A Child to Heal Their Hearts

by Drake, Dianne

  “Knowing when to let go—one of the challenges of being a parent, I suppose.”

  “One of the many. Lately, though, the big thing has to do with fashion. I’m not good at it, don’t have a clue. I remember the way my mom used to dress my sisters, but...”

  “Old school,” Keera chimed in. “I’ll bet she dressed them old school. I mean, we come from a day when colors coordinated and matching patterns with similar patterns made sense. Now anything goes as long as it’s fun. Nothing has to coordinate, nothing has to match if you feel good wearing it and it expresses...you.”

  “Don’t I know. And what I’m finding out is that my daughter is hiding her clothes. ‘Oh, Daddy, that’s so gross,’ she always tells me. Then I never see the outfit again. Did you do that when you were a kid?”

  “I never had enough clothes that I could hide something. But I definitely had my preferences.” She smiled, remembering how she used to love window shopping.

  She and her mom had never gone in to buy, and most of what she’d worn back then had been shoplifted from various thrift stores. It had always been her job to distract the store clerk while her mom had stuffed her coat with whatever she had been able to lift in mere seconds.

  Usually it hadn’t been pretty. Usually it hadn’t even come close to fitting. Sometimes it had been in good shape, though, and she’d pretended it was brand-new. “Want me to take your girls shopping? Let them express themselves to me rather than having Daddy foist his taste on them?”

  “I thought you’d never ask. How about after the zip line tomorrow afternoon? I’ll sit with Megan then that will free you up to take the clothing nightmare away from me.”

  If ever a plan had played directly into her hands, this was it. How perfect was that? Leave him alone here, let him bond a little more with Megan...yes, perfect. “Well, I’ve never been shopping for kids’ clothing, except that once for Megan, but it can’t be that bad, can it?” she said, laughing.

  “Just wait until tomorrow. Then you’ll see.”

  “Well, call me crazy, but I think I might be looking forward to it.”

  “I know I am,” he said, smiling. “And the girls will be excited to have some female input rather than letting dear old Dad horn in on their fashion creativity.”

  “This is where someone might normally make a profound parenting comment, offer condolences, or say something to the effect that you’re better at it than you think, but as I don’t have any experience in childhood situations or parenting, I don’t think I’m qualified.”

  “Sounds like a cop-out to me. Especially when I’m clearly drowning and need a lifeline.” He faked a pained expression. “Or sympathy.”

  “How about dinner? I’ll cook. Not sure how, or where...”

  “How about we spend our separate time with our respective girls then meet up later when they’re all tucked in, and have our own meal?” Pausing, he smiled. “I don’t know how my parents did it, taking care of so many kids going in so many directions and still finding time for themselves. But they did, and I guess I never even gave it any thought until now. Because the thing I’d like to do most is go for a walk, take you down to the river, have a late-night picnic and spend some time relaxing under the stars. But you have your responsibilities, I have mine, and those responsibilities come first.”

  “Would have been a nice evening, though,” she said, trying not to sound too dreamy, or too disappointed. Because she could picture the evening playing out, and it was so real she almost felt immersed in it. But being immersed in an evening with Reid was a dangerous thing, because she was beginning to like him too much, and like was tantamount to love or other places she couldn’t go. “But you’re right, work and children come first,” she said, shaking herself back into the true Keera Murphy mode.

  “Maybe we could have sandwiches on the porch?”

  “Or skip the sandwiches, and just spend some quiet time,” she suggested.

  “Quiet time is good, too. But what just happened here?” he asked. “How did we go from planning a meal together later on to whatever you just said?”

  She laughed. “I was thinking in practical terms.”

  “And what about eating a meal together isn’t practical, as we’ve already done it before?”

  “The timing. After you do this, after I do that. Get the kids settled down, finish the day’s worth of charting, plan tomorrow’s class. Relaxing without a purpose after all that just seems nice. At home I’d just go straight to bed, but here relaxing seems almost required, doesn’t it? You know, sit back, watch the stars, listen to the bullfrogs court their lady loves. Just breathe.”

  He pushed his glasses back up on his face and grinned. “Then it’s a date to relax and breathe.”

  “You are different, Dr. Adams. Like nobody I’ve ever met before.”

  “Because men always want something else from you?”

  Most of her life they had. Until she’d perfected her demeanor and polished her defenses. Which had started at a very young age, and had only gotten better over time. “Yes, to a point. I grew up in a situation where there were always men coming and going. So I got my fair share of looks, and I knew what they’d want, given the opportunity.”

  “Which makes you cautious.”

  “I try to be.”

  “Do you assume every man is giving you one of those looks?”

  “Not every man. But I don’t need to waste my time distinguishing between them because I’m not interested. Been there, failed miserably at it, saw every one of my character flaws exposed, and realized I can’t go near it again.”

  “Said adamantly.”

  “Adamantly,” she agreed. “But breathing is a practical matter and I’m looking forward to breathing with you later on.” To show him her practicality in the matter, she leaned forward and extended her hand to shake his. But when his smooth palm glided across hers, it wasn’t only his palm she felt. It was also the thousand impractical goose-bumps that were suddenly marching up and down her arms, up her neck, down her back.

