Our Finest Hour (The Time Series Book 1)

by Jennifer Millikin

  Jenna’s eyes are red, and I find this more shocking than I did my unlocked door. In all the time I’ve known her, I’ve seen her cry three times. When her dog died, when her grandma Maggie passed, and at a homeless person who fell in the street.

  “Did you get everything?” I ask.

  She nods. “Let me know if you come across anything.”

  And that’s it. She sets her key on the entry table and walks out.

  It’s quiet.

  It’s dark.

  I sit for a long time.

  Thinking of the cracks in my relationship with Jenna is pointless now, but hindsight is twenty/twenty and I’m seeing things clearly.

  We were apart more than we were together.

  When we were together, we were comfortable.

  But guess who else I feel comfortable with? My mom. The people who work in my practice. The surgical team at the hospital. The barista I see on Monday mornings at the coffee shop down the street. Even the cashier at the grocery store I’ve been going to since I moved in here.

  When two people are in love, when they’ve decided to get married, I don’t think they should settle for comfortable.

  I think maybe sometimes they should be uncomfortable.

  Passion, in anger or in lust, should make them agitated.

  Hurt feelings should touch them so deeply there’s no way to keep from spilling over.

  Desire should push them to the point of frenzy.

  And they should be able to eat ice cream whenever they feel like it.

  So I do. Armed with a spoon and a pint, I eat it on the couch.

  And I think a lot, maybe even too much, about Aubrey.

  My hip’s jammed against the kitchen sink as I stare at the man in front of me. He shuffles his feet, looking everywhere but at me.

  It’s not that I don’t want this for my dad. I want him to meet someone. I really do. But that was an idea, a maybe this will happen someday thing.

  Not tonight, like he has just informed me. I’m happy for him. It’s just shocking, I guess. How many years has it been since he has been on a date?

  To alleviate the awkwardness, I busy myself rinsing Claire’s yogurt from her bowl. “Are you nervous?” I ask him.

  “Nothing to be nervous about,” he says, opening the fridge.

  “Liar.” I place the bowl in the dishwasher.

  “Don’t make a big deal about this. It’s nothing.” His tone is gruff.

  “Fine. I won’t.” I hold up my hands, a dish towel dangling from my right hand. “It’s nothing.”

  “Don’t you have Claire’s appointment today?” He closes the fridge and looks at me.

  “Eleven. Are you going to come?” I’d like to have someone else in the room with me. Someone besides Claire. Isaac makes me feel… well, a lot of things. Things I’m not supposed to feel. Things that are asinine. Insane. Foolish. Things his fiancee wouldn't appreciate. It would be nice to have a buffer in the room. Someone with a different energy.

  Dad shakes his head, zapping any hope I held. “I have to work.”

  “Why don’t you want to go?” I ask, narrowing my eyes. It’s ten o’clock. He never leaves our house this late.

  “Don’t give me that look.” He frowns. “I’d go if I could, but I’m driving downtown for a meeting.”

  “I can call Greg.” I warn. Besides my dad, Greg is the most trustworthy guy on their crew. He’ll tell me if they’re really working today.

  “Call Greg.” He lifts his chin in a challenge.

  I consider him for a moment. I think my nerves are making me see things. It’s not that my dad wants to leave me alone with Isaac. He really just can’t go. “I trust you,” I say slowly.

  He laughs. “Sometimes I wonder who’s the parent here.”

  “Both of us.” I answer, grabbing my phone off the counter and slipping it into my back pocket. “I’m going to get Claire ready. Will you be here when we get home this afternoon?”

  “Happy hour,” he says around a mouthful of banana.

  I pause, studying him.

  “What?” He asks, his tone sharp.

  “Nice beard. Very neat. Trimmed. But you’re right. It’s nothing.” I turn and prance from the room as my dad grumbles something behind me.

  “Hello, Ms. Reynolds.” The portly woman peers down at Claire through the glass window she pulled back when we walked in. “You must be Claire.”

  “I am,” Claire announces, making the woman laugh.

