Maybe, With Conditions

by Mariella Starr

  "He was the one who…"

  "Nicole, you are a child of me own heart, but let it go. He was an eejit! As the sun rises, so will men be stupid! You were insulted and scared. You were both young, entitled to the mistakes of youth. The loser in the midst of this battle is your son. Matty is the one both of you hurt. You're the best mother any child could hope for, but he needs a father, too.

  "Your blow to Dalton Calloway by keeping his son a secret was a near mortal wound to his pride and manhood. I like Dalton. He's a throwback and a good one from what I've seen. He is a man of responsibility. God knows there aren't many left in this world.

  "He reminds me of my Daniel. We got into some fierce tussles in our day. I threw a copper pot one time and my aim was good. I hit him in the head with it. He paddled me for bashing him. I knew he was my man, my husband. I was angry with him for flaying me arse, but I knew he loved me.

  "In these times, with everyone yammering about sexual equalities and rights, I didn't think there were any real men left. You need to get your head straight, me lass. You two made a child together. That child deserves parents, both a Mum and a Da. As much as I love you, you deserved this spankin, that you did. You've been after actin like a banshee every time he comes round."

  Chapter Three

  Nicole was not sleeping. She hadn't been lately, and even when she did, her dreams were always of Dalton and her together. Her subconscious remembered every nuance of their earlier relationship. Her dreams were erotic, full of what she wanted from him, but would not allow herself to have. She punched her pillow with a fist, although it was a poor substitute for what she really wanted to hit.

  Suddenly she heard a sound. Alert and instantly awake, she pressed a button on her nightstand and hit the floor running for Matty's room. Mrs. O'Cleary bustled in from her adjacent apartment and they set up the equipment quickly.

  Nicole pulled her son upright into her lap while Dee Dee helped her implement his doctor's plan for severe asthma attacks. She pulled out a metered-dose inhaler. It delivered a precise amount of medication to his lungs in the form of a short burst of aerosolized medicine. Dee Dee set the small valve on a cylinder of oxygen to allow it to be released into the room.

  With her son in her lap, Nicole began a mantra. "Breathe slowly, baby. Breathe slowly."

  Mrs. O'Cleary sat in a rocker while they watched and waited. They took turns holding the boy and coaxing him in his disturbed sleep. They had gone through this vigil too many times to count.

  They still heard the same choking, coughing, and wheezing sounds several hours later. Matty's condition had not improved. In fact, it had worsened. Her son had chronic allergic and nocturnal asthma, but this time, he was going into a severe attack. Sometimes, the symptoms could be relieved and even stopped. Other times, the symptoms worsened as the minutes ticked away.

  "Dee Dee, call Dr. Myer's message service. We're taking Matty into Holy Cross," Nicole decided.

  "Someone's at the door," Mrs. O'Cleary said. "You answer it while I phone the doctor and get Matty wrapped up."

  Nicole opened the door in a rumpled tee shirt hanging to her knees surprising Dalton. She looked exhausted. "What's wrong?" he demanded immediately.

  "Matty's sick," Nicole said.

  "Was it too much ice cream and popcorn yesterday at the park?"

  "I wish," Nicole said. "He has asthma attacks, sometimes severe. This one's turning bad."

  "Have you called the doctor?" Dalton questioned.

  "No," Nicole snapped. "It would never have occurred to me!"

  "Nicole, get dressed," Mrs. O'Cleary said sharply giving her a nudge. When Nicole was out of the room, Mrs. O'Cleary spoke to Dalton. "We have called and left messages on the doctor's service. They like us to watch him for a while to see how he reacts to the medicine and treatments. We've been through this many a time, so we know what to do."

  Nicole came into the living room, still in her tee shirt, carrying Matty wrapped in a blanket, and she put him on the couch.

  "It hurts, Mommy," Matty complained in a strangled voice.

  "I know baby, we're going to the hospital," Nicole crooned.

  Mrs. O'Cleary dashed down the hall returning a moment later carrying a small suitcase with a Batman design.

