The Bride Wore Red Boots (8 page)

The tiniest spark of guilt flickered to life in her chest. Gabriel had called that morning to ask this precise question, and she'd promised to make every effort. But if Joely's surgery were to take place within the next ten days . . . When she got the new position, she'd have a lot of prep work to do if she was to start December first. It might even put her Christmas visit home in jeopardy.

“I'm not sure there is, I'm afraid,” she said. “I expect to start a new job within the next month, and that's going to require my staying here. A lot depends on when surgery would take place. I'll definitely try.”

“Then I'll hope for it to work out. It was good to meet you if just by phone.”

“I look forward to updates as we go along. Thank you for taking such good care of my sister.”

“My pleasure. Have a good night, Amelia.”

“Good night,” she replied.

The instant she set her phone down beside her computer on the coffee table, Jack nudged his way back onto her lap. She closed her eyes and stroked him, basking in the decadence of his incredibly soft, pelt-like hair. She pictured Perry Landon's photo, but the image blurred and morphed into the dark-haired, square-jawed visage of Gabriel Harrison.

Immediately every relaxed muscle in her body went rigid with tension. Why the man invaded every potential peaceful moment from her dreams to cat-cuddling she didn't know. He'd annoyed her so much she couldn't get rid of him. She growled and grabbed Jack around his substantial middle, hauling him to a stand in her arms.

“Come on, you,” she said, nuzzling him between the ears. “It's only our first night together, but how would you like to come to bed with me?”

We don't want to go to bed angry
.

“Arghh,” she said again and looked up at the ceiling. “Get away from me, you boorish man. It's too late—I'm plenty mad at you.”

But she really had no idea why.

S
OMETHING WALKING ON
her face woke her up. She cracked one eye, because the second was sealed shut with pressure from a creature's soft paw, and groaned at the clock.

“Seriously? You couldn't wait ten more minutes?”

She rolled to her side, pushing Jack off her cheeks, and curled an arm around his thick body. He settled in, shoving his head into her hand and purring. The rolling motor hum soothed her, and a vague memory returned of falling asleep to the same comforting drone. Not a dream had spoiled the night.

“Aren't you the big, surprising wonder cat?” she murmured.

For all of the turmoil from the day before, once she grudgingly got out of a very comfortable bed to feed her new roommate and shower, she faced the new morning with surprising optimism. It wasn't because of the cat. That would be too syrupy and sweet-animal clichéd. Nevertheless, the cheeriness that followed her right up to the pediatric floor and Rory's door had everything to do with the child she'd so unceremoniously walked out on the day before.

Rory sat fully upright in his bed, eyes glued to the television set mounted on the wall ahead of him. Although it was only 7:45 a.m. the remains of breakfast sat on his bed tray.

“Hey, buddy, what are you watching?”

He turned his head with a welcoming grin. “Sponge Bob.”

“Did you know that show goes right over ninety percent of grown-ups' heads?” She approached his bed. “We don't get it.”

“It's dumb, but it makes me laugh.”

“Laughing is very good. But, hey, would you be mad if I interrupted you? I have something I'd like to show you.”

He shrugged. “Naw, I ain't mad. I gotta go home today.”

“What do you mean, you
have
to go home? I'd be excited.”

“You might. But I'm not.”

“Rory.” Mia sat on the mattress at the foot of the bed, facing him. She picked up his remote and turned down the TV. “You do know that when the social workers come for their home visits you can tell them you'd like to go to a different place. If you're uncomfortable at the Murrays'.”

“No social workers listen to what I say. Else I wouldn't be there at all.”

“They'll listen if there's a problem.”

“There's no problem. I just don't like it.”

“You don't like Shawna's boyfriend, Matt?”

He nodded. “I don't like watching him drink his dumb power shakes all day. Or changing Cameron's pants.”

“Rory, we can make a list of all the things you won't be allowed to do for quite a long time because of your appendix surgery—like change a one-year-old's diaper.”

“Really?”

“Really. No lifting or holding down a squirming baby. That's for grown-ups to do.”

“Why can't you just be my foster mom? My mom said you should if anything happened to her.”

She stared at him, alarmed. She didn't like at all the casual way he'd brought up the subject or so easily that his mother had said something. It had to be little-boy wishful thinking. Transference or some other psycho-babble term.

“Rory, nothing's going to happen to your mom. And I wouldn't be a good foster mother.”