  “We’ve been expecting you.” The woman winks at me.

  “Wonderful,” I murmur. Would Isaac have told this woman who we are?

  Claire and I sit in the waiting room. I fill out paperwork while she draws on the little Boogie Board I brought with us.

  When I return the paperwork to the woman, she beams at me. I wish she would stop smiling at me like that. It makes me uncomfortable. And embarrassed.

  Claire’s drawing a robot, one she says will pick up her dirty clothes off the floor. I check emails on my phone until our name is called.

  I don’t know why I thought it would be Isaac calling us in. I push the disappointment aside. With Claire’s hand nestled in mine we walk to the young woman holding a clipboard.

  She smiles, introduces herself as Nicole, and tells Claire she’s going to take pictures of her arm.

  “Do you mean x-rays?” Claire asks.

  Nicole laughs. “Yep,” she says, leading us to the x-ray room. We pass door after closed door, and inside one I hear a man’s deep voice. Isaac’s?

  Inside the x-ray room, Nicole situates Claire and motions for me to stand behind a wall with her. She takes three x-rays, all with Claire’s arm in different positions, then moves us to an exam room.

  “Dr. Cordova will be right in.” She closes the door behind her with a polite smile. It makes me feel better. Maybe he didn’t announce who we are to his whole staff.

  Less than a minute goes by before Isaac walks in. He’s holding an iPad in his hand. His scrub shirt is tucked into his pants, and his cell phone is clipped to his waist.

  “How are you ladies doing?” He holds out an open palm to Claire. She slaps his hand as hard as she can. Grimacing, he shakes his hand and says, “Ow.”

  His eyes are on me. “Aubrey? How are you?”

  “Good. Enjoying a morning off work.”

  “Me, too.” Isaac laughs at his own joke. He sits down on the wheeled seat and rolls in front of Claire. “And you, Claire? How are you?”

  “Good. Am I getting a cast today?”

  “That depends. Do you want one?” He raises one eyebrow, a smile playing on his lips.

  Her hair falls in her face with her vigorous nod.

  “First let me talk with your mom about your x-rays, then we’ll get you your cast. Start thinking about what color you want.” Isaac brings the iPad to where I’m sitting and settles into the chair beside me. He leans over, holding the tablet in front of me. If I didn’t want to see the x-rays so badly, I’d lean away.

  Does he sit this close to all his patients?

  “She’s looking good,” he says. His eyes are trained on the screen, fingers tracing the metal rods in her bone, objects that look out of place in an arm. “These are the pins.”

  My stomach flip-flops. I glance at Claire’s arm in disbelief. I can’t believe those are inside of her.

  “We’ll get a cast on her now, and then I’ll see her back here in two weeks, and we’ll do this all over again.” He stands, opens the door, and leans out.

  “Randall,” he says, his voice raised. “Arm cast in six.” He backs out of the open door and lets it close. “He’ll be here in a second.”

  He looks at the seat beside me, but elects to lean back against the small counter where his iPad now lies.

  “Are you OK?” he asks, squinting at me.

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. Damn. My teeth push into my bottom lip.

  “You seem stiff.” He crosses his arms. I feel l
ike his eyes are digging into me.

  “Do people in your office know about us?” I keep my voice low. Claire’s drawing again, but she has ears. And they work just fine.

  Isaac’s face changes to concern. “Is that what this is about?”

  “That woman up front—”

  “Deirdre.” Isaac interjects.

  “Deirdre was very happy to see Claire.”

  “So?” Isaac shrugs.

  “Too happy. Like she knew just who Claire was.”

  “And what if she did?” Isaac’s eyes widen, a challenging look.

  “It’s none of her business,” I hiss.

  Isaac crosses the small space separating us and plants himself in the chair he previously occupied. He touches my chin, just one finger underneath, lifting it slightly.

  “Lucky for you, I don’t have a big mouth.”

  I watch the mouth he’s referencing as it speaks the sentence. His lips caress the words, his tone stays low, his voice deep.