  "You two get dressed, I'll sit with Matty," Dalton offered and lifted the boy into his lap as the women ran.

  In the hospital emergency room, the doctor in charge recognized Matty as a returning patient and admitted the boy shortly after they arrived.

  Mrs. O'Cleary and Dalton were left in the waiting room while Nicole went behind the closed doors of the receiving area. Mrs. O'Cleary filled out the admittance forms and argued quietly with Dalton. He wanted to accept responsibility for the hospital bills, explaining he had already added his son to their family policy. A nurse approached them and told them they could go into the cubicle to stay with the patient until the doctor came in for the consultation.

  In the curtained cubicle, together they watched their child struggle for breath.

  "Ms. Bennett, Nicole?" a doctor said as he walked from behind the curtains with a chart.

  "Dr. Myers," Nicole slid off the bed where she had been holding Matty upright and leaned him against the pillows.

  The doctor smiled. "Matty's asleep, so let's take this outside," he suggested and led them to a small conference room. He looked pointedly at Dalton.

  "This is Matty's father," Nicole explained. "Please, tell me, how is my baby?"

  "Matty will be okay this time," Dr. Myers reported in his calm manner. "We have been through worse with him. I am concerned. Each time he has another attack, his lungs become more scarred and weaker. We're doing as much as we can, but I think it's time to take a more proactive approach to help relieve his symptoms. We have tried everything in our arsenal available for a child his age. It's time to consider changing his climate. He needs a much dryer and less humid climate. God knows the D.C. area is one of the worst for humidity and allergens.

  "I'm not trying to scare you. We have discussed this before, but this is his third severe attack in as many months. These attacks are coming with more frequency and worsening in severity. Research shows a sixty percent chance of children with asthma going into remission by their mid-teens. In Matty's case, it's another eight to ten years before we could even hope for a reduction of symptoms. Some people, especially children, respond to a more temperate climate. By removing the immune trigger, which you know we cannot identify, the attacks may lessen or even stop. I wish I could give you definitive answers, but the research simply is not available. I would hate for the damage he's incurring in his lungs to become permanent.

  "I want to keep him here for a day or so depending on how well things go this time. I sincerely hope you consider my recommendation. If you can move, it's worth a try, although I can't guarantee results. I've known parents and patients who have made several location changes before finding one that suited them. If you make a decision to relocate, please call my office. We'll research and recommend another physician wherever you go."

  They stayed in the hospital, taking turns in Matty's room until the nurses suggested they go home for a few hours. Matty had been given something to ensure he would rest and hovering parents sometimes did not reassure children, but rather made them believe they were sicker than they were, causing anxiety.

  Dalton drove them home. Nicole was so distressed she buried her face in Mrs. O'Cleary shoulder and cried. "How can I move?" Nicole asked.

  "We will find a way, love. We'll find a way,' Mrs. O'Cleary said looking over Nicole's head to Dalton.

  After they returned to the apartment, Mrs. O'Cleary excused herself and left the two of them alone.

  Nicole paced back and forth, very close to a panic attack herself. She would pick up her cell phone every few seconds to check for messages, dial, and then hang up before the call went through. She wanted so desperately to call the hospital. She knew the nurses would call if Matty worsened even the slightest. She kne
w the staff there. Matty had spent far too much time under their care.

  "You need to calm down," Dalton suggested.

  "No, I need to go to the hospital," she said grabbing her purse. "I'm better when I'm at the hospital with him."

  Nicole couldn't think straight. Mrs. O'Cleary had gone to her apartment and in a moment of panic, she turned to the only person available.

  "What am I going to go?" she asked Dalton in desperation.

  "There's a simple solution," Dalton answered. "You, Matty, and Mrs. O'Cleary will go home with me to Nevada."

  Nicole started shaking her head before he even finished his sentence, realizing she had made a mistake in voicing her fear to Dalton. "No, it's not an option."

