Catch a Falling Star (4 page)

Ian settled onto the rolling stool placed to one side of the exam table, his legs spread wide, feet planted on the floor. Griffin chose a stationary chair.

Since they probably had a wait ahead of them, it was time to clear up a few things.

“So, why didn't you tell me about your food allergy?”

Ian shrugged, eyes hidden behind his long brown bangs as he stared at the carpet. As his guardian, Griffin should probably make his brother get a haircut.

“You didn't ask.”

“Right. Out of the blue I'm supposed to ask
Can you eat avocado?
What else are you allergic to?”

“Nothing much.” Ian pushed the stool back and forth, his tennis shoes unlaced. How did he keep them on his feet? And what did he mean by “nothing much”? For now, Griffin would focus on the basics and let the doctor handle the rest.

“You're going to start carrying an EpiPen.”

“You're not the boss of me.”

At last, his brother looked him in the eye. “Yeah, I am, Ian. We may not like it, but this is where we are.”

Ian stood, his movements so fast that the stool slammed against the wall behind him. “I didn't ask you to bring me here—living in a stupid townhome filled with boxes you haven't even unpacked. Eating fast food—”

“Hey! I'm doing the best I can—”

His brother shoved past him, yanking the door open. “I get it, Griffin. And I hate this setup as much as you do.”

“Ian, get back here—”

He took several steps to follow his brother, hoping to corral him back in the exam room, but was brought up short by the appearance of the petite version of Patton who rescued Ian last night. Was she the only doctor in town?

“You seem to be batting a thousand.”

She was garbed in a white medical coat with the requisite stethoscope slung around her neck. And judging by the look on her face, she wasn't any more impressed with him this morning than she had been last night. Not that it mattered.

“What are you doing here?”

He sounded like a grouch. She might as well be a new student pilot who'd botched a takeoff for all the friendliness in his voice.

The woman stopped, a clipboard held against her chest. “I'm Dr. Kendall Haynes. This is my office and, hence, my exam room. I assume this is a follow-up appointment for your son.”

Not again.

“Ian is my brother.”

His words caused a faint blush to stain her face as she glanced at the paperwork on the clipboard. “Right. I forgot. I'm sorry.”

“Let me go get Ian.”

He slipped past her, exiting the office and looking to the right and left before spotting Ian standing near a workstation of some sort.

“Come on, Ian. Let's not waste any more of the doctor's time.”

“Forget it. Let's just go home.”

“Look. You were the one who decided to eat something you were allergic to.” Griffin lowered his voice, aware that the young woman seated at the computer—was she a nurse? a technician of some sort?—could hear everything he and Ian said. “The ER doc insisted you have a follow-up appointment and recommended this doctor. Stop arguing with me and come on.”

He waited while Ian walked past him and reentered the exam room. A row of framed diplomas lined the wall across from him. A University of North Carolina–Chapel Hill medical school diploma stating Dr. Kendall Haynes graduated with the highest honors. Another diploma announcing her graduation from a family medicine residency program at Loma Linda University. The final certificate declared her completion of a two-year fellowship in allergy and immunology at the prestigious National Jewish Health respiratory hospital in Denver. The woman had impressive credentials.

Ian stuck his head back out of the room. “Are you coming?”

“Yes.”

Time to stop reading about Dr. Haynes and get this appointment over with.

As he walked into the room, Dr. Haynes offered her hand to his brother. “I'm Dr. Haynes, Ian. You look like you're feeling a lot better than you did last night.”

Griffin watched as Ian stood straighter, tugged at his T-shirt, and then shook the doctor's hand. So, the kid had manners. Who knew? Score one for Mom.

“I'm doing okay.”

“Breathing all right?”

“Yes. They gave me some sort of treatment at the ER last night.”

“Mmm-hmmmm. Not surprised.” She motioned for Ian to sit on the exam table. “Mind if I check you out?”

Ian's ears turned bright pink. “Well . . . um . . .”

“Just a standard exam, Ian. Lungs. Heart. That kind of thing. If you want your—” She turned to Griffin. “—brother, right?”

Griffin found himself standing taller, parodying his brother's action. Was he invisible? He needed every advantage he had with this woman, and being a good foot taller than her was most definitely an advantage.

“I'm Ian's
brother
—and his legal guardian.”

An awkward silence filled the exam room. Ian sat on the exam table. He and the doctor watched each other.

Dr. Haynes tilted her head. “I was going to ask if Ian wanted you to stay in the room during his examination. And your name is . . . ?”

Right. At this point, his sixteen-year-old brother had more manners than he did.

“I'm Lieutenant Colonel Griffin Walker.”

Griffin couldn't tell if a small smile curved her lips because she picked up the clipboard and flipped through the papers.
Probably mentioning his rank was a bit over the top, but he kept feeling as if he was scrabbling for equal footing with the woman. “This information is fairly sketchy. I'd like to request that Ian's medical records be transferred to our office.”

Dr. Haynes assumed a bit much.

“I didn't say Ian was going to be your patient.”

She closed the chart. “Why don't you tell me why you're here.”

“After his allergic reaction, the EMTs took Ian to the ER and the doc recommended that he have a follow-up with a primary care physician. He recommended Dr. Haynes. You.” Griffin paused, not sure if he should admit his mistake. “To be frank, I thought you were a guy.”

“Excuse me?”

“That came out wrong. I mean, I know you're not a guy—”

“Thank you for the compliment.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Griffin saw Ian's shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter. “Look, I know you're a woman. I just didn't know your name—and that you were Dr. Haynes. So I assumed you were a guy—”

The quirk of her eyebrow alerted Griffin to the fact that he'd insulted her. Again.

