother a desperate look. “You do understand what I mean, right?”

  The corners of her mouth curved upward. “I understand you very well.”

  “And?”

  She raised her hands helplessly. “Everything problem you just brought up, you solved right away. You’re very, very good with children, possess an amazing amount of empathy and intuition, and you’re one of the few adults who knows how to truly connect with a child. Cody likes you a lot, and he trusts you. I believe you are able to offer him a stable environment and a family. You do have three brothers, a sister, and me, and we’d all support you and be there to help, should you decide to become Cody’s foster father.” She paused for a moment. “The real question is, do you want to assume that responsibility, Kyle?”

  Kyle sat back down.

  When his mother left the kitchen a short while later, going down the stairs into the basement to take care of a load of laundry, Kyle pulled out his phone and stared at the screen for a few moments.

  Then he dialed a number he’d scribbled down.

  “Mr. Simpson? Hi, this is Kyle Fitzpatrick. Do you have a minute?”

  Chapter 7

  “Shouldn’t you be doing that for your date?” Pam gave Kyle a wary look after setting down a plate loaded with chicken that smelled delicious. He proceeded to silently pour her a glass of white-wine spritzer, knowing that she loved the light, sweet beverage.

  “Really, Kyle, you’re frightening me,” his roommate said when he handed her a bread basket, which held freshly cut French bread from the artisan bakery down the street. “I thought you were going on a date tonight. Why are you cooking for me? Cold feet maybe?”

  “I want to talk to you about something,” he replied calmly, pushing the salt shaker in her direction with the full knowledge that Pam added salt to every dish before even tasting it.

  He sat down opposite her with what he hoped was a convincing smile. “Enjoy.”

  Pam picked up her fork but held it suspended over her plate, staring at the empty spot in front of him. “Why aren’t you eating?”

  “Because I’m about to go, as you correctly stated a moment ago, on a date.”

  Her frown deepened. “Then why are you cooking dinner for me? Did you poison my food?”

  Kyle folded his hands like an altar boy in church, leaning both elbows on the table. “I just wanted to discuss something with you and ask you a favor.”

  “Oh, this has got to be a very large favor,” she grumbled. “Did you murder someone, and now you need an alibi? I think that’s worth more than chicken.”

  Kyle rolled his eyes. “Two of my brothers are police officers. I’m sure I’d manage without your help.”

  “Do you need one of my kidneys?”

  “Jesus, Pam,” he sighed. “No, I do not want any of your organs! And you don’t have to help me rob a bank, okay? All I want is that you listen to me, because I need to talk to you about something. Now eat!”

  “Okay. Fine. I’m all ears.” His roommate, who, when it came to food, was even more ravenous than all his brothers combined, began gobbling up the chicken, which Kyle had spent a lot of time preparing.

  He watched her nervously, wracking his brain for how exactly to broach the subject without her flipping out. He knew she had a tendency to emote, overreact, and, well, hit the roof. That’s why he thought it better to wait until she was relatively full and contented before talking it over. He could still remember the time she’d run out of chocolate during a bout of PMS and then discovered the toilet seat was up. Kyle had thought it was judgment day for him. Ever since that episode, he’d made sure she wasn’t hypoglycemic when he revealed bad news to her.

  “I’m waiting,” Pam mumbled with her mouth full. “Spit it out. Or do you want to be late for your date?”

  Cody shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “Please try to listen to what I have to say before you say anything, okay?”

  She shrugged one shoulder. “Sure.”

  “Okay.” He straightened his own shoulders and looked down at his hands, as he stretched and flexed his fingers. Then he put his palms flat against the tabletop, his heart beating wildly. “I want to apply for guardianship of Cody.”

  Silence spread over the table, broken only by the insistent honking of a horn on the street outside. Pam looked at him with a stunned expression.

  “I would foster him, and then after a while, I could formally adopt him, if everything went well,” he added hastily. “I’ve already talked to DCF and enrolled in a class I have to take before Cody could be put into my custody. Tomorrow, I have a meeting with the psychologist, and I’ve also applied for a certificate of good conduct. Our radiologist, Stan Harper, told me the people from DCF want to see a stable environment in prospective foster parents. He and his wife have taken in foster children, too. Since I’m not married, that could be a stumbling block. So, uh…”

  He paused to gulp. “Well, I told them I have a girlfriend—you. You don’t have to take any responsibility, since I’ll apply for guardianship on my own. If anyone shows up here to look at our living situation, though, it would be great if you could tell them we’re a couple.” He paused and inhaled. “That
’s the short version.”

  Pam just sat there with her mouth wide open. The piece of meat she’d been chewing was about to fall out and land back on her plate—if she didn’t choke on it.

  “What?” Her face reddened quickly, and she actually started coughing. Gasping through the hacking, she forced out a rattling “What?”

  Kyle swallowed. “I know it’s a lot to process, Pam,” he added quickly. “But our guest room would make a perfect bedroom for Cody. And of course I’d pay a bigger share of the rent—”

  “Kyle, stop! Not so fast—please!” She beat her sternum a few times, apparently really choking on that last bite of chicken. She coughed before she could go on. “You plan to do what?” she finally croaked. “You want to … adopt the kid?”

  His face was serious as he nodded. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time—”

  “He’s your patient!”

  Kyle stuck out his chin. “He’s a ten-year-old who has nobody in the world left. I care about him, Pam, and I want to look after him.”

  She pushed her plate away. “Kyle, you know I’ve always admired your empathy and compassion for your patients, but in this case—”

  “Dammit, Pam,” he snapped at her. “Of course this is based, in part, on compassion. I feel incredibly sorry for the kid. But more importantly, I’m fond of him, and he’s fond of me. I can’t sit by and watch him be sent to a home. I really care about his well-being!”

  “Yes, but do you have to go and adopt him?”

  “I want to take in a ten-year-old who has nobody else to look after him.”

  “Jesus, Kyle …” Pam rubbed her face with both hands. “Do you have any idea what that entails?”

  He struggled not to yell at her. “Of course I do!”

  “It’s not just some kind of job, one case that you can just complete—it’s a life-long commitment. And it would also be a financial strain.”

  Kyle crossed his arms and lowered his chin. “I’m a grown man with a good job, Pam. I know what I’m doing.”