Critical Diagnosis (Love Inspired Suspense) Page 17
A soft moaning sounded from the family room. Lily tossed down the dish towel and ran to the family room, stumbling over a stack of magazines near the doorway. She flattened her hand against the wall to steady herself and knocked a photo of a young family of three off-kilter, no doubt the York family at a happier time. Talia, wearing pigtails, a red dress and a lopsided grin, couldn’t have been more than five in the photo.
Lily reached Mrs. York, who was down on the floor on her hands and knees, whimpering. The TV tray was upended next to her.
Lily knelt and tried to assess the situation. “What happened?”
“Oh, it hurts.”
Lily grabbed her forearm. “Can you stand?”
“Oh, I don’t know.”
Lily touched the older woman’s shoulder. “Maybe I should call an ambulance.”
Mrs. York shook her head vehemently. “Oh, no. I don’t want anyone coming into my house. They’ll come in here—” she gulped “—and tell me I can’t live here.” She lifted her head and pleaded with her eyes. “Help me into my chair.”
“We have to be careful. You shouldn’t move. What’s hurt?”
“Please help me into my chair.” Mrs. York’s tone grew desperate.
Against her better judgment, Lily grabbed Mrs. York’s forearm and helped her into the chair. The older woman grimaced, closing her eyes against the pain. “That stupid tray was in my way. I caught my foot on it.”
Lily felt a certain amount of indignity in it all. Stacks of newspapers, magazines and discarded items littered the house, but the TV tray Lily had set up was what Mrs. York had tripped on. Lily’s gaze drifted down the length of her. She stifled a groan when she noticed Mrs. York’s left foot turned at an awkward angle.
“We should go to the hospital and have your leg checked out.”
“Oh, no.” A tear slipped down the older woman’s cheek. It was her first real show of emotion.
“Can I look at it?” Lily gently touched her pant leg.
“No, no, no....”
The stale air weighed heavily on Lily’s lungs. A trickle of sweat dripped between her shoulder blades. “Would you let me take you to the clinic? I can call James. Have him meet us there.” Maybe once he checked her out, he could convince her to get the care she needed at the hospital.
Mrs. York ran her hands up and down the worn arms of her chair and then nodded.
Lily pulled out her cell phone. With Mrs. York quietly weeping in the background, she dialed James’s number. Frustration and panic wound like twin ribbons around her chest when he didn’t answer his phone. Where are you, James?
She pressed End and called the O’Reillys’ home. Stephanie answered the phone, but she hadn’t seen James. Once Lily explained her predicament, Stephanie promised to use her connections to reach James at the hospital. She encouraged Lily to take Mrs. York to the clinic, and she assured her she’d find James and send him right over.
* * *
Once they reached the clinic, Lily paid the cabdriver, then got out and walked around to open the door for Mrs. York. Nancy, the nurse practitioner on duty at the clinic, met her with a wheelchair. Mrs. York moaned as the two women jockeyed her from the cab into the wheelchair.
The nurse’s gaze slid down to Mrs. York’s swollen ankle. “We can’t do X-rays here.”
Lily pressed a finger to her lips and lowered her voice. “Let’s see what we can do for her at the clinic. For now.” Nancy slipped her hands into the pockets of her scrubs and gestured with her elbow toward the entrance ramp. Lily smiled her thanks and pushed Mrs. York through the front doors.
“I’ll get her something for the pain.” Nancy strode toward the back of the house, where they kept the medications. Her movements held the urgency of a nurse used to handling a million tasks at once.
Lily sat next to Mrs. York in the empty lobby. The clinic had closed five minutes ago and Nancy had stayed to open the door for them. “Are you doing okay, Mrs. York?”
The older woman gave her an annoyed expression that had become all too familiar. No wonder Talia was always so down on herself. “I’d feel better if I were at home watching my programs.” She narrowed an accusatory gaze at Lily. “If you hadn’t put that TV tray right where I’d trip on it.”