The she-doctor surprised him by coming to his rescue. “You're saying this is a onetime follow-up appointment.”

Griffin nodded. Better to keep his mouth shut at this point.

Dr. Haynes eased the conversation back on course, her soft-spoken words precise. “Let me clarify something for you, Colonel Walker. Your brother didn't just have an allergic reaction last night. Anaphylaxis is a
life-threatening
allergic reaction. If I hadn't been there, Ian could have died.”

And thank you, Dr. Haynes, for pointing that out.
Griffin had tossed and turned most of the night, replaying the image of Ian's blotchy face, blue lips, his frantic efforts to breathe.

“I'm concerned why you, as his legal guardian, didn't know about Ian's allergy. Why didn't you know that he needs to carry an EpiPen at all times?”

The woman hadn't moved, but he felt as if she'd backed him up against the wall. He didn't need this woman pointing out his failures.

“I'm new at this, Dr. Haynes.” He held up his hand, warding off her interruption. “It's no excuse, I know. Our parents died four months ago—and that's when Ian moved from Florida to come live with me. I had no idea he was allergic to anything.”

He heard his brother clear his throat. “That's my fault.”

Dr. Haynes leaned against the counter. “You didn't tell your brother you were allergic to anything?”

“I forgot.”

“I see.” She settled the stethoscope so that it was positioned to fit in her ears and moved closer to Ian. “I suppose there's been a lot on your mind since you moved here.”

“Yeah.”

“New school.”

“Yeah.”

“Making new friends.”

“Yeah.”

Griffin watched Dr. Haynes chat with his brother, at the same time performing a basic exam—lungs, heart, eyes, nose, throat. Her hands were slender, the nails trimmed short, but her touch seemed to exude both confidence and gentleness. The walls held a few medical implements and a photograph of a high mountain meadow filled with brilliant red, yellow, and purple wildflowers. After the exam, she sat at a small desk that held a laptop and small printer and typed, the soft click of her fingers on the keyboard the only sound in the room. A few moments later she turned back to face them.

“I understand that you may or may not decide to have me be Ian's physician. If nothing else, I'd like to prescribe several EpiPens for him. And I'd like him to watch a brief video about how to use them—you, too, Colonel Walker.”

She stood, crossing the room and opening the door, forestalling any comment from Griffin.

“Ian, if you go down the hall to the medical assistants' station, you can ask for Renee. Tell her that I'd like her to set up the instructional video on EpiPens. Your brother will be with you in just a moment.”

Dr. Haynes certainly knew how to control a situation.

After Ian left, she faced him again.

“Colonel Walker, we got off to a bad start, I'm afraid.” She tucked her hands into the pockets of her lab coat. “Besides your thinking I'm a man, I mean.”

“I wanted to apologize for that but figured it was wiser to be quiet.”

“Probably.”

Did the woman have to agree with him?

“For some reason, Ian didn't tell you that he was allergic to avocados. I doubt he forgot. It's important he be seen by a physician who can establish a baseline of care here in Colorado. There's a possibility that he's allergic to more than avocados.” She paused before she spoke again. “I can give you the name of another allergy specialist. Ian also needs a good family physician here in town. I happen to be both, but given our rocky start, I realize you may want to choose another family doctor.”

Dr. Haynes was only stating the truth, but her words amplified the guilt that lurked at the edges of his mind every hour of the day. He was Ian's guardian. His parents would expect him to take care of Ian—not kill him. But how was he supposed to do that when his brother barely talked to him?

“I'll take any recommendations.”

Was that a small flicker of disappointment in Dr. Haynes's eyes?

“Ask Evie, my receptionist, for the contact information on your way out. Anything else I can do for you?”

“Not that I can think of.”

“Well then, an exciting movie awaits you, Colonel Walker.”

“Lead the way, Dr. Haynes.”

For once, Evie would walk through the back door without carrying a gift of some sort.

Presents did not solve anything. She'd been the mom bearing gifts for weeks now and all she got from Javan was a six-year-old version of a mini iceberg. She thought Javan would be thrilled when he found out they wanted to adopt him. Instead, he'd withdrawn from her.

She'd heeded the advice of her counselor—and the virtual red warning light in the online bank account—and resisted a quick stop at Target for something,
anything,
to entice a smile out of Javan. Tonight it would be her and Javan. And Logan, of course. Javan's favorite person in the whole wide world—her husband, Logan.

Her phone played the opening notes of “Hay Otro En Mi Vida.”
Nice timing, Logan.

“You pulled into the carport ten minutes ago. Did you get lost?” Logan's deep baritone used to be enough to lure Evie into the house each evening—and into his arms. “Javan's excited to see you.”

No he wasn't. Evie knew that. Logan knew that. Did her husband have to resort to a lie to make her come home at night? Had it come to that?

She pushed open the van door and stepped out into the darkness, finally noticing Logan standing at the back door, warm light from inside the kitchen illuminating him. No little boy in sight.

“Liar.”

“He was at the door a minute ago . . .”

“On my way. Hold the door open. I picked up dinner.” Evie snagged her purse and the large extra-cheese pizza off the passenger seat. She only snitched one piece on the ride home from work. No need to feel guilty stopping to pick up Papa John's pizza. This was dinner, not a gift, even if it was Javan's favorite food.

As she stepped inside, Logan wrapped one arm around her, taking the pizza from her with his other hand. “Honey, I told you I started dinner . . .”

She did a quick survey of the kitchen. No Javan, though his Legos littered the linoleum floor around the table in the breakfast nook. Peace offerings from days past.