by Beth K. Vogt
Less painful.
“Morning, Evie!” Renee followed up her greeting with a quick pat on the back.
“Good morning.” Evie pinned a smile on her face—her work face. “Did you have a good weekend?”
“Saw the new Reese Witherspoon movie. Yep. Great weekend.” The MA set her usual Starbucks venti Cinnamon Dolce Frappuccino on her desk. The woman had a serious addiction. “You?”
“Fine.”
“Don’t forget, a pharmaceutical rep is bringing in lunch today.”
“Got it.”
Evie heard Renee power up her computer.
“How’s the day look?”
“Busy as usual.” Evie motioned down the hall. “Liz is stocking the exam rooms. I’m going to check in with the answering service.”
By eight thirty, Renee had roomed two patients, several sat in the waiting room, and Evie needed to refresh her tea. Just as she was about to ask Liz to watch the front desk, a woman in a pair of frayed sweatpants and a pullover came in carrying a little boy.
Mrs. Peterson and her son, Sean. They had a nine thirty appointment. She was way early.
The woman shifted her son in her arms, adjusting the flannel Scooby-Doo blanket so it was snug around his shoulders.
“Hello, Evie.”
“Mrs. Peterson. Good morning. I have you down for a nine thirty appointment for Sean—a routine checkup. You’re a bit early.”
“I know. I tried to call, honestly I did.” Her son rested his head on her shoulder, eyes closed, his blond hair matted against his forehead. “I’ve been up all night with him. I think he has the flu. Fever. Throwing up. Every time I called, the line was busy—and then Sean would get sick again.”
Evie reached across the counter and felt the back of the little boy’s neck. He most definitely had a fever.
“I’m so sorry. But Dr. Kendall is booked until your appointment—she’s even running a little behind . . .”
“That’s fine. I don’t mind waiting. It just felt smarter to bring him here than to keep him at home. And I thought maybe if Dr. Kendall could see him earlier, somehow . . . if we were here . . .”
“Momma, I don’t feel good . . .” The little boy’s words bobbled.
“Ssh, ssh, baby. I know. I’ve got you. You’re going to see Dr. Kendall, remember?”
“I don’t feel good . . .”
Oh, this might go bad. Fast. Evie couldn’t let Sean get sick all over the waiting room. And his mother. Time to ignore the phones. “Mrs. Peterson, why don’t you come with me.”
She pressed the button on the wall to the right so the woman had access to the back, holding the door open for her. As she walked past the MA station, she motioned to Renee to follow.
Caught between the two women—Mrs. Peterson a few steps ahead of her, Renee double-timing to catch up—Evie evaluated her options. “Is the procedure room available?”
Renee nodded yes, stepping past them to open the door. “What do you need?”
“Grab a basin. Quick. I think Sean’s going to be sick. We’ll figure out what else we need after that.”
Within minutes, Evie’s premonition proved true. “Renee, let Dr. Kendall know the Petersons are here—and that Sean is sick. They understand they’re going to have to wait unless something changes in her schedule.”
Evie could hear the phones ringing. She knew Renee and the other MAs would handle things, but she needed to get back to her desk. Still, she found herself standing in the doorway of the procedure room, watching mother and son.
Mrs. Peterson sat on the exam table, which was positioned so it partially reclined, cradling Sean close against her body. Even feeling as sick as he did, Sean seemed content with his mom, snug beneath his aqua-blue blanket. One little hand held on to hers, refusing to let go. The whole time he’d been sick, Mrs. Peterson whispered, “I’m so sorry, sweetie. Mom loves you. I’m so sorry. Mom’s here.” He’d taken only a few sips of water from the paper cup Evie offered him, and then turned back to his mother’s waiting arms.
“I love you, Sean.”
“Love you, too, Mommy . . .”
The words pummeled Evie’s bruised heart. The last time Javan had been sick, he wanted only Logan. She made up a special tray of chicken noodle soup and crackers, but Javan rolled away from her when she entered the room. No matter how she coaxed him, he refused to come out from underneath the blankets. She returned the tray to the kitchen, admitting defeat. Again.