  "Nic, I live in the high desert. It's a dry, temperate climate, exactly what the doctor suggested. It's not too hot in the summer, and it's rare to see freezing temperatures in the dead of winter for more than an hour or two before dawn. As soon as the sun comes up, the temperatures begin to rise. Our winter days have not dipped much below fifty degrees in the last decade. Matty needs a change from the cold, harsh winters, the damp springs, and humid summers of the East Coast. Living in the desert is the perfect solution."

  "No!"

  "Nic..."

  "I don't want to talk about it! If we move, it will be on my terms. I will decide where we go," Nicole snapped and she ran out of the room.

  He let her go and went into the kitchen to search the cabinets, fix a fresh pot of coffee, and make sandwiches with what he could find in the refrigerator. He tapped on her bedroom door, but there was no answer, so he opened it slowly. He found her asleep slumped over in a small chair. He left her alone, knowing if he touched her, even to try to make her more comfortable, he would wake her. Worry had exhausted her.

  He was reading medical research about asthma on his phone when Mrs. O'Cleary returned. He motioned her to take a seat and poured her a cup of coffee.

  "Did you talk to her?" Mrs. O'Cleary asked.

  "I tried. She was not in the mood to listen," Dalton said. "I didn't have the heart to argue with her. She's been asleep for about an hour. I called the hospital and Matty is sleeping peacefully. I also made sandwiches."

  "Thank you," Mrs. O'Cleary said rising and moving about the kitchen. She set the table for three. "She'll listen as soon as she wakes up. I'll see to it."

  "You'll see to what?" Nicole asked from the doorway. She still looked exhausted with bluish circles under her eyes.

  "You're going to listen to Dalton's suggestion," Mrs. O'Cleary said firmly.

  "I heard it, and the answer is no!"

  "You didn't hear, because you're not thinkin straight, and you're still angry with him." The woman bristled. "Sit down, tuck into some food, and pay attention because you're going to hear it from one of us."

  "You two have already discussed it? Are you plotting against me?"

  "We talked about it while stuck outside in that God-forsaken waiting room," Mrs. O'Cleary said, her temper rising.

  Nicole made a move to leave the table and then paused as the older woman raised her hand with one finger pointing at her. Nicole had only seen Dee Dee lose her temper a few times, and her pointing finger was a sure sign of it.

  "Sit down," Mrs. O'Cleary ordered calmly.

  Nicole sat back down obediently.

  Dalton watched the exchange, relieved to see Nicole did occasionally listen to someone.

  Mrs. O'Cleary put the sandwiches on their plates, added chips, and refilled their coffee cups. She sat down and nodded at Dalton. He took it as his cue to explain.

  "Nicole, I've already told you, the climate where I live in Nevada might be good for Matty. We won't know until we try. I'm not suggesting marriage, again. You've convinced me that you are not interested. What I am suggesting is for you to live on my family's ranch until you can get resettled. You have to do what is best for Matty. If the desert climate suits him, it won't take long to see an improvement in his health. Hawthorne is a small town. Our population is only a little over three thousand people spread out about seventy miles in all directions. We have a hospital. It's small, but it has a good reputation. If it's not good enough, we are only a hundred or so miles from the Carson Tahoe Medical Center, which it is a much larger facility.

  "I know you've built a reputation as an artist in this area. However, it shouldn't take long to reestablish in the Southwest. You'll make new contacts within the area art communities and galleries. Reno, Las Vegas, and Denver aren't that far away.

  "We have a guest cottage behind the main house. It's not very big, several bedrooms, but it's functional. It isn't luxury, but it's yours if you want to take Matty there." He nodded in Mrs. O'Cleary's direction. "You are, of course, included, and welcome."

  Nicole shook her head. "Even if I wanted too, how would you explain Matty and me to your grandparents? The resemblance is telling."

  "My grandparents know," said Dalton, a little bit of his own temper showing. "I'm not ashamed of you or my son. I told them the same day I found out and have been sending them pictures every day. They were surprised. I had to listen to a boatload of crap from them, but you won't. They're overjoyed to discover they have a great-grandson. It was all I could do to keep them from flying here to meet him.

