Kitabı oku: «A Child to Heal Their Hearts»

CHAPTER ONE

“COMING!” KEERA’S sleep-scratchy voice barely cleared the bedroom door and there was no way the person outside on her front porch could hear her. But she didn’t really care. This was her time. Off work.

She wasn’t on call, and after tomorrow she had no hospital obligations for the next week. A few days off after an entire year on. Blessed vacation time for eating, sleeping, reading. Most of all, quiet time to herself. No one to intrude, no one to disturb her. Time alone was all she had on the schedule and she adamantly didn’t want to be disturbed before her holiday started. But as chief of cardiac surgery, she didn’t always get what she wanted. Case in point, someone was knocking right now, and rather vigorously at that.

“OK, OK. Give me a minute,” she grumbled on a weary sigh, the sentiment directed more to the neon green clock light blinking acrimoniously at her from the nightstand than to anything or anyone else.

She blinked back at it, wanted to throw a shoe at it when she saw it was telling her the time was ten after two. And she’d only been in bed since twenty after one. Meaning she’d had fifty full minutes of sleep.

“Figures,” she grunted as another knock jolted her out of her blearies. Then another knock, louder this time. Last time this had happened to her, it had been the National Guard come to fetch her in the middle of a torrential storm. “Hospital’s on emergency alert, Dr. Murphy. Don’t want you driving in this because of the conditions, so we’ve come to take you in.” Yep, that had been quite a night, being hefted up into the back of a military helicopter and jostled around fallen trees and power lines.

But tonight there was no rain. No storm or adverse condition of any kind going on. And as Keera’s mind started to clear, she began ticking off the various reasons someone might be doing exactly what they were doing. Worst-case scenario—full-out disaster that wasn’t weather-related. Best-case scenario—emergency surgery waiting. But why not simply call her, like they always did?

Maybe they had. Maybe she’d slept through it. “I said I’m coming,” she shouted, cinching her robe as she plodded out to the entry hall. “Identify yourself, please,” she shouted, even though a glimpse through the peephole revealed the uniform of a police officer. “And show me some identification.”

“Will do, Miss Murphy,” the man out there shouted.

Miss Murphy. After fast-tracking her way through medical school and all the other stages that had preceded cardiac surgeon, that’s what it all boiled down to, wasn’t it? Unmarried doctor, unmarried miss... Successful at career, unsuccessful at life. It was pretty much everything that defined her.

Keera pushed her long red hair back from her face, and looked out again. Saw what she required from the first officer.

“Officer Carla James,” she said, obliging Keera with a sight of her ID. Short woman, slightly rounded, definitely hiding behind the taller officer.

“And Officer Brian Hutchinson,” the taller one added, bending down to Keera’s peephole so she’d get a good wide-angle view of his face then his badge. “Would you please open the door?”

“Is it medical business?” she shouted at them, as she unlatched the first of three safety chains then finally pulled back the dead bolt. A little extra precaution as a result of living alone.

“No, ma’am, it’s not,” Officer Hutchinson said, stepping forward as soon as the door opened to him. He held out his leather wallet for her to match his photo with his face. Then tucked it away when she’d nodded her satisfaction. “I’m sorry to say it’s personal.”

That’s when the first grain of relief shot through her. Keera Murphy didn’t have a personal life. Everything about her was medicine. “How? I mean, what?”

Officer James chose that moment to step out from behind Hutchinson, and the only thing Keera saw was the bundle in her arms. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand.” Were they bringing her a patient? A child? No. This was a mistake. Didn’t make sense. They were at the wrong house, or had the wrong person. That had to be it. They wanted the Keera Murphy who was a pediatrician, if there was such a person, and she was the Keera Murphy who did cardiac surgery.

“I’m sorry to say, there’s no easy way to do this,” Officer Hutchinson continued. “But earlier this evening your husband and a yet unidentified passenger were killed in a single vehicle crash off Mountain Canyon Road. Your daughter was thrown free, and escaped without injury. We did have her checked at a clinic near there, and except for some scrapes and bruises she’s fine. In shock, I think, because she’s not talking, maybe a little lethargic due to the trauma. But the doc who looked at her said she was basically good.”

“I’m glad, but this is a mistake because I’m not married.” Keera took a step backwards, braced herself against the wall. “Divorced. No children.”

“Kevin Murphy,” Hutchinson continued. “Kevin Joseph Murphy, ma’am. Your husband, according to some legal papers we found at the scene. House deed, this address.”