  I move my head, a slight jerk, and his finger drops. “I don’t think your fiancée would appreciate your behavior.” It’s another hissed whisper, this time accompanied by a disapproving look.

  Isaac opens his mouth. At the same time the door flies open. Isaac jumps from the seat, his expression contrite.

  The man who has stepped in is almost too tall for the doorway. He looks from Isaac to me, his eyebrows drawn together. Quickly he fixes his expression so he looks disinterested and mildly friendly.

  “Dr. Cordova.” He nods at him. “Hello,” he says to me.

  I return the greeting. Isaac introduces him to Claire.

  Randall grins at her, and from his pockets he produces a few rolls of what appears to be colored tape. He holds them out to Claire, and she considers them, as though she’s shopping for deli meat at the supermarket.

  “Can I have two?” she asks.

  “Anything for extra special patients like you.” He winks at her.

  She grins. “Purple with pink stripes.”

  Randall tosses the unchosen rolls onto the counter beside Isaac’s iPad. He sits on the rolling seat and pulls up to Claire.

  Isaac goes to the table to supervise the cast’s placement. I leave my seat to sit on the table beside Claire. I would never know if Randall were doing anything right or wrong, but I want to be there.

  I can feel Isaac looking at me. Tearing my eyes from Randall’s work, I meet Isaac’s gaze.

  The only word I can think of to describe it is heavy. Like he’s brimming with words. Things he can’t say, won’t say, isn’t at liberty to say.

  Randall finishes and gathers the only tool he brought in with him, a pair of angled scissors, and the rolls of what I now realize is fiberglass. I did an internet search right after Claire’s break, so I knew the material they would use, but I wasn’t expecting it to come in rolls.

  He holds out a hand to me. “Nice to meet you, Aubrey.” He turns to Claire. “And you too, little lady.” And then, to Isaac. “Man, this room is tense. You might want to air it out before your next patient comes in.”

  Isaac shakes his head at him. Randall laughs and heads out, the door swinging shut behind him.

  I level narrowed eyes on the man who just told me his lips were sealed.

  “He’s my closest friend.” He’s giving me a come on look.

  “Fine.” I mutter. I can give him that one. Britt knows. It’s the same thing.

  Isaac’s eyes light up. “Can I take Claire to the zoo this weekend?”

  The word no springs to the tip of my tongue. Claire on her own. At the zoo. Without me. No way.

  “Yes! Mommy, please? Can Isaac take me to the zoo?” Claire’s eyelashes crawl up her brow bone as her eyes widen, her face excited and expectant.

  “Isaac and I will talk about it.” I smile at Claire, a competent don’t worry kind of a smile. She looks back down to her drawing.

  I grab my phone from the purse hanging across my body and type out a message. Isaac’s pocket vibrates a second after I hit the send button.

  He pulls out his phone and reads, nose scrunching on one side as he makes a disbelieving face.

  His sigh is a slow, steady stream of air pushed through a slit in his lips. I stare behind him, at the sink, the cabinets below the counter, the iPad lying closed on the counter. I just don’t want to look at him right now. I can’t help the way I feel. My dad once told me that sometimes you have to piss people off to take care of your child, but I never knew just what he meant until right now.

  A message pops up on my phone. First do no harm. I took an oath.

  I can feel Isaac’s gaze on me, imploring me to look at him. Under his scrutiny I type, then delete what I’ve written because it’s too harsh, and type again.

  Even doctors can be sickos.

  Isaac reads the message and shakes his head. “Come with us.” His voice is soft, a silk scarf wrapping over me.

  The paper covering the exam table crinkles beneath my touch. Claire’s hand has stopped moving across the board. Now she’s singing. It’s a song she learned last year in her three-year-old classroom.

  I pick my phone back up and respond to Isaac. Before I let you even further into Claire's life, I need to know you better. I need to see where you live. And yes, Claire and I will go to the zoo with you.

  He looks at his phone, waiting for the message to appear, and when it does, he reads it. I like the smile spreading across his face. Knowing I put it there makes me happy.