  "Let me do this for Matty, Nic. So far, I have not been able to offer my son anything, not a home, security, even my name was denied to him. Let me give Matty a chance to become healthy again. Let me help you."

  Nicole looked to Mrs. O'Cleary and the woman nodded her head in approval. She was silent for a long time before she spoke. "Okay, but this move comes with conditions. Our living on your ranch is temporary, only until I can get reestablished," she warned.

  "I talked to Phillip and he agrees we should be after tryin a dryer climate," Mrs. O'Cleary declared. "We've had thirty-two days of rain here in the last two months. The cold and the damp air are killin the wee lad. They aren't good for me old bones, either. Although we have no guarantees his health will improve, it's worth a try. We should all settle nicely in Nevada. I've never been to a desert."

  "I can't ask you to leave Phillip for us," Nicole protested. "He's your son, Dee Dee."

  "You may not be of my blood, Nicole, but you and Matty are mine. Phillip's a grown man who can take care of himself. He can afford to visit us, and it will do him good to get away from his desk. Flyin to Nevada tisn't any different than flyin from New York City." She smiled. "He can mind his paperwork on an aeroplane as well as at a desk. My place is with you for as long as you need me. Besides, someone has to stay behind to close up our apartments and ship your things out to Nevada. You two can leave as soon as Matty gets out of the hospital and is cleared for travel. I don't see any reason to take a chance of him having another attack. I'll stay behind to pack and store what you decide not to ship. When I'm done, I'll join you. We can make the final decisions later if we decide the area suits us."

  There were tears in Nicole's eyes. "You are the best, Dee Dee."

  "Nonsense," the woman exclaimed with laughing eyes. "I'm after buyin a pair of red cowboy boots, and a shirt with fringes and rhinestones. I'll be an Irish cowgirl!"

  * * *

  Nicole viewed the large jet moving slowly into the boarding gate and pointed out the Boeing 767 to Matty. She watched as huge amounts of luggage were loaded into the belly of the beast. This was a first for her. She had never flown before. She had never had the time to travel, at least not beyond the east coast. She was a little excited, and a lot concerned.

  When Dalton touched her shoulder, she knew it was time to board. She gathered her son's activity bag and her small bag filled with extra clothes in case Matty needed a change. It was a seven-hour flight to the McCarran International Airport in Las Vegas, where they would land and then drive another five and half hours to where Dalton lived outside of Hawthorne, Nevada. Twelve or more hours of travel with a small child were fraught with nightmarish possibilities. She was not looking forward to it for Matty's sake or her
own.

  She didn't like the idea of putting herself in a position where Dalton was in control. She had not for one moment forgotten the spanking he had given her. The subject had not come up since they had been dealing with Matty's health and the details of the move across the country.

  Dr. Myers assured them Matty was healthy enough to travel. He had endorsed the move enthusiastically and, as promised, supplied a list of doctors in the Hawthorne and Carson City areas providing pediatric care.

  It was a long flight. Matty became restless two hours in and remained contentious. Even Dalton with his magic touch could not calm the boy. Matty fussed and, at one point, was crying and whining, and disturbing the other passengers. All the various video games, movies, coloring books, and other paraphernalia Nicole had brought with them failed to interest her son. He refused to nap and fussed about his lunch, which was exactly what he had requested. Dalton took Matty for a walk to the back of the plane and after talking to him for a few minutes, they returned and the boy sat quietly and colored in one of his books.

  "What did you bribe him with?" Nicole whispered in Dalton's ear as her son silently colored in his book.

  "I didn't. I told him he was disturbing everyone on the plane and I was about to find a corner to make him stand in it if he didn't straighten up," Dalton said.

  Nicole sat up straight and furious. "You can't threaten him."

  "It wasn't a threat, although I'd be hard-pressed to find a corner on a plane," Dalton whispered back. "I told him he was misbehaving, and what the results would be if he didn't change his behavior. He is now behaving himself. Why don't you try to sleep? You've been running on adrenaline for over two weeks. You were dealing with Matty's illness, finishing those damn paintings, and fighting the remains of a head cold. You're worn out."