by Beth K. Vogt
You did a good job, Ken-girl. I’m proud of you.
Even all these years later, the faint whisper of her father’s voice still carried the tang of both sweet and bitter. In some ways, everything she did was so she could hear the echo of her father telling her that he was proud of her. Even though it reminded her that she couldn’t see her dad, couldn’t talk things out with him, ask for his guidance.
Sully’s soft whine inviting her to snuggle with him on the bed pulled Kendall back to reality. Along with the most basic commands, the dog had never learned “Stay off my bed.”
“Sorry. I don’t feel sleepy anymore.” Kendall slipped on her robe. “I think I’ll wander downstairs and catch up on paperwork. Wanna join me?”
As she headed down the dimly lit hallway to her office, Sully trailing behind her, a prayer slipped past her lips. “Oh, God. I know even back then you had a plan.” The words came swiftly. It was always the same. “And I trust you. But I don’t understand why you took Dad from me. I just . . . don’t.”
CHAPTER SIX
If anyone told Griffin he’d be driving back to Kendall Haynes’s office within two weeks of their first disastrous appointment, he’d have told them they were certifiable.
But here he was, pulling into a parking lot out front and stopping near the huge stone sign with the words THE ROCKY MOUNTAIN FAMILY PRACTICE CLINIC carved in it. As much as Griffin didn’t care for the woman, Ian insisted it was Dr. Kendall or nobody. Griffin finally gave in, willing to concede this battle to his brother. He just wasn’t sure if Ian wanted to see her because he liked going to Dr. Kendall or if he liked irritating his brother.
Ian didn’t even wait for him to turn off the engine before climbing out of the passenger seat and heading down the sidewalk.
The lot looked fairly empty. A good sign. Now if only the waiting room was empty, too. Maybe they’d get in there, see the doctor, and get home. He could feel his heart rate elevating the closer he got to the front door, the name of the practice etched across the glass against the outline of a mountain range.
The same tall receptionist with the welcoming smile staffed the front desk. Today dancing thermometers adorned her scrub top.
“Colonel Walker, it’s nice to see you and Ian again.” She handed him a neon purple clipboard containing several pieces of paper. “I’m sorry Dr. Kendall didn’t have a morning appointment. The good news is, she’s running ahead of schedule today.”
“Terrific. Excuse me, um—” He glanced at her name tag, adorned with the outline of Pikes Peak. “—Evie, didn’t we fill this out the last time?”
“Yes.” As the phone rang, she adjusted the mouthpiece of her headset. “Just double-check to make sure everything’s correct and then have Ian give it back to me.”
Griffin walked over to where Ian slouched in a chair, dropping the paperwork in his lap.
“Hey!” The teen looked up. “What’s this?”
“Your medical paperwork. Make sure everything’s right.” Griffin settled himself in next to his brother, ready to check his emails on his iPhone.
“Why aren’t you doing this?”
“Your information. Your responsibility.”
“But Mom always did this kind of stuff.”
Griffin held up his hand, blocking Ian’s attempt to hand back the clipboard. “I’m not Mom.”
“No kidding.” Ian shifted away from him.
Enough already.
“Ian.” He waited, staring at the back of his brother’s head. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”
“Going all hard-core guardian on me?”
“Just asking for a little respect—and a little eye contact.” He pulled the boy’s orange-and-blue Florida Gators cap off his head, ignoring the teen’s protest and tossing it on the table beside him. “I understand it’s hard for you without Mom and Dad.”
“Sure you do.”
“They’re my parents, too.”
“I get it. They’re your real parents—not mine.”
Griffin lowered his voice. “That is not what I said at all. We both miss them.”
“As if.”
Ian’s hazel eyes glinted with unshed tears before he dashed them away with a balled-up fist. Where was all this emotion coming from?
“You never talk about them. Never. Forget about it.” Ian stood and walked across the room, settling into another chair and training his eyes on the papers.