  “Friday night,” Isaac says, sliding his phone back into its clip. “After work. Come over and see for yourself that I have a normal home. You can even look through all my drawers.”

  I smirk. “Sounds great.” Mollified, I slide off the table and load Claire onto my hip.

  For a second Isaac slips back into Dr. Cordova as he gives me instructions on how to wash Claire with the cast. Just as quickly, he sheds the role.

  He leans in to hug Claire, and I lean away to give him the space he needs.

  Let’s be honest, though. I’m giving me the space I need too.

  “See you Friday night.” He holds open the door for us.

  I echo his words as I pass him. Claire stays planted on my hip as I walk down the long, white-walled hallway. I don’t need to turn around to know Isaac is watching us leave.

  The sound of my dad’s key in the lock takes me by surprise. It’s too early for him to be home from his date.

  He walks up behind the couch where I’m sitting. I turn off the TV and twist my upper half so I’m facing him.

  “You’re home early,” I say cautiously. He’s been an adult for a long time, but in dating years he’s a toddler. My mother was his first serious girlfriend, and we know how that turned out.

  “Yeah.” He grips the back of the couch. “Didn’t work out too well.”

  “What happened?”

  “She wasn’t my type.”

  My head tips to the side. “Do you have anything more to say than that?”

  “No.”

  I throw my hands in the air and turn back around. He shuffles out, his boots giving away every step of his retreat.

  I lean back on the couch and gaze at the picture on the side table. Me, my dad, and Claire, smiling. Two of the people in the picture are stunted, suspended by a moment in time. But the third has managed to escape damage. And she’s the one I have to think of now.

  It's amazing how I can be calm in surgery, hands so steady and certain of every slice through skin, every manipulation of bones until they fit back together. But knowing Aubrey's coming over tonight has me hyper.

  My apartment couldn't be any cleaner. I could eat off the floor if I wanted to. My favorite carbonara, noodles twisted in a pile on the dark wooden planks, would be like eating off one of the shiny white plates from the set Jenna brought over to replace the colorful ones my mom gave me. That's how much I've cleaned since I got home late this afternoon.

  Wait. Does it smell too much like cleaner?

  I sea
rch the cabinets until I find candles. Also chosen by Jenna. I light one and place it in the center of the kitchen island. Far away from the edge where a child could grab it. See, Aubrey, I can be trusted with Claire.

  Tonight is a big deal. Tonight I show Aubrey I can take care of Claire by myself. And for longer than a few hours. It's only been two weeks since Aubrey showed up out of nowhere, dark hair spilling down her back, her eyes fearful. She was worried about Claire's break, sure, but then she saw me, and that's when the real fear took over.

  I want to ask Aubrey what she's so afraid of. With the exception of the night we met, when whiskey and bitterness made the words pour from her lips, Aubrey keeps everything close to the vest.

  If tonight goes well, I'm going to tell Aubrey about my parents. What I won't tell her is that my mother called three times yesterday asking when she’s going meet her granddaughter. She also wanted to make sure I didn’t get a wild hair and get back together with Jenna.

  When she called the third time, Mom said “Family is love. Blood means nothing.”

  I know that. Better than most. I let the comment pass, and we talked again about Claire and Aubrey and how this was going to change my life.

  But it already has changed my life. From the very second I looked at Claire's papers after her surgery, my whole world shifted. There's gravity, then there's the gravity of Claire. Knowing she exists is what's keeping me here. Forget that job in Boston, the one with the big-name researcher at Mass General. It sounded good at first, but that was before Claire. I can invent a better way to fix an arm right where I am. No moving necessary.

  That's what I mean about gravity. Being Claire's dad is heavier, more important, more impactful, than anything else. And now I want to be the very best dad to her. And that means taking responsibility of Claire. Aubrey's not in this alone anymore.

  That’s why I’m walking the length of my place one more time, doing a fifth check, hoping that one day it will be a second home to Claire.

  Maybe I should calm down. I'm getting too excited. Aubrey barely agreed to a zoo trip. She pulled out her phone right there in my office and sent a message asking if I'm a predator.