“But we’re not... Haven’t been...” She shut her eyes, trying to focus. Kevin was dead? Their marriage had been a real stinker and their divorce nasty in epic proportions, but she wouldn’t have wished this on him. “You’re sure?” she finally managed.

“Yes, ma’am. We have a full identification on your husband but not his passenger. We were hoping...”

Keera glanced at the officer holding the child, wondering why they’d brought her here. Wondering if this was the child who... It had to be. Who else could she be but the child he’d fathered while they had still been married? “Maybe the passenger is his second wife. Melanie, Melodie, something like that.” Or the one after her, if there’d already been another as Kevin seemed to have his women in fast succession. “Melania, that’s her name. Melania.” Keera’s head was spinning now the information was finally beginning to sink in. Kevin was dead, most likely along with his second wife. And their child... “She’s not mine,” she said.

“But you were listed as Mr. Murphy’s wife and next of kin, so we assumed—”

“Wrong assumption,” she said, cutting him off. “Old information. My husband and I divorced a few months ago, the papers you found were probably from part of the agreement.” Or, in their case, disagreement. “He called several days ago, said he had some final papers for me to sign, and that child...” She shook her head. “Part of his second marriage.” Kevin’s secret to keep, along with his mistress.

“Then we have a problem,” Carla James said, “because we have nowhere to take the child for the night.”

A little girl, she’d been told. Keera had never actually seen her. Hadn’t ever wanted to see her. Didn’t want to see her now, even though that was about to change. “Surely, there’s a foster-home with an opening. Or some kind of contingency in place for situations like this one?”

Both police officers shook their heads.

“Social services?” Hopeful question with an answer she’d already guessed.

“That would be me,” a perky young woman said from behind Officer James. “My name is Consuela Martinez, and I’m the temporary case manager assigned to Megan. And right now I don’t have a contingency plan that would be in the child’s best interests. We were hoping her family—”

“But I’m not her family,” Keera interrupted.

Consuela stepped out in plain sight, the yellow of the porch light giving her more of a jaundiced look than it should. And just like that Keera switched to doctor mode, her mind ticking off various conditions that came with a yellow tinge...one of the reasons Kevin had strayed, he claimed. Too much doctor too much of the time. Sadly, she hadn’t had an argument to counter his because, in the end, she had loved her medicine more than she’d loved her husband or their marriage.

“Look, I know there’s a contingency plan,” Keera said. “When a child is involved there’s always a contingency plan.” It was said without conviction because she really didn’t know that to be the case. But she hoped it was, or else...

“You’re right. Usually there is. Except right now. Every spot we have for someone Megan’s age and developmental stage is filled,” the case worker continued. “But I can have a callout to other agencies in other areas by morning, or we might be able to shift a few children to other situations, and after that—”

“Are you taking flucloxacillin, by any chance, Consuela?” Keera interrupted, so totally not wanting to hear that Megan had no place to go tonight.

Consuela looked confused. For that matter, so did both police officers. “Um, yes. I am. For an outer ear infection. Why?”

“You might want to call your doctor first thing in the morning and mention that you’re having an adverse reaction to the drug. Nothing serious, so don’t be alarmed. But it’s worth noting.” And that didn’t change the problem at hand, as there was still a child bundled in Officer James’s arms who needed a place to stay. “Sorry,” she said. “Force of habit. Part of my job is paying attention to the details, and I’ve been told I can go overboard about it.”

“It’s good to know you’re conscientious, Doctor,” Officer Hutchinson said, “but it’s two-thirty, and we’re not getting any closer to figuring out what to do with—”

“With my ex-husband’s child.” It was an irony coming back to slap her hard. This was his secret child, the one he’d told her he’d fathered but had only told her on the child’s first birthday. His first devastating confession, followed by how much he loved the baby’s mother, how he wanted a divorce, wanted to keep their house for his new family... But none of that was Megan’s fault, was it? “You’re sure there’s really no place for her to go tonight?”

“The county home,” Consuela said, “which I try to avoid when I can, especially for children so young. It’s a large facility, too many children. The younger ones get...overlooked.”

“It’s an—”

“An institution, ma’am,” Officer James volunteered. “In the traditional sense. But if you’re rejecting the child, it’s our only recourse, because I can’t stand on your doorstep all night, holding her.”