“Uh-huh. You don't make kids feel stupid. You're like Buster.”

He was right about that. Now that she'd met Buster, she could see he probably would be a good foster father.

“Hey, sometimes kids are much more fun to be around than adults that's all. But here's the thing. It's a pretty tough job, and it's very important. There's a lot of responsibility.”

“You'd be the best.”

“That's really sweet of you, kiddo, but I wouldn't be a great mom. I work way too many hours and stay away from home too much.”

His features fell so far she almost believed he'd been honestly hoping it would happen. She sat on the bed and ruffled his hair. “Hey. Don't be sad. I have some cool news, and something to show you.”

“Yeah? What?” Full enthusiasm didn't return to his voice, but he lifted his gaze.

With a little flourish she pulled her phone from her lab coat pocket and brought up a video of Jack eating and then nosing the camera phone in curiosity.

“Last night I met someone I believe you know.”

He took the phone, and the suspicion in his eyes lasted only for the half-second it took to hit the play arrow.

F
IRST
R
ORY YELPED
. Then he let out a yowl of joy that was sure to bring every nurse on the ward running. The next thing Mia knew, he'd leaped out of the bed and was pumping his little legs in place like a football player's running exercise. Before she could catch him, he'd taken off, zooming around the bed while watching the phone screen. When he turned to come back, she grabbed him.

“Hey, hey!” She laughed. “You can't go jumping around like that, you just had surgery.”

He threw his arms around her waist and hugged her for all he was worth. “Jack! Jack, Jack!” he chanted. “You found him! You saved him.”

She squeezed him back, her eyes stinging slightly. “I got lucky. Maybe the angels were watching out for him.”

“Where is he? Where . . . ” He grimaced slightly and put a hand to his side.

“Come on, young man. Into that bed.” She helped him climb back in, and once she'd inspected his surgical site and determined he hadn't popped anything, she tucked him in. “Jack is at my apartment. I went and got him from Buster last night.”

“Buster!”

“He's a very nice man. You were lucky he's the one who helped you when your mom got sick.”

“I would live with him if I could.”

She stroked his cheek. The child obviously craved anyone and anyplace where he could get attention. “I can see why. But you know you can't live on the street, even if Buster does. And there's good news for him, too. He got a job. That's why I took Jack home with me. Buster can't watch him during the days anymore.”

“Good morning!”

Shawna Murray interrupted the celebration over Jack, entering with a small suitcase and a back pack. Today her workout pants were hot pink and purple, and her shoes a brilliant shade of chartreuse. She'd covered it all with a purple-and-aqua Columbia jacket.

“I have clothes for you to go home in,” she said. “When I get done with my classes this morning, I'll come back and get you. Matt is waiting and he's—”

“Look!” Rory forgot to be apathetic and interrupted her by holding out Mia's phone. “It's Jack! Dr. Mia found Jack!”

Shawna shot Mia a confused and unhappy look. “The cat he's always talking about?”

“His cat, yes,” Mia replied.

Shawna watched about ten seconds of the video and handed the phone back. “Rory, you know we talked about this. I won't have cats in the house. Not with the baby and with Matt's allergies. He has to find a better home.”

“Mrs. Murray.” Mia stepped closer to the woman. “As a physician, I can tell you how good medically and psychologically this would be for him. He's in a difficult place, and having someone from his family with him would ease his way. Especially since his activities will be limited over the next few weeks.”

The woman who turned on her—after one of Mia's better efforts at a pleasant bedside manner if she did say so—was someone she hadn't seen before. Shawna's brows pinched into arched arrows, and her pupils narrowed to pinpoints.

“Excuse me, but this is really none of your concern. You aren't Rory's doctor, and you don't know the dynamics of our busy household. You lectured me about the dangers of allergic reactions yesterday. Well how would it be to have a mangy animal come in and set off allergies in the rest of the family? The cat is not welcome in the house, and I made that abundantly clear to the case worker who set Rory up with us.”

On the bed, Rory, whose face had been so euphoric moments earlier, clutched at his blanket and stared at his foster mother, his lip quivering.

“Mrs. Murray, sit down,” Mia countered, her voice calm but unmistakably firm. “There's a chair right here. You need to stop before you upset Rory further.”

“I am sorry to upset him; that's not my intention,” she said. “But he knows the rules and knew them from the start. I won't have you telling Rory he can have that cat,” she said. “What gave you the right to go find it for him anyway?”

