Handle With Care

by Patrice Wilton

  Now that the boy had medical attention, Shane glanced again at the mother’s face. She had removed her visor and he could see her more clearly. “I have seen you before. I’m sure of it.”

  She gave him a quick, dismissive look. “No. I remember people and faces.”

  “Maybe I’ve seen you at the hospital,” he answered stubbornly.

  “Most likely,” she replied, climbing into the back of the ambulance, alongside her son.

  Her unfriendly attitude irritated him, and made it that much more important to make his point. “The Long Beach Memorial. That’s it.” He grinned, smug now that he’d remembered. “You’re in ER, right? My unit works out of that hospital. I just started a month ago.”

  “Right.” She darted a glance in his direction. “Can you take care of our bikes? Just get them to the hospital, and someone will take it from there.”

  He wanted to tell her what she could do with her bikes, but then guilt settled in. Their nice day out had turned into a real bummer. “Sure thing. It’s the least I can do.” He gave Josh the thumbs up. “Good luck, kid.” To make the boy smile, he took hold of Major’s paw and wiggled it to wave good-bye.

  He watched the ambulance pull away, then glanced at the bikes, unsure of how he’d transport them to the hospital. He looked around for assistance and saw a skateboarder fly past, grab some old lady’s handbag off her shoulder, and race down the boardwalk.

  The lady stopped, her hands to her chest in disbelief, and shouted, “Thief!”

  Shane unleashed Major. “Go! Stop him. You can do it.”

  The dog took off, and Shane rushed after him. His lungs were aching by the time he caught up with them. Major had the scruffy teenager on the ground, fifty pounds of drooling, growling dog keeping the boy in place.

  “Back down, Major.” The dog lay down but kept his eyes trained on the young man. What? Seventeen, with a scruff. Hard times, maybe.

  “Let me go,” he said, his eyes shadowed.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” he told the kid, patting Major on the head. “Good job.” He turned his attention back to the thief. “Give me the lady’s purse.”

  “Make me.” The kid stood up, and brushed himself off. “Keep that dog off me, or I’ll sue.”

  “You’re a thief,” he replied. “How can you sue?”

  Kid shrugged, still acting tough. “Why not? It’s America.”

  Shane rocked back on his heels and crossed his arms. “So you think you can take a woman’s purse? Not following the logic.”

  The teenager grimaced. “Fine. Take the old lady’s bag.” He tossed it in Shane’s direction. “I’m outta here.”

  “Afraid not. The woman has a cop with her, and they’re right behind you.”

  The teenager’s eyes flashed with fear, but he turned his head and laughed. “See if they can catch me.”

  Shane knew he was about to bolt and get away. A part of him recognized the pain in the teenager, but another part wanted justice for the innocent woman. He stuck out his mechanical hand and made contact with the young man’s chest. “Not so fast. This is a bionic weapon, and I’m special ops,” he lied. “You don’t want to mess with it or me.”

  The boy glanced down, and his youthful pink cheeks lost color. His cocky attitude slipped some too. “You can’t … didn’t do anything.”

  “Yes, you did,” the lady said, having arrived with her armed escort.

  Major had the purse between his teeth, and wagged his tail. The woman bent down to retrieve it, but the pup thought it was a game and tugged.

  “Drop it, Major.” Shane picked up the bag, handing it to the lady. His eyes met the teenager’s. “An apology is in order.”

  The law officer stepped between them. “I’ve got this.” His eyes scanned Shane, head to toe, pausing at the hand, with a nod of respect. “Thank you, sir.”

  Pale as milk, the teen blurted, “I needed the money.” He glanced at the lady. “Sorry.” He looked it too. At being caught perhaps?

  “You’re under arrest,” the officer said and put the young man’s hands behind his back to handcuff him.

  “What did you need the money for?” Shane asked, searching the boy’s face.

  He shrugged. “Haven’t eaten today.”

  “When was the last time you did eat?”

  “A couple of days ago.”

  The officer looked at the woman, clutching the bag tightly in her hands. “You want to press charges, ma’am?”

