by Tina Beckett
This little boy of about six years old was too thin for his age and bone structure. His hair had been cropped very short, as was the custom, but she could see scratch marks on his scalp, and a little bald spot where the hair was worn away. The child didn’t look at her but kept his eyes downcast, a sure sign of insecurity. He was not as frisky as the other children. Then the boy looked up at her and his eyes widened, fixating on her red hair that the wind had begun to tease from its clip.
“What’s the problem?” she asked his father, who had distant black eyes. He made eye contact but dropped his gaze quickly.
“He…no…” Frustrated with his attempt at English, he launched into a monologue in Spanish about the boy’s problems, pointed to the bald spot on his head and then at the boy’s back.
“His father says that he’s always hurting himself, falling down or tripping, and then the spot on his head, he keeps rubbing it, and if he doesn’t stop is going to be bald before he’s seven years old.”
A smile curved up her lips at that last statement. “It’s okay. He won’t be bald, but we do have to figure out the reason he’s rubbing the spot.” She held out a piece of candy to him. First his gaze flashed to his father, then he accepted it and focused on unwrapping the little sweet. “Kids his age, especially boys, are accident prone. They run full blast and don’t see the hazards, so he’ll stop falling if he stops running so fast.” She waited while Judd interpreted that part.
“What’s your name?”
“Alejandro.” He bobbed his head politely.
“Is his mother here? I could talk to her about some things she can do to help keep him calm, from a woman’s perspective.” She’d had lots of training in pediatrics, and now seemed a good time to share some of it.
Judd hunkered over and whispered to her. “Mother’s not in the picture. Died last year. He’s raising the boy alone.”
A sick feeling turned in Rebel’s gut. No child should have to suffer the loss of a parent at that age. She knew exactly what it was like. An ache formed inside her, and she just wanted to reach out, gather the little boy against her and never let go of him. He was an innocent victim and his injuries may have been an attempt to gain his father’s attention.
“Let me check him and listen to his lungs, look at his injuries and then we’ll have the doctor look at him, too.” She set about her tasks, but when she placed the stethoscope on his back he winced and cried out.
Rebel pulled up his shirt to look at his back. “Oh!” She nearly cried out in pain for the boy. “What happened?” She shot a questioning look at the father. “This time.”
“He fell from the high loft in the hay barn,” Judd translated. “He and the other kids were playing a game, and he lost his grip on the rope and fell.”
“You’re kidding, right?” She reached for the boy’s hands. Healing rope burns gave evidence to Pedro’s explanation. With a shake of her head, she took Alejandro’s chin in her hand and gently tilted his face up until he looked at her. He blinked, as if coming back to himself, and rolled the candy around in his mouth until he’d tucked it into one cheek. “You have to be more careful, little man. You hurt yourself too much.”
After Judd had interpreted for the boy, he shrugged. “I…okay,” he said, demonstrating some understanding of English.
“You can hurt yourself doing things like that.”
He only grinned and resumed playing with the candy in his mouth.
“If his mother is…gone, then what does he do during the day? Who takes care of him?”
The father offered an explanation, which was then translated. “He goes to school during the day, then comes home and one of the neighbor kids looks out for him while Pedro is still working. He won’t stay in the daycare.”
Rebel couldn’t help but imagine what she would do if she were closer at hand. Children were at risk for injuries and death if left unsupervised as they didn’t have the capacity to determine risk compared to what the perceived fun would be. She pressed her lips together and tried to resist the primal mothering urge that had begun to surface. If only…
“Pedro says he doesn’t know what to do with him. The boy won’t stay in the house after school, just runs and runs and runs as soon as he’s off the bus. That’s why he’s so skinny.” Judd listened again to Pedro. “He wants to know if there is a medicine or something Duncan can give him to make him behave better.”