Lily bit back her frustration and checked the clock on the wall. Where is James? Surely, Stephanie had tracked him down by now.
Nancy appeared with two small cups. One with medication and another with water. “Do you have any allergies, Mrs. York?”
Mrs. York shook her head. “No, I’m healthy as a horse.”
The nurse tipped her head as if she had heard that a million times before. “Well, here you go, then.” The older woman took them without complaint.
Nancy turned to Lily. “I have a babysitter....”
Lily forced a smile. She didn’t relish the idea of being left alone at the clinic, but she couldn’t expect Nancy to stay any later. The nurse had already put in a long day. “Go on. James should be here soon.” Please let James arrive soon.
Lily saw Nancy out the front door and locked it behind her. She turned on the TV in the waiting room and flipped the channels until Mrs. York seemed content.
A loud rapping at the back door made Lily jump. Her heart lurched and her gaze instinctively went to the clock mounted on the wall. Patients came to the front door. Not the back.
Besides, the clinic was closed.
An image of Frank Smith’s warped features filtered into her brain. Clasping her cell phone in hand, she crept along the long corridor. She was unable to shake the foreboding clutching at her throat. She slipped into the last examining room on the right and peered out the window. She let out a long rush of breath. Outside the back door, Stephanie paced, her hand poised to knock again.
Lily scrambled down the stairs and undid the bolt on the back door. “Stephanie, I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I wanted to tell you I couldn’t get ahold of James.” A crease lined her smooth forehead. “I can’t imagine where he is. I figured you’d be worried.” The intensity of Stephanie’s gaze bored through her. “And I knew James wouldn’t want you here by yourself. It’s just you and Mrs. York, right?”
“Mrs. York is in the waiting room.” Lily slowed by the nurses’ station and rested her elbow on the high counter. “I was hoping James could convince Mrs. York to go to the hospital. I’m not having any luck.” An unlikely idea slammed into her, but at this point she was desperate to try anything. “Maybe you can help me convince her.”
A slow smile crept across Stephanie’s perfectly lined red lips. “Why would she listen to me?”
Lily threw up her hands. “I’m at a loss. She absolutely needs to get her ankle looked at. I’m afraid it’s broken.”
Stephanie peeked around the corner, but stayed out of sight of Mrs. York. “I don’t think she’ll listen to me.” She adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder and smoothed her hand across the leather.
A hint of cold, icy fear pumped through Lily’s veins. An irrational spurt of emotion. “Did you lock the back door?”
Seemingly ignoring the question, Stephanie reached into her purse and pulled out her phone. She looked at the display for a quick second before saying, “Let me try to reach James one last time. If we can’t, we transport the old—” she locked eyes with Lily, seeming to catch herself “—Mrs. York to the hospital.”
A sliver of light seeped in along the frame of the back door. Lily held her breath, willing James’s handsome face to appear. A shadow filled the doorway. Instinctively, Lily reached out and grabbed Stephanie’s forearm, frozen with indecision.
“Hello,” Lily called down the hallway. “I’m sorry. We’re closed.” A small part of her was holding out hope it was James. But his size was all wrong.
Too short. Too wide. Too...
Lily tugged on Stephanie’s arm, quickly calculating her limited options. The ding-ding-ding of a game show on TV trickled into her subconscious. Mrs. York. They’d never be able to escape with a woman in a wheelchair.
The man stopped, an ugly snarl skewing the corners of his thin lips. Lily adjusted her stance. Stephanie spun around to square off with the intruder, a stiff smile plastered on her red lips. “It’s about time you got here.”
FIFTEEN
James approached the front door of the third apartment on the left and knocked. A cacophony of muffled noises sounded from inside the brick building. He lifted his hand to knock again when something at the window caught his eye. The thick curtain parted, revealing two little faces from their noses up, their curious eyes squarely on him. He waved and the curtain fell back. Little feet thumped across the floor. The door handle turned back and forth, as if the child didn’t know how to open it. Finally, the door creaked open and a little boy around five peered out with big brown eyes.
