A Mother's Love

by Dawn Stewardson

  Now, however, she’d come face-to-face with reality. And the reality was that Robbie was a happy, secure child—whom Hank loved very much.

  It was almost enough to start her wondering if she was making a mistake. If she should back away and content herself with being far less a part of his life than she wanted to be.

  But how could she?

  She’d felt him growing inside her and had given birth to him. Held him when he was barely a minute old. Nursed him. And she’d never stopped loving him with all her heart.

  He was part of her. Part of Carlos. How could she back away from that?

  The sound of a phone ringing interrupted her thoughts, and a second later Robbie trotted over to her with a painted wooden puzzle. They’d just spread all the pieces right side up on the floor when Audrey hurried into the room.

  “That was Mark,” she told Hank. “He and Valerie just got to the hospital.”

  “Do you want me to call about a flight?” Hank asked her. “Get you on the earliest one I can?”

  “Oh, yes, please. I’m so excited I can hardly think straight, let alone deal with the airlines.

  “Oh, and Hank,” she added as he was heading off, “don’t book a return one that comes in too late.

  “My daughter’s having her first baby,” she explained to Natalie as Hank disappeared. “They live in Idaho, so I’m not likely to arrive before she delivers.

  “But we decided it made more sense to have most of my time there afterward, with her and the baby, than sit around just waiting beforehand.

  “You know how it is with firstborns. Well, of course you do—you’re a doctor. They can be weeks late.”

  “Yes, they certainly can.”

  She glanced at her firstborn. Her only born. He’d been a mere eight days late, but she’d thought she’d never go into labor.

  “Oh, now I’m wondering if I should have said I’d stay longer than two weeks and gone earlier,” Audrey murmured. “Then I could be in the delivery room with her. But I just didn’t want to take too much time away from Robbie.”

  “Who’ll be looking after him while you’re away?”

  For a fleeting second, the hope that they might have no one lined up and that she could do it flitted through her mind.

  But she told herself they’d have something arranged, even before Audrey said, “One of my friends. She’s a widow, too, so she can move in on a moment’s notice.”

  Audrey turned toward Robbie, saying, “You’re going to be good as gold for Mrs. Harmand, aren’t you?”

  He nodded.

  “And will you miss me?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “How much?”

  Grinning, he stretched his arms apart as widely as they’d go.

  “Well, good, because I’m going to miss you, too. A whole bunch. But I’ll be back soon.”

  Focusing on Natalie again, she said, “Will you be all right here until Hank’s off the phone? I’m basically packed, but I’ve got some last-minute things to gather up.”

  “Sure, we’ll be fine. We’re just getting started on the puzzle. Right, Robbie?”

  “Uh-huh.” He turned his attention back to it as Audrey hurried from the room.

  Natalie sat on the floor beside him, very aware this was her first time alone with him in over three years.

  Her throat tight with emotion, she desperately wanted to wrap her arms around him and hug him half to death. She didn’t make a move, though.

  She knew better than to try to force herself on a child—even if he was her own—so she merely watched him, her eyes drinking in the way his dark hair curled onto his neck, the smoothness of his skin, the perfection of his little hands hovering over the pieces of the puzzle.

  The last time she’d seen him...

  But there was no sense thinking about how many milestones she’d missed in his life. The past was past, and the important thing was that she’d finally found him. Now all she had left to do was work things out with Hank.

  All? she silently repeated. What was she trying to do? Fool herself into believing that arriving at an agreement with him would be easy?

  There was no point in that, especially not when something he’d said earlier was still lingering in her memory.

  Every day Robbie spends with you will be a day he isn’t spending with me, he’d pointed out. And I’m not happy about that.

  Of course, she could say the same thing. So arriving at a plan they could both live with was going to be tough.

  “There,” Robbie said.

  Focusing on the puzzle, she saw he’d put a couple of the pieces together.

  “Good,” she said.

  As she was reaching for the one that would fit next to them, Hank reappeared.

  “I have Audrey on a flight that leaves in two hours,” he told her. “So I’m afraid we’ll have to cut this short. If the traffic around Newark’s bad, we could be tight for time.

  “Let’s get some shoes on you,” he added to Robbie. “You can’t walk around an airport in just socks.”

  Without even thinking before speaking, she said, “If it would be easier to leave him here, I’d be glad to stay with him.”

  “No,” Hank said so sharply that Robbie’s gaze darted to him.

  “I mean...thanks,” he added more gently. “But I like taking him places. Especially ones we don’t often go to.”

  She nodded, telling herself not to let his initial reaction bother her. But it was hard to do when he so obviously didn’t trust her. He was afraid that if he left Robbie with her, he’d come back to discover they’d vanished.

  “Crazy thinking,” she whispered under her breath.

  Even if kidnapping was something she’d consider, which she wouldn’t, the man was a police detective. If she tried to make a run for it with Robbie, Hank would have their descriptions all over the country in no time flat.

  Yet he figured she might try. And that made her wonder if he actually intended to ever let her be alone with her son.