“I’m sorry, Pedro. This isn’t a matter of medication, but may be the only way for him to express his grief at the loss of his mother.” Pedro nodded, opened his mouth as if he were going to say something, then pressed his lips firmly together and turned away. Rebel could see the frustration and anger in him. “Children often need to cry in order to get those feelings they don’t understand out of them.”
Pedro pointed at his son, anger blazing in his eyes. “No cry. He no cry.” He launched into another explanation to Judd.
“When Pedro’s wife died, it was because she was an alcoholic. He doesn’t want Alejandro to cry for a woman who chose the bottle over them.”
So misunderstood. Grief had grabbed this family by the throat and hadn’t let go. They needed to be in counseling, but how to suggest it to a man still entrenched in the angry phase of grief was beyond her comprehension.
“Duncan, I need your help.” Though she spoke to him, she busied herself with taking Alejandro’s blood pressure.
“What’s up?” Duncan stepped closer and nodded to Pedro, spoke a few words of greeting.
“Kid’s got a case of Superman syndrome.”
“A what?”
“Superman. Thinks he’s invincible, and is into serious risk taking.”
“What is he, six?” Duncan glanced at the kid and frowned.
“Still thinks he’s Superman. Just needs a cape.” After relaying the list of injuries his father had reported and the escalation of them, she turned his hands over to show the rope burns to Duncan.
“So what’s really going on?” That was the question. There was always something behind a person’s behavior, a motivation, even if they were six years old and didn’t know it. She explained the loss of his mother and the emotionally distant father to Duncan as quickly as possible.
He sat with a sigh and examined Alejandro, speaking in Spanish. Pedro seemed to relax a little as he listened to Duncan. Then Pedro stiffened. “No.” He grabbed Alejandro by the hand and began to walk away. Rebel let out a gasp of distress and looked at Duncan.
“You can’t let him just walk away like that. We have to do something more.” There was always something to be done. Alejandro turned to look over his shoulder at her and her heart nearly broke at his big brown eyes beseeching her to do something.
“Uno momento, Pedro,” Duncan said, and the man stopped, but his leg twitched in his eagerness to get away from the situation. Some men couldn’t handle emotion and either ran from it or covered it with anger. Pedro was obviously a runner, so his son came by it naturally. Duncan motioned for the man to return the boy to the chair and spoke to him in Spanish.
Fortunately, the man responded, nodding now and then. Rebel gingerly lifted the boy’s shirt to have a better look at the wounds he’d sustained in the fall while Judd translated. “It’s okay, little man. I’m going to take care of you, don’t worry about anything.” She applied a non-sting wound spray to cleanse the open areas on his back and then a soothing ointment to prevent infection. The wounds on his hands were nearly healed, but she was sure they had hurt like crazy.
Responding to her gentle touch, the boy looked at her, hesitation in his eyes, as if he’d not known much mothering in his short life. He reached out to touch a stray lock of her hair. With careful focus, he took the strand and wrapped it around his finger. A curious expression covered his face, as if he hadn’t ever seen such a thing, and he probably hadn’t. Then he released it and it sprang back against her shoulder, and he grinned.
“Nice to meet you, Alejandro. I’m Rebel.” She shook his hand and noted he had
a pretty strong grip. But she could tell he was definitely underweight.
He bobbed his head, but didn’t take his eyes off of her hair. “Buenas dias, señorita.”
Duncan patted Pedro on his shoulder. The man still stood stiffly with his arms crossed, his back to the child, but at least he hadn’t left.
“What did you say to him?”
“I told him he and the boy both needed some support. We’ll pay for it, but we’d really like him to go.” Duncan cast a glance at Pedro. “He’s not happy about it, but says he will try. At least it’s a start.”
He took a breath and let it out in a huff. He squatted by Alejandro and spoke to him, getting more information than Rebel could. She didn’t know what he was saying, but in a few seconds Alejandro gave a grin and then looked up at Rebel, his eyes sparkling for the first time since he’d arrived.
“What did you say to him?” She played along, pleased to see a light of humor in those defeated eyes.
