by Cindy Dees
She spoke frostily. “That’s very kind of you—” she checked the color of the oak leaf on his collar: gold “—Major McConnell. But Cody and I can take care of ourselves.”
“I understand,” he said gently enough that she wondered for a second if maybe he really did. He pulled something small and white out of a pocket and spoke as he scribbled on it. “Here’s my card. I’ve written my cell phone number and my personal email on the back. Please call me any time, day or night, if you need anything at all. I mean it. I’m happy to help out however I can.”
Wow. That was actually a really nice offer. Too bad he couldn’t have kept her husband alive and brought him home to her. She stared up at him with the accusation in her eyes and his gaze faltered. Fell away. He knew what she was thinking. It hung unspoken between them as the silence grew unbearably awkward.
Finally he cleared his throat. “I don’t want to intrude. I hope your son gets better real soon.”
He moved past her down the hall, and she stared at his retreating back, hating him and everything he represented. How come he was alive and Jimmy was dead? How come he got to go home to his family tonight, and she and Cody were totally on their own? How come he was so in control and together while she was a sobbing mess?
The major turned a corner and disappeared from sight. She let out the breath she realized she’d been holding as she watched him and sagged back against the wall, drained by the brief encounter.
Good grief, she was a wreck tonight. She usually didn’t let herself get this bitter. Everyone thought she couldn’t hack it alone, and she’d be darned if they turned out to be right. She didn’t know how she’d survive or how she’d save her son, but she would find a way. Tomorrow. She’d figure something out.
CHAPTER TWO
Mitch turned the corner and paused to draw a steadying breath. Man, it had been hard to look into that woman’s eyes and not believe he was somehow responsible for the tragedy she’d suffered. He knew without question there was nothing he could have done to save Jimmy, but that didn’t make it any easier to face the man’s widow.
She looked so young. Small and slender, her light brown hair in a youthful ponytail. At a glance, he’d have guessed she was about sixteen. But then he’d peered into her eyes. The suffering written there had made her look older than time.
He hadn’t had the nerve to ask about her kid. He spied a nurses’ station ahead and realized that the curving hallway he’d just left must run along a semicircular bank of intensive care rooms, all of which had glass fronts facing the station. He stepped into the brightly lit hub.
“Can I help you?” a woman in bold blue scrubs asked him.
“Hi. I’m Mitch McConnell. What can you tell me about Cody Frazier’s condition?”
“Are you a family member, sir?”
“Jimmy Frazier, Cody’s dad, was one of my troops. The way I hear it, I’m as close to family as Mrs. Frazier has right now. You could think of me as Uncle Sam’s stand-in for Jimmy Frazier.”
“Cassidy could use a stand-in. Poor girl is going through this all alone.”
“What is ‘this,’ exactly?”
The nurse sighed. “Hospital policy prevents me from releasing that information.”
“I heard he needs a heart transplant. Is that true?”
The nurse nodded infinitesimally, and Mitch’s pulse lurched. That sucked.
“How old is he?” When the nurse hesitated, he added, “I can find out from my own records at the office, so I doubt it’s a breach of confidentiality for you to tell me now.”
“He turned five a few weeks ago. We had a little party for him.”
Mitch winced. Five years old and the kid had to have his birthday in an ICU? That double sucked. “Can you tell me anything about how sick he is?”
The nurse shook her head, but her eyes darkened with worry. That said more to him than all the medical terminology she could have thrown at him. Alarmed, he asked, “Is there anything I can do for Cody or his mom? Anything you know they need?”
“You’d have to speak to the social worker for that. But whatever you can do for that girl would be a blessing.”
Folks around here seemed to like Cassidy Frazier. And feel sorry for her. The kid must really be in terrible shape. “Where can I find this social worker?”
“She usually doesn’t stay this late, but if she’s in her office, it’s down that hall. Last door on the right. Her name’s Rose Parker.”
He followed the nurse’s directions and was relieved to see a strip of light under the indicated door. He knocked quietly.
“Come in!” a female voice barked.
He stepped into the room and flashed back to the first time he’d had to formally report in to his commander’s office as a brand-new, baby lieutenant.
A woman fully as tall as he was stood up behind her desk as he entered the closet-sized space. There was nothing flowerlike about Rose Parker. She was a big-boned, gray-haired woman with an imposing presence. She reminded him of portraits of Eleanor Roosevelt more than a little. He looked into her black-as-midnight eyes, and the compassion and humor shining there put him at ease immediately, though.
“Hi, Ms. Parker. I’m Mitch McConnell.”
“Well, aren’t you pretty? Come right on in, young man. Feel free to close the door. And you can call me Rose.”
He grinned at her outrageous flirting and did, indeed, close the door. “I’m here to talk about Cassidy Frazier. Her husband was in my unit. I met her briefly a few minutes ago, and she was less than thrilled to see me.”
The social worker nodded sympathetically. “Don’t take it personally. It’s the uniform she resents. Can’t say as Uncle Sam has been too kind to her, taking her husband and then making her life miserable while she tries to take care of her baby.”
“Does she have a job?” he asked, curious.
“Not anymore. She was an office manager, but she had to choose between her job and being with her baby.”