“The right one friend has to another,” she said. “Now if you need to calm down so Rory sees everything is all right, I have no problem asking you to leave for a few moments. If you'll recall, I never insisted you take the cat, nor will I. I merely observed something that could help Rory. Since that won't work, we'll find another way.”

“You're right, we will.”

“Let me help you put this in the closet.”

Mia reached for the backpack, and Shawna whirled it from her, smacking her knuckles on the edge of table. With a cry she finally sank into the chair. “I insist you leave.” She hissed out a breath. “What are you trying to do?”

“No!” Rory was full on crying now. “I don't want her to leave. She's the only one who cares about me or my cat.”

At that Shawna seemed to gather her wits. She set Rory's suitcase on the floor and leaned forward in her chair, blowing on her hand. “I am sorry, Rory. I had a very hard morning with the kids, and I'm taking my crabbies out on you.”

Unkindly, Mia wondered how often that happened. But she kept her mouth shut.

“I just want to see Jack.” Rory held his hands out toward Mia. “I want to be where he is.”

“You can't be with Jack,” Shawna said, straightening back up in the chair. “I'm sorry, but that all changed when your mother got sick.

“Good morning, troops! How's my patient this morning?” The room got even more crowded as Fred Wilson entered. “Dr. Crockett. Surprised to see you here.”

“She shouldn't be here.”

“She found my cat.”

Shawna and Rory spoke simultaneously.

“Do we have a problem?” Dr. Wilson looked directly at Mia.

“Not at all,” she replied. “Rory is correct. I located his cat last night. I came in this morning to say hi and to tell him Jack is fine.”

“I want to take him home,” Rory said, almost sobbing now.

“I have an idea, Mrs. Murray,” Mia said. “I have to leave because I have surgery scheduled in an hour. But perhaps you'd bring Rory to visit Jack? If he could see him once or twice, perhaps he'd feel better.”

“I want to visit. Please?” Rory tugged on Shawna's jacket sleeve.

“Rory.” Shawna sighed, as if exhausted by the subject. “You know how busy nights and weekends are. We'll see.”

Mia reached into her breast pocket and pulled out two of her business cards. She handed one to Shawna and the other directly to Rory, who stared in awe, as if she'd given him Willy Wonka's golden ticket.

“I'll be happy to get him back and forth from your home to mine,” Mia said. “Please give me a call to set something up.”

Shawna nodded curtly, stuffed the card in her pocket, and turned to Dr. Wilson. “So Rory can still come home today, right?”

Mia sighed. She had little hope Shawna would follow through on her end with the cat.

“Oh, I think we can let him leave.” Wilson chuckled. “Sound good to you, Rory, my man? I'd like to take a listen to your heart and tummy, and if everything sounds good we'll set you up with an appointment in two weeks and spring you.”

Rory shook his head adamantly. “Dr. Mia can listen. And I want to go see Jack.”

“You can't go see Jack today,” Shawna said. “And you have to let Dr. Wilson check you out, or you can't go home.”

Mia brushed past Wilson, garnering a glare, and reached the far side of Rory's bed. She took his hand. “Since Dr. Wilson is the one who's in charge of deciding when you're well enough to go home, he has to be the one who listens. I know it sounds silly, but the hospital has rules. You let him do that, and I'll stay right here. When he's done, we'll talk some more about Jack.”

“Don't get his hopes—” Shawna began. Mia held up her hand and cut her off.

Rory gripped her fingers tightly and nodded, so she motioned to Wilson.

Once the exam was completed, Mia patted Rory's shoulder. “I'm proud of you. Now, here's what I'm going to do. In my office I have a way to print the pictures off my phone. I'll do that and make sure you get them before you leave.”

“Will you come and say good-bye?”

“I will try, but I won't promise, okay? Because I don't know if the surgery I have to do now will be finished before you go, and I don't want to tell you something that turns out to be a lie. But I'll find you soon and show you more pictures of Jack.”

“I'll come and see him.” His bravado crumbled a little, and he looked toward Shawna who spoke with Dr. Wilson.

Mia leaned in close to whisper. “We'll keep working on it.”

She patted his arm again and stood, excusing herself. She was pushing the button on the staff elevator for the first floor when Wilson caught her.

“Dr. Crockett.
May
I have a word with you please?” His clipped words were not a request.

“Anytime,” she said coolly.

