by Loree Lough
She went on to explain how after the breakup, she dated a few guys on the rebound. “And then I met the man of my dreams. A pediatrician—Connor’s doctor, as a matter of fact. We met at one of the Stone family parties. Josh and Hunter were best buds in high school. Went their separate ways for a while but stayed in touch. So imagine my surprise when I helped my sister bring her twins in for a checkup, and Josh was the great Dr. Miller she’d been raving about. I mean, Miller is one of the most common names in the phone book, y’know?”
Brooke hadn’t made the connection, either.
A dreamy smile lit Stacy’s face as she continued, “Anyway, the rest is history.” She pointed at the young girl and boy sitting on either side of Tony. “Those are mine. Ours, I’m proud to say. When this job opened up, I put my degree in early childhood development to use and applied for the position. Lucky me, I got the job!”
“I’m sure luck had very little to do with it,” Brooke said. “It’s easy to see you’re very good at what you do. This place runs like a top.”
Stacy studied Brooke’s face for a second or two. “Just so you know…if you ever need a letter of recommendation for any reason, Hunter is your man.”
The comment came so far from left field that Brooke didn’t know how to react.
“Josh and I both value his opinion. And the kids—oh, you should see their eyes light up when they hear their uncle Hunter is coming over. When he called to get us together, he said you’re good people, and that’s good enough for me.”
Brooke tilted her head, knowing that she hadn’t earned his loyalty or his words of praise.
“Oh, there you go looking surprised again. He told me why you’ve mostly avoided him. In your shoes, I might have done the same.”
Might have done the same, meaning at some point over the years, Stacy would have accepted the olive branch.
“I didn’t intend to tie up your whole morning,” Stacy said, standing. “But it’s your own fault for being so easy to talk to!” She smiled. “Looks like Hunter was right about that, too. I just hope I haven’t made you late for your appointment with Adele.”
“No,” Brooke said, checking her watch. “No, I have plenty of time.” It wasn’t as though she were in any hurry to tell her future boss that she didn’t know when—or if—she could start work.
Stacy walked with her as far as the door. “No huge rush getting all those forms filled out, signed and delivered. Whenever Connor is ready, give me a call, and we’ll see what we can do about moving him to the top of the waiting list.”
“I appreciate that. And thanks for seeing me on such short notice. It’s been a genuine pleasure meeting you.”
“Believe me, the pleasure is all mine. Tell Adele I said hi.”
She remembered from her days at Johns Hopkins School of Nursing that the hospital was the size of a small city—big enough to require its own zip code and post office. Brooke made good use of the long walk between the day-care center and her future boss’s office by trying to figure out how she’d phrase things…and hoping that by asking for what could be months of patience, she wouldn’t lose the job altogether.
She arrived with two minutes to spare, barely time to grab a magazine from the table in the waiting room before Adele Mitchell opened her office door. After exchanging pleasantries, she invited Brooke to have a seat.
“Thanks for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice, Ms. Mitchell.”
“No thanks necessary. And please, call me Adele.” She sat behind her desk and opened Brooke’s application folder. “So how are things going at home?”
This was hardly the time for full disclosure; Adele wanted proof that Brooke could balance work and family even during difficult times. “For the most part, we’re all adjusting fairly well,” she said, choosing her words carefully.
“Remarkable, all things considered. Did the plant we sent arrive in time?”
“It was lovely. I mailed the thank-you notes last week.”
Adele leaned forward and lowered her voice to say, “It was my first time using that florist, and I just wanted to make sure you liked the arrangement.” Sitting back again, she said, “Have you had a chance to find a place of your own yet?”
“Yes and no. I’ve made arrangements to take over my sister’s mortgage so that Connor won’t have to adjust to a new home in addition to everything else.”
“Makes perfect sense.” Adele handed Brooke a chart. “That’s your schedule for the remainder of April. Take a few minutes to look it over, and if you see anything that looks unreasonable, I can probably make adjustments.”
Brooke didn’t need a few minutes. “I hate to be difficult,” she began, “especially after you’ve been so patient and understanding, but my nephew is only eighteen months old. I’m afraid he isn’t coping well with the loss of his parents. We’ve started seeing a child psychologist, who made it pretty clear that I need to protect him from any drastic changes in his routine right now.” She tapped the schedule. “I’m afraid swing shifts are out of the question. At least for the time being.”
Adele folded her hands on the desk, nodding.
Brooke didn’t know her well enough to tell the difference between thoughtful contemplation and well-controlled annoyance.
“Exactly how much more time will you need?”
“I wish I knew. A couple of months, maybe?”
Adele sighed. “I was afraid you’d say that. Problem is, I should have filled this position weeks ago and my nurses have about had it with all the extra hours.”
Brooke’s heart sank. “I understand.” And she did. In Adele’s shoes, she might not have been as tolerant. “I don’t suppose there’s a part-time nursing position open. Maybe I could relieve some of the nurses on the day shift, just until Connor has settled in and can handle day care?”
Adele typed something into her computer. “No, I’m afraid our only open jobs right now are full-time.”