  She looked at Shane and back at the youth, her prim mouth pursed in thought. “I have a grandson your age. Ran away from home. Are you a runaway?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “I’ll need to call his parents,” the patrolman interrupted. “What’s your name and number?”

  “Won’t do no good,” the teen said belligerently. “I haven’t seen my family in weeks. Dad threw me out. He won’t want to see me now, anymore than he did then.”

  The lady looked at Shane, who shrugged. What happened next wasn’t up to him. As he looked closer at the thin adolescent, he saw a kid warring within himself over good and evil. Not committed to crime. Yet.

  The officer cleared his throat. “Well, if you haven’t got a place to sleep, I’ll have to take you into protective services. How old are you?”

  “I’m seventeen. I can fend for myself.”

  “You wouldn’t be lying about your age, now would you?” he questioned. “Let me see some I.D.”

  “I left my wallet at my friend’s house.” He lifted his chin, defensive. “I’ve been takin’ care of myself. Dad’s messed up all the time; callin’ him won’t do no good. Mom left last year.”

  “I won’t press charges,” the woman decided, looking at the bewildered policeman.

  Shane pulled out his wallet and handed over a twenty. “Use this for food, not drink. And if you have some spare time, here’s a card where I help out sometime. You ever hear of the Wounded Warriors?” he asked. “They’re always looking for volunteers to help the men and women who’ve come back from war. You think you’ve got troubles, you ought to see them.”

  The police officer looked uncertain. “I really should take you in, but somehow I don’t think you’ll be better off.” He looked the youth in the eye. “This is my beat and I’ll be looking out for you. Don’t ever let me catch you doing this stunt again.”

  “I won’t. I promise.” He gave them a shy wave. “Thanks.”

  The three of them watched the boy skate away.

  Shane turned to the police officer. “I have another problem you might be able to help me with.” He told him about the bikes and how he needed to get them to Long Beach Memorial.

  “If I had a car, I would drive you,” the woman said. “Thank you for getting my purse back.”

  Uncomfortable at being in the spotlight, Shane shifted from one foot to the other. “It was Major, really.” He positioned the lab at his feet.

  The officer patted his chest. “I’m Donald Masterson, ex-Marine. I can drive you and the bikes there myself. Got the SUV today. Normally it’s the patrol car, but it had a flat.”

  “You, young man,” the older woman declared, not done speaking, “were very brave.” She pointed to his hand. “And handicapped!”

  “This?” Shane flexed his bionic fingers. “This is no handicap, ma’am.” With a John Wayne grin, he turned on his heel. “Over here, Officer.”

  “Why’d you do it?” the officer asked. “Give the kid money.”

  Shane sighed, realizing how far he’d come and how far he had to go. He gave a careless shrug as he thought about the kid’s fears. “I’ve walked a mile in his shoes.”

  When Lauren and Josh arrived at the ER, the receptionist rushed them in right away. “What happened?” Betty asked. The plump, grey-haired former nurse assessed the situation in seconds.

  “Josh fell off a bike. Face wound needs a stitch, maybe, and his arm’s hurting. ”

  Josh’s eyes filled with tears, though he hadn’t so much as sniffed insi
de the ambulance. “I think it’s broken. I might need a bionic arm.”

  Lauren bit back a laugh and exchanged an amused look with the receptionist. “We ran into a war vet, and he had an i-limb. I’ve heard about them but not actually seen one until today. Pretty cool, actually.”

  Betty’s calm demeanor helped Lauren keep it together too. It was so hard, watching her son go through his first ER visit. “Well, kiddo,” Lauren said, “let’s get you examined, and if we can’t fix your existing arm, we’ll order up one of those new gadgets. How’s that?”

  “Thanks.” Another tear ran down his cheek. “Mom? Do I still have to be brave or can I cry now? It really hurts.”

  She put her arm around his waist and gave him a hug. “Oh! Honey, I didn’t mean that you couldn’t cry. Being brave is getting through the pain, that’s all.” Lauren knew very well about that. Her eyes filled as she worried she wasn’t letting her son be a child. “Am I too tough on you? You’re only six. Cry if you have to.”

