by Mona Ingram
He crawled over the console and settled into the passenger seat, little legs straight out in front of him.
“How old are you, Danny?”
“I’m almost eight.”
“I see.” She almost blurted out that he was small for his age, but caught herself in time. No doubt he’d heard that often enough.
“Do you live around here?”
He hesitated for a moment, then turned his head and pointed behind them. “A couple of blocks that way.”
“So what made you get into my car?” It suddenly struck her that she must have left it open. “Was it open?”
“Yeah. I saw you go to the restroom, and I jumped in. You should never leave your car unlocked.”
Great, she thought. Now I’m getting advice from an eight year old. “You’re right,” she said, and you shouldn’t get into a stranger’s car.”
“I know, but you looked nice. I watched you for a few minutes when you pulled up.”
“Danny, please. You can’t trust people. Even the bad people look nice most of the time.” Why was she the one lecturing this kid? “Where are your parents? They’ll be going crazy looking for you.”
“My Mom’s in heaven,” he said, not meeting her eyes, “and my Dad works all the time. So I’m running away to look for a new family.” He gave her a look that was far beyond his years. “You looked like you could use a friend. So here I am.”
Good Lord, thought Jenna. I’m in the middle of a made-for-television movie.
She knew she shouldn’t get involved, but she couldn’t help herself. “Who takes care of you during the day?”
He rolled his eyes. “I used to have a Nanny, then when I started school we got a housekeeper, but today was her last day. The new housekeeper was supposed to come at ten o’clock, but Mrs. Jessup didn’t wait for her.” He shot her a sideways glance. “She left early so she could get to Bingo on time.”
“And you’ve been alone all day? The new housekeeper didn’t show up?”
He sat up straighter. “It wasn’t so bad. I have lots of video games.”
“Your father isn’t going to be pleased about this.”
Defiance flashed in the child’s eyes. “He won’t care. He doesn’t even look at me most of the time. That’s why I need a new family.” He made a show of looking around the car. “I could stay here with you. At least you talk to me.”
Jenna sipped at her now-cold coffee while she thought about how to deal with the situation. The young boy appeared to be seriously lonely, but she could see he wasn’t neglected. With no mother, a series of caregivers and what he claimed was a workaholic father, there was no doubt that he’d learned to manipulate. All kids learned that skill and Danny was no exception, but there was something about him that tugged at her heart.
She turned in her seat. “What about your friends? Where are they?”
He shrugged, “None of my school friends live around here.”
“No kids at all around here?” She widened her eyes.
“There are kids, but most of them are a lot older than me.” He scanned the small park as though a soccer game might magically break out. “So, can I stay here with you tonight?”
Jenna pulled back. “With me? In my car?”
“Yeah, why not?”
“Nobody lives in a car, Danny.”
He looked at her evenly. “You do.”
“Just temporarily,” she snapped, immediately regretting her tone. “Sorry. I’m a bit touchy about that.”
He lifted his small shoulders. “It’s okay.” He reached back to his backpack and dug out a chocolate bar. “Want half?” he asked, ripping the paper.
“No thanks,” she said automatically. The smell of chocolate permeated the car and she swallowed a sudden rush of saliva.
“Here,” he said, removing half of the bar and handing it to her. “I have another one.”
“Okay,” she said, with a faint smile. “I love chocolate.”
They sat silently for several minutes, eating the chocolate and watching the last rays of the sun fade from the park.
“I have to take you home, Danny. You know that.”
“Yeah,” he said, licking his fingers and wiping them on his designer jeans. “I know.” He offered her a grin. “But I still like you, Jenna.” He looked straight ahead as she started the car engine. “We’ll probably get back before my Dad comes home anyway. He won’t even know I was gone.”
“Really?” Jenna wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. She had envisioned answering some questions about why Danny was being brought home by a stranger. She’d also planned to ask a few questions of her own.
“Yeah. He works late a lot of the time. He’s a sturgeon.”
“You mean surgeon?”
Danny giggled. “When I was just a kid, I couldn’t say surgeon, but for some reason I could say sturgeon. So that’s the way I still say it.”
“When you were just a kid,” repeated Jenna with a wry smile.
“Yeah.” Something in the tone of his voice made her glance over at him. His head was turned and he was staring out the window. “It used to make my Mom laugh.”
Chapter Three
BRETT CARMICHAEL STEPPED out of the shower and toweled off briskly, pleased with himself. Today’s procedures had been long and tedious, but he’d had his team around him, and the hours had flown by. This was why he loved being a surgeon, the knowledge that he’d given someone a chance at a better life.
He slipped on a charcoal grey shirt and slacks two tones darker, and was rough-combing his hair when his anaesthetist Rod popped his head into the room.
“Don’t know if you’re interested after the day you’ve had, but they were calling for all hands in ER a while ago. Apparently there was a big pile-up on the Trans Canada and we’re getting slammed with most of it.”
Brett had worked the ER night shift for two years when he first came to Victoria General. In his opinion, his ER experience had laid the foundation for his success as one of the hospital’s top surgeons. There was something about the pressure that brought out the best in him, and if he were honest, there were times when the adrenalin junkie in him missed it.
