Although it would be tricky due to where it was located within the brain and the amount of tissue it encompassed, Cassie needed surgical excision of the mass.
Lucas was the doctor who was going to perform the surgery.
“Are you going to take my blood?”
At the child’s suspicious question, he shook his head. “No, I’m not here to take your blood, Cassie.”
“I don’t kick and scream,” she told him, not looking up from her puzzle. “I used to, but I don’t anymore.”
“That’s good to know, but I’m not going to take blood.”
She cast him a dubious glance. “What are you going to do?”
“Right now? Help you put this puzzle together and talk about your headaches.”
She shrugged. “Sometimes it feels like my head wants to blow up.”
No doubt.
“I’m a pediatric neurosurgeon. My job is to make your head stop hurting.”
The child looked up and squinted at him. “Can you do that?”
He nodded. “I’ve consulted with the neurologist you’ve been seeing, looked over your imaging tests. It’s not going to be easy, but, yes, I believe I can make your headaches go away.”
The child glanced toward her mother, who was sitting in a rocking chair watching their interaction. Looking tearful and tired, the woman nodded.
“I’d like my headaches to go away,” the girl said.
“Me, too.” He told the truth. Unfortunately, a lot of his cases weren’t things he could correct or effectively treat. Once he removed the tumor, Cassie should get great relief.
Of course, nothing about brain surgery was ever that easy.
With removal of her tumor came a lot of risk. A lot of worry about what type of residual effects she’d have from his having removed a portion of her brain. Her tumor wasn’t small and hadn’t responded to the chemotherapy meant to shrink it. There was a chance Cassie would be permanently brain damaged after the surgery, that she wouldn’t be able to do the things she currently did.
There was an even bigger chance that, at the rate her tumor was growing, the mass would take over her good tissue and cause more and more damage and eventually death.
Those were things he’d discussed with her parents in private already. They’d wanted to schedule surgery as soon as possible. He’d wanted to meet Cassie, to interact with her and to do a consult with a trusted pediatric neurosurgeon colleague to be sure he agreed with how Lucas intended to proceed with Cassie’s care and predicted outcome.
He popped a puzzle piece into place. “Let’s see if we can get this thing figured out.”
She nodded and handed him another puzzle piece.
* * *
Emily stopped short when she entered the hospital playroom and saw Lucas sitting in one of the small chairs at a table where Cassie Bellows worked on a puzzle.
Emily took all her patients to heart. Cassie was no exception. Emily had instantly felt a connection to the little girl and her parents.
Especially Cassie’s mother. Maybe because the woman was the same age as Emily. Maybe because of the gentle spirit she sensed within Cassie.
She’d known Lucas had been consulted on the case, knew that he’d likely do surgery on the child.
What she hadn’t known or expected was to walk into the playroom and see a highly skilled pediatric neurosurgeon sitting at a child’s table helping his patient put a puzzle together.
She’d worked in this department for years and that was one sight that had never before greeted her. If someone had told her she would see that, never would she have believed that neurosurgeon would be Lucas.
Lucas might have gone into pediatrics, but he’d given her the distinct impression during their marriage that he didn’t like kids. Too bad he hadn’t let her know that before...before... She sank her teeth into her lower lip.
He laughed at something the child said, then popped a puzzle piece into place, earning a “Good job” from Cassie. The girl studied the connected pieces and quickly found another fit.
Lucas high-fived her, compensating when the little girl’s movements were off from a sure smack of their hands.
Old dreams rattled inside Emily’s chest and her eyes watered. A metallic tang warned she’d mutilated her lower lip.
Darn him. She didn’t want to see him being nice. How was she supposed to keep him behind those “bad guy” walls she’d spent years erecting if he went around acting like a good guy?
It was an act. Had to be. He didn’t even like or want kids. Not that he’d ever said he didn’t like kids, but he’d reacted so poorly when she’d told him she wanted to have a baby. He had said point-blank he didn’t want children and for her to stop talking about it. If only she could have. By that point, he had taken anything she said to him the wrong way, and she’d quit talking to him. Talking had led to crying and crying to arguing and arguing had led to more and more distance between them.
Currently, distance between them was what she desperately needed.
Having him at Children’s was pure torture. Every time she saw him, she was taken to the past. She just wanted to forget the past. All of it.
Especially the end and the heart-wrenching events that had followed the night she’d left Lucas.
If only she could forget.
Why was he putting a puzzle together with Cassie? He didn’t have to interact with the child. All he had to do was examine her, talk to her parents, get surgical releases signed and then do brain surgery. No. Big. Deal.
No interaction required.
He needed to stick with the program of how he was supposed to behave.
Instead, he played with the little girl while her mother watched them as if he were a superhero. If Lucas cured Cassie with minimal negative effects of removing the tumor, she supposed Mrs. Bellows would find her views justified.
Emily knew better. He wasn’t a superhero, he was...
She stopped.
He was an ex-husband who was apparently a phenomenal pediatric neurosurgeon, and perhaps even a nice guy to his patients if the vision before her could be believed.
Which she still didn’t quite buy.
But Lucas was right about one thing.
If she was going to stay at Children’s, she had to let go of the personal. She couldn’t let patients like Cassie and her parents pick up on her animosity toward Lucas.
What if she caused them to doubt him? What if her feelings toward him somehow influenced a patient in a negative way and delayed or prevented needed care?
She’d told him she was a professional. She was. But even professionals could have broken hearts blinding them from time to time.
She couldn’t allow her personal biases about Lucas to bleed over to her patient care in any way. Not and remain proud of the type of nurse she was.
She’d not seen him since Saturday night at the fund-raiser. She’d managed to slip back into the ballroom and convince Richard she’d developed a headache and would like to go home. He’d looked relieved.
The headache had served as reason to send him home, as well. That hadn’t left him looking relieved. Quite the opposite.
He’d acted as if he suddenly wanted to stake his claim.