His Best Friend's Wife

Annie forced herself to stop hovering and took the chair next to CJ, who was rolling her eyes.

What? Annie mouthed.

CJ placed a hand over her heart and pretended to swoon, and it was Annie’s turn for an eye roll. Behave!

“Can you tell me what happened this morning when you were riding Zephyr?” Paul asked.

“I fell off.”

“You did? Is Zephyr a bucking bronco?”

Isaac giggled again. “Nope. But I’m gonna ride one when I’m a grown-up cowboy.”

Over my dead body, Annie thought.

“Were you wearing a helmet?” Paul asked.

Isaac nodded.

“Good.” Paul pulled a small instrument out of his pocket. “This is a flashlight.” He demonstrated by pressing on it and generating a beam of light. “I want you to look right at me so I can take a look at your eyes. Can you do that for me?”

“Yup.”

“Good job,” he said, slipping the penlight back in his pocket. “Pupils dilating just the way we like them to.”

Annie knew his comments were more for her benefit than her son’s. She appreciated his thoughtfulness even while she ignored CJ’s I-told-you-so elbow jab.

Paul held out his hands, palms up. “Now I need to see if you’re strong enough to be a cowboy. Can you press down on my hands as hard as you can?”

Isaac enthusiastically demonstrated his superhuman strength, repeating the test by pressing up, out and in against Paul’s hands. He laughed when one foot and then the other swung involuntarily in response to a tap to the knee with a little rubber hammer.

“Dude, have you been working out? Lifting weights?” Paul asked. “Training for the Olympics?”

“Nope. I help my grandpa, though. He has a wheelchair and he lets me push him around sometimes.”

“How’s your grandpa doing?” Paul looked to Annie for an answer as he ran both hands along her son’s arms, then gently flexed them at the wrist, elbow and shoulder.

“He rides horses, too,” Isaac said before she had a chance to answer.

Clearly surprised, Paul looked to Annie for confirmation.

“He’s amazing,” Annie said. “And yes, he rides. CJ runs a therapeutic riding program at the farm. Our dad was her test case and now he helps with the kids from time to time.”

“Kids with disabilities often lead sheltered lives,” CJ said, jumping into the conversation. “Seeing a man get from wheelchair to horseback and canter around the ring can be a real eye-opener for them. And for their parents, who can sometimes be a little overprotective.”

“No doubt,” Paul said. “Good to know about your program, too. Do you take referrals?”

CJ grinned. “You bet I do.”

Annie watched as Paul had Isaac lie back on the exam table and flex his legs while he talked to CJ. Apparently all checked out there as well.

“Can you sit up for me, champ? Good stuff. Now, do you remember how you landed when you fell?”

Isaac pointed to his left shoulder.

Paul turned to CJ. “Where was he riding? In a field, on a gravel road?”

“Oh, no. I give lessons in a covered arena. The floor has a thick layer of wood chips.”

“So you had a pretty soft landing,” he said to Isaac. “Can you peel off your T-shirt so I can take a look at that shoulder?”

Paul didn’t offer assistance, and Annie had to resist the urge to jump up and help. Instead, he closely watched Isaac’s movements as he bent and twisted and wriggled his way out of the shirt. Paul popped the earpieces of his stethoscope into his ears and held up the chest piece.

“Do you know what this is for?” he asked.

“Listening to hearts.”

“That’s right. I can hear what’s going on inside your lungs, too.” He reached behind Isaac, ran the tip of a finger along her son’s shoulder blade as he did. “Can you take a big, deep breath and hold it for me?”

Isaac’s narrow chest swelled.

“Good, that’s it. Now breathe out.”

Isaac let out a whoosh.

Paul moved the stethoscope. “Again.”

After several repetitions, he draped the stethoscope around his neck and examined her son’s shoulder more closely before he turned to Annie.

“You have a healthy little cowboy here. No sign of concussion, no broken bones. Even a hairline fracture would be causing some pain. He has the makings of a dandy bruise here on his shoulder, though.”

Annie stood to take a look. Sure enough, a red-and-purple streak marred her son’s pale skin. She lightly ran her fingers over it.

“Does that hurt?” she asked.

Isaac shook his head. “Can we go now? I’m hungry.”

“Sure. We’ll have lunch as soon as we get home.” She felt silly for rushing here, assuming Isaac might have a head injury but not checking to see if he had any scrapes or bruises.

Paul caught her hand in his as she withdrew it from Isaac’s shoulder, gave it a gentle squeeze and held on. “You did the right thing, bringing him in to be checked out. His shoulder might be a little stiff and sore for a few days. An ice pack will help with that if you can get him to sit still for a few minutes.”

“Thank you. I was so worried.”

“Perfectly understandable. Anytime you have a concern, bring him in or give us a call. That’s what we’re here for.”

She noticed he didn’t say that’s what he was here for. It was a silly thought. Why should he? He ran his thumb over the back of her hand, though, before he let go and helped Isaac put on his shirt. She wrapped her other hand around the one Paul had released, wanting to hold onto the warmth and reassurance of his touch.

“Now that you’re back in town, you’ll have to come to the farm for a visit. Coffee, maybe, or dinner.”