  Maybe he was only putting on an act, only pretending he’d be willing to agree to some sort of compromise. Maybe, right this minute, his lawyer was working on a way to simply get her out of the picture.

  If that was it, if Hank Ballantyne was playing her for a fool, the sooner she talked to her lawyer again the better.

  But how could she possibly know whether that was it or not?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  BEFORE NATALIE HAD left Hank’s he’d apologized a second time for having to cut short her visit with Robbie. Then he’d suggested she come again tomorrow—and promised to call after he got back from taking Audrey to the airport, so they could decide on a time.

  But darkness had closed in around the Whispering Winds and she hadn’t heard from him, which was doing absolutely nothing for her peace of mind. The longer she waited, the more worried she was growing that her suspicions were right. That he was merely stringing her along with no real intention of trying to work out a compromise.

  Restlessly she wandered across the room and opened the door to the cool night air, thinking again that maybe she’d better phone her lawyer first thing in the morning.

  On the other hand, she might be wiser to hold off until she felt absolutely certain that Hank was playing games.

  Gazing into the moonlit night, she reminded herself one more time that working things out with him would be a thousand times preferable to starting a legal battle.

  When even their lawyers agreed on that, didn’t it make sense not to push too hard? To give him the benefit of the doubt? At least for the moment?

  While she was trying to decide if that was actually how she should proceed, the phone finally rang.

  “It’s Hank,” he said when she answered. “I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier, but it took me a while to get hold of Betty Harmand. The woman who’ll be looking after Robbie.”

  “Yes, Audrey mentioned her name.”

  “Well, I figured it made sense to talk to her before I set anything up with y
ou. And she wants to spend most of tomorrow at the house—not just come over when I’m leaving for work. She said she’d feel more comfortable if I was here with Robbie for a while.

  “But getting to the point, she’s bringing her things over in the morning, so would you mind waiting until later to come?”

  Telling herself that was a reasonable request, not an attempt to keep her away from her son every minute he possibly could, she said, “When did you have in mind?”

  “Oh...sometime after lunch? She won’t be arriving very early because the days I start on midnights I sleep in as late as I can. Or as late as Robbie lets me, to be more accurate.”

  “Then why don’t I call around one and see how things are going?”

  “Great. Talk to you then. Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  The moment she hung up, her mind returned to the question of whether the man was playing straight or playing games. It made her realize she was well on the way to driving herself crazy. She simply couldn’t spend much more time in this motel room, alone with her thoughts.

  Yet Hank started midnights tomorrow. And he’d said that meant she wouldn’t be able to see Robbie until late in the afternoons. Which meant she definitely had to start doing something.

  At home, she’d be able to immerse herself in her work, the way she had when she’d first returned to Villa Rosa after the earthquake—her husband dead and her son missing.

  She’d thrown all her energy into her practice and into supervising the rebuilding of the clinic, working such long hours that she was always far too exhausted to think.

  That was what she needed now. A way of keeping herself occupied. And if she could be useful at the same time, she would. So, come morning, she was going to call that hospital in Madison and offer to volunteer.

  * * *

  THE MADISON PLAINS HOSPITAL, although not imposingly large, was a modern three-story building. Natalie parked in the visitors’ lot, then headed inside and across the front lobby to the elevators.

  She had a 10:15 a.m. appointment with the chief of staff, a Dr. Brian Eisenberg, and she was hoping he’d give her suggestion an immediate thumbs-up.

  When she’d spoken with his assistant, first thing, she’d both explained why she wanted to see Eisenberg and asked the woman to call and verify her credentials with the AMA.

  Hospitals had to check out people they took on as volunteers, but if the medical association had already confirmed she was legit, there shouldn’t be any delay about her getting the go-ahead—assuming Eisenberg was as receptive to the idea as his assistant had implied was likely.

  He proved to be a pleasant, chubby man in his mid-fifties who listened without interrupting while she briefly explained her circumstances.

  When she’d finished he shook his head, saying, “What an awful thing for both you and Mr. Ballantyne.”

  She nodded. “It is, but hopefully we’ll manage to work something out. In the meantime... Well, as I told your assistant, I’m only licensed to practice in Michigan—and Guatemala, of course. But if I can help somehow...”

  “Oh, there’s no doubt about that. The only question is where we can make the best use of you. Is there anything in particular you see yourself doing?”

  “Not really. Since I don’t know how long I’ll be here, I wouldn’t expect—or want—any responsibility. So, just whatever you think.”

  “Well, you seem like a people person.”

  She smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “That’s how I meant it. And do you enjoy working with children?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “And you’re fluent in Spanish,” he said, glancing once more at the brief C.V. she’d written out and brought along.

  “You know, I think we’ve got a place you’d fit perfectly. The psychologist on Pediatrics left recently, and we haven’t managed to replace her yet. So if you basically filled in for her...

  “I’m not talking about the paperwork or anything like that, but we need someone who’s accessible to the patients and their families.

  “Our staff members often can’t make time to spend with children who are upset about being here. Or sit down and talk to parents who’ve got questions. Does that sound like something you’d be comfortable doing?”