In so many ways, Evie was failing as a mother. Why did she ever think she could be a mom? If she believed in God, she’d figure this was punishment for her mistakes. But what kind of God would allow one mistake to haunt her for all the days of her life? Wasn’t there some sort of expiration date on consequences? She had so much love to give Javan. And at first he’d been receptive. She could love him enough to convince him that she would be good enough to be his mamá . . . couldn’t she?
She watched Sean’s mom’s fingers, stroking the damp hair from her son’s forehead. Her lips pressed a kiss . . . just there . . . on the soft curve of his cheek, where she so often wished to kiss Javan. Evie bit down on her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. In her arms, that woman held everything Evie craved. The chance to be a mom. To love. To hold. To comfort. Javan was so close—in her home. Tucked in bed every night by Logan. But he was so far away. And it seemed like every day put more distance between them.
“Evie?” Renee touched her shoulder.
“Yes?” She stepped back into the hallway, shutting the door on the tender scene.
“Dr. Kendall needs me in the exam room. You able to get back to the desk now?”
“Yes. Just making sure Sean and his mom didn’t need anything.”
“All right, then.”
Walking back to her desk, Evie squared her shoulders, taking a deep breath. With a quick shake of her head, as if she could dispel the image of mother and son, she repositioned the headset and focused on the here and now. Not her past. Not the future.
All she could do right now was the next thing.
Just the next thing—and nothing more.
“Hi . . . Evie, right? Dr. Haynes called and said some boxes came for me?”
Evie turned from faxing some papers over to Penrose Hospital admissions office. Whom had Dr. Kendall said those boxes were for? Parker . . . Dr. Heath Parker. And he was probably the cute guy leaning on the front counter. He gave her an open smile that reached all the way to his blue eyes. Okay. She needed to be professional. Besides that, she was married. But she wasn’t dead. Dr. Parker had the casual appeal of Jude Law, combined with that inexplicable mixture of friendliness and just a touch of charisma. One of those guys.
“Yes, they came this morning.” Evie pushed her bangs out of her face. Midafternoon, and she was a frazzled mess. That’s what the Monday rush did. “I’ve got them in the break room.”
“Terrific. I’m thrilled they came so quickly.”
“If you’ll give me a minute, I’ll go get them for you.” Evie started the fax, and then moved back to the desk, smoothing the wrinkles out of the front of her cotton scrub top.
“No need. Just buzz me into the back and I’ll go get them.”
She considered the option. There was no reason Heath Parker couldn’t go in the back. “Dr. Kendall’s seeing patients, so she won’t be able to talk to you. I’m sorry—I’ll let her know you came by.”
“Understood. Wouldn’t want to bother Kendall while she’s working.” He bent down, disappearing from view, and then reappeared to place a tall rectangular glass vase overflowing with brilliant pink roses on the counter. “Would you put these on her desk for me?”
Evie touched one of the soft petals, inhaling the delicate aroma. “These are stunning.”
“Your boss deserves a bit of beauty to start the week, don’t you think?” His raised eyebrow and roguish grinned pulled her into his conspiracy. “If you make sure she gets these, I’ll collect my boxes and get out of your way.”
E
vie pressed the button that released the lock, allowing Dr. Parker into the back. Once inside, she took a few moments to introduce him to Liz, the medical assistant who was updating Kendall’s nurse practitioner on a patient’s labs. Then she picked up the floral arrangement and led him down the hall, directing him to the break room before slipping into Kendall’s office. As usual, reports, phone messages, and medical journals cluttered Kendall’s roll-top desk. Her leather satchel sat on the floor, stuffed with even more paperwork needing her attention.
Setting the vase on the top of the desk, Evie took a few moments to straighten the piles, knowing her boss would appreciate the semblance of order when she returned later in the day. Then Evie rearranged the flowers, straightening stems and pinching off a few errant leaves. She checked the water level, making a mental note to refresh it midweek. Kendall’s roses deserved special attention. The only time the last guy Kendall dated ever showed up at her office was to ask for free medical advice.
