Читать книгу Nyc Angels & Gold Coast Angels Collection - Lynne Marshall - Страница 44

BATTLING A WAVE of helplessness, Dan clenched his hands into tight fists, wishing he could be the one to comfort his son. But Josh didn’t often turn to his father for comfort.

Because he hadn’t been there enough for him. Not because he didn’t want to be but because his career was demanding. His young patients didn’t just need open heart surgery during the day. He was on call every third evening and every third weekend. And that meant he’d often been forced to leave Josh in the care of his nanny.

At least the nannies were better to Josh than his mother had been. Although that didn’t stop Josh from asking for her, especially when he was stressed. Dan rubbed the ache at his temples. He hated knowing that his son was still suffering for the mistakes he himself had made in marrying Suzy. But despite the awful things she’d done, he couldn’t hate the woman who’d borne him a son. But he sure as hell resented her. He’d been stupid to believe she’d ever loved him.

Thankfully, Josh’s tears had stopped almost as abruptly as they’d started. Dan was glad, even though there was no possible way the ache in his heart would go away as easily.

Watching the light play across Molly’s red-gold hair as she cuddled Josh close was only a partial distraction. He knew it was his fault that Josh was suffering right now. His fault that he’d been too distracted by Josh’s mother, who’d called out of the blue after six years of absence, asking for money, to notice the car barreling through the intersection, straight toward them.

Even now, he could hear the screeching tires, the sickening thunk of metal crushing against metal. The agonizing sound of Josh’s high-pitched scream.

He wanted to put his hands up to cover his ears, but that would be useless as he knew the noise would reverberate over and over in his mind, where nobody else could hear it but him. With a herculean effort he dragged himself out of the dark past to the just-barely-lighter present.

He couldn’t ever make up for the injuries Josh had suffered that fateful night. All he could do was to try and start over. He’d taken a leave of absence from work so that he could rebuild his relationship with his son, at the same time doing whatever was necessary to ensure his son would walk again.

“Okay, Josh, we’re going to sit back on the exam table here, so that I can massage your legs a bit before we use the ultrasound machine,” Molly was saying now, lifting Josh up, despite her slim build, and setting him back on the table, as if Josh hadn’t suffered a meltdown five minutes ago. “Do you know what an ultrasound machine is?”

Slowly Josh shook his head. “Will it hurt?” he asked.

Dan’s heart squeezed in his chest. His son had suffered several surgeries to his injured legs, and every single one of them had hurt him.

He wanted to promise Josh that nothing would ever hurt him again. but obviously that wasn’t exactly realistic.

“Not one bit,” Molly assured him. “I’ll show you how it feels on your hand. And we can try it on your dad first, so that you know I’m telling you the truth.”

Dan roused himself to respond to Molly’s unspoken demand. “I don’t mind trying the ultrasound,” he managed, even though he couldn’t believe that Josh’s first therapy session was almost over. In his mind Molly hadn’t done nearly enough work with his son, and now the session was winding down. He silently vowed to get a few minutes alone with her to find out what sort of exercises he should be doing with Josh at home.

He stood, and helped Molly maneuver Josh into position so that she could massage his legs. Dan had to give her credit, Molly never once stared in horror at Josh’s numerous surgical scars.

“Try to relax, Josh,” she murmured, as she smoothed some sort of paste substance on her fingertips, before gently beginning to massage Josh’s right leg. The leg that had taken the brunt of the crash. “Now, you let me know if I’m hurting you, okay?”

Josh nodded, and he grimaced a bit when she gently massaged the knot in his calf muscle.

“You have a very tense muscle right here,” she said, using her thumb to smooth over the area. “I know it’s a little sore, but you’ll feel much better afterward if I work on it now.”

“I know,” Josh said bravely, and once again Dan’s heart squeezed in his chest for what his young son was going through. If he could have taken the pain for Josh, he would have. But of course he’d walked away from the crash virtually unscathed.

And felt guilty about that part, too.

He tuned out a bit as Molly and Josh chatted about his school, as she asked him what his favorite subjects and teachers were. Since the crash, he’d hired a tutor to work with Josh so that he could keep up with his classes while he attended therapy every day.

But his ears pricked up when he heard his son talking about Mr. Iverson, the tutor he’d hired. “I don’t like him. He’s mean.”

“What did you say?” he demanded, before Molly could respond. “What did Mr. Iverson do that was mean?”

Josh’s lower lip trembled. “He yells at me. He makes me do adding and subtracting over and over again, even though I don’t understand it. But he doesn’t explain anything, just keeps making me fill out the worksheets and yelling at me when they’re not right.”

Dan frowned darkly. How was it that he hadn’t known about the problems Josh was having with his teacher before now? “Well, I’ll get rid of Mr. Iverson. You should have told me sooner, Josh.”

Instantly Josh’s eyes brightened. “Really? No more math?”