“I find your attitude toward that mother in there—and, frankly, toward me—highly offensive and inappropriate.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.” She held her tongue, again, with a great deal of trouble.

“You may be some sort of wunderkind in your general surgery group, but up here you do not rule.”

“I don't rule anywhere, Doctor. My job is to care for the patients, and that's precisely what I did in this case. I also made it possible for you to examine
your
patient without a meltdown on his part. I'm not precisely sure what your problem with me is.”

“You're a surgeon, not a pediatrician or even an internal med doc. You didn't belong in that room.”

She spun on him. “Have you forgotten I'm a longtime friend of the child's? I was the only one in that room he wanted to speak with. If I were you, I'd be
thanking
me.” The elevator beeped and the doors rolled open with well-oiled precision. “Now if you'll excuse me, I have a three-year-old's hernia to repair.”

He didn't follow her onto the elevator, and she breathed a sigh of relief when the doors closed on his unyielding features. She never intended for words come out as stridently as they did, but she hated having to placate people. The way she saw it, all she wanted was for Rory to be safe and happy. All Fred Wilson wanted was to be in charge.

The elevator doors slid open again, and she made for her office. One voice mail message awaited her, from the suddenly omnipresent Gabriel Harrison. She almost expected the array of emotions, from anticipation to mild exasperation to the thrumming heartbeat that took over her entire body.

“Good morning, Dr. Crockett.” His voice, with its hint of teasing, made her smile in spite of herself. “I'm playing secretary one last time to let you know Joely went for two more follow-up tests early this morning, and if you want to reach her she'll be back in her room by noon. Also, your sister Harper is back in town, and she'll be able to take over communications, so I won't be clogging up your voice mails.” He hesitated slightly and chuckled. “Not that I mind—there's really nobody else I'd rather cross swords with. So. You have a great day. And call if you have a question. Or need a good argument.”

She covered her mouth with one hand and tried not to laugh. What should have irritated her only made her regret he wouldn't be Joely's messenger any longer. The man was aggravation and immaturity, salted with minor helpfulness, and what would have made her rejoice yesterday—the thought of not having to speak with him anymore—today made her slightly sad. Maybe, as her hippie sister Harper would say, Mercury was in retrograde.

She cleaned out her e-mail inbox and gathered what she needed to take with her for surgery. The phone rang while she was reaching to turn out her light. Only Gabriel's message that Joely was having more tests made her decide to answer.

“Amelia Crockett.”

“Dr. Crockett, I am Justin McNeil, an attorney representing Monique Beltane. I have some news that directly affects you concerning Ms. Beltane's estate. Do you have a moment to speak with me?”

She had no more than a moment, but there wasn't any way she was going to let that hook hang unaddressed for two hours. “Of course, Mr. McNeil, what can I do for you?”

“You're no doubt aware that Ms. Beltane is undergoing treatment for breast cancer.”

“Yes.”

“Before her recent hospitalization, she made some alterations to her will. You consider yourself to be good friends with Ms. Beltane and her ten-year-old son, is that right?”

“Yes I do, although I have only seen her once since she's been in prison. May I ask before we go on what currently has her hospitalized?”

“I'm not allowed to divulge medical details, as you know well, but I can tell you that cancer was detected in the breast that had been unaffected, and she underwent a partial mastectomy.”

Mia's stomach dropped in dismay. “I'm so sorry,” she said.

“I do know the prognosis is not hopeless, so she'll continue with chemotherapy. Nevertheless, she has wanted for some time to make arrangements for her son. To that end, she has named you as Rory's legal guardian should anything happen to her.

“I'm sorry? Guardian? Legal? What does that mean?” Shell-shock was not too strong a word for the panic clawing through her chest.

“Should anything happen to Ms. Beltane, custody of Rory would be yours unless a relative makes a protest, or there are questions about your fitness as a parent.”

That was the most ludicrous thing she'd ever heard. Parent?

“Mr. McNeil, I don't think I want to accept this.”

“I know it's a shock.” For the first time he didn't sound like an automaton. “The will is signed and witnessed, so it's legal. What I would suggest is you have a conversation with Ms. Beltane.”

“I will definitely be doing exactly that.”

“I don't have any more details for you, Dr. Crockett. The will was signed and notarized yesterday. I wanted to give you a chance to handle the information as you see fit. You could, of course, refuse, but Ms. Beltane hopes you will accept.”