“I’ll stop by and take a look,” he said, patting his pocket to make sure he had his pager, phone, ID, wallet and keys with him. Sometimes he felt tethered to the hospital, but she was his mistress of choice. He grabbed his stethoscope, walked quickly to the elevator and punched the button.
His pulse kicked up several notches as he neared the controlled chaos of the ER. He hooked the stethoscope around his neck more for identification than anything else. He didn’t wear one normally, but there were times they came in handy, like right now.
“Doc, over here.” Stella, one of the senior ER nurses, called him over. “Could you take a look at this one?” She led him to where a young boy of about ten lay on a stretcher, silent tears running down his face. The patient had a large gash on his forehead, and a leg that would need an x-ray and setting, but other than that, he couldn’t account for all the blood. Brett shot a questioning look at Stella.
“This is Tyler,” she said. “He came in with his mother.” Her eyes said it all as Brett nodded, his fingertips reading the steady pulse of the carotid artery.
Brett grinned down at the young boy. “We’re going to send you off for some pictures, Tyler. I’m afraid you’re going to be on crutches for a few weeks.”
“My mother,” said the boy, trying to rise. “Where is my mother?”
“I don’t know, son. I just got here.”
He gripped Brett’s arm with surprising strength. “Promise me you’ll take care of her.”
Stella directed an orderly to wheel him away. He raised himself up on one arm. “Promise, Doc.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” He looked at Stella. “Where is she?”
Stella shook her head. “You don’t have to do this, Brett.”
“Where, Stella?”
A bubble of silence formed around them as
they stood facing each other in the middle of the ER. The head nurse turned on her heel and led him to a curtained alcove. The patient on the bed had been intubated, the breathing machine making ugly sucking noises. Brett doubted that even her family would be able to recognize what was visible of the patient’s face.
One slender hand lay beside her hip, fingernails painted a soft pink. The sight was so incongruous it almost pierced Brett’s reserve. There was nothing he could do for this woman except be here. He raised his eyes to find Stella watching him.
“Have you got everything covered out there?” he asked, nodding his head toward the ER.
“We’re good,” she said, adjusting one of the drip lines.
“Then I’ll stay here,” he said, and picked up the woman’s hand. “What’s her name?”
“Melanie.”
Brett stared down at the woman on the stretcher and the memories came rushing back. Every time he thought his heart was starting to heal, something like this happened. He knew logically that he couldn’t save everyone, but it never got easier. This was the other side of the coin; he’d just completed two successful surgeries that would save lives, but there was nothing he could do here except hold the woman’s hand. Her fingers were already cooling as her bodily functions shut down. He glanced at the heart monitor and when he looked back at the patient, her eyes were open. “Tyler,” she whispered, then her eyes closed for the last time and the faint squiggle on the monitor that had denoted life turned to a straight line.
Stella appeared moments later. “Thank you,” she said simply. “I hated to think of her dying alone.”
Unable to speak, Brett nodded. Then he walked outside, surprised to find that the last rays of the sun still painted the parking lot in streaks of gold.
BRETT PULLED INTO HIS garage and wondered if he could make it to his study without Danny seeing him. He would seek his son out later and ask about his day, but right now he needed to forget about work... forget about death. There was something about the way Calvados burned as it went down that banished the painful memories, if only temporarily. In those precious moments, he sometimes caught a glimpse of what the future might hold... a time when the pain and sorrow he managed to hide from the outside world disappeared forever.
The house seemed unusually quiet this evening, but he took that as a good sign. Danny was probably playing one of his computer games in his bedroom. As he poured the one drink he allowed himself, he made a mental note to learn more about the games his son was playing.
Thinking about it isn’t the same as actually doing it, said one of the voices in his head. That was the thing about those know-it-all voices. They just sat back and criticized after the fact. He knocked back the drink, relishing the burn as it slid down his throat. A punishment of sorts for feeling sorry for himself. He held the now empty glass up to the light, seriously considering breaking his self-imposed one drink rule. But no. He’d seen too many colleagues ride that slippery slope all the way to the bottom.
His cell phone buzzed softly and he picked it up. His secretary, reminding him that his first appointment tomorrow was at ten in the morning.
Scrolling idly through the missed messages, he paused at an unfamiliar sender. Who was EmPower? The message had been sent at nine this morning, just as he’d been scrubbing for his first surgery of the day.
“Housekeeper scheduled to start today has experienced the death of a close family member and must relinquish the position. Searching for replacement; will call you during the day. Sandy/EmPower”
He scrolled through, noting several missed calls before the implication of the message sank in. Had Danny been without supervision all day? He ran up the stairs and burst into his son’s room. “Danny?” he shouted frantically. Surely Mrs. Jessup had been able to stay... or at least leave him a message. He ran back down to the kitchen and checked the bulletin board, the refrigerator, and fumbled with the small iPad Mini on the counter, just in case by some miracle the tech-challenged Mrs. Jessup had been able to figure it out.