  As if sensing she wasn’t just talking about a cut on his chin and a hurt arm, Josh set his jaw. “I’m the man of the house.”

  Uncertain, she ruffled his strawberry-blonde hair. “That you are.”

  Josh had lost his father when he was three years old, and Lauren had had to raise him as a single mom. It hadn’t been easy. She’d been grief stricken and so, so angry. The man who killed her husband had two prior DUIs, but he’d been allowed behind a wheel. Why not just give him a shotgun and a license to kill?

  “Lauren?” She glanced up to see Dr. Knowles standing in the doorway. “You can bring Josh in now. Face first, then some X-rays.”

  After Dr. Knowles stitched up Josh’s chin and the X-rays were done, they finally left the hospital. No fractures—but a badly sprained elbow would keep Josh’s arm in a sling for weeks. Unfortunately, hours in the hospital, in addition to the pain, had made her son a little short tempered. He needed routine to be at his best. What had happened today was outside her control.

  He kicked the sliding glass door when it didn’t open fast enough.

  Instead of yelling, she put a protective arm around his shoulder. “Josh, I’m so proud of you, hon.”

  “I want a cheeseburger and a milkshake. Can I have a milkshake?”

  McDonalds was a treat, and he’d earned one. “We’ll see. It’s getting kind of late and … ”

  He immediately stopped walking. “I want McDonald’s!”

  Careful to control her own temper, she took a deep breath, prepared to attempt to reason with a tired, injured Josh. A headache started at both temples. His temper tantrum was cut short by the blaring ambulance pulling up to the emergency entrance. The man they’d run into, or over, this morning, slid out from the passenger side.

  He seemed startled to see them. “You two still here?” He glanced at Josh’s sling, then his chin. “I wondered if you’d need a stitch. Nothing broken?”

  “Naw. Just a sprain. Hurt really bad, but I’m not a crybaby. Am I, Mom?”

  “No, you’re SuperKid.”

  “Did you get your bikes okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah. We did. Thanks.” She shielded her eyes from the bright sun. “I’m sorry if I was rude to you before.” She took in details she hadn’t noticed before. His confident manner, great smile. Wise eyes.

  His partner called out, “I can use a hand back here.”

  Shane’s tanned cheeks darkened. “Gotta go. We have a patient with heart problems.”

  “Well, don’t waste time talking with me.” She smiled to take the sting out of the words and walked Josh over to the cab they had waiting.

  “I like him,” Josh stated. “Can he be my new daddy?”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Now, why would you ask such a silly question?” Lauren outwardly stayed calm while her pulse leapt with apprehension. What if he’d heard Josh say that? She didn’t dare look back, so she slid next to Josh and quickly shut the door. “Sixty-three Carleton Lane. Thank you.”

  “Because everybody else has one, and I want one too.”

  “I know that, honey, but what do I always tell you? We don’t need anyone else. You’ve got me and Julie. That’s like having two parents.” She pulled the twenty she always kept in her keychain for emergencies from the pouch, knowing it should be plenty to see them home. No cell phone, no credit cards. What had she been thinking leaving the house so unprepared? Josh wanted to ride his bike—that’s what.

  “No, it’s not the same at all.” He shifted away from her. “You won’t even let me see Gary anymore. Why can’t I see him, Mom? Why not? He’s my friend.”

  Realizing the importance of the issue to Josh, she took a deep breath and stayed calm. “I told you, honey. He’s not with the Brothers for Life organization anymore. I don’t know why.”

  She didn’t want to tell Josh the truth—that she didn’t trust Gary. There was nothing concrete, no evidence of misconduct, but it had worried her when she’d seen the way he looked at her son. She had taken him out of the program, refusing to take chances with his safety.

  “I don’t care,” Josh said. “I still want to see him.” His eyes filled with tears. “Doesn’t he want to see me?”

  “I’m sure he does. How could he not? You’re the coolest, most wonderful person I know.”

  A small smile crept on his face. “You’re just saying that ’cuz I’m your kid. You have to like me.”

  “I don’t just like you. I love you to the moon and back. It’s you and me, kid. We’ll always have each other.”