“I told him you were an Irish fairy come here just to help him.” Though his face was stoic, there was a playful light in his eyes she responded to.
“Me? A fairy?” Seriously? At her height? “Aren’t they tiny little creatures and have tiny little wings?”
“I told him the only way you could tell a real Irish fairy was that they had beautiful, curly red hair and an impish gleam in their remarkable green eyes, but you had to look closely to find it.”
“Duncan,” she said. Her heart fluttering wildly at his words. The only glint in her eyes had recently been put there by him. And a fresh beating of her heart.
“Hey, you made him smile again, and that’s a beautiful thing.” He held her gaze for a second longer then broke away to answer Alejandro’s next question. “The other ladies around have tried to offer some mothering, but he hasn’t bonded with any of them. Until you.”
Alejandro distracted Duncan with another question, and he turned to answer the boy.
“He really likes you, you know?” Judd said, and gave her a playful poke in the arm.
“Well, he’s a sweet kid.”
“I mean Duncan. He really likes you.”
Rebel gave an assessing look at Judd. Was it true? Did Duncan really like her in the way Judd meant or was Duncan just having a good time while she was present and would move on to the next woman when he realized she could never give him what he needed? Was that reality or just her own fears surfacing?
“Oh. Yes. Well.” Flustered, she didn’t know what to say.
Duncan stood and the moment was over.
The tension that had eased resurfaced again when Pedro collected Alejandro. There was nothing to be done at the moment. Time would heal, eventually, but Rebel wanted to do something else to help him. To take him in her arms and rock him to sleep, the way he should have been all of his life. The boy went reluctantly with his father, casting longing glances at Rebel. As if the Irish fairy could help him.
A pain filled her heart as she watched him walk away.
What had started out as a lovely day had faded into a low hum of concern for Alejandro. Somehow she needed to figure out a way to get back here and help. Something in her called to this little boy, and she wanted to be around for him. Farming accidents were fairly common and if something happened to Pedro, what would happen to Alejandro?
She imagined she and Duncan would be heading back to Albuquerque soon and this lovely weekend would be committed to the memory books of her mind. She couldn’t imagine another weekend being more wonderful. Or more impossible to hang on to. There was just no way she could be what Duncan wanted or needed. After seeing him, his family, the way they were, this had to be just a one-time event. She just didn’t have it in her to be what he needed, and there was no way she would taint this family with her genes.
“Come here, children,” Lupe instructed, and ushered them from the heat of the outdoors to the cool interior of the home. Ceiling fans ran in every room and the windows were left open a few inches in order to facilitate circulation. The adobe structure needed no artificial cooling.
Rebel and Duncan settled at a large wooden table where several of Duncan’s older female relatives sat. Duncan introduced her to the matriarchs of the family, who all seemed to study her.
“They mean no harm, they’re just curious about you.” He took her hand. “As I’ve not brought many lady friends here, they are taking the opportunity to determine whether I’m worthy of you.” These ladies who had helped to raise him loved him, but didn’t always trust his judgment in women. That made him laugh. They were so right. At least up until now.
“Don’t you mean that the other way around?”
“No. Once you helped out with Rafael, they decided you were made of gold and can do no wrong.” He grinned. “I’m the one in the hot seat.”
“I see. I like them already.” Was she really seeing this? Was his family already taking her under their wings as one of their own? He looked at her as if he saw her, saw who she really was. That frightened her. She sipped her coffee and realized Lupe must have put a dash of red chili in the coffee as well. It had a nip to it. Or maybe it was the close proximity to Duncan and all he represented that made her sweat. The temperature was definitely going up.
“Tell me, dear, where are you from?” one of the aunties asked her. Before she could respond, Duncan’s phone rang, and he got up to answer it then glanced at Rebel and moved farther away. That was curious. Made her wonder if it was work.