“Now, Josh,” Molly admonished gently, inserting herself into the conversation, “do you really think you can pass first grade to go on to second grade without learning to add and subtract?”

Josh gave a very adultlike sigh. “No, I suppose not.”

“Sometimes school is hard, just like therapy,” Molly said, moving over to massage Josh’s other leg. “But there are things we can do to make them both fun.”

Was he imagining it, or was that last comment directed squarely at him? He tried not to scowl but since when was school supposed to be fun? Kids had to learn, but tests, writing essays, memorizing history and practicing your sums wasn’t exactly fun.

Was it?

“The muscles in your left leg aren’t nearly as tied up in knots as those in your right leg,” Molly said, turning the conversation back to the issue of therapy. “Do you feel the difference?”

Josh nodded vigorously. “Yep. Doesn’t ache very much at all.”

“I’m glad. Now we’re going to use the ultrasound machine. Here’s the wand, feel how smooth it is?” She picked up what looked like a stout hammer, except that the base of it was much wider and very smooth to the touch.

Josh tentatively put his hand over the end of the wand. “Yeah, it’s very smooth.”

“I’m going to move it in small circles over your skin, like this.” Molly demonstrated again, on the palm of his hand. “Now, when I turn the machine on, it’s going to make some noise and you’ll feel a very faint vibration but it won’t hurt. Do you want me to show you on your dad first?”

Josh nodded again, and watched with wide eyes as Dan extended his arm so that Molly could use the ultrasound machine on him.

She squirted cool gel on his arm, and then flipped the switch on the machine and moved the ball of the wand over his skin in a circular motion. He frowned. “I can barely feel the vibration. Are you sure it’s turned on?”

“I’m sure. I told you this wouldn’t hurt a bit.” She glanced over at Josh with a bright smile. “Are you ready to try it?”

“I’m ready.” Josh braced himself, and Dan couldn’t help moving closer to his son, putting his arms around Josh’s thin shoulders. When she squirted the ultrasound gel on his skin, Josh jumped. “It’s cold!”

“I know. And that’s the worst of it, I promise.” Molly pressed the ball of the ultrasound wand against Josh’s leg and moved it in small circles.

Instantly Josh relaxed. “It really doesn’t hurt!” he exclaimed in surprise.

“Josh, I will never lie to you,” Molly said solemnly as she continued with the ultrasound therapy. “Remember when I told you the exercises were going to be hard to do? And they were, right? I will always be honest about what we’re going to do, okay?”

Josh grinned. “Okay.”

Dan waited patiently, as Molly finished up the ultrasound treatments, doing eight minutes on Josh’s right leg and four minutes on his left. He didn’t understand what good the treatments would be, though, as he honestly hadn’t felt a thing when she’d practiced on his arm.

So far all they’d done had been to play several games, get a massage and then this weird, painless ultrasound therapy. Not that he wanted his son to be in pain, but surely there had to be more to therapy than what he’d seen today?

Was this Molly Shriver really the best in the business?

If so, maybe he needed to consider other alternatives.

Molly could tell that Dr. Morris wasn’t thrilled with how Josh’s therapy had gone today, and while she wished he’d trust in her knowledge and judgment, she figured that allowing anyone else to be in control went against the grain of a top-notch cardiothoracic surgeon.

And she still needed to talk to him about Josh’s wheelchair.

“We’re all finished, Josh,” she said, scooting her chair back and putting the ultrasound machine away. She took out a towel to wipe the ultrasound goop from Josh’s legs. “Now, I’m going to have you sit here for a few minutes while I talk to your dad, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Heavens, I almost forgot!” She whirled round and picked up a candy jar full of lollipops. “Here, what’s your favorite flavor? You get to pick any one you like for working so hard today.”

She thought she heard a faint snort from Josh’s father, an indication perhaps that he didn’t think Josh had worked hard at all, but she ignored him. Josh debated the multitude of flavors. He took his time, as if this was the most important decision he’d make in his life, so she waited patiently until his fingers delved into the jar. “Grape,” he announced, pulling out the lollipop with the purple wrapper. “I like grape.”

“Grape is one of my favorite flavors, too,” she confided, putting the lid back on the candy jar and setting it aside. “Now, wait here for a minute, okay?”

He was too busy sucking on his lollipop to answer. She gestured for Josh’s dad to follow her out into her private office.

Once they were alone, she didn’t beat around the bush. “I want you to get Josh a wheelchair.” Dan, er—Dr. Morris—towered over her, topping her in height by a good eight inches. But she refused to be intimidated even though he was clearly angry.

“Josh isn’t permanently handicapped,” he said tersely. “He doesn’t need a wheelchair. He’s going to learn how to walk again. At least, he would if you were doing more than playing silly games.”

The cutting edge of his tongue only made her square her shoulders to face him with renewed determination. “This isn’t about what you want or need, Dr. Morris, it’s about your son. It’s about giving him the freedom to move around without waiting for you or someone else to carry him. It’s about giving him independence. And lastly it’s about strengthening his core muscles, his torso.” She was growing angrier by the second.

