“No. No one to help me.” She leaned into the hard chair, then situated Justin to cuddle him like a baby. He didn’t resist.
“Are you going to the university?”
Her neck twisted as she jerked to look at him. How did he know she was going to college? She quickly replayed conversations they’d had in the past before she drew wrong conclusions. The last time she took Justin for immunizations, she’d told him she’d been taking distance education classes. She smiled. “Yes, I’ve taken all of the courses online that I can. Now, I get to enter the classroom to practice and learn.”
“Congratulations. You’ll be finished in four semesters?” He smiled, and then tapped his pen on the counter top.
“Yes. In fifteen months, I’ll have a degree.”
Nurse Ratchet walked in. Dr. Raimo said something softly to her, then opened the door. “Nurse Treason is new with the clinic. She’ll take a sample. Don’t worry, she’s fantastic with children. In a few minutes, I’ll be back to discuss the results with you.”
“Thank you.” Shania bit into her lip, hard enough to break her hide. For the first time she’d witness a needle pressing into her son’s skin, extracting blood. The idea made her wish it was her receiving the puncture.
“Justin, I’m going to put this rubber band thing around your arm so I can get a good vein. Here we go, this is going to sting a little.” Nurse Treason’s voice was soft and comforting. She seized his arm, wrapped the tourniquet, swiped an alcohol-scented tiny square over a patch of skin and inserted the syringe. Not a jab, but a gentle easing of the tiny pinpoint under his pale flesh. Justin tried to jerk his arm, but she held it steady. The glass tube filled with his blood, and she released the tourniquet and then eased the needle out. A second later a Snoopy Band-Aid covered the pinprick.
“There you go, little guy.” She tapped his leg and shuffled through the door. Her bedside manner with children was much better than with adults. She was instantly removed from the Nurse Ratchet category.
Shania glanced at her son. Why hadn’t he cried?
He looked at his arm. His lips quivered, shaking until his mouth opened and a scream vibrated from deep in his throat. She shot off the chair, placed Justin’s head near her neck and walked back and forth bouncing as she went. The large sleeves of the choir robe flowed out. The smooth satin rubbed against her bare legs. Soon, his wails subsided to sniffles.
“There now, you’re such a brave boy. I’m so proud of you.” She rubbed small circles on his back. Several minutes later he fell asleep. Tiny hiccups escaped as he breathed.
Shania settled onto the hard chair and snuggled Justin. Bile had risen to her throat. She swallowed, trying to send the vile liquid back to her stomach.
Twenty minutes passed before Dr. Raimo reentered the examination room. She pierced him with a stare, trying to determine if the news was good or bad.
He sat down and wheeled the chair inches from her. Her heart stopped beating. No breath could get past her throat. No, it could not be bad news. Justin was the only constant good thing in her life. Please God, he had to spare her son.
Dr. Raimo touched her hand, which was resting on Justin’s back. “All of his blood results came back in good form. Although he’s older than the typical patient he hasn’t had a lot of exposure to childhood illnesses to boost his immunities. I’m confident that’s what it is, considering he was at the playground with another kid who may have had it. I could run a test for roseola antibodies, but I don’t think it’s necessary.”
She released a puff of air. Her heart, having shut off, started pounding again. “Thank you.”
“Nurse Treason is getting care instructions for you.” He hesitated. “I hope you don’t mind my asking a personal question.”
He smiled, grooves along the sides of his mouth grew deeper. Odd that he’d asked her first instead of just blurting out the question, as he had when inquiring about Justin’s father. She didn’t have any medical secrets from him.
She nodded.
“Actually two questions.”
“Go ahead,” she responded.
“Did Justin’s father ever get released from the rebels’ camp in Iraq? And why are you wearing a choir robe with glittery high heels?” He nodded to her shoes.
She imagined he expected two totally different answers, but they were related. “I want to answer your questions, but first I need a drink of water.”
“Of course. Come with me into the doctor’s lounge. We’ll talk in private.” He grabbed her bag.
Shania stood with an exhausted Justin asleep and drooling on her shoulder.
The door opened and Nurse Treason shuffled in, a frown marring her sharp-featured face.
“We’ll be down the hall. Is that her paperwork?” He snatched the pages from her fingers. “Miss Miller’s the last patient for the day, right?”
“Yes.” She lifted her long nose a pinch and shook her head. Gray curls sprung into action as she did, bouncing back and forth like miniature accordions. “Where are you going?”
Shania glanced at him.
He smiled and one-arm-hugged the nurse. “Don’t worry about it, we’re not going far.”
Out the door and a few steps later, they entered a bright, sun-filled room.
“This is our consultation room slash doctor’s room. We want it to be comfortable for our clients.” He held out a hand. “Have a seat.”
Khaki cloth cushions, three-inches-thick, covered the six foot sofa. It was flanked by two padded metal blue chairs. A small refrigerator had been stashed near the coat rack. She took a seat on a couch. He took a step toward the cold bin and opened the white door.
His large fingers clasped two bottles. Uncapping one on this way back to the area, he situated the water on a small square coaster, on the tile top of the table on her left.
Dr. Raimo sat down in a chair near her, rolled the lid off a bottle and took a deep drink.
“Now, what’s going on in Shania’s world? Did your fiancé return from war? He was part of M triple A, Mortars, Artillery and Attack Aviation, right?” He crossed his leg and braced a hand on his ankle. He wasn’t wearing a wedding band. She hadn’t noticed before, but coming from Morgan’s ceremony had created awareness. Had Morgan said “I do”?
“Are you married?” she blurted out.
“No, though I’d like to settle down sometime soon. Back to you.” He smiled and removed the stethoscope from around his neck. The metal end clanked against the sand-colored tile.
“Yes, Beck, the sperm donor, was rescued and released from active duty. He’s under supervised care at this time. He has an adjustment problem called post-traumatic stress disorder.”
“Shania, PTSD is an anxiety disorder, not an adjustment problem.”
The instant Beck returned from the hospital, his parents told her to break the engagement because he’d never recover. It took her several months to believe them. Now she realized that they’d lied all along. In her mind, during their intimacy she and Beck had become one and she couldn’t abandon him in his time of need. Love was fleeting, as she’d discovered, because Morgan was exchanging vows with another.
Justin shifted, resting more comfortably.
“I see.” Shania glanced at Dr. Raimo. “Is it normal for him to go to sleep so suddenly? He’s had sporadic rest in the last few days.”
“Yes, eventually the body shuts down. He’s actually at the end of his roseola. The raised dots should start to disappear.”
She nodded and finger-combed Justin’s