Lupe made the introductions as to who was the oldest and the youngest and the ladies began to argue about who looked the best and who had the best hair and the fewest wrinkles among them. Rebel couldn’t help but be engaged and put at ease by these women.
The laugh in Rebel’s throat caught when Duncan re-entered the room. Something was wrong. It was in his eyes, in his walk, in the energy around him. He looked only at her, and her heart sank. Somehow she knew this news was only for her.
And it was bad.
She stood, nearly knocking over her chair. “What is it? I know it’s bad, just tell me.”
The smile that he’d been suppressing burst out from his heart. Unable to contain his joy any longer, he had to share it with the only other person who would understand and appreciate it. He embraced her, and he felt the trembling of her body against his, as if she could already read him and know there was something going on. “I’m sorry, Rebel. I didn’t mean to scare you. Eric was taken off life support this morning.” He felt her go stiff in his arms, and he hurried to tell her the rest. “He’s breathing on his own, and stable.” A rough laugh escaped him. He didn’t know if it was relief or what, but it felt good to let it out.
“Are you serious?” She pulled back from him, her gaze frantically searching his. Unknowingly, she reached out to him, clutching his arms with both of her hands.
“Totally serious. That was Dr. Simmons who called just now. She wanted to tell me the news herself.” Another laugh of relief rushed out of him. “I can’t believe it. I had little hope for his recovery.”
“Oh, my God, Duncan. I can’t believe it.” She grabbed him around the shoulders and held him close. The feel of her body against his was such a relief, such a wonder. He didn’t care if there were fifty witnesses, he wasn’t going to let go of her.
“What’s going on? Did someone win the lottery?” Lupe asked, reminding him of where they were. He was on such a high he’d almost forgotten. Duncan moved to face them but tucked Rebel against his side, wanting to hold on to her and give her some support. He knew she was as gobsmacked as he was at the moment.
“It feels like it. The little boy Rebel and I rescued from the car last week is off life support.” He rested one hand on the table to support himself. “It’s such a relief.”
“Tell us what happened,” Auntie Matilda said. “I didn’t hear the story.”
Rebel looked to Duncan and made a chagrined face. “You tell it. I’m not a very good storyteller.”
“Bah, both of you sit down and tell us
what happened. We want to hear how you rescued this little boy. You did it together, no?” Auntie Esmeralda patted the seat beside her and urged Rebel into it. Duncan dropped into the chair beside her and rested his arm on the back of her chair.
“Okay. I’ll get it started, but then you have to join in and add your piece of it,” Duncan said. “You were as important as I was in this.”
“No, I wasn’t.” She shook her head in that self-deprecating way she had.
“Actually, you were more important because you found him. If you hadn’t found him, he would have died.”
Saying nothing, Rebel pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling, and he saw the flash of tears before she looked away.
Duncan recounted the tale, with Rebel adding details here and there.
“What will happen to him? And what will happen to the mother?” Those questions were posed by Auntie Esmeralda again.
“We don’t know yet, but at his age the brain is very resilient.” He certainly hoped so.
“As for the mother, she’s probably suffered enough for her mistake.” Rebel shrugged.
“We generally don’t get so attached to our patients, but this situation…” Duncan tapered off and looked at Rebel. He swallowed a few times, controlling his emotion.
“That’s how you met? By saving the life of a child?” Esmeralda leaned forward in her chair.
“Yes.” Duncan confirmed her statement.
“You will have a special bond forever because of this.”
Duncan held Rebel’s gaze. “We already do.” His voice dropped and he cleared his throat again, somewhat embarrassed to admit such a thing in front of the ladies, but it was true.
“How about I show you around the ranch now that there are no thunderstorms or medical emergencies?” Duncan was after any excuse to be alone with Rebel.
“Wonderful. I’ve love to see more of the place since we’ll leave tonight, right?”
“Let’s see what the rest of the day brings. I’m in no hurry to go back to the real world, are you?”
Shy, she dropped her gaze, but squeezed his hand. “No. I’m not.”