“No, of course you can’t,” Keera said, taking a step backwards as she felt her resolve start to melt. Another step, pause...taking a moment to gird her resolve. Then another backwards step, and finally the gesture to enter her home. And as Officer James passed her, Keera took her first good look at Megan, and if it weren’t for the fact that the room was filled with people...strangers, she would have fallen to her knees. Would have cried. The lump in her throat started to choke her, and the light feeling in her head caused the room to spin. “Please, lay her on the sofa. I can sit up in here with her, she shouldn’t be alone.” Shouldn’t be in an institution! No child should ever be in an institution.

Keera glanced at Consuela, who’d stopped at the mirror in the entry hall and was staring at her yellow-tinted complexion. “But this is only until morning,” she warned the social worker. “If you don’t have a placement for her before I leave for the hospital, in exactly three hours, you’ll find her in the daycare center.

“Oh, and, Consuela, I can’t look after her longer than what I’ve said. I’m not good with children. They don’t respond to me, and outside normal medical situations I wouldn’t know how to respond if they did. So, come morning, do you understand me? My early surgery will be over by ten, followed by routine rounds, and I don’t want to go into my rounds knowing I still have a child to worry about.”

It made her sound unpleasant, like a bully or, worse...heartless. Which wasn’t at all what she’d intended. But how did a person go about dealing with a situation like this? She’d just taken in the child who had caused the final curtain to drop on her marriage, and she wasn’t sure there was a proper way to deal with that.

“So, before you go, do we know if she has any allergies?” Kevin had been allergic to shellfish. “Or medical conditions that require attention...or medication?”

Consuela, who’d finally torn herself away from the mirror, shook her head. “Her doctor is Reid Adams, and his practice is in a little town called Sugar Creek, Tennessee. About an hour or so west of here. But we haven’t been able to get in touch with him yet. He’s at camp.”

“Camp?” Keera asked.

“Youth camp, for kids recovering from leukemia and all the associated conditions. He’s the camp physician, I’ve been told. And I do have a call in for him.” Consuela stepped around Keera, who made no move to help Officer James settle Megan on the sofa. “And, Dr. Murphy...she’s a good child. Very quiet. She won’t cause you any problems.”

No, the child wouldn’t. Not now, anyway, because Keera’s problems were in the past. And while little Megan hadn’t caused them, she was a result of them. “Noon at the very latest. Please find your contingency plan by noon.”

Ten minutes later, when the house was quiet again, Keera settled into the chair across from the sofa and simply stared at the child. Lovely little girl. Blonde hair, like Kevin’s. Probably blue eyes like his, too. Sadly, there was so much turmoil for one little life. Poor thing. Her heart did go out to Megan for so many reasons.

“It’s good that you don’t have to understand any of this,” Keera whispered to the child, while she pulled her feet up under herself, preparing to spend the rest of her night right there, looking after the girl. “But you’re going to be fine. You’re a beautiful little girl, and everything’s going to be fine.”

* * *

“I’m sorry, Doctor, but I really don’t have anything to tell you.” Reid Adams tossed the ball into the grass then stood back to watch the stampede of children go after it. No matter what else was going on in his life, coming to camp was always a highlight. “I’d have to look at her records before I could say anything, but I’m not in my office this week and—”

“Then find someone who can do it for you,” Keera snapped, then hastily added, “Look, I’m sorry I sound so grumpy, but...”

“Normally, if someone sounds grumpy, they’re grumpy,” Reid said, stepping behind the large oak tree as two little girls came running in his direction. Black hair, dark eyes, dark skin. Hispanic beauties, and the lights of his life. His reason for existing wrapped up in a couple of very energetic little girls, aged five and seven. “And I think your situation with Megan would make a lot of people grumpy if it happened to them. No relatives turn up yet?”

“An elderly aunt who refused the child, as well as some male cousins the social worker thought weren’t suitable. Apparently there are other family members being contacted, but I may have the child through the afternoon, and I’d feel better knowing about her health situation.”

He liked her voice. A little husky, but not so much she sounded like a three-packs-a-day smoker. More like bedroom-sultry husky...an image that caused him to blink hard, clear his throat and, more than anything else, remind him that this was a kids’ camp and he was surrounded by a bunch of kids who didn’t need a distracted counselor.

“Daddy,” five-year-old Allie squealed, as Reid sidled around the tree, only to be waylaid by seven-year-old Emmie, coming at him from the other side.

“I found him first,” Emmie shouted.

“Did not,” Allie argued, latching onto Reid’s leg. “I got him first.”