“Don’t you understand how important core body strength is when it comes to walking? You stand there and mock what I’ve done today, but those games I played with Josh were core-strengthening games. And therapy doesn’t have to hurt in order to achieve results!”

He actually stared in shocked surprise at her outburst. A tiny voice in the back of her mind warned her to stop while she was ahead, but she was on a roll.

“Furthermore, how dare you question my methods? I have good outcomes, the best in the region. Do I stand over your shoulder and tell you how to operate on a damaged heart? This is my job, my career, and I’m damn good at it.”

Her temper flared easily, she didn’t have red hair for nothing, but it dissolved as quickly as it ignited. She took several deep breaths, immediately feeling bad at how she’d lost control. Was she crazy? A powerful surgeon like Dr. Dan Morris could make or break her career.

Well, he probably couldn’t totally break her career, as she really did have excellent outcomes that spoke for themselves. But he could make her life miserable.

And what if he stopped referring patients to her? The very idea made her gut clench and roll.

Why, oh, why hadn’t she bitten her tongue?

The silence stretched interminably between them, until she decided he was waiting for an apology.

One he honestly deserved.

But before she could take her foot out of her mouth to formulate the words, he totally surprised her. “Where can I get a pediatric wheelchair?” he demanded.

“Um, right here. I can get you one from the storage room.” She didn’t move, though, afraid that he’d capitulated too easily. She licked her lips nervously. “Look, I’m—”

“If you wouldn’t mind getting it now, I’d be happy to reimburse you for it,” he interrupted, as if impatient to get the wheelchair now that he’d decided Josh really did, in fact, need one.

She nodded and quickly left the office to rummage around in the back storeroom. She found a perfect-sized wheelchair for Josh, and brought it back to his father.

He stared at it for a long moment, before dragging his gaze up to meet hers. “I never meant to take away Josh’s independence,” he murmured, his gaze full of stark agony. “That’s the last thing I would ever want to do.”

She felt her eyes prick with tears, hardly able to bear to see the lines of tortured self-reproach grooved in his cheeks. “I know. You were seeing the wheelchair as a sign of giving up. But encouraging Josh to use an assistive device isn’t giving up at all. Trust me, this is just the first step on the road to Josh walking again.”

His jaw tensed and his intense gaze seemed to drill all the way down to her soul. “Do you really believe that?” he asked hoarsely. “Do you really believe he’ll walk again?”

“Yes.” She couldn’t stop herself from stepping closer and placing a reassuring hand on his forearm. The warmth of his skin shot tingles of awareness dancing along her nerves. But she kept her gaze centered on his, ignoring her inappropriate reaction. “I believe he will. I won’t lie to you, though. Josh’s leg muscles are weak, so this isn’t going to happen overnight. He has a long way to go. But I know he’ll be able to walk again.”

He covered her hand with his, surrounding her with even more heat. “I’m going to hold you to that,” he said wearily.

She gave his arm a reassuring squeeze, and then subtly pulled out of his grip. “No more than I’m holding myself accountable,” she assured him. They’d gotten past the first hurdle, but there would be more. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You’re going to have to help,” she added. “Because Josh can’t do this on his own. He’ll need your support.”

To her surprise, he nodded in agreement. “I know and that’s perfectly fine with me. Obviously, he’s not going to be able to walk with just one hour of therapy a day. I expect you to give me a list of leg-strengthening exercises to do with him at home.”

She wanted to roll her eyes heavenward at his determination to direct the physiotherapy of his son. She supposed this tendency of his was part of being a surgeon but, really, hadn’t they already gone through all this? She was the one in charge, here, not him.

The sooner he recognized that fact, the further along they’d be.

“Now that you mention it, I do have a list for you,” she agreed as she headed over to her desk. She picked up the bright blue folder, and then came back over to hand it to him. “Inside you’ll find everything you’ll need. And, of course, I’ll be seeing Josh five days a week. You’ve asked for early morning appointments, so he’s scheduled every day at 9:00 a.m.”

“No problem,” he agreed readily, as he opened the folder to peek inside. He scanned the printed pages she’d tucked in the pockets, and then looked up at her with a deep frown. “These aren’t exercises,” he accused. “They’re games.” He emphasized the last word as if it was a curse.

She tried not to smile, but her mouth quirked up at the corners despite her best effort. “Yes, I’m aware of that, Dr. Morris. Your son is seven years old. Surely you know how to play games with him?”

She could have sworn there was a momentarily blank look in his eyes, before he snapped the folder shut with a flash of annoyance. “Of course I do.”

This time she couldn’t stop the smile from blossoming on her face. “Don’t worry,” she said, patting his arm as if he were one of her small patients, rather than a big, broad-shouldered heart surgeon. “You’ll get better with practice.”