What was his brother doing, lobbing a verbal grenade like that? What did Ian want him to do, sit around and mope? His parents were dead. And he was Ian’s guardian—and as far as he could tell, he was doing a lousy job at it. When it was just him, Griffin didn’t care if the fridge was mostly empty. He’d swing by Whole Foods, stroll through the hot food section, and grab a quick dinner. Or drive through Chick-fil-A and order a value meal. Apparently that kind of lifestyle wasn’t keeping Ian happy. Well, he was sorry about that, but he hadn’t cooked a meal in . . . well, he didn’t cook.
And laundry? If his mom were alive, he’d call her and thank her for every pair of socks, every pair of jeans, every single T-shirt she ever washed, folded, and put in his dresser drawers. He was lucky if he got Ian’s clothes moved from the washer to the dryer.
He was flunking this whole guardian gig.
“Ian Walker?”
One of the medical assistants stood at the door that led to the exam rooms. Ian bolted from his chair, not looking at Griffin.
Should he follow? Stay in the waiting room?
Kendall Haynes’s words came back to taunt him: Just be the guy Ian needs you to be.
Staying was not an option.
He followed the MA down the hall, standing outside the room while she took Ian’s blood pressure and temperature. Once she left the room, he sat in a chair. Silence shrouded the room.
“Ian.”
The teen stared at the wall. What was he doing, memorizing the words on one of Kendall Haynes’s framed certificates?
“Ian, I’m . . . sorry.”
He was rusty at saying those words. It felt as if he was coughing up boulders. Griffin swiped a hand across his face, stared up at the ceiling. What more should he say? “I miss them. Mom and Dad.” He shook his head, the familiar sense of unreality filling his mind. “I still expect a phone call, you know?”
“Yeah.” His brother’s reply was choked. Guttural.
“I didn’t get home often. But I always knew . . . they were there.” He huffed out a breath.
A knock rapped against the door. As it opened a few seconds later, Griffin thanked God, knowing he was too much of a coward to continue the conversation.
What had she walked into?
Kendall cast a covert glance at the Walkers as she took the clipboard from Ian. He sat on the exam table, the white paper bunched up beneath him, his eyes hidden by a ball cap. Griffin sat ramrod straight in the chair, watching his brother. He looked ready to walk out the door. If he was so unhappy about being here, why had he come back?
“Ian. Good to see you.” She turned to his brother. “You too . . . Griffin.”
After rescuing him from the side of I-25, Kendall figured she could risk going the informal route with him. Maybe put him at ease.
Griffin’s lips thinned, his jaw clenching.
Then again, maybe not.
“So, Ian, let’s focus on you today, shall we?” Maybe she could at least establish a good relationship with one of the Walkers. Besides, Ian was her main concern. All she wanted from Griffin Walker was for him to understand how serious food allergies could be.
“Sure.”
“Thanks for filling out your medical history more completely. You confirm your allergy to avocados, as well as bananas and latex rubber, and seasonal allergies. And you were also diagnosed with asthma when you were six?” From the shift in Griffin’s body language, she could tell this was new information to him.
“Yeah, but that’s no big deal. I don’t need to use an inhaler.”
“Well, that may
have been true at sea level, but it may change now that you’re living in this climate.” Kendall leaned against the counter, trying to ignore the tension radiating off the elder Walker. “I need to listen to your lungs again and ask a few questions. It’s important you answer me honestly.”
“Sure.”
She positioned her stethoscope around her neck, warming it against her palm. Resting one hand on his shoulder, she stood beside Ian. “I can see you’re going to be as tall as your brother.”
“He’s not my real brother.”
Okay, then.
“Just because you were adopted doesn’t stop you from being a real family, Ian.” Kendall patted his back just above his shoulder blade. “I’m going to raise your T-shirt just a bit. As I recall, I didn’t see any tattoos the last time.”
Ian’s snort of laughter diffused some of the tension. “No, but Griffin’s got one.”
“Really?” She listened to both of his lungs, and then dared to make eye contact with Griffin. Oops. Not laughing. “Well, seeing as I probably won’t be your brother’s physician, I doubt that I’ll be seeing his tattoo anytime soon.”
