A Child to Heal Their Hearts

by Drake, Dianne

  He gave her a quizzical look. “Weight, temperature, blood pressure, pulse,” he said. “And a pill for my nausea. It’s what we all get, except the pill. I still need it. Some of the other kids don’t.”

  “Really?” Gregory was astute. Very much on top of his condition. Which impressed her more than she’d been expected to be impressed.

  He nodded. “Every day while we’re here. Then I go to the doctor once a week when I’m home. Sometimes twice, if I’m not feeling well. I’m in early recovery, so they need to make sure nothing is changing.”

  The child was so matter-of-fact about his condition and, more than that, his whole life situation, that she wasn’t even sure how to respond. “How old are you?” she asked him.

  “Seven and a half, but you can consider me eight, if you want to.” His broad grin revealed a missing tooth.

  “Well, since you’re eight, I think you’re old enough to take some responsibility for yourself, like recording your own pulse, maybe taking your own temperature, and weighing yourself. The more control you take over your physical condition, the better off you’ll be.” Her check of him revealed his blood pressure, temperature and pulse to be normal. Weight consistent with the past several days. A little under his normal but not losing.

  “Does that make sense to you?” she asked, as she recorded the numbers in his chart.

  “I—I don’t know. Isn’t that what a doctor’s supposed to do?”

  “Or a nurse. Or your parents.” She looked up from the chart and smiled at him. “Or, you, if you think you’re old enough. I mean, almost eight...that’s getting pretty old, you know.”

  OK, so maybe her doctoring approach was a little beyond his years, but it made sense that gaining more confidence in dealing with his condition would serve him well in the long run. Living with the idea that his cancer might recur had to be frightening, but spending every moment of his life depending on someone else to tell him he was doing fine had to be difficult.

  Of course, she’d never had leukemia, never been chronically ill, but she’d spent too many years being dependent on someone else’s conclusions about her, and it was such a helpless feeling.

  “So, here’s what we’re going to do as soon as I can get it squared away on the schedule—and only if you think you’re old enough to take on some responsibility. I want you to come back over here to the clinic, and we’re going to talk about making your own choices. Then, if we have time, maybe I can show you how to do some medical procedures. But only if you want to.”

  He frowned, not sure what to say.

  “Do you want to do that?” she asked him.

  “Yes, I think so,” he said, sounding nearly as tentative as she felt taking the initiative. But it was a good idea. She knew it! Would have loved someone teaching her the right initiatives to take when she had been as young as Gregory.

  “Good. So, do you have a computer with you?”

  He nodded. “It’s mostly for games.”

  “Games, and in a little while we’re going to start using it to track what doctors call your vital statistics. Do you know what those are?”

  This time Gregory shrugged.

  “Don’t worry,” Keera said, patting him on the shoulder. “It’s easy stuff. But it’s also very important. So, about your pill...”

  After she shooed Gregory out the door, she went through much the same process with the next child, Charlie. Aged seven. And Heather, aged eight.

  “So what are you teaching these kids?” she asked Reid an hour later, after all the kids, including Emmie, had gone through their routine morning check-up, and those who needed medication were medicated.

  “Yesterday we went over some of the physiology of leukemia. Talked about white blood cells and how they—”

  “They’re not much more than babies, Reid. They don’t need the physiology lectures. What they need are the practical, day-to-day aspects of coping with their condition. They’re all in some form of remission or recovery or whatever you want to call it, but they need to know what’s normal for where they are in their recovery, and how to take care of some of their basic medical needs. Which I told a few of the older kids I’d teach them, if that’s OK with you?

  “And while I know you’re so close to it, with your daughter in recovery, I think your tendency may be to baby them or protect them more than they should be protected.”

  “So you’re here for one day and you know what’s best for them?” It was said not so much in anger as in practiced reserve against the way he might really feel.

  “That’s not fair. I’m responding to a medical condition, and—”

  “And you don’t have a clue, Keera. Not a damn clue.” Now the anger was peeking through, but only a little. “Last night you were pretty clear about how you don’t like kids and now you’re changing my program?”

  “Not changing it. Just giving some of the kids a different option. You know, more control.”

  Reid took a deep breath to steady himself, then physically squared his shoulders. “OK, I know you want to help and I appreciate that, but these kids...they put all their trust in us, rely on us, and if you get yourself involved more than I asked you to, somewhere down the line one of these kids is going to put trust in you that won’t be fulfilled.

  “You can’t do that to them, Keera. Medical procedures are one thing, but what you want to do is embark on a course that will change their lives in some way, and while I’m all for that, and would do it myself if I had time, the program this camp follows isn’t about giving a few minutes of commitment then moving on. These kids depend on us, and you’re about to step into the position of having them depend on you. Which isn’t what you want, is it?”

  He was right. She’d overstepped without thinking it through. She saw that now, and felt bad, especially as she was the intruder here. But her approach to medicine had never been laid-back. In fact, her approach to life had never been laid-back, and that’s all Reid seemed to be—laid-back. Truthfully, her preference in men had always been for someone who was forceful. Of course, look what that had gotten her. Married to a man who had forced himself right out of their marriage and away with his mistress. Still...

