The sleeve flopped around as Mary reached up to touch the skin glue patch above her eyebrow. Memories flashed in her mind like slides in a PowerPoint presentation. A car in front of her spinning out of control...she’d braked...swerved...had no place to go. The screeching of brakes. The crunching of metal. A crying baby. Elliott! She choked on the bile rising in her throat. How could she not have asked for him before this? What was wrong with her? “Please. Where’s my baby?”
“I assure you, he’s fine, dear.” The trim fortysomething nurse, whose name tag identified her as Jan, gave Mary’s hand a sympathetic squeeze. “He’s charming the nurses at the triage desk.”
Mary’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t understand why I didn’t already ask you that.”
“But you have, dear. Several times in fact.” She squeezed Mary’s hand again before letting go. “It’s the concussion. Even a minor one can cause some confusion. That’s why you need someone to check on you. Plus some good, old-fashioned rest.”
“Concussion” explained the jackhammers in her head. “If he’s not hurt, where is he? When can I see him?”
“Soon. We wanted to get you situated before we brought him in. No need to stress yourself. Elliott was snug and safe. Good job with the car seat, Mom.” The nurse grinned. “Everyone here is quite taken with him. Such a doll.”
It was easy for someone else to say don’t stress, but at seven months, Elliott was her whole world, and she ached to hold him. “Can you bring him to me? Please.”
“We’ll have him brought to you in a jiff.” The nurse checked her watch. “Now, let’s get you ready to leave before Brody gets here.”
“Brody?” Mary gasped. “You mean... Brody Wilson? He’s coming here?”
“Why, yes, dear, I let him know you’re being discharged,” the nurse said.
“But I...” Good Lord, what had she started? She’d met Roger’s half brother, Brody Wilson, once before. What would he think of her barging into his life with her son? This was not how it was supposed to go. Without any family of her own, she’d come to Loon Lake to get to know Brody, let him get to know Elliott, but not like this. Since Roger had refused to acknowledge Elliott as his son, chances were he hadn’t told Brody about his nephew.
“You were very insistent when they brought you in that he be notified about Elliott.”
After the accident...the police, the paramedics...the ambulance ride. She’d been petrified about Elliott’s future if her injuries proved fatal, so she’d grabbed the hand of anyone close to her and insisted they tell Brody Wilson he had a nephew. She remembered wondering if fate would be so cruel as to rip her out of this world before she could introduce Brody to Elliott, before they could form a bond that would reassure her that her son would never be alone should anything happen to her.
She pivoted and swung her legs off the narrow gurney, but, still feeling a bit shaky, she remained seated, not wanting to do anything that might delay being reunited with her son.
“I’m sorry but your jeans are covered in blood.” The nurse held them up, and Mary wrinkled her nose at the blood-spattered denim. The nurse laughed. “Yeah, if Brody was picking me up I’d want to look my best, too. He may be a decade and a half younger, but—Oh, dear, listen to me babbling on.”
“You know Brody?”
Jan nodded. “I met Brody when he agreed to pasture my dad’s old Holstein on his farm. After Dad’s stroke, we sold off the herd but no one wanted Gertie. Dad had a soft spot for her and I’d heard Brody might let her stay on his farm. But enough about cows, let me see if I can find some scrub pants for you to wear.”
“I’d rather you find Elliott for me.” Was there something they weren’t telling her?
“I will. I promise.” The nurse patted her leg and gave her an appraising glance as if judging her size, then left, the curtain fluttering in her wake.
Mary straightened her shoulders and tried not to think about being in a strange place in borrowed, ill-fitting clothing. She was no longer at the mercy of others, no longer that forlorn little girl. If Brody wanted to find fault with her that was on him because all she cared about was holding her son.
But she did have to admit that Brody coming to the hospital for a virtual stranger was proof he was different from Roger. After she and Roger’s breakup, acquaintances of the family had told her Brody was the most respectable one—too bad that information had come too late for her to see through Roger’s charming lies.
She may have met Brody only once, but she’d witnessed his kindness firsthand. During the calling hours before his father’s funeral, he’d feigned interest as a confused elderly woman clutched his arm and told him a story—for the fifth time.
Unemployment had given Mary the time to search Brody out, something she’d planned to do after she was diagnosed with a blood clot that could’ve killed her. Elliott had been in danger of being orphaned, as she had been. She’d had no relatives willing to take her into their home. A motherless child caseworkers had to pick up and transport to another set of frowning foster parents who couldn’t see past her shyness or unfortunate overbite.
Elliott was an adorable baby and she’d been a withdrawn pre-teen. Still, she wanted Elliott to have relationships with his blood relatives and Roger had made it plain he didn’t want to be a father. She backed down from requesting child support when Roger threatened to seek full custody. Call her a coward, but she could support them and wasn’t taking a chance on losing Elliott. Instead, she’d conceived of a plan to seek out Elliott’s uncle, possibly even finding a legal guardian in Brody Wilson, should something happen to her.
The untimely death of a colleague had convinced her not to put off finding Brody and losing her job had sealed the deal.
Sighing, she held up the jeans, sticky with blood and who knew what else, and folded them. Those were her best ones, so she would try to salvage them. A childhood spent in the foster-care system had taught her to appreciate and take care of her possessions. Maybe the nurse would come back with pants that fit better than this shirt.
Someone with a purposeful stride approached and Mary sat up straighter, pushing her shoulders back. She didn’t want to give the doctor any reason to change his mind about releasing her. She ached to hold Elliott close and reassure him—and herself—everything would be okay.
* * *
Brody paused for a second outside the curtained area. Mary was calling her baby his nephew, so did that mean she was his sister-in-law? If so, where was Roger? At their father’s funeral, Roger had introduced Mary, who had seemed reserved, but shyness wasn’t a crime. After the brief service he’d hoped to have a word with her, but she’d disappeared, and he hadn’t hung around either. What would he have said if he’d found her? Warn her against getting involved with his half brother and that nest of vipers Brody called relatives? That sort of discussion would’ve been in poor taste. But wasn’t that an apt description for his family?
Inhaling, he pushed aside the curtain. “Mary?”
She glanced up, and her mouth dropped open.
What the...? For someone who’d insisted on contacting him, she didn’t look happy to see him. “I...uh...” He waved his hand in the direction he’d come. “They said...the nurse...she said it was okay to come back here.”
“Yes. I’m dressed and decent. In a broad sense of the word, anyway.” She ended on a breathless laugh and tugged on the hem of a huge shirt that threatened to swallow her whole.
“I got here as soon as I could.” He put her initial reaction down to embarrassment and approached the gurney where she sat, her bare, slender legs dangling off the side, her hands resting between her knees. Even in ill-fitting clothing, she made his breath hitch in his chest and had him thinking thoughts that were anything but brotherly.
She