“It’s on his—”
“Ian!” Griffin growled a warning.
“Why don’t you just tell me what the tattoo is, Griffin?”
Griffin’s growl was now directed at her. “Why don’t you concern yourself with my brother, Dr. Haynes?”
Ian joined in the fun. “She likes to be called Dr. Kendall, Griffin. The MA told me.”
“Whatever works for your brother is fine with me.” She tucked her stethoscope in the pocket of her lab coat. “So how’s school going?”
“Fine. I’ve got this stupid biology project.”
“That was my favorite subject in high school.”
“Really? Were you good at it?”
“Of course.” She went to the door and looked for Renee, speaking to Ian over her shoulder. “I’m going to have my medical assistant administer a breathing test. I want to evaluate your lung function.”
“His what?” Griffin’s question jerked her attention back to him. If the guy ever smiled, he’d be quite handsome in a rough-around-the-edges kind of way. Not that she was noticing—not really.
“I’ll explain it all after Ian takes the test. Suffice it to say, I want to see how well Ian’s perception of his breathing matches up to reality. I’ll be back in a few minutes to discuss Ian’s results with you.”
While Renee worked with Ian, Kendall checked with a radiologist about the results of an X-ray. As she talked on the phone, she could hear Renee chanting, “Blow, blow, blow, blow!” to encourage Ian to exhale as hard and as long as he could. About ten minutes later, she was back with Ian and Griffin.
Griffin stood leaning against a wall. “I’ve got to admit, I enjoyed watching someone yell at my brother.”
“Very funny.” Ian rolled his eyes.
Kendall motioned for Griffin to sit in a chair beside Ian, turning the computer screen full of numbers and a graph so they could easily see the information.
“Ian’s breathing test scores weren’t as good as I’d like.” She pointed out the numbers marked on the chart. “Normally, you want a range of eighty to a hundred twenty percent of normal. Ian’s hitting about seventy-one percent.”
“So what does that mean?” Griffin moved closer, and Kendall repositioned the screen.
“We need to treat him more aggressively so his numbers come into a normal range. People get used to breathing at a less-than-optimal capacity—but they consider it normal. If we put Ian on a daily inhaler treatment, his lungs will improve over time. Then we’ll establish what’s called a ‘personal best’ peak flow by using a handheld meter at home every day for a while. Then later, he can check it at home if he thinks he’s getting into problems.” Kendall forced herself to stay focused. This was no time to wonder if the man across from her wore aftershave or stuck with good, old-fashioned soap.
Soap. She was betting on soap.
“And even though Ian says his asthma is no big deal, I recommend that we start him on a daily steroid inhaler.”
“What does that do?”
“Hmmm? It helps decrease lung inflammation.”
“But I’m fine.” Ian twisted his cap around so that it sat on his head backward.
“I believe you were fine, most of the time, in the climate back in Florida.” Kendall tapped the papers with her pen. “But these numbers indicate that you’re not fine here. A lot of people who have no problems living in, say, North Carolina or Tennessee have breathing problems when they move to Colorado because of the drier, colder air. I also suggest having an inhaler on hand in emergency situations.”
Ian nodded agreement. “You’re the doc.”
“Let’s talk about your allergies.” This was going to be the tricky part. “You know what you’re allergic to, right?”
“Sure.”
“Remind me how old you were when you were diagnosed with those allergies?”
“First grade. It was right around the time Mom and Dad adopted me.”
She really needed to get his medical records. “With your latex allergy, have you dealt with skin rashes?” When he nodded, Kendall continued, “Do you know what type of medication your doctor prescribed to help?”
“I used to take a pill—but I don’t remember what the name is.”
“I’ll contact your previous doctor for that information. So you know what you’re supposed to eat and not eat, right?”
“Yeah. Mom taught me all about asking what was in stuff if I wasn’t sure. And she made certain I had an EpiPen and my allergy pills with me, and that I knew what to do if I had a reaction.”
Kendall wasn’t certain, but she’d bet Ian hadn’t told his brother any of this.