  “I didn’t mean to do something I wasn’t supposed to,” she said. “And you’re right. I don’t want these kids relying on me then maybe getting hurt in the process. That’s not what I meant to do.”

  “I know it’s not. And to be honest, I’d love to expand my program here. But I don’t have the means or the volunteers. Until we’re larger, and can support larger programs, we’re minimalists, and that’s the best we can do.”

  “Then say the word and I’ll tell the kids there’s been a change of plans.” She drew in a stiff breath as the sinking feeling set in that she was about to bite off way more than she’d ever expected to chew. “But I’d still like to do this, if that’s OK with you. Because it is the right thing. Also because I promised and I don’t want to let these kids down. So to prove how strongly I believe that empowering them over their conditions is the right thing to do, I’ll...” Keera swallowed hard. “I’ll stay for the week to follow through with teaching them. Only if you want me to, though.”

  “Seriously? You’d really stay and help?”

  “Seriously,” she said. Then instantly felt queasy.

  “When I called you outspoken and opinionated, I guess I didn’t know how much. But go ahead. You promised, and if the kids are expecting it, then we should give them what they’re expecting.” He grinned. Extended a hand to her. “Welcome to the staff of Camp Hope.”

  Or, in her case, Camp Hopeless, she thought as she shook his hand. “So, this is how I’m going to spend my summer vacation.” Keera watched Reid’s face, couldn’t determine what he was feeling. He had an odd expression, and she didn’t know him well enough to read it, but she could only guess that he was wishin
g she’d never come here. “It’s the right thing, Reid. I promise, they’re old enough.”

  “As interpreted by the doctor who doesn’t like children?” he asked.

  “As interpreted by the doctor who was forced to grow up too young and take on responsibilities no child should ever have to face. But it got me through. My independence is what saved my life many times over. And while you might not agree with me, I sincerely believe that giving these kids a bit of independence over their situations will save their lives, too.

  “Maybe not in dramatic ways. Or maybe it will be in a dramatic way for one of them. Who knows? But, whatever the case, it’s going to count for something. And, yes, it’s also being interpreted by the doctor who warned you she wasn’t good with children. I am good with my patients, though. Damned good, Reid, because I learned my childhood lessons well.”

  “And never had time to be a child?” he asked, his voice now sympathetic.

  “I didn’t need to be a child.” With that, she moved past him into the infirmary to spend the next shift sitting with Megan and planning her first lesson—“Taking your temperature.”

  Poor Megan looked miserable, lying there in bed, with a rash finally popping out on her. She was awake, though. Looking around. Alert. “Remember me?” Keera asked, keeping a sideways glance on Reid, who was trying very hard to seem busy with a supply inventory when she knew he was really trying to keep an eye on her. She didn’t blame him. All things considered, she’d be doing the same if the situation were reversed.

  Megan shook her head. “Want my mommy,” she whimpered.

  Keera didn’t know how to respond to that so, instead, she said, “You came to visit me yesterday. Then I took you to play at the hospital, and we came here last night when you weren’t feeling so well. My name is Keera. I was a friend of your daddy’s.”

  “She was in a hospital daycare center?” Reid asked from across the room. “Exposing all the other children? Have you notified them yet?”

  “You really want to be critical of me, don’t you?” she said, smiling for Megan’s sake, even though she was gritting her teeth underneath.

  “You get high praise for surgery, but this isn’t surgery, and I haven’t seen enough of your style to know whether or not I’m a fan. But I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt here. You’re out of your element, so that does start you off with a few extra points in your favor, since you’re trying.”

  “Well, in or out of my element, I did call the hospital first thing this morning. Talked to the daycare director, let her know. Offered all the apologies I could muster. Unlike you, she wasn’t grumpy about it. She said contagion happens all the time with kids and they simply look at it as a way to bolster young immune systems.”

  “You say that with a lot of indifference.”

  “No. I said it with a sigh of relief because I really don’t like going around spreading infectious conditions everywhere I go. Especially here, where these kids have compromised immunity. But as far as the center goes, I got lucky because the director told me the children are all vaccinated before they’re allowed in, that they sanitize the entire area several times a day, so not to worry.”

  She frowned. “Are you OK, Reid? Yesterday you weren’t this...testy. In fact, you weren’t even this testy earlier this morning. Is it because I suggested a program?”

  “No. I’m just not a big fan of change.”

  “But I thought that’s what you wanted for Camp Hope. Growth. Change.”

  “It is, but I don’t have to adjust to it easily. That’s just me. Kicking at progression when I’m the one egging it on.”

  “We do get used to our ruts, don’t we?”

  “Sometimes a rut isn’t such a bad place to be. When Emmie was sick, she’d have these periods where she wasn’t as bad, maybe not even sick at all, and I found myself praying to stay there. I didn’t want to move forward, or sideways or backwards, for that matter. That one spot was...”

  “Safe?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Even though there was always the possibility that tomorrow might be even better, if today wasn’t so bad, I didn’t want to move away from it.”

  “Uncertainty can be paralyzing. When I was a child, nothing ever stayed the same in my life, and I think I was like you. If it worked, I didn’t want it to change. But life changes every time we blink our eyes, doesn’t it? And for Camp Hope, I was that blink.”