James crouched down. “Is your mommy home?” Behind the boy, Chloe, Mrs. Benson’s granddaughter, hung back, watching him with equal interest. James gave her his best everything-is-going-to-be-okay smile, but little Chloe had yet to learn her grandmother wasn’t coming back. Ever. Maybe she’d never fully understand.
James drew in a deep breath.
“JJ, you’re not supposed to answer the door.” Somewhere deeper in the house, a woman scolded the young child. Her smart footsteps sounded on the floor. Wiping her hands on a dish towel, she eyed James up and down. “I’m sorry. We’re not interested.” She slung the towel over her shoulder and planted the palm of her hand on the door, ready to slam it in his face.
James stepped forward, blocking the door. The woman glared at him. Not wanting to scare her, James retreated a step and held up his palms. “I’m Dr. James O’Reilly. Are you Molly Hopkins?”
The young woman nodded. “Yes...?” Her answer came out more as a question. “Is something wrong?”
James’s gaze dropped to the two children staring up at him from the doorway. She waved the dish towel, shooing away the kids. “Go on now. Go and check on your big sister. The adults need to talk here. Mind your manners.” Her eyes remained fixed on James’s face. The annoyance lining her eyes softened and morphed into something more akin to fear, worry.
Molly held on to the edge of the door, as if she needed something to prop her up. “Is it Mrs. Benson?”
James reached out to touch her arm to offer her comfort, but he dropped his hand when he noticed her flinch. “Mrs. Benson passed away this afternoon. I’m sorry.”
A tear glistened in the corner of Molly’s eye and she sucked in her lower lip between her teeth. Slowly, she blinked, seemingly in a mighty effort to control her emotions. “Oh, dear. That sweet, sweet woman.” Her shoulders sagged and her knuckles grew white on the edge of the door.
“May I come in?” James asked. “I think you’d be more comfortable if you sat down.” She searched his face, a decision flickering behind her eyes. A person didn’t let strangers into their home. “I’m here about Chloe,” he added. “The social worker is on her way.”
Molly stepped away from the door and sat on the couch under the window. She repeatedly threaded the dish towel through her hands.
“May I get you some water?”
“Yes, thank you.” Molly finally found her voice.
James strode to the kitchen in the back of the small, tidy and cramped apartment. He filled a glass with water and brought it to her. She took a long sip and smiled up at him. “Thank you.”
He sat on the couch next to her. Her eyes moved toward a short hallway off the family room. “What’s going to happen to little Chloe? She has no one.” Molly ran the back of her hand over her mouth. “And Lord knows I can’t take her. I can barely feed the two mouths I have.”
“Mrs. Johnston from social services is going to meet me here.”
“Poor child,” Molly whispered. “Poor, poor child.”
Just then little Chloe ran into the room with JJ two steps behind. Chloe gave James a bright smile, an unexpected ray of sunshine on an otherwise dreary day. She boosted herself up onto the corner of the couch next to James. She grabbed a pink fleece blanket draped over the arm of the couch and rubbed it against the side of her nose. She looked up at him with big brown eyes. “Hi, Dr. James.”
Something in his chest expanded. “Hi, Chloe.” She had remembered him. “Is that your blankie?”
She bowed her head shyly and snuggled into the blanket.
A quiet knock sounded on the door and James answered it.
“Hello, I’m Mrs. Johnston from social services.” The woman was dressed in a crisp suit, perhaps the kind of clothes one wore when they took a little girl away from the only home she’d ever known.
Molly swiped at a tear. “What’s wrong, Momma?” JJ asked.
Molly scooped JJ into an embrace. He settled contentedly on her lap. “Momma’s just tired.” She met James’s gaze and gave him a slight nod.
James reached for Chloe’s hand. She took it without hesitation. Her tiny hand in his made his heart melt. It blasted away the remaining protective wall shielding him from hurt, from healing, from having close relationships.
