Our Finest Hour (The Time #1)(32)

Less than a minute goes by before Isaac walks in. He’s holding an iPad in his hand. His scrub shirt is tucked into his pants, and his cell phone is clipped to his waist.

“How are you ladies doing?” He holds out an open palm to Claire. She slaps his hand as hard as she can. Grimacing, he shakes his hand and says, “Ow.”

His eyes are on me. “Aubrey? How are you?”

“Good. Enjoying a morning off work.”

“Me, too.” Isaac laughs at his own joke. He sits down on the wheeled seat and rolls in front of Claire. “And you, Claire? How are you?”

“Good. Am I getting a cast today?”

“That depends. Do you want one?” He raises one eyebrow, a smile playing on his lips.

Her hair falls in her face with her vigorous nod.

“First let me talk with your mom about your x-rays, then we’ll get you your cast. Start thinking about what color you want.” Isaac brings the iPad to where I’m sitting and settles into the chair beside me. He leans over, holding the tablet in front of me. If I didn’t want to see the x-rays so badly, I’d lean away.

Does he sit this close to all his patients?

“She’s looking good,” he says. His eyes are trained on the screen, fingers tracing the metal rods in her bone, objects that look out of place in an arm. “These are the pins.”

My stomach flip-flops. I glance at Claire’s arm in disbelief. I can’t believe those are inside of her.

“We’ll get a cast on her now, and then I’ll see her back here in two weeks, and we’ll do this all over again.” He stands, opens the door, and leans out.

“Randall,” he says, his voice raised. “Arm cast in six.” He backs out of the open door and lets it close. “He’ll be here in a second.”

He looks at the seat beside me, but elects to lean back against the small counter where his iPad now lies.

“Are you OK?” he asks, squinting at me.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. Damn. My teeth push into my bottom lip.

“You seem stiff.” He crosses his arms. I feel like his eyes are digging into me.

“Do people in your office know about us?” I keep my voice low. Claire’s drawing again, but she has ears. And they work just fine.

Isaac’s face changes to concern. “Is that what this is about?”

“That woman up front—”

“Deirdre.” Isaac interjects.

“Deirdre was very happy to see Claire.”

“So?” Isaac shrugs.

“Too happy. Like she knew just who Claire was.”

“And what if she did?” Isaac’s eyes widen, a challenging look.

“It’s none of her business,” I hiss.

Isaac crosses the small space separating us and plants himself in the chair he previously occupied. He touches my chin, just one finger underneath, lifting it slightly.

“Lucky for you, I don’t have a big mouth.”

I watch the mouth he’s referencing as it speaks the sentence. His lips caress the words, his tone stays low, his voice deep.

I move my head, a slight jerk, and his finger drops. “I don’t think your fiancée would appreciate your behavior.” It’s another hissed whisper, this time accompanied by a disapproving look.

Isaac opens his mouth. At the same time the door flies open. Isaac jumps from the seat, his expression contrite.

The man who has stepped in is almost too tall for the doorway. He looks from Isaac to me, his eyebrows drawn together. Quickly he fixes his expression so he looks disinterested and mildly friendly.

“Dr. Cordova.” He nods at him. “Hello,” he says to me.

I return the greeting. Isaac introduces him to Claire.

Randall grins at her, and from his pockets he produces a few rolls of what appears to be colored tape. He holds them out to Claire, and she considers them, as though she’s shopping for deli meat at the supermarket.

“Can I have two?” she asks.

“Anything for extra special patients like you.” He winks at her.

She grins. “Purple with pink stripes.”

Randall tosses the unchosen rolls onto the counter beside Isaac’s iPad. He sits on the rolling seat and pulls up to Claire.

Isaac goes to the table to supervise the cast’s placement. I leave my seat to sit on the table beside Claire. I would never know if Randall were doing anything right or wrong, but I want to be there.

I can feel Isaac looking at me. Tearing my eyes from Randall’s work, I meet Isaac’s gaze.

The only word I can think of to describe it is heavy. Like he’s brimming with words. Things he can’t say, won’t say, isn’t at liberty to say.

Randall finishes and gathers the only tool he brought in with him, a pair of angled scissors, and the rolls of what I now realize is fiberglass. I did an internet search right after Claire’s break, so I knew the material they would use, but I wasn’t expecting it to come in rolls.

He holds out a hand to me. “Nice to meet you, Aubrey.” He turns to Claire. “And you too, little lady.” And then, to Isaac. “Man, this room is tense. You might want to air it out before your next patient comes in.”

Isaac shakes his head at him. Randall laughs and heads out, the door swinging shut behind him.