“Are you aware that she’s about to be evicted from her apartment?”
Rose’s jaw fell open. “She told me she was doing fine. I assumed when she left her job that she still had plenty of cash left from her husband’s insurance settlement. She should have told me. There are things I could do to help....” She trailed off, muttering under her breath about foolish pride and stubborn independence. He assumed she was referring to Cassidy Frazier.
A job or being at the side of her dying child. A home or spending her son’s last days with him. What a choice to have to make. Mitch declared, “I want to help her. But I don’t know what she needs or what she’ll let me do for her.”
“Sit down.” Rose did the same, half hidden behind tall piles of manila folders. “What did you have in mind, Mitch McConnell?”
“I don’t really know. Whatever she needs. I’d like to stop her being evicted from her apartment. From the sound of your comments, though, it sounds like Mrs. Frazier would resist my paying her rent for her.”
Rose nodded slowly. “I might be able to help you out with that. There’s an organization in town that assists single parents with sick children. It’s called Patches of Light. They anonymously pay rent and utility bills and the like so parents with seriously or terminally ill children can stay by their babies’ sides where they belong. Had I known Cassidy was in such trouble, I’d have already contacted them.”
“So I could pay her rent through this group without her knowing?”
“If you’d like to make a donation to Patches of Light, I can earmark it for Cassidy. That’s not usually how they do things, but I know the founder, Mindy Atwood. Great lady. She’ll work with me. Lord knows, Cassidy Frazier could use a break. Her luck’s been nothing but bad for a long time.”
Mitch felt as if a ten-ton rock had just been lifted off his chest. “That would be perfect. What do I have to do?”
“Well, I’ll have to fill out the paperwork. But as you can see, I’ve got nothing else on my plate at the moment.” Her eyes tw
inkled and he chuckled at her overflowing desk. “You just write a check, and I’ll take care of the rest.”
“How soon can you arrange for these people to help her? I’m told Ms. Frazier’s being evicted at the end of this week.”
“The Patches of Light folks move fast. In twenty-four hours they can swoop in and get rid of the most pressing bills for parents.”
“That’s amazing.” He pulled a blank check out of his wallet. “I wish the military was that efficient.” He wrote out an amount that he guessed would cover the young widow’s rent, utilities and maybe a few other bills.
He handed it to the social worker along with the apartment manager’s contact information. “If that’s not enough, let me know and I’ll write out another check. Here’s my business card, too.”
She whistled between her widely spaced front teeth as she looked down at the check. “That’ll be more than enough. You sure you can afford this much?”
“I’m single and I’ve been overseas for over a year. I haven’t had a chance to spend a dime of my earnings. I can’t think of a better way to unload a little of it.”
“All right, then. I’ll get right on it.”
“And she won’t know the money came from me?” he asked anxiously.
“Cassie won’t hear a peep from me. And the Patches of Light folks work completely anonymously. Your secret’s safe.”
“Perfect.”
“Now, about the other thing that girl needs,” Rose announced.
He froze in the act of standing up and sank back into the plastic chair. “Name it.”
“She needs a good man in her life.”
His jaw actually dropped open. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me, boy. You’re not gay, are you? Darned if the pretty ones don’t always seem to bat for the other team.”
“Uh, no, ma’am. I’m not, umm, you know.”
“All right, then. You wanna help that girl? Well then, she needs a man in the worst way.”
Surely she wasn’t trying to tell him that Cassidy Frazier was desperate for sex! He said cautiously, “I don’t understand.”
“What is there to understand? She needs a man to change the oil in her car. Do little fix-up jobs around her place.”
“I can do that.”
“More important...” The woman leaned forward and pointed an accusing finger at him. “She needs a shoulder to lean on now and again. Don’t get me wrong. Cassie’s been as strong as steel for all these months. But she’s getting worn down by the waiting. And she’s got no one to talk to.”
“No one?”
“Nope. She’s from Oregon. Moved here with Jimmy right before he got deployed and, well, you know what happened better than most, I imagine.”
An image of a blood-spattered crater and the screams of the wounded flashed into his mind.
“Mmm-hmm. Better than most,” she repeated soberly. She leaned back in her chair and studied him with eyes that he suspected didn’t miss a thing. Ever. “So. Can Cassidy Frazier count on you?”
Could she? He’d made more than a few of these visits over the years, and he’d always offered to help out in any way he could. A few widows had taken him up on his offer. An outing with a fatherless son. A few small home repairs. But that was about it. The widows eventually got on with their lives and drifted away.
He’d never stepped into the middle of a bona fide crisis like this. And it wasn’t as if it had ever been his style to commit to much beyond his career. But Cassidy Frazier’s need was urgent. He dared not let her down.
He must have hesitated for a moment too long.
The social worker harrumphed abruptly. “Forget I said anything. You’re not the man for the job.”
Startled, he automatically rose to his feet as the woman stood up.
“Thanks for your money, Major.”
Her disappointment was palpable. He’d scratched a few words on a piece of paper and a few numbers disappeared from his bank account. Big deal. He’d really put himself out to help the widow, he berated himself. And Rose’s tone of voice said she wasn’t much impressed with him or the military he represented.