If you never let anyone in, you never get to experience true joy. Love. Another beautiful face came to mind. As soon as he settled things here, he’d have to find Lily. Have a frank discussion. See if she was open to a future with him.
James crouched in front of Chloe. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” He glanced at the social worker’s face, her expression reflecting just the right mix of compassion and professionalism. “This is Mrs. Johnston.”
The young social worker held out her hand and smiled. Chloe buried her face in James’s leg. He reached down and smoothed his hand over her head. “It’s okay.” Tears burned the back of his nose. Mrs. Benson had loved this child dearly and had asked him to see that she was well cared for.
“Where is she going to go?” Molly asked, alarm in her voice.
Mrs. Johnston’s gaze locked with his. “Into a foster home. For now,” she seemed to add as an afterthought.
Molly pushed to her feet. “Is there any way she can stay here? For a few more days?” Her gaze darted around the cramped room. “I could manage for a few more days...please.”
Mrs. Johnston seemed to consider it a moment.
“Mrs. Benson always spoke highly of Molly.” James bent down and picked up Chloe, and Mrs. Johnston nodded slightly. He hooked a finger under Chloe’s little chin. “Would you like to hang out with JJ?”
Chloe hugged her blankie tighter. “Want Gammy.”
James closed his eyes briefly, praying for wisdom. “I know.” He gave her a quick hug and put her down. “You stay here and play with JJ. I’ll come back and see you soon.”
JJ took Chloe’s hand, the protective older brother. “Let’s play with my building blocks.”
Chloe looked up at James, smiled, and then the two children ran off together.
“Thank you, Molly.” James breathed a sigh of relief. “I’ll bring some groceries in the morning.”
The social worker nodded. “You realize this is only a temporary situation.”
“I know. I have some things to figure out.” James ran his hand across the back of his neck. He had yet to break the news to Chloe about her grandmother’s passing.
“You have my number.” The social worker waved, then turned, exited the apartment and walked down the sidewalk. He watched her climb into a small sedan and drive away. He pulled out his cell phone. He had put the phone on silent mode when he had entered the hospital. Then his day had spiraled out of control
after he’d learned of Mrs. Benson’s death. He frowned at the missed-call indicator. He muttered under his breath when he realized every call but one had been from Lily.
* * *
“What’s going on back there?” Mrs. York hollered, concern edging her brash tone. “I’m awfully tired. I’d like to go home. I can hardly keep my eyes open. What did that nurse give me?”
“Tell her everything is okay,” Stephanie whispered, enunciating each word. When Lily balked, the other woman reached out and clutched her wrist. “Tell her.”
“Give me a minute, Mrs. York. I’ll be right there.” The fine hairs on the back of Lily’s neck prickled, yet her voice sounded deceptively calm.
“What’s going on?” Lily yanked her wrist free of Stephanie’s death grip. “I don’t know what you want—” her nostrils flared “—and I don’t know what that smug jerk wants, but I’m leaving.” The walls of the narrow hallway bulged and flexed in her peripheral vision. She spun around, and this time Frank grabbed her forearm and forced her down onto a stool.
“Yeah, Steph, why don’t you tell the lady doc-tor why you’re here?” Frank rested his elbow on the counter, his hoodie jacket pulling away from his waist, revealing a gun. “Don’t trust me to do the job?”
Lily gasped, then quickly covered her mouth so as not to frighten Mrs. York, who was agitated with the wait, but oblivious to her plight.
Stephanie’s jaw tensed. “Should I trust you to do the job?” A chill settled in the stagnant air. The thug snarled, more annoyed than offended.
Stephanie tipped her head, her long blond ponytail dragging across her shoulder. “You always seem to be in the wrong place at the wrong time recently, don’t you, Lily?”
“I don’t understand....” Lily stiffened her shoulders, trying to read the woman’s cold, dead eyes.
Stephanie tapped her lips with a long red nail. “It’s quite the change for you, isn’t it? You always seemed to land on your feet. Someone always sweeps in and saves you.” She stared off into the middle distance, as if some memory was playing in her mind’s eye.