Our Finest Hour (The Time #1)(13)
“Just a little.” Despite my frustration, I allow a short laugh. When I was younger I’d pretend I was just like my mom. My Dad didn’t put any sweetener in his tea, so I did, because that’s probably what my mom would have done, and I was sure I was just like her. But ever since I became a parent, I see how much I’m like my father. And I also see how that’s not a bad thing.
Finally, the nurse returns with a doctor.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Green.” He extends his arm.
“Aubrey Reynolds.” I do what I can not to jostle Claire while I shake his hand. “This is my dad, John.”
Dr. Green shakes hands with my dad and looks at Claire. “And this is our tiny patient, huh?”
Claire looks at him with her big, brown eyes and nods. He bends down and shows her his stethoscope.
“I’m going to listen to your heart with this, OK?”
“I know what that is.” Claire’s little voice rings out. “I’m a big fan of stethoscopes.”
I stifle a laugh. The doctor and nurse fall in love with Claire instantly, I see it in their eyes. It’s the first Claire-like sentence she has spoken in hours.
Dr. Green smiles and asks Claire how she got hurt.
“I was playing soccer and my feet got tangled underneath me and I fell.”
Listening to her talk about her injury makes my stomach ache. Dr. Green nods while she speaks, then he finishes examining her.
He tells Claire he’s going to make her feel better and take some pictures of her arm. Turning to the nurse, he orders pain medicine and x-rays.
I lay Claire down on the bed, where she takes the medicine like a champ, but when we get to the x-ray room, she clings to me. Finally the x-ray techs give up trying to get me out of the room and drape a lead apron over me. I sit beside Claire, holding her good hand.
Once we’re back in the emergency room bay, we wait some more. My dad takes out his phone and finds the PBS Kids app.
“WordGirl, please.” Claire’s request is so typical, it reminds me how constant children can be. All this drama, but she still loves what she loves.
Claire is on the bed, my Dad’s phone propped up on a pillow that lies across her lap. Dad sits in the empty chair beside me.
“How’re you holding up, Aubs?”
I groan under my breath, my eyes fixated on Claire. Blades of green grass stand out against the white bottoms of the cleats she’s still wearing. Her soccer uniform is too big, the shorts folded over twice to fit her tiny waist. The hospital bed dwarfs her.
“I wish it were me.” My eyes pinch as I try to maintain my composure. “She’s only four. I’m twenty-six, and I have no idea what she’s feeling right now. I hate knowing she’s in pain.”
“The worst thing for a parent is to watch their child suffer.” He says it like he knows.
“And a grandparent, too, huh?” This can’t be easy for him either. Grandpas are people who sneak you donuts when your parents aren’t looking. He’s that and more to Claire.
“Of course. But I was saying it from the perspective of a parent. Watching you suffer was hell on Earth.”
My confusion pulls my attention from Claire and to my dad. “I’ve never injured myself. Did something happen I don’t know about?”
His smile is sad. “Your mom. All your life I’ve watched you miss her, maybe less now that you have Claire. But so many times I saw the pain in your eyes, even though you never spoke a word of it. And there was nothing I could do to end your suffering.” He shakes his head as if it’s heavy, the white hair in his two-day-old stubble glinting in the fluorescent lights. “It’s a hurt that lasts a lifetime. I’m sorry she did that to you. I’m even sorrier I couldn’t give you pain medicine and make it better.”
His words wash over me. This man, who stays quiet when most people talk, has just said more about my pain than I ever knew he understood. I lay my hand on his shoulder.
“It’s OK, Dad. It wasn’t your place to end my suffering. She should’ve never inflicted it. And you’re right, I think about her less often since Claire was born.”
Dad’s hand covers mine, and he squeezes. Dr. Green pushes back the curtain and steps in, followed by a nurse. Dad and I stand.
“How are her x-rays?” I ask.
“It’s a pretty bad break.” He holds out a tablet with the images of the x-rays on the screen. “See this?” He points to a spot above her elbow, his finger moving along a line that cuts clean through it. “That’s the break. It’s called supracondylar, and it’s going to require surgery.” His gaze flicks to me. I think he’s trying for sympathetic, but it doesn’t resonate. This is just another day at the office for him.
“Surgery?” I look at my dad as if somehow he can make this all better.
“When?” My dad asks.
“ASAP. We’re bringing in a doctor from another hospital now. He specializes in pediatric orthopedic surgeries. He’s the best. No question.”
“What happens next?” My dad asks the question that’s in my head. My brain is still tripping over the idea of Claire’s little body in a surgical setting. Anesthesia… Iodine… Oxygen…
A shudder snakes its way down my body. I take a breath and try to focus on what Dr. Green is saying instead of my own fear.