Stung, he backed out of Rose Parker’s office. What the heck did she want him to do? Adopt the widow and her kid? He’d barely met Cassidy, and she’d hated his guts on sight. He’d never even laid eyes on the woman’s son. Frowning, he made his way back down the hall to the nurses’ station.
He was passing directly in front of the tall desk when a series of alarms beeped simultaneously. One of the nurses called out, “It’s Cody. Respiratory distress. Heart’s tachycardic. Oxygen sats are crashing.”
Mitch screeched to a halt to avoid being run over by a trio of nurses racing toward the room on the far left. Cody. Cody Frazier. He should keep on walking. Get out of here before he ticked off the kid’s mom any more with his unwelcome presence.
He looked through the glass wall into the room. A medical team worked over the small figure in the bed, and beyond them he caught sight of Cassidy. She was pressed up against the wall just inside a door that must lead out to the hall he’d first met her in. Her eyes were huge and terrified, her hands pressed over her mouth as if she was holding back screams by sheer force of will.
He’d never seen someone simultaneously so afraid and in so much pain. Staggered, he stared at her, unable to tear his gaze away. How long he stood there he had no idea. But at some point one of the nurses gestured Cassidy toward her son’s bed. He watched as she moved to Cody’s side and reached out. Probably to hold his hand.
The transformation on her face was miraculous. The terror faded away and a look of pure adoration lit her entire being from within. Her lips moved as if she was talking, then curved into a smile.
In that moment she personified the strength of a mother’s love like nothing he’d ever seen before. An angel couldn’t have looked down at that child with more devotion. A strange tightness at the back of his throat and a burning sensation in his eyes startled him into an awareness of his surroundings.
He glanced around self-consciously and jolted when he spotted Rose Parker leaning against the wall to his right. Studying him. “How long have you been there?” he blurted.
“Long enough. Maybe you are the one, after all.”
What was she talking about? “I beg your pardon?”
She ignored his question and instead asked, “You headed out soon?”
“I probably ought to stick around and find out how Cody’s doing.”
“That boy’s in God’s hands now. There’s not much any of us can do for him until a donor heart becomes available. Since the doctor has quit scurrying around in there, I’d say the worst has passed. That man beside Cassidy. That’s Dr. Mistler. Best pediatric cardiologist in this part of the country. If he’s not doing anything, then Cody’s okay.”
The physician in question was speaking quietly to Cassidy and she was listening intently to him.
“C’mon. You can walk me out to my car, hot stuff.”
He did as Rose ordered. She was just that kind of woman. “You’d make a heck of a military officer, Ms. Parker.”
“I told you. Call me Rose.” She added gaily, “And I wouldn’t last two minutes in the military. First time someone told me to do something dumb and I told them my opinion of it, they’d bounce me out on my ample behind.”
“They probably would, at that,” he allowed.
The elevator door opened and he held it for her while she stepped inside.
She said warmly, “I got in touch with the Patches of Light folks. Cassidy’s bills will be taken care of tomorrow, thanks to your generous donation.”
All of a sudden this woman seemed to have warmed up to him. Not that Mitch was complaining. She scared him a little. He escorted her into the parking garage and held her car door for her while she climbed into an original, 1970s vintage Dodge Charger.
She rolled down the window to thank him, and then added, “You think about what I said. That girl needs you. And I’m thinki
ng maybe you need her.” On that note, Rose stomped on the accelerator, forcing him to jump back as her muscle car surged forward.
Now, what on earth did she mean by that parting shot?
CHAPTER THREE
Cassidy shifted position and a sharp pain shot through her neck. She woke the rest of the way and the full effect of sleeping in an uncomfortable recliner chair slammed into her. If a load of rocks had been dumped on her, she wouldn’t feel much worse.
With consciousness came memory. She jolted upright. Cody.
The steady beep of his heart monitor soothed her panic. He was still alive. He’d had another heart attack last night. A bad one this time. Although in his condition, they were all bad. And each one took its toll, leaching away a little more of his precious strength. He would need every bit of it to survive a heart transplant—if and when a heart became available.
“There you are, baby girl,” a female voice managed to boom from the doorway and still seem quiet.
“Hey, Rose. How are you this morning?”
“I’m fine. Question is, how are you?”
The social worker had been a godsend, a surrogate mother and sturdy shoulder to cry on over the past few months. The formidable woman had been able to cut through the layers of military bureaucracy and get Cody’s health insurance straightened out when no one else could.
“I’m fine,” Cassidy lied.
“And Cody?”
“He’s stable. He had a heart attack last night, but Dr. Mistler is amazing.”
“Your boy’s the amazing one. He’s some fighter. Like his mama.”
Cassidy didn’t know about that. Her breakdown last night had been pretty epic. And she hadn’t been much better during the crisis with Cody. The encounter with that major had really shaken her up. Of course, she was such a mess right now that it didn’t take much to freak her out.
“I’ve got good news for you, Miss Cassidy.”
She stared at the brimming excitement on the social worker’s face suspiciously. Good things didn’t happen to her these days. “Yeah?” she asked cautiously.