And then she brightened. “I do have one part-time job open, though. It’s a thirty-hour work week, days, mostly, but the salary isn’t anywhere near what we promised you as a trauma nurse.” She printed out the job description. “As you’ll see,” she said, giving it to Brooke, “your hours would be far more flexible.”
Patient advocate, Brooke read. And when she reached the salary paragraph, she inhaled sharply.
“I know,” Adele said, frowning. “Far less than what you’d make as a trauma nurse.” She brightened slightly to add, “But you’d qualify for benefits, and I’d throw in a parking pass. And since it’s days, I’m hoping day care won’t be a major issue. You have family to help out, right?”
Nodding, Brooke scanned the first paragraph of the job description:
With duties comparable to that of a social worker, the ideal candidate will possess knowledge of medical terminology, and excellent communication skills are a must. The ideal candidate will act as a collaborator between patients and hospital staff, as well as between patients’ family members and hospital staff.
“You’ve been very up-front with me,” Adele continued, “so I feel it’s only fair to be honest with you, too.” She pointed at the nursing schedule, then at the job description. “It’s one or the other, and in either case, it’s ASAP.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, why is the current advocate leaving?”
“Her husband is taking a transfer to Chicago. But they aren’t leaving for another three weeks, so she’ll have time to train you.”
Brooke knew she had no choice but to accept the job. She also knew that in addition to becoming an emissary between hospital staff and patients and their families, she’d be a juggler-in-training, too, as she learned to balance house-and yard work, caring for a troubled toddler and the demands of a brand-new career.
“If it’s any consolation, Brooke, I was in a similar position not long ago. Divorced, hadn’t worked outside the home in years, faced with providing for my daughter on the next-to-nothing child support my ex paid…when he was in the
mood. It took a few months to figure it all out, but eventually it all came together.”
Brooke nodded again. “How soon would you need me to start?”
“Monday? Wednesday at the latest.”
That didn’t leave much time to find someone to care for Connor while she worked…someone he already knew and felt comfortable with. Someone like Hunter?
CHAPTER TWELVE
“SO? WHAT DO you think? Can you help out?”
“You know I’ll give you as much time as I can, honey.”
Brooke heard the hesitation in her grandmother’s response, and listed all the unspoken reasons behind it: The play only just opened. I have half a dozen fund-raisers lined up. I’m seventy-five years old….
“I promise, Gram, it’ll only be a few hours a day, for a few weeks. I’ve already started interviewing sitters. When I find one that Connor seems comfortable with, I’ll have her over—a lot—so he’ll get so used to her that he won’t think a thing of it when I’m at work.”
“I’ll talk with Felix. That old handyman of mine loves that baby almost as much as we do. And the feeling is mutual.”
“That’s true.” And it was only temporary.
“So what does a patient advocate do, exactly?” her grandmother wanted to know.
Brooke did her best to quote the job description Adele had given her.
“Ah, like that sweet young thing who stepped in to help us when your grandfather was so ill.”
Brooke remembered the woman who went to bat for Deidre half a dozen times, easing her worries and fears and resolving misunderstandings between her and the medical staff.
“Do you really think you have the personality for a job like that?”
Wondering if she’d fail or succeed in the job already had her nerves on edge. “Good grief, Gram. Why would you ask such a question?”
“Because as a trauma nurse, you never had to get involved with patients. They were flown in from one emergency or another, you fixed them up and off they went to the coronary unit or Pediatrics…or the morgue. There wasn’t time to get caught up in family dynamics. And if the hospital lost a patient, you weren’t responsible for delivering the bad news, either. But this job? It’ll require you to make personal connections, to sooth fears and ease grief, and not just for a few hours, either.”
Thanks for the vote of confidence, she thought. “Gram. Please. I can handle it.”
“Don’t make me laugh,” Deidre said. “You. With your intimacy issues.”
Brooke didn’t need to ask for an explanation.
“Need I remind you that except for the Donald debacle, you ended every relationship you were involved in?”
No, you needn’t remind me.
“Oh, now, don’t look hurt. You know I love you. If I don’t tell it like it is, who will?”
“Well, you’ve got me there,” Brooke said, grinning.
“Have you told Hunter yet?”
“No. Not yet.”
“After all he’s done for us lately? Why not?”
“Yes, he’s done a lot for us, but he’s also grown territorial.” And before Deidre had a chance to launch into another Hunter the Wonderful speech, Brooke said, “I realize he and Connor were close before the accident and that they need to go right on seeing one another as often as possible to help the baby adjust to life without Beth and Kent. And that they’ll almost definitely stay close, indefinitely. I get that. In fact, I approve of it. But that doesn’t mean I have to get involved in all the…closeness.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Deidre said to the ceiling. She clucked her tongue. “Honestly, Brooke. How do you hope to meet strangers’ needs—when they’re at their most vulnerable—when you’re completely blind to what Hunter needs? Or…are you just so heartless that you refuse to see it?”
Brooke had long ago accepted that Deidre would always believe Hunter could do no wrong. That didn’t mean she had to like it. Or agree.
“All he needs is access to his ‘little buddy,’” she said, drawing quote marks in the air. And you singing his praises at every turn. “I’ll make sure you have everything you need,” she said. “Diapers, sippy cups, juice and snacks, toys… Thank goodness I have until Wednesday to get ready.”