“So what’s different now, Ian?”
“Whaddya mean?” The boy stopped making eye contact with her, playing with the hem of his gray Hurley T-shirt.
“You know what to do . . . but you’re not doing it.” Kendall positioned her body so she focused just on Ian. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”
Silence reigned in the exam room for a few minutes. Thank God Ian was her last patient of the day. Kendall hadn’t wanted Ian’s appointment to be during the middle of the day so there was a clock ticking during this conversation.
“Ian?”
“I’m just . . . tired of it, y’know?”
She waited for the teen to explain himself, hoping and praying he felt safe enough to talk to her.
“All through school, I’m the different kid. The one who couldn’t eat special snacks. Or was always checking labels. It got to be a joke.”
“Lots of kids have allergies, Ian.”
“I know.” He ran his fingers through his long hair, and then repositioned his hat again. “Anyway, I ate some guacamole at a friend’s house when I first moved here. Nothing happened. I thought maybe . . . I wasn’t allergic anymore. It can happen. The next time, I got a little itchy, but no big deal. I was being careful.”
“But not careful enough.” She looked at Griffin, who followed the back-and-forth conversation as if he were watching a tennis match. “Your brother needed to know about your medical history, Ian. It wasn’t fair to hide it from him. What if I hadn’t been at the restaurant when you had that reaction? You could have died.”
“But you were there . . . and I’m fine.”
“Thank God.” She moved over to the computer in the exam room. “I’m printing up a couple of prescriptions. One for the steroid inhaler and one for the rescue inhaler. Remember to rinse your mouth after you use the inhaler. You’ve already got the EpiPens. Keep one at home, one at school—maybe in your backpack. Just don’t leave it in your car. Extreme changes in temperature affect the medication.”
She paused, debating her next step. What she was considering was unusual. Not unethical, just crossing the lines of a normal physician–patient relationship. But Ian Walker needed a friend. And she understood what he was going t
hrough—not that he or Griffin knew that.
Did God want her to be Ian’s friend? Before she could talk herself out of her decision, she stood, ramming her fists into her pockets. “It’s the end of the day for me. Kinda quiet.” She could ignore her notes for a while. “Ian, would you like to go upstairs to my loft and say hi to Sully? Maybe take him for a quick walk out back?”
The teen jumped up from his chair. “You live upstairs? How cool is that!”
Griffin stared at her as if she’d suggested suiting up and trying to fly a jet.
“Come on, Griff.” Ian was already out the door and halfway down the hallway.
Kendall watched the older Walker brother, trying to decipher his unspoken thoughts. “Don’t feel obligated to go. I’ll run upstairs, get Sully’s leash, and let Ian run the dog around for a few minutes.”
“Why?”
“Why? Um, because he’s been cooped up all day and—”
“No, I mean why are you doing this?”
Weren’t men supposed to be the uncomplicated gender? “I thought it might be fun for Ian. No big deal. He could play with my dog for a few minutes. Look, if you want, when I get the leash, I’ll grab a stopwatch, too, and keep the time at a strict ten minutes.”
Well, look at that. The hint of a smile lurked on Griffin Walker’s face. One day she might say something to get the guy to loosen up and laugh.
“I have no ulterior motive to complicate your life. Ian seemed to like Sully. And he also looks like he needs a friend.” She paused. Just how honest did she want to get with Mr. Strong and Silent? “And I understand what Ian’s going through because . . . well, because my dad died when I was eighteen.”
And that was all she intended to say about that.
Griffin did not need Kendall Haynes to get personal.
Which is why he didn’t respond to her disclosure that her father died when she was eighteen. Sure, he felt bad for her. Who wouldn’t? But that was years ago. She was over it by now.
He waited just outside the two-story brick building surrounded by a neatly manicured area of green grass and a small parking lot mirroring the one in the front while she commandeered her mind-of-his-own dog and got both him and Ian downstairs. Griffin and Kendall stood side by side, watching as Ian took off running behind Sully, who seemed intent on chasing an invisible rabbit.