“You both got me first,” he declared.

“Excuse me,” Keera said. “Dr. Adams?”

“Sorry about that,” he said, chuckling. “But my daughters are persistent, and they won’t take no for an answer when we’re playing. Not that I’d ever want them to. So, getting back to Megan Murphy. I’ve seen her once, I think, and nothing stands out. But it’s a new practice, I’m barely settled in, and I don’t know enough about any of my patients yet to even recognize them, or their parents, on the street. Sorry about that, because I’d like to be more help. But let me call either Beau Alexander or his wife, Deanna. They’re covering my practice this week and they might know something. Or be able to see what’s in the records.” Pause.

“Girls, girls! Stay away from that fence! That’s the rule. You’ve been told if you go near the fence, you’ll get a time out with your first warning, and broccoli with your dinner with your second warning.”

“You punish the children by threatening them with broccoli?” Keera asked. “I’d think that would be a healthy choice. Something you’d encourage them to eat.”

“It is, but most kids come naturally equipped hating broccoli, so I use that to my advantage. Then, by the end of the camp session, we’ll have introduced them to a couple of ways broccoli can taste really yummy... Excuse me, I have the younger group here this week. When I mention broccoli to older kids, I usually use the term delicious. And the thing is, the majority of these children will leave here and ask their parents for broccoli. Just an FYI—raw with dip works great!”

“Raw or cooked, you’re a magician, Dr. Adams, if you get them liking broccoli.”

“Nope, just a single dad who’s figured it out. If it works with my two, it’ll work with anybody’s kid. Anyway...Angelica, Rodney! Take off your shoes and your socks before you go wading in the creek! Both socks, Rodney.”

“Look, I appreciate your time, Dr. Adams, but—”

“Reid. Call me Reid.”

“Reid. I’m sorry for sounding so grumpy, or frazzled, or whatever you want to call it, but I’m not good with children, don’t know if I even like them so much, and I really don’t want to be responsible for one, even if it’s only for a few more hours. I was hoping...actually, I don’t know what I was hoping for. But you clearly have your hands full with your camp kids, so I’m going let you go. But before I do, could you answer one more question for me?”

“Got time for two, if they’re quick.” Truth was, he wasn’t sure he wanted to hang up. Keera Murphy sounded nice, except for the part where she wasn’t fond of children. In his life that was definitely a problem. But she wasn’t in his life, so it didn’t matter. “So go ahead.”

“Megan’s two, and she’s not... She’s still in diapers. I had her in hospital daycare all morning and the ladies working there said she made no attempt to go to the bathroom or even ask someone to take her.”

“Does she speak?”

“No, but that could be the trauma.”

“She’s had a full battery of tests?”

“Everything we could think of.”

“Then she’s probably just reacting to her circumstances. Once things are normal around her again I’m sure the diapers can come off. And if she’s not totally trained, it’s perfectly natural for children that age to be a little resistant. But if you have other concerns, please feel free...” He spun around in time to catch Emmie ready to lob him with a big red water balloon. He was fast enough to dodge it, but in trying for the evasive maneuver he dropped his phone. By the time he’d manage to pick it back up, Keera Murphy had hung up.

* * *

“Who was that, Daddy?” Allie asked him. Now she was sneaking up, hiding what he guessed was also a filled water balloon behind her back. So, he could take it like a man or, actually, like a daddy, and let his youngest have her turn at dousing Daddy, or he could spin and run like crazy. After all, he was well over six feet tall, considered well muscled by some. Legs that had helped him finish in the pack at a few marathons. So if he couldn’t outrun a little girl... “She was a doctor.”

“Who takes care of little kids, like you do?” Allie asked. The expression on her face was so determined, he knew what he had to do.

“No, not that kind of doctor, sweetheart.” He braced himself for the hit. “Remember when we talked about what having surgery means?” OK, so most parents weren’t quite as forthright as he was in his child-rearing ideas, but he didn’t believe in lying, not even when it was about something Allie probably wouldn’t even understand and definitely didn’t need to know.

“Where they have to make a zipper so they can see your insides?”

He chuckled. “Actually, yes.” Which meant she did listen to him. Music to the ears of a long-suffering parent. “She’s the kind of doctor who makes the zipper.”

He thought back to the conversation with Keera. Strained, at best. Maybe more like totally stressed out. Someone he pictured as nervous. Someone he also pictured as... One momentary distraction was all it took, and Reid Adams fell victim to his daughter, who landed the perfectly placed water balloon center chest. “Got me,” he shouted, dropping to the ground, where five or six other children converged on him and bombarded him with water balloons the way his own daughters had done.