  His response was simply to arch his eyebrows at her then stand up and walk away.

  And her response to that? More goose-bumps.

  * * *

  “She’s what?” Keera asked, totally composed.

  “Chest pains. Shortness of breath. Rapid pulse, elevated blood pressure. She’s in her cabin, sitting on the couch, refusing to budge, and seeing as you’re a cardiac specialist...”

  “Surgeon,” she corrected. “And I can’t come because I’m the only one here to sit with Megan.”

  “And I can’t leave Clara alone to trade places with you.” So they were in a spot. He in one spot, she in another, and never the twain shall meet. Which also described their lives, it seemed. “Let me call Sally and send her over there.”

  Keera glanced over at Megan, almost hating to leave her. They’d been reading stories, having a nice evening together. “Then I’ll get some supplies ready. You keep her head elevated, give her an aspirin.”

  “No aspirin. She’s allergic.”

  “Fine, just try and keep her calm. Keep checking her vitals. Are either of your girls with you, by chance?”

  “Emmie is. Why?

  “Send Emmie over here, and I’ll give her an IV set-up, plus whatever drugs I can scrounge for a cardiac episode. Is Clara coherent?” Clara, the camp cook.

  “Very.”

  “That’s good. So hang up. Call Sally and I’ll—”

  “Daddy sent me,” Emmie said. She was standing in the doorway, a little out of breath from the hard run across the compound.

  “So fast.”

  Emmie nodded. “Miss Clara is having a heart attack,” she said so matter-of-factly it rattled Keera. It also reminded Keera a little of herself at that age—all seriousness, no innocence or typical childishness.


  “Look, you go back out on the porch and wait. OK? We don’t want to expose you to Megan’s measles.”

  “Measles are a normal childhood disease,” Emmie explained, without budging from the infirmary doorway, “but my daddy doesn’t want me exposed to anything that will make me sick.”

  She raised a finger to Emmie to indicate she’d get back to her in a moment, then returned to Reid on the phone. “Look, Emmie’s here, so I’ve got to go. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

  “Clara’s not going to die, is she?” Emmie asked.

  “We’re going to do everything we can for her. Beginning with this.” She grabbed a box of IV tubing and catheter, and a bag of normal saline from the supply closet. “Take this to your daddy.”

  “Could you talk to him, tell him I’m all better now? That he doesn’t have to take care of me so much any more? Or keep worrying. That he needs to have some fun, because he doesn’t. Not ever.”

  “He’s asked me to take you and Allie shopping tomorrow. We’ll talk about it then, OK?”

  Emmie nodded on her way out the door, her arms full of medical supplies, and Keera stood there and watched her run across the compound to the cook’s cabin. Only when she was inside did Keera leave the door and return to the locked drug supply to find whatever medication might be necessary to see Clara through her heart attack.

  By the time Sally arrived, Keera had a fairly substantial bag packed, but before she left the cabin she took a moment to go over to Megan. “Look, I’ve got to go away for a little while. Sally’s going to stay and read more stories to you, and I’ll be back as soon as I can. I promise, Megan. I’ll hurry back here as soon as I can.”

  “No,” Megan said very quietly.

  “I’m sorry, but I have to.”

  Big tears welled in Megan’s eyes. Tears that surprisingly tore at Keera.

  “She’s going to be fine, Doctor,” Sally said. “I’ll get her settled down, and she’ll be fine in no time.”

  “I hope so,” Keera said, bending down to give the girl a kiss on the forehead. “But that doesn’t make me feel any better.”

  “They’re resilient at this age. Bounce back from disappointment very quickly.”

  Maybe they bounced back, but did they get over it? That’s what worried Keera about Megan, because she had so much to get over in her young life. More than any child her age should have to worry about.

  “Oh, and if you don’t mind, as soon as Megan dozes off, I’m going to do the same in the bed next to hers. So take the night off if you’d like, because I don’t intend to budge from this place until morning.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “It’s hard to keep up with these kids. I love them to death, but they’re wearing me out. That bed there is looking pretty inviting.”

  “Call me if you change your mind.”

  “Not going to happen,” she said, sitting down on the edge of the bed with Megan. “Trust me, five minutes after Megan’s having pleasant dreams, I will be too.”

  Keera gave the older woman a hug then headed to the door. But she took one look back before she left, saw Megan watching her. And she felt...just like a mother for an instant. A mother torn between her child and her duty. Which was why she couldn’t be a mother for real, because duty would always have to win.

  Sighing, Keera stepped out into the night then flew across the compound and entered Clara’s cabin, to be greeted by Reid, who was wearing a troubled expression.

  “She’s not...?” Keera asked, stepping into the tiny entry hall.

  He shook his head. “We’ve got it sorted out and I’m pretty sure it’s indigestion. But I’m going to send her to the hospital to be looked at anyway.”

  “Then why the grim face?”

  “Emmie told me she came into the infirmary and saw Megan.”

  “Just in the doorway. Which is probably not close enough to have been exposed, especially as she’s up to date on her vaccinations.”