“I have to say, it isn’t like you to leave things until the last minute.”
“I just got word about my start date.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
Brooke closed her eyes and summoned patience. “Well, I’d better get home and relieve Hunter. Thanks for agreeing to help out, Gram.” She kissed her cheek. “See you Wednesday morning.”
She was halfway down the walk when Deidre called out, “Bring earplugs, or the deal’s off!”
Brooke kept walking as if she hadn’t heard the remark. Her grandmother was probably kidding. “But just in case,” she muttered, “I’d better test my earphones, see if they’ll do in a pinch.”
Hunter was out back when she arrived at Beth’s, walking the backyard fenceline with Connor on his shoulders.
“This,” he said, pointing, “is called a picket. And that,” he added, “is a knothole.” In the corner of the yard, he stopped, grabbed a low-hanging tree branch. “And this,” he said, breaking off its tip, “is a twig. Can you say that? Too-wig.”
“Too-wig,” Connor echoed, inspecting it.
Hunter showed Connor the gate, its hinges and its latch, enunciating the words, then waiting patiently while the baby repeated them.
“Any minute now,” Brooke said, joining them, “I expect to hear the Mr. Rogers theme song.”
Turning, Hunter smiled. In one tick of her watch, it looked as though he was glad to see her. In the next, his smile faded as guarded realization set in.
“Look who’s here,” he said, taking Connor’s hand, waving it at Brooke.
The baby studied her face for a moment and rested his head on Hunter’s shoulder…facing away from her. Surely the baby wasn’t old enough to punish her for leaving him with other people.
Was he?
Hunter was watching her. Closely. Brooke did her best to hide how much it had hurt seeing something akin to rejection on Connor’s face, and in his body language.
“Poor kid is exhausted,” Hunter said, taking a step closer. “Tried to put him down for a nap, but he wasn’t having any of it. After three tries, I cried uncle. Thought maybe some fresh air would make him sleepy.” Now he looked at Connor. “But no dice, right, buddy?”
It annoyed her that he was behaving like Connor’s dad. And that he felt it necessary to make excuses for the baby’s obvious rebuff. But she couldn’t, wouldn’t let it show.
“Stacy is terrific,” she said, forcing cheerfulness into her voice that she didn’t feel. “She put Connor on the waiting list and said that whenever he’s ready, she’ll make sure there’s space for him at the day-care center.”
“That’s great.” He took the porch steps two at a time, then held the screen door for her.
“Aren’t you afraid you’ll trip or lose your balance climbing the stairs that way?”
His eyes narrowed, but only slightly, before he said, “I’d never do anything to put Connor in harm’s way. You can take that to the bank.”
She followed him inside feeling very much like a chastised child. But she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how self-conscious it made her feel. After hanging her purse and jacket on a hook beside the door, Brooke shook the teakettle.
“Good,” she said, firing up the burner, “a full pot.” She grabbed two mugs. “Coffee or tea?”
Hunter held up a hand. “I’m good. But thanks.” He strapped Connor into his high chair and dropped some Kix cereal onto the tray. “So how did your meeting with your future boss go?”
She told him about the patient-advocate opening and how she’d agreed to give it a try. “Deidre was all over me about it earlier,” she admitted, popping a tiny cereal ball into her mouth. “She thinks I’m all wrong for the job. Or it’s all wrong for me.”
He frowned. “
No disrespect to your grandmother, but sometimes she can be harsh.”
Yes. She could. But admitting it would be disloyal.
“So what’s her problem with the job?”
Brooke hesitated, because if he agreed, she didn’t know what she might say.
“Not that my opinion counts for much, but I think you’ll be great at it.”
That surprised her. “Why?”
“Well, you’re usually outgoing and friendly—”
Was it her imagination, or had he verbally underscored usually?
“—organized and smart. With your background in the medical field, it seems like a job that’s tailor-made for you.”
“When do you start?”
“Wednesday.”
Frowning, Hunter leaned back in the chair. “Yeah? And who’s gonna mind this li’l guy?”
“Once I’m fully trained, I’ll work thirty hours, but until then it’s half days. Deidre and Felix will take turns watching him.”
“Deidre?” he asked, raising a brow.
He was probably echoing her own concerns: Deidre was seventy-five, Felix just shy of that. Could they handle an active toddler? Especially one with emotional issues?
“I’ve already started looking for someone to pick up the slack. Once I find a reliable caregiver—one who gets along well with Connor—she—or he—will stay here at the house with him until my hours increase. If things work out, he may never need to make the adjustment to day care.”
“Sounds like you have things all figured out.”
He sounded peeved, no doubt because he’d been a regular part of Connor’s life, almost from day one. She understood that Hunter expected her to include him in the final decision. But did he really expect her to inform him of every detail about the search and the interviews?
“I have some bad news,” he said.
“What kind of bad news?” Brooke asked slowly.
“Tried to make a pot of coffee while you were gone and blew a fuse. And when I went into the basement to replace it, I saw that the wiring is shot. If we don’t bring it up to code, this whole place is pretty much a fire trap.”