Evie walked back down the hallway that was painted a warm cocoa color past the procedure room and several exam rooms before noticing Dr. Parker standing near the exit to the waiting room. Two boxes sat at his feet. He was talking to the Harringtons, who’d brought their eleven-year-old son, Peter, in because his asthma had flared up.
Why is he still here?
She slowed her pace, even pausing at the end of the MAs’ station to look over some papers that lay on the counter, trying to catch what he was saying. She wasn’t eavesdropping, not really. But why would Heath Parker need to talk to the Harringtons?
“—you might be interested in this new supplement, Mrs. Harrington. I’ve seen Kupu do wonders in building immunity in young children.”
“Really?” Mrs. Harrington examined a small white bottle, turning it around to read the label.
“Absolutely. It would be perfect for someone like your son.”
“Is it available over the counter?”
“Here’s my card. Why don’t you call me and I can answer other questions.”
As Evie watched the doctor hand Mrs. Harrington a slim piece of paper, she stepped up beside the trio. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
Mrs. Harrington turned to include her in the conversation. “Dr. Parker told me about something to help Peter—”
“Vitamins. Supplements. That sort of thing. Dr. Haynes and I both believe it’s essential to encourage good nutrition and overall health in patients.” Heath picked up the boxes and stepped toward the door leading to the waiting room. “It was wonderful to talk with you both. I know how important Dr. Kendall’s patients are to her. Would you get the door for me, please?”
Dr. Parker waited as the Harringtons walked out ahead of him, thanking the man for holding the door open. Evie watched as the three exited the office, chatting again. There was no reason for Dr. Parker to talk with patients. But then, there was no reason for him not to talk with patients. He was a doctor, too. It was what he did—help patients.
The front-desk phone chimed in her ear and Evie clicked the headset button.
“This is the Rocky Mountain Family Practice. Evie speaking. How may I help you?”
“Mrs. Gardner?”
Evie stilled. “Yes?”
“This is Carolyn, down at Javan’s school. I tried to reach you on your cell but I didn’t get an answer.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t answer my cell while I’m at work. Is Javan okay?”
“There’s been a problem at school. I need you to come in as soon as possible.”
“Is he hurt?” Evie moved away from her desk, waving her hand to catch Renee’s attention. “Is he sick? Have you called my husband?”
“No, ma’am. Javan isn’t sick or hurt. And, yes, I tried to call your husband, but he didn’t answer his cell phone, either. When do you think you can get to the school?”
“I’ll be right there. Can you tell me what happened?”
“Javan got into a fight with another boy in his class.”
“He what?” Evie held up her hand, preventing Renee from mouthing questions at her. “What happened?”
“Why don’t you come down to the school and we’ll talk about it then. Javan’s waiting in the principal’s office.”
“All right.” When the phone disconnected, Evie tugged the headset from her ear.
“I need to leave.”
“What?” Renee looked at the clock. “It’s only two. Dr. Kendall has a full clinic—and so does Paul. You can’t leave now.”
“I have to. Javan got into a fight a school. He’s in the principal’s office.” She fast-walked down the hallway to get her purse from the staff lockers, sidestepping a patient who exited an exam room. Why didn’t Logan answer his phone? Then she remembered. “Logan’s in Denver today, working on-site with a client. I have to go.”
Evie unlocked the cabinet, grabbing both her purse and her windbreaker, and headed for the back parking lot. “Do me a favor and punch my time card for me, please.”
Evie stormed into the school office as if she were rescuing her son from a swarm of pint-sized ninjas. “I’m here for Javan—” She paused. She couldn’t call him by her last name yet. The adoption wasn’t final. “Javan.”
She knew Carolyn casually from parents’ nights and other school events she managed to attend. “Hello, Mrs. Gardner. Javan’s in with Mr. Edwards. Let me take you back.”
Evie stopped to study Javan through the small rectangular piece of glass inset in the principal’s office door. Slumped shoulders. Eyes downcast. Bottom lip thrust out. She knew that expression so well. The principal stood as she came into the room. Javan didn’t budge.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Gardner.” Mr. Edwards shook her hand, his eyes compassionate behind his wire-rim glasses, and motioned for her to sit beside Javan.
