Annalise pulled up Sophie’s charts on her computer screen. “When’s the last time you ate, Sophie?”
Sophie shrugged, uncharacteristically shy, and pointed to the notebook her uncle held.
Niko turned to the last entry and angled it so Annalise could have a look at the meal listed there. Fast food at a burger joint. There were better choices—much better.
Sophie was young, but she would still have to be taught to be aware of what she ate.
Annalise asked in a different way. “What did you have for lunch?”
“French fries.”
“Anything else?” Niko prompted.
“Aunt Phoebe made me eat my hamburger meat, but I didn’t want to and Yiayia said I shouldn’t have to because we were on vacation.”
“Aunt Phoebe did the right thing.” Annalise opened a cabinet and brought out a glucose meter. “Ready?”
Sophie folded her hands together behind her back and stuck out her chin. “No.”
Niko’s heart broke for her. Life wasn’t fair.
What method of persuasion would work best with her?
Of all his nieces and nephews, Sophie was the most stubborn of the bunch. She’d often been compared to him. What would have worked best for him?
“Sophie Olympia Christopoulos, I’m not going to treat you like a baby. You’re too brave for that. Now stick that finger out there and prove it to me.”
Niko could see the wheels turning in Sophie’s little brain and knew he’d scored. She stood up straighter and held out a finger. Right before Annalise rested the meter against it, Sophie broke. “Hold my hand, Uncle Niko, so it won’t go and hide again.”
Niko looked up at the ceiling, trying to find the strength before looping his fingers firmly around her tiny wrist. “All right. Let’s do this.”
“Are you ready?” Annalise moved quickly, pricking in mid-sentence before Sophie had a chance to tense up more. “It’s over.”
Sophie looked surprised. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“When Daddy does it, it hurts more.”
Niko could guess why. His brother probably let the drama build so high that the fear was worse than the prick.
It seemed a family meeting was in order.
The tug o’war that had been pulling at him all these months gave a jerk to his gut. He was the doctor in the family, the one they’d all sacrificed to put through medical school. The one they relied on for explaining these kinds of things. But he’d been out of town and out of touch more often than not.
And, if all went as planned, after this trip, he would be practically unreachable most of the time.
Guilt bowed his shoulders.
Annalise read the numbers then showed them to Niko. He hid his wince then checked his watch.
“We’ll eat in fifteen minutes. It’s about time for insulin, rapid and long-acting. Let’s go with the same amount and I’ll make sure she eats better this meal to balance it out.”
“Sounds good. Check again a few hours before bedtime to see if she needs a snack. Ask your waiter to bring apples and orange juice to keep in your room’s refrigerator.”
“Will do.”
“Ice cream!” Sophie said. “I want ice cream. Yiayia said I could have—”
Niko cocked his eyebrow, stopping her whine in mid-sentence. “If you eat your meal, you can have a little for dessert.”
While Annalise opened up her refrigerator and took out a vial of insulin, Niko paged through the notebook. “Abdomen for breakfast and lunch, thigh for supper, right?”
Annalise double-checked her notes. “Yes. And today is left side, tomorrow is right side.”
Sophie’s face clouded up as tears formed in the corners of her eyes. She looked so small and delicate.
Niko felt so powerless. Injections and a strict regimen were Sophie’s fate for the rest of her life.
He picked her up to sit her on the examining table, giving her a big hug midway. “Sweetie, I would take this for you if I could, but I can’t.”
“If I don’t eat, I don’t have to have a shot, right?”
“Not an option, little one.”
He took the vials from Annalise and filled the syringe to the proper marking.
“Hold your finger out like a candle, sweetie.” He held up his own finger, showing her.
“I’m going to hold your leg still.” He put his hand on her thigh. “When I say, ‘Now,’ pretend you’re blowing out the candle. Be sure to blow hard.”
She gave him a confused look.
“Trust me.” He focused on the injection site. “Now.”
While Sophie blew, Niko took advantage of her distraction and injected the insulin.
“Good girl. All over.” He jotted down the particulars in Sophie’s notebook, taking a moment to appreciate the details his brothers and sisters-in-law were trying so carefully to document.
“You want to dig through the treasure chest, Sophie, and pick out a toy?”
“Okay.” Sophie shrugged, not looking very excited. After all these months of doctors’ visits she’d probably been rewarded with too many cheap toys in the past to make this one special.
Annalise helped Sophie down from the table then opened a huge plastic tub filled with monster trucks and snorkels and magic wands.
“I think there’s a superhero cape in there somewhere. A real one.”
Sophie began flinging plastic trucks and coloring books out of the box, digging for the cape. “Really?”
“Absolutely. I save the good stuff for the most courageous girls and boys.”
Niko gave Dr. Annalise Walcott a long look. She was a smart one, reinforcing Niko’s challenge to be brave with an enticing reward. Small things made big impressions with little patients. While he had the minimum of pediatrics training, he’d treated enough frightened children to pick up a thing or two. Apparently, Annalise had treated her own fair share of children, too.
“Found it!” Sophie triumphantly held up a bright pink cape along with the sparkling wand attached to it.
Niko quickly yanked off and crumpled up the tag that declared it a fairy costume instead of a superheroine disguise.
As she pointed the wand at him, he obligingly shrank back with as much mock terror on his face as he could muster. “SuperSophie. If I were a nasty villain, I would be quaking in my shoes right now.”
“Let me tie it on for you,” Annalise offered.
The pleased smile she gave Sophie made Niko think the good doctor really had picked out the cape herself. With her long legs she’d make the perfect bustiered and masked crusader.
Niko rubbed his hand over his eyes, clearing the vision. What was it about this demure doctor that had his imagination running wild? Had he been under so much pressure that he needed to resort to a fantasy life for relief? If so, what did that say for his stamina in the field?
Lack of resilience or desire to make a difference wasn’t what sidelined most of the special mission doctors. Coping with the mental stress, knowing they were only making a small dent in the needs of so many was what