  “You’re welcome here, Keera. I’m sorry your little girl is sick, but we’ll manage it. It all just disrupted my routine, which...”

  “Makes you grumpy.”

  He smiled. “Welcome to my world.”

  “We all have our quirks. You’re likely to see my grumpiest come out if my surgical instruments aren’t lined up a certain way on the tray. Or the wrong music gets played. I have a sequence I follow, never vary it, and if someone changes that, for any reason...” She shrugged. “Let’s just say it can get ugly. I’m not mean, mind you, but I’m very demanding.”

  “I can’t picture you any other way. Look, I’m sorry, Keera. Sorry I came at you so abruptly this morning, and I’m mostly sorry about my reaction to what’s really a good idea. Because you’re right, these kids do have to take responsibility for themselves, but sometimes when I look at them, all I see is...”

  “Emmie. Who’s spent most of her life being dependent on her daddy. I do understand that, Reid. For me it’s a practical matter, and for you it’s personal.”

  “What’s personal is she doesn’t need me so much any more. Which scares me, because at the end of the day I’m a father before I’m anything else. And it has nothing to do with her leukemia and everything to do with it. Maybe it’s also because I don’t know what normal’s supposed to be. The three of us really don’t have that in our family.”

  “Is being a single dad that difficult?”

  “Yes and no. Because there’s never been a mommy in the picture, we make it work the way it needs to. As they say, it is what it is. But I’d be lying if I told you that doing this alone is easy, because it’s not. When the adoption became final, the judge congratulated me and told me single parenting is the new normal. Not sure what that’s supposed to be, though.”

  “One person’s lack of normality is another person’s normality.” Keera smiled sympathetically at Reid. “And as far as Emmie goes, she’s seven. Trust me, what she’s going to need from you has only just begun. And that has nothing to do with her medical condition.” She turned her attention back to Megan, who’d dozed off again. “But what she’s going to need...”

  Her voice trailed off because Keera knew. Dear God, she knew in all the ways no child should ever have to know. Love was the start of it, which Reid had in abundance. And protection. And guidance. None of which she’d ever had given to her.

  But Emmie, Allie and Megan would all need room to grow and develop as well, and that was something she’d created for herself because no one else had ever been there to help her. It was something Reid would eventually have to create for his daughters, like it or not, in spite of Emmie’s physical condition. And something someone would have to create for Megan.

  “Do you suppose if I wandered over to the dining hall, I might be able to beg a scrap of toast or a sandwich? Seems I haven’t eaten since...” She thought for a moment. “Lunch yesterday. Except for an apple on my way here last night.”

  “That’s an option. Or there’s my kitchen. I wield a pretty mean toaster. And I have jam...”

  “Please say strawberry!”

  “Allie’s favorite. Can’t be without it.”

  “Then, by all means, lead me to Allie’s favorite. I need a little fortifying before my first group of kids expect me to teach them the intricacies of taking a temperature. And maybe a couple of scrambled eggs, if you’ve got them.”

  “With green peppers and onions?”


  “In my fondest dreams!” She smiled. “Oh, and, Reid? Don’t worry. As fussy as you are over your daughters, I’m sure your girls will keep you in first place until they meet the boys who will steal their hearts away from you.”

  “Like I really wanted to hear that,” he said, on his way out the door to go and fix Keera’s meal.

  Fifteen minutes later he returned with a tray complete with eggs, toast, and orange juice. Keera couldn’t remember when something had smelled so good. Something about being at camp made her ravenous, and this was a perfect brunch. “You hungry?” she asked Megan, wondering if the child might eat a piece of toast.

  Megan shook her head.

  “Would you eat a small piece with strawberry jam on it?”

  Apparently the bribe of strawberry jam caught her attention, because Megan nodded tentatively, then proceeded to eat an entire half a slice of toast and drink a small glass of apple juice before she slid back down into bed and rolled over on her side.

  “You’re persuasive,” Reid commented.

  “Strawberry jam is persuasive. I’m merely the means to that jam.” She pulled the blanket back up over Megan and returned to finish her own food.

  “So, how did your father manage it when you started to not need him as much?”

  “He didn’t,” she said without a hint of emotion. “In fact, I was the daughter of a single mother. No daddy in my life. Not even in absentia. My mother...she wasn’t interested in lasting relationships, I suppose you could say. Men came and went, none ever stayed.”

  She glanced at her watch. “I promised to squeeze my class in between agility training and lunch, if you could stay here with Megan for about thirty minutes. Or maybe one of the volunteers...”

  “Sally Newton said she’d be glad to sit with Megan when we need her. She’s a retired schoolteacher, loves the kids with a passion. Had leukemia herself when she was a child. So let me give her a call as I need to go and oversee agility.”

  “Am I making you late?”

  “That’s fine. It takes about ten minutes to get the kids settled down anyway, so I’ll be just on time.” He was finally feeling less stressed than he had all morning. Basically, he liked Keera. Liked her strength. Or, as some might call it, her brute force. And she was a force to be reckoned with, make no mistake about it.