  “Sure. There’d be questions I couldn’t answer, though. Hopefully not medical ones, but when it comes to hospital regulations and such...”

  “You’ll be able to check things like that. And we’ll put Visiting Consultant on your ID badge, so that when you don’t know something about the system, nobody will find it strange.”

  His gaze flickered to her C.V. again before he said, “Your Spanish is going to be a real bonus. We’ve got a situation at the moment that...

  “But it makes more sense to have you meet Dr. Koehler, the chief of Pediatrics, and have her tell you the details. I only know the general story.”

  Minutes later the two of them were on the second floor, in Cynthia Koehler’s office. She was fortysomething, with a warm smile, and seemed pleased at the prospect of having Natalie on her unit.

  “And I thought that since Dr. Lawson speaks Spanish,” Eisenberg continued his explanation, “she’d be a particular help with Señora Perez.”

  “A help?” Koehler said. “She’ll be more like a godsend.”

  “Good. Then why don’t I leave her with you? She’s here for another hour or two today, and... Well, you can discuss what sort of schedule will work.”

  He turned to Natalie, adding, “I’m sure you’ll be just fine. But if you have any problems, feel free to bring them to me.”

  As he left the office, Cynthia said, “How about we’re Natalie and Cynthia when we’re alone, Doctors Lawson and Koehler on the ward?”

  “Sounds fine.”

  “And you can use the psychologist’s office whenever you need privacy. A lot of parents have concerns that they don’t want to raise in front of their children.

  “I’ll have someone get you an office key later, but first let me tell you about Señora Perez. Because she’s always on the unit, and as soon as she discovers you speak her language...”

  Cynthia paused and smiled. “I’m getting ahead of myself. I have a bad habit of doing that.”

  “So do I.”

  “Ah, good, then we should have an easy time understanding each other. But as for Señora Perez, she’s the grandmother of Emma Perez, who’s a patient here. And I think it’ll be easier if I fill you in on the grandmother first, Emma second.”

  Natalie nodded.

  “Señora Perez spent most of her life on a farm in Puerto Rico, never learned English. And although we have enough Spanish-speaking staff that it wasn’t hard to get her basic background story, we can’t make a habit of dragging people away from their regular jobs to translate.

  “Fortunately, Emma’s bilingual, so that’s a big help. But she’s only seven. And...”

  Cynthia paused again, as if organizing her thoughts.

  “A couple of years ago,” she said after a moment, “Señora Perez came to live with her daughter, Emma’s mother, who’s been in New Jersey for...I’m not sure exactly how long, but she met Emma’s father after she moved here, so it must be at least eight years.

  “The father’s immaterial, though. They never married and he took off before Emma was born.

  “At any rate, getting to why Emma is here... There was a fire in the Perezes’ building. The grandmother wasn’t home at the time, but Emma and her mother were trapped in their third-floor apartment. And the mother threw Emma off the balcony to save her.”

  Natalie grimaced. Injuries from falling that far could be life-threatening.

  “She’s basically okay,” Cynthia continued. “She’s in traction, with multiple fractures to her right leg, but her prognosis is good. The X-rays don’t indicate any complications, so she’ll mend just fine.

  “However, her mother’s a different story. Rather than jumping, she went back into the apartment.

&n
bsp; “We don’t know why,” she added before Natalie could ask. “All we know is that she was overcome by smoke, and by the time the firefighters got to her...”

  Cynthia gave an unhappy little shrug. “She was taken to St. Aidan’s, which is the nearest level-one trauma hospital, and the word we have is that they doubt she’ll make it.”

  “Oh, no,” Natalie whispered.

  She’d been taught in med school that remaining emotionally detached from patients was critical to a doctor’s mental health. Still, every now and then she heard or saw something that managed to sneak right past her defenses. And the thought of a seven-year-old hospital patient with no father and a dying mother was one of those things.

  “Since her daughter can’t have visitors,” Cynthia was saying, “Señora Perez is spending all her time with Emma. Well, no, I’m exaggerating. It isn’t actually all her time.

  “She’s temporarily staying with a neighbor and goes there in the evenings. But we’ve got her every day and...Natalie, she’s in really rough shape.

  “She’s been told that her daughter will probably die, but my read is that she’s in complete denial.”

  “That’s hardly surprising, is it. I mean, the prospect of not only losing your daughter but being left with a seven-year-old to look after...”

  “Actually, there’s no question of her ending up with Emma. I’m not sure if she’s aware of that, but Child Services will step in before Emma’s released from the hospital. Señora Perez just isn’t in a position—financially or otherwise—to care for a child alone.”

  “Aren’t there any other relatives?”

  “We had someone ask her about that, and there don’t seem to be. There are none in New Jersey, and she said she moved here to be with her daughter because she had no one in Puerto Rico.

  “But figuring out exactly what will become of Emma isn’t urgent at this point. She’s nowhere near ready for discharge, and we can’t be certain about the mother’s outcome. So, for the moment, we’re pretty much in a holding pattern.

  “Given that, maybe you could just spend some time with her. She’s a sweet little girl and trying hard to be brave. But seven-year-olds are worriers at the best of times.”