Dr. Dad To The Rescue

And such was the power of a simple touch that the boy responded like his father had. His head came up, chestnut brown hair falling over his forehead, and he peered at her, gaze searching.

“Will you trust me, just a little, Sam?” she murmured.

Dark lashes flickered, as if he were afraid to believe in what she offered. But then, hadn’t he stood there barely ten minutes ago and listened to his father insist upon the futility of believing in anything or anyone? Then to have that point driven home by being forced to admit he shouldn’t have believed he could fly!

How many more hopes and dreams could this child stand to have dashed?

“Will you trust me, Sam?” Edie urged.

His brow furrowed—as if he were afraid not to believe.

You can believe in this, Sam, she telepathed to him. My help, my understanding, my friendship. My allegiance.

Sam nodded. “’Kay. I’ll trust you.”

Relief washed over her. So the damage was repairable at this point.

“I’m glad you’ve put your trust in me, Sam,” she said around the lump in her throat. “I won’t let you down.”

With a smile of confidence, Edie glanced up at Holden.

Eyes hard as granite met hers.

“Is making personal affirmations to patients standard practice at this clinic, Ms. Turner?” he asked in that instructor-tostudent manner.

Her face grew hot. She couldn’t entirely blame him for that; by making her promise to Sam, she was the one who wasn’t being entirely professional. Yet she couldn’t find it in her to regret doing so. She’d had to follow her instincts.

“Do you think it better to tip the scale on the other end of the spectrum, Dr. McKee?” she asked, with that same air of them having a friendly debate, her calming hand still upon Sam’s shoulder. “Detach yourself completely from another’s distress when you have the ability to help ease it?”

“Of course not. But we’re not miracle workers. Too much is out of your control, and what is could get yanked out from under you in an instant—”

He broke off, clearly angry at himself for losing some of his control. “All I’m saying is, don’t make promises you can’t keep, Ms. Turner.”

Not to my son. She was well aware of his unspoken addendum, was well aware that Sam listened and might pick up on the tone of their conversation.

“But that’s just it. I haven’t.” She lifted her chin. “I will help Sam to the very best of my ability, Dr. McKee. You may depend on that, too.”

He studied her as skeptically as ever but said no more. Truly, she didn’t want to butt heads with him—especially not in front of Sam—but she had to do what she thought best.

Settling that aim in her mind, Edie turned her complete attention back to the boy. “All right, then! Let’s get an idea of what’s going on with that arm. Can you try and make a fist for me, Sam?”

Though obliging enough, the loose fist Sam curled his fingers into seemed not altogether his best effort. True to form, Dr. McKee was Johnny-on-the-spot with a pithy piece of medical advice. “Simple flexion of the fingers doesn’t significantly demonstrate range of elbow motion and forearm rotation.”

Whether he meant the comment for her enlightenment or Sam’s wasn’t clear. She only saw the boy’s mouth go taut.

She really was losing her patience.

“You know what I just realized?” Edie said. “That this trust thing sort of works both ways. Meaning we need to trust you, Sam, to be the judge of how much you can do. Don’t you agree, Dr. McKee?” She gazed at him innocently.

Holden’s own mouth went rigid as another of those spasms pulsed in his square jaw. “Of course,” he answered.

“Great.” She nodded to Sam. “Just give it your best shot, champ.”

Tongue curled up over his lip, Sam made a fist not much tighter than the last. Regardless, Edie made sure her praise was lavish—and quick. “Very good! Now try touching your pointing finger to your thumb.. .now your middle finger, right...ring finger, then pinkie. There you go!”

The boy’s shoulders relaxed visibly, she noted with satisfaction. “I guess...I guess maybe I will be able to play again. Regular stuff, I mean. Not magic tricks.”

“Well, it is pretty hard learning you’ve got a long way to go to be a master illusionist—or an escape artist, like I wanted to be when I was about your age. I was going to be the next Harry Houdini. Squeeze my fingers, will you, Sam? Hard as you can, but don’t hurt me, okay?”

Sam actually cracked a one-sided smile, even as he earnestly concentrated on complying with her request. The result seemed most promising. He was loosening up, both literally and figuratively. “Playing Harry Hou...who?”

“Harry Houdini. He was a very famous magician who specialized in escaping from things. Yup, I cracked my head a good one trying to escape from a straitjacket while hanging upside down.”

The boy’s eyes rounded. “Really?”

“’Course I didn’t have a real straitjacket, just an old bedsheet I wrapped around myself after I’d shinnied up a tree. Lost my balance before I even got—”

“Ms. Turner.”

Edie glanced up. She’d forgotten Holden was there. “Yes?” The look on his face was impassive no more. Forbidding was more like it. “Sam doesn’t need any more ideas on magic tricks. If you really must continue on that bent, you might encourage him to try some sleight of hand, like making a quarter disappear, which would not only mobilize his arm but keep him occupied with less-dangerous activities.”

Imperceptibly, Sam drew his shoulders up.

That did it, Edie decided. She’d hoped to avoid a confrontation, but it seemed inevitable.

“Would you excuse me for a moment?” she said.

She left the room and returned a minute later with the perky young woman who was her aide.

“Colleen here is going to put some moist heat on your arm to help loosen it up, okay, Sam?”

She turned to Colleen. “Nothing too intense. Sam’s real good about letting you know what he can stand.”

“Got it,” Colleen said.

Edie smiled politely at Holden, but her words brooked no dissent. “If you’ll come with me, Dr. McKee, I need to consult with you a moment.”

He raised one dark eyebrow. “I welcome the opportunity.”

Oh, yeah, she was in for a fight.

Edie gave Sam a wink of reassurance. “You’ll be fine, champ, I promise.”

He nodded bravely. “Okay, Ee-dee.”

She couldn’t prevent herself from delivering a parting touch in the form of smoothing down that spiky hair. “You know, I kind of like the special way you say my name,” she teased.

Her heart melted at the yearning that sprang to his eyes as a result of her gesture, even as he shied away from it.