  He sulked, not letting go, which worried Lauren a little. Because Josh had ADHD, he had a tendency to obsess over things, and she certainly did not want him obsessing over Gary.

  Josh thought about it for a minute and then asked, “If I can’t see Gary, what about this other guy? He was super cool. Can I see him?”

  Lauren was glad when the cab pulled up in front of her house. “We’re home now, sweetheart. We can continue this conversation some other time.”

  Josh rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Like never.”

  She paid the driver and helped Josh out of the car. He winced when he moved his arm.

  “Has the medicine worn off? You need more, kiddo?”

  “It hurts. And I don’t want to wear this stupid cast.”

  “It’s not a cast. It’s just a sling, and it helps mobilize your arm. When we get you inside, you can lie down and we’ll ice your elbow.”

  “I don’t want no ice. It’ll hurt.”

  Once the door was opened, Josh marched into the family room off the kitchen and plopped down on the sofa. His face was glum. “Stupid dog made me fall off my stupid bike.”

  She ignored his repeated use of the word “stupid” and said instead, “How about if we turn on SpongeBob or Scooby-Doo?”

  “Don’t want that. I want Power Rangers, not a dumb baby show.”

  He always wanted to see either that or Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, but she preferred him to watch something that didn’t involve fighting. Which, of course, explained why he was demanding it now.

  Lauren could see he was heading for a meltdown, so she turned on Scooby-Doo, hoping he’d soon forget about the other. “There. You love this show. Watch it, and I’ll get you some juice to take your medication with. Then we can ice the arm. You heard the doctor. He said it had to be done every hour or so.”

  “No way.” He kicked the coffee table.

  “Please, don’t do that.” Lauren went into the kitchen and found the children’s Tylenol. She poured some juice, hoping he’d take it before the pain ratcheted. She returned to the living room and held out the glass. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I know it hurts. This will help.” She had the chewable pill in her other hand. “Here you go. Wash it down with your juice.”

  He turned his head, refusing the drink and medicine. “No! It tastes bad.”

  Frustrated, but knowing he was even more so, Lauren counted to ten. “If you don’t take it, the pain will be worse.”

  His jaw se
t. “You take it. I don’t want it. Chewables are for babies.”

  “Not true. It’s for little boys and little girls too. She popped one in her mouth. “See. It’s even good for me.” She handed him the glass of juice. “Take the pill, hon. You’ll feel better if you do.”

  He did as he was told, and she was glad that mini-crisis was over.

  “Do I have to go to school tomorrow?”

  “No, honey.” She kissed the top of his head, loving him so much it scared her. “Not until you feel better. In a day or two.”

  “Can you stay home with me?”

  “You know I’m supposed to work. But Julie can come in early and keep you company until I get home.”

  “I want you.” Josh rubbed his eyes and looked ready to cry. He had to be exhausted, but she knew better than to suggest a nap.

  “I took an extra day off last week to go to your school’s sports day. I can’t take another. And you love Julie.”

  He shifted his bottom, moving to the far side of the couch so he was out of her reach. He pouted for a few minutes; then a thought occurred to him, and he bounced up with excitement.

  “If you go to work, maybe you’ll see that guy again. Then he could be my friend. You could ask him, couldn’t you? Maybe he’d like to take me to a Dodgers’ game. Brad is going with his father, and we could all go together.”

  “Oh, honey. I can’t ask him that. I don’t even know him.”

  Josh stood up and kicked a chair. “You don’t care about me. All you ever do is work, and you won’t even ask that guy to take me to a ball game. You are so lame.”

  He stomped off and slammed his bedroom door.

  Lauren left him alone, knowing that he needed his own space to calm down and that anything she said would only upset him more. It was unfair for him not to have a father like “everyone” else, but she couldn’t miraculously bring her husband back to life. As much as she wished she could. If only she could rewrite the script, maybe her darling Jeremy would have made it home safely from the office. They’d had an argument that morning, and she had continued it when he called from the car on his drive home. If she hadn’t distracted him, he might still be alive. Sure a drunk driver had weaved into his lane, but if he hadn’t been arguing with her on the hands-free device, he might have seen the other car and diverted in time.