With a pounding heart, he prepared to dial 911. He didn’t care if the boy had only been missing a few hours, he would call in all of his markers to ensure that his son was found. Taking a deep breath to calm himself before calling, he glanced out the kitchen window. An older model Subaru was coming to a stop in the roundabout. Clutching the phone so tightly he was surprised it didn’t break, he watched as a woman got out of the driver’s side and Danny climbed out of the passenger side.
Relieved to see that Danny was okay, he switched his attention to the woman. She didn’t look like the usual sort of caregiver provided by the agencies.
Danny reached into the back seat and pulled out his backpack, making Brett wonder where they’d gone. Maybe she’d taken him to the nearby park, not that there was much to do there. The pair stopped for a moment, the woman speaking seriously to the boy, and he felt a momentary jolt of envy at the way Danny looked up at her, absorbing her words.
Determined to make her feel welcome, he held open the kitchen door as they approached.
“Hello,” he said, with what he hoped was a welcoming smile. “Glad you could come at such short notice.” She gave him an odd look, but he carried on. “In future, we’ll set up a message system so you can tell me when you and Danny go out. I was worried.”
Danny stood looking from Jenna to his father. As usual, his father wasn’t looking at him, but this time he didn’t mind. He thought Jenna was the housekeeper! This ought to be good.
JENNA STEPPED INSIDE the kitchen and studied Danny’s father. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but it wasn’t someone so young. A day’s growth of beard gave him a raw, edgy look and her body came alive in places that had been asleep for what seemed like forever. She gave herself a mental slap and concentrated on what he was saying.
“Brett Carmichael,” he said, extending his hand. “Welcome to our home.” Self-assurance exuded from him like costly cologne, and yet she sensed vulnerability behind the dark eyes.
“Jenna Samuels,” she said, offering her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet Danny’s father.” She turned and pulled the boy forward, forcing his father to look at him. “Danny and I met at the park and I brought him home.”
“I’m sorry,” Brett stuttered. “Aren’t you the...”
“No.” Jenna smiled. “I’m not the new housekeeper. Danny told me about that. Your former housekeeper left this morning before her replacement arrived. Your son has been alone all day.”
“Danny? You should have called me.”
The boy stood his ground, but his voice was small when he answered. “You told me not to call you at work, so I didn’t.”
“Yes, but that’s because...” He didn’t want to discuss the complicated messaging arrangement in front of this stranger, but he obviously needed to make changes.
“Dr. Carmichael, this may not be my place, but Danny needs a way to contact you in case of an emergency.”
“You’re right. It isn’t your place.”
The harsh words were like a slap in the face.
“Don’t you talk to her like that!” Danny pushed between Jenna and his father. “Jenna is my friend.” He backed up a few steps until he was standing beside her, his small body quivering with anger. “At least she talks to me.” He looked defiantly at his father.
Brett spoke to his son but glared at Jenna. “Go to your room,” he ordered.
Jenna had heard enough. “Stay right there, Danny.” She spoke in a conciliatory tone. “The boy is hungry, Dr. Carmichael. The least you can do is make him a sandwich.”
Brett looked around the kitchen as though he’d never been here before.
With a sigh of thinly veiled irritation Jenna dropped her bag on the floor by the back door and turned to Danny. “What kind of sandwich shall I make you?”
“Peanut butter and jam,” he said, and quickly pointed out everything she would need. She slapped together a sandwich, grabbed an apple from a fruit bowl on the counter, and added a g
lass of milk. “Here,” she said kindly. “Now do as your father says.”
Danny looked up at her, his eyes dark and trusting. “Where will you go?”
She shot a quick look at Brett, who seemed fascinated by their exchange. “I’m not sure right now, Danny.”
“Will you come say goodbye before you leave?”
Jenna looked to Brett, who nodded silently. “Yes,” she said. “I’ll come up. Be careful not to spill.”
Chapter Four
BRETT’S GAZE SOFTENED and his posture relaxed as he watched his son leave the room. When he turned to Jenna, he seemed to have mellowed a bit.
“We should talk,” she said abruptly. “Do you mind if I call you Brett?”
“Not at all...” He hesitated. “Jenna.”
“Good.” She gestured toward the coffee maker on the counter. “I could use a cup of coffee.” She slipped a cup under the spout and pressed the button. She’d owned a coffee maker like this as recently as a week ago, but now that seemed like the distant past.
“Why not make yourself a sandwich while you’re at it?”
She halted in mid-step, and considered walking out. How did he know she was homeless and hungry? But it only took a sideways glance for her to realize he’d been joking. Now who was being touchy?
She stood at the counter with her back to him, searching for the right words. At home she’d always been thankful for the speed of the coffee maker, but now she wished it would take a bit longer. She had no idea how to start this conversation. Turning, she found him studying her like some insect under a microscope.
“What?” she asked, uncomfortable with the scrutiny.
“I was wondering who you are,” he said reasonably. “First you bring my son home, and now you’re standing here in my kitchen as though you’ve lived here all your life.” He gave her a boyish smile. “I think it’s a reasonable question.”
She shook her head. “Who I am doesn’t matter.” She attempted a sip of coffee but it was still too hot, so she set it down and took a deep breath. “Danny told me he was running away from home.”