“Good afternoon.” Evie tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, letting her purse slip to the carpeted floor beside her feet. “Javan, are you all right?”
Silence.
Evie focused her attention on the principal, willing her heartbeat to settle back into its normal pace. “What happened?”
“I’d prefer Javan tell us. But he’s not feeling very talkative right now.” The principal leaned against his desk. “Do you want to tell your mom what happened, Javan?”
Nothing.
Maybe she should try to start the conversation. “I was told there was a fight . . .”
Mr. Edwards nodded. “One of the teachers’ assistants said Javan punched one of his classmates—”
“Did not!” The little boy spat the words out as if he tasted some kind of bitter medicine and refused to swallow it.
“Javan!” Evie touched his arm, but he shrugged away from her.
“He punched me.”
The principal kept his voice low, calm. “Javan, the teacher saw you and Trevor—”
“He punched me!” Javan bellowed the words, this time looking at her with tears filling his brown eyes.
“Don’t yell, Javan. We just want to find out what happened.”
“I told you. You don’t believe me. The other kid punched me.” Javan crossed his arms over his chest. “I told ’em to call Daddy. He would believe me.”
Javan’s accusation was a verbal punch to Evie’s gut. What was she supposed to do? Let Javan get away with hitting another kindergartner just so he knew she loved him?
“I’m not saying I don’t believe you.” She touched Javan’s knee, trying to connect with him again. “I’m trying to find out the whole story. If you hit someone, you need to say you’re sorry.”
“He didn’t say he was sorry to me!” Javan jerked his leg, pushing her hand away. “Where’s Daddy? I want Daddy!”
“Daddy’s at work. I’m here. Let Mamá help.”
“You’re not my mamá!”
Evie’s breath hissed through her clenched teeth. She refused to look at the principal. She pressed trembling fingers against her lips, searching for something to say.
“You’re right, Javan.
I’m not your mamá.” Evie inhaled. Exhaled. “But I want to be. Daddy and me . . . we want all three of us to be a family. And that’s why I’m here. Because mamás come get their niñitos when they’re upset about something.”
Javan looked up at her, his chubby cheeks streaked with tears. “My momma doesn’t.”
Evie lowered her voice to a whisper. “Your momma doesn’t what?”
“My momma isn’t coming to get me. She left me.”
Oh, what could she say to heal this little boy’s hurt? “I know. I know, Javan. But I’m here. Can I help you . . . just today?”
Evie watched Javan’s lower lip tremble. Heard him hiccup back a sob. “ ’K. Today.”
Today. She’d take today. And hope for tomorrow.
Mr. Edwards’s voice interrupted the brittle quietness resting between them. “Javan, why don’t you go to your classroom and get your things?”
The little boy slipped off the couch and exited the office.
“Mrs. Gardner, you handled that well. I understand what’s going on between you and Javan.”
“Yes.”
“I’ve seen other adopted children act out this way. Truthfully, I’ve seen children act this way with their biological parents.”
“Believe me, some days are much, much harder than others.” Evie stood, turning to face the principal. “I know Javan’s angry at his birth mom, not me. I just never realized I would be fighting her for my son.”
“It’s almost the end of the school day. Go ahead and take Javan home. Let him settle down. Talk to him about what he did, about needing to apologize to Trevor. And don’t think I won’t be having a talk with Trevor and his parents, too.”
“Thanks.”
Evie straightened her shoulders and went to wait for Javan out in the front office. She slipped into a muted-blue cloth-covered chair next to a bulletin board covered with papers: announcements about piano lessons and dance lessons, the schedule for the field day program, information about summer camps. Carolyn sat at her desk, talking to someone on the phone. Who knew what the woman thought of Evie? She probably considered her a horrible mother—unable to control her son. There was no way the other woman could understand how hard Evie tried with Javan. This was something she had to figure out on her own. One little breakthrough with Javan didn’t mean he wouldn’t shut her out again when they got home. What now? Was it appropriate to take a little boy for ice cream when he’d punched a classmate?