  “How could you have let that happen, Keera? You know I don’t want these kids exposed—”

  “I didn’t let it happen,” she interrupted, whispering because she could see Emmie and Allie peeking out of the next room at them. “She came in, I gave her the supplies and she left. It took place over the course of about a minute.”

  “She shouldn’t have been in there for a full minute. Don’t you understand? She’s vulnerable. All the kids are vulnerable, with compromised immune systems in many cases, and I shouldn’t have—”

  “What? Let me stay? You shouldn’t have let me stay? Because you’re right. You shouldn’t have, and I shouldn’t have accepted when you offered. But you did, and I did, and as a result Emmie was exposed to measles. She’s healthy now, though. You’re the one who said it.”

  “Healthy now doesn’t mean she still doesn’t have immunity problems. She does, and she’s very susceptible to colds and flu and...measles.”

  “And her daddy’s phobias. She wants to talk to me about it, Reid. She’s pretty upset that you want to keep her so isolated. And I must say I’m impressed at the level on which she communicates. It’s very adult. Maybe too adult.” She looked past him, saw the girls still peeking out. “Like this. Suppose Clara was having a heart attack. They’re in there, watching it. Did you know that? Talk about your daughters being exposed to something they shouldn’t be.”

  He spun round in time to see his daughters scamper off into the kitchen. Then he went after them, took them to the rear bedroom in Clara’s cottage and shut the door. “So you’re giving me parenting advice now?” he said, once he’d returned to the front room.

  “Not parenting advice. Just telling you that you can’t always predict parenting the way you can’t predict life. And also telling you what I think she’s afraid to say to you. Emmie wants you to have your own life, Reid. She’s worried that you don’t because you’re so fixated on her. I used to worry about my mother—all the bad things she did, all the bad situations she ended up in.

  “I was too young to worry like that and Emmie’s too young to worry about you the way she does. But it’s up to you, as the parent, to change that for her.”

  “Easier said than done.”

  “Maybe so, but I’m right. And this is something I understand better than most. Look, you go wait with your daughters and reassure them about Clara’s condition, and I’ll give you a second opinion about her heartburn. Then you can take the girls back to their dorm for the evening, and as Sally’s settling in with Megan for the night, I’ll fix us a late dinner. If you haven’t eaten?”

  He smiled. “You’re back to cooking for me?”

  “You’ve had a rough evening. It’s the least I can do.” With that, she pushed past him into the living room, where Clara was sitting up on the couch with her feet propped up and an ice pack on her head. “Dr. Adams said he believes you’re suffering from indigestion. Mind if I take a look?”

  Clara motioned her over to the couch. “I cook healthy for the kids, but I don’t always eat my own cooking. Looks like those burritos got me this time.”

  Keera sat down next to Clara, took her pulse, blood pressure, listened to her heart. Blood pressure high, heart sounded fine. “The thing about burritos is they’re good in moderation. But when your indigestion gets so bad it can be confused with a heart attack, that’s when you have to reconsider your eating choices. Otherwise next time it could be a heart attack, which you might ignore because you think it’s only indigestion again.

  “And I don’t want you ending up on my operating table, Clara. The kids here need you, need the way you cook for them and take such good care of them. So you owe it to yourself to take as good of care of yourself as you do them.”

  “I’ve never been a skinny person, Doctor,” she said, sniffling. “I come from large stock.”

  “You can be large
and still be healthy.” She patted the woman’s hand. “And I don’t think you’d look right being skinny. Look, I don’t know if Dr. Adams mentioned this, but we want to admit you to the hospital for the night for some tests. Just to make sure it’s not cardiac related. If it is, they’ll get you taken care of. If it isn’t, and you’re up to it, you can come back to camp tomorrow.”

  “What about breakfast and lunch? Somebody’s got to do the cooking.”

  “Don’t worry about the cooking. I know my way around a kitchen, if that’s what I have to do.”

  “But we have different diets for different kids.”

  “If it’s written down, I can read. All I want you to do is rest and let the doctors at the hospital take care of you. We’ll figure out everything else tomorrow. OK?”

  “You’re not cold, like they’re saying you are,” Clara said, as the ambulance pulled up to the front of the cabin.

  “Who says I’m cold?”

  “Allie, but it came from Doc Reid. Only Allie interpreted it as meaning you needed a blanket.”

  “He thinks I’m cold?”

  “That’s what you want him to think, isn’t it? You do kind of put it on, you know.”

  Maybe it was what she wanted him to think. Maybe it was the way she wanted the entire world to see her. Because there was safety in that frostiness. But it hurt, hearing someone say it out loud, because she wasn’t cold deep down. She knew that. If only Reid knew that as well.

  * * *

  “So, what’s the plan?” Reid asked. She was puttering around Reid’s cabin kitchen. Looking pretty good at it. But she looked pretty good at everything she did.

  “Looks like I’m going to be the camp cook until Clara gets back,” she said, trying to sound as cold as he thought she was. “So I’m going to go over there right now and familiarize myself with the kitchen. Oh, and about that dinner I promised you.” She pointed to a sandwich on a plate, sitting there alongside a glass of milk.