“No fair,” he shouted while laughs and squeals muffled any protest he wanted to make. Not that he really wanted to protest. This was part of his fun. What meant the most to him now was thinking about how his daughters would be exhilarated, and knowing that his two little conspirators had led a group of normally sedentary kids into an adventure was, probably, the most fun of all.

Then he wondered about Dr. Keera Murphy. Would she have seen any of this as fun? Or worthless, as she wasn’t a big one for children? More than that, why did it even matter to him? And why did he make a mental note to do a little Internet surfing on her when he had time?

“No more water balloons,” he shouted, trying to stand up. But to no avail. As he rose to his knees, a whole new group of water ballooners swarmed him, loaded down with filled balloons of every size, color and shape imaginable. He barely had enough time to cover his face before the fun began.

* * *

“I know what I said, Dr. Murphy, and I’ve got a line on someone who might take her later tonight or some time tomorrow, if there’s nobody else available. But Mrs. Blanchard prefers her wards to be toilet trained, and as Megan isn’t, I’m not sure she’ll get all the attention she needs.”

They were sitting in the parents’ waiting room across from the hospital daycare center. A very cheerful place. Lots of bright yellows and oranges, like they were tying the conventional child stimuli colors into their parents. This was only the second time Keera had ever been there. The first had been that morning, when she’d left Megan in the able care of Dolores Anderson, the director. “She could be traumatized.”

“Maybe, and if that’s the case, I’m wondering if a pediatric hospital ward might be the best place for her temporarily.”

“Seriously, you want to stick her in a hospital?”

No, that was not acceptable. While she didn’t have any strong urges toward the child, she wasn’t some cold-hearted dungeon master who wanted to lock all the untrained kiddies away until they potty trained themselves. This was a child who needed attention, not isolation, and so far all of Consuela’s ideas seemed more like isolation.

“Look, just keep trying with Mrs. Blanchard, OK? If she won’t take Megan, maybe she’ll have a suggestion about who can.”

“We’ll work it out, Doctor. I promise, that’s all I’ve been doing today.”

Consuela was deliberately not making eye contact with Keera, trying to keep her gaze focused on anything else, and Keera accepted that. She’d probably do the same thing if she found herself in that same spot. But what Consuela didn’t understand was that so far today childcare had been a breeze because she’d had the help of the whole hospital daycare staff there to get her through it.

Tomorrow was another story. It was her day off—the start of her week off, in fact. And that’s when the reading commenced with a whole stack of medical journals she’d had for a year or more. Nowhere in those plans was there room for a toddler.

“I’m not criticizing you, and I hope you don’t think that I was. But I grew up in the foster-care system. A lot of it in institutions, and it’s horrible. Being passed off from one place to another, never knowing where you might end up next. I never got adopted because I was older when I went into the system, so I was in a grand total of nine different homes and three different institutions, all before the age of eighteen. And, no, I wasn’t a good child because of that.” She closed her eyes, fighting back those memories.

“This child doesn’t need that kind of trauma in her life.” As much as she’d disliked Kevin by the end of their marriage, Keera knew he would have been a very good father. A doting daddy. Megan didn’t deserve to go from that to cold indifference, which was what would happen if she was sent to an institution. Or even the wrong foster-family.

“It’s not always a traumatic situation, Doctor. We have very good caregivers.”

“Yes, I’m sure you do, and I admire people who would take on the responsibility. Right now, though, Megan needs more that what you’re able to find her, and I know that’s not your fault. But it’s not her fault either. Yet she’s the one who’s going to be bounced around or institutionalized.”

And she was waging the battle with the wrong person. She knew that. But the right person—the one who should have made arrangements for Megan in the event something like this happened—was dead. True to Kevin’s form, he hadn’t thought about the practical things. Hadn’t when they’d been married, hadn’t after they were divorced, and now his daughter was paying the price.

“I’m sorry about your childhood, Doctor, and I understand your frustration but, like I said, I’m doing my best. There aren’t any distant relatives suited to take her, or who even want her, for that matter, so I have to come up with another plan. But you’ve got to understand that in the short term Megan might have to go to a hospital pediatric ward, a group home or even the county home. It’s not what I want to do but what I may have to do if you can’t or won’t keep her for a little while longer.”