Driftwood Lane (Nantucket #4)(21)

It seemed like an hour later when Jake swung into the hospital parking lot. She tightened her hold on Ben as he screeched to a halt at the ER doors.

Jake put the truck in park, and Meridith fumbled for the doorknob.

“I’ll get him.” Jake rounded the truck, opened her door, and pulled Ben carefully from her arms.

Once inside, she approached the admissions desk while Jake set Ben in a chair.

“I’ll park the truck,” he said. “Be right back.”

Jake stood when Meridith entered the waiting room. A nurse wheeled Ben to the door, which opened automatically. Ben’s cast looked wet and heavy. His eyes were closed, his head lolling against the chair back.

“How’s he doing?”

“He’s nicely sedated,” the nurse said, then turned to Meridith. “Here’s the prescription, and you’ll need to make an appointment with his pediatrician.”

Meridith nodded. “What about school?”

“He should be able to go back Monday. Is he right-handed?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“That’s good. He might need those painkillers the next couple days, and remember to keep the cast dry.”

“I’ll get the truck.” The chill in the air felt good against Jake’s heated skin. He’d hated waiting in the lobby while Benny was so upset, but he could hardly insist on going back. Besides, it had given him time to pray for the kid. As if the boy hadn’t already suffered enough, now this.

He felt awful about the ladder. Guilty. And he hated the way it felt. Like he’d let Benny down again.

The kid was fine now, though, he reminded himself. Resting peacefully. He was glad they’d given him pain meds. Meridith had probably insisted. He’d been surprised she already had the kids on her insurance. But on second thought, he expected no less.

When he pulled the truck to the door, the nurse wheeled Benny out. Jake picked him up and set him in the middle. By the time he was behind the wheel, Ben was slouched across Meridith’s lap.

“He’s sound asleep,” Meridith said. She set her hand on the little boy’s shoulder awkwardly, as if she didn’t know where to put it.

“Best thing for him.” He turned toward the pharmacy.

“Where are you going?”

“Pharmacy.”

“You don’t have to do that. We’ve kept you out late enough.”

“He’ll need the pain meds in the morning.” Jake turned on the heat. Meridith was probably cold in that short-sleeved sweater.

While they waited for the prescription, she called home and checked on the kids again. He could tell from her end that the guests had arrived and retired to their room.

She was still on the phone with her friend when he pulled out of the pharmacy parking lot. “No,” she was saying. “You go on home.

We’ll be there in a matter of minutes . . . Did he ask me to return his call?”

Lover Boy must’ve called. Jake eased around a corner, then flipped off the heat.

Meridith closed her phone.

“Your friend headed home?”

“Yes. Her daughter needs help with math.”

As silence settled around them, he reviewed the evening for the dozenth time, remembering the grimace on Meridith’s face when Ben had fallen, the worry lines etched across her forehead. If he’d doubted she cared about the kids, those doubts had faded. Maybe she went about it wrong, but there’d been no mistaking her concern.

All that time in the waiting room had given him too much time to think. She seemed far too normal to be bipolar. Some quirks, sure, but nothing dangerous or crazy. But, he reminded himself, a person with bipolar disorder could have frequent and extended periods of normality between the depressed and manic phases. He had to remember that. Couldn’t let those sea-green eyes beguile him.

“Thanks for the ride. That was above and beyond.”

“Wanted to be sure the little man was okay. My fault anyway.” He’d be more careful in the future. No ladders left standing, no nail guns left on.

“I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Shouldn’t have left the ladder up.”

“Let’s just call it an accident. The doctor said it was a minor break. Should heal in three to four weeks.”

Ben shifted, heaved a deep sigh, then settled.

“Just glad he’s not in pain anymore. He’ll have fun drawing pictures on the cast, getting autographs. When the itching starts, tell him to use a blow drier set on cool to blow air inside it.”

“You’ve broken an arm?”

“And a leg and a wrist.”

“Oh my. You must’ve been a handful.”

He chuckled. “And then some.” He had a feeling some of his escapades would shock the stockings right off her. But with the kind of childhood he’d had, he was lucky he wasn’t rotting in jail.

“Never broke a bone?” he asked.

She shook her head.

She’d probably never stepped in a mud puddle, much less broken a bone. The same could probably be said for her anal-retentive fiancé.

Not fair, Walker. You don’t even know him.

He glanced at her hand in the darkened cab. The diamond glimmered under a passing streetlamp—an ordinary solitaire diamond. Boring. He’d buy his woman something unique, something that suited her, something different and special. Not that he had a woman.