Love Hurts Page 2

  She’d grabbed the garment off of a clothes rack in the church seconds after she’d dropped her bridesmaid’s dress. Patty’s true personality had come to center stage. How long would their marriage last? Probably forever. Morgan was that kind of guy. A sincere, loyal, honest, loving man and she’d let him slip away. Inaction, procrastination and unwarranted loyalty to Beck added up to her losing a good man and, after today, possibly her best friend.

  She bit her lip to keep the pain from escaping. Tears welled in her eyes, ready to burst at the first moment of solitude.

  Shania rolled the robe’s material from Justin’s arm. She carried him into the clinic and stopped in front of the desk. “Hi, I’m Shania Miller and this is my son, Justin. I need to have a doctor look at him, please. He’s got a temperature and a rash.”

  The receptionist’s brown-eyed gaze rolled over Shania’s black gown to her bright turquoise high heels. She glanced at Justin who’d smashed his face into Shania’s shoulder. “Have you been here before?”

  “Yes, for the past three years.”

  The woman slipped papers onto a clipboard and handed it through the cutout in the clear plastic shield to Shania. Justin’s nose leaked. Shania held the silver clamp and tucked the board under her arm. Juggling Justin and the bag, she took a seat on one of the blue metal chairs in the waiting room. She grabbed a tissue hanging from the outside pocket of the carry-all, then swiped the soft paper under his nostrils. The forms slid off the satin of the robe and onto the floor with a clatter.

  She picked it up, drawing in the antiseptic scent of the room. “Justin, I’m going to place your foot on this paper. Okay?”

  He nodded. His tiny red nose and sad blotchy face pulled at her heartstrings.

  She placed his sneaker on the clipboard and proceeded to fill in the squares. Finished, she moved his foot from the holder and set the completed forms on the next seat. His shoe came loose and fell to the chair. She removed the other one and stuffed both in the bag. She kissed the top of his head, inhaling the baby shampoo mixed with sweat, and snuggled him closer to her. His head rested on her shoulder, the rounded collar of the gown clutched in his fist.

  “Scott,” the receptionist shouted.

  The only other person in the room--Ms. Scott, she assumed--was a short thin woman with gray hair. Worry lines, which were quickly becoming deeply embedded wrinkles, made up the map of a difficult life. Skirt hitting her ankles, she meandered toward the hallway in scuffed penny loafer shoes. She stopped in front of Shania and Justin and smiled, a sad ‘I’m sorry you’re here’ smile. “I’ll take your forms to Nurse Ratchet if you wish.”

  Shania glanced at the glowering nurse standing in the doorway and handed the clipboard to Ms. Scott. “Thank you.”

  Justin released the robe and rubbed his eyes. He plopped his head onto her shoulder and clasped the material again as if to never let go.

  Shania stroked his tiny back and finger-combed his bright blond hair, the exact shade of Beck’s. Justin pouted, exhibiting Beck’s perfectly shaped lips and stubborn jaw line. Justin’s eyes were a green with a starburst of blue shooting from the center, granted to him from her side of the family. A replica of her smaller nose and high cheekbones finished off his precious face.

  Having sex with Beck was a violent and painful life changing event, but she’d never regretted conceiving Justin. Her baby was the center of her universe. She’d never let him down like her family had her.

  “Dr. Raimo will see you now, Miss Miller,” Nurse Ratchet announced in her haughty tone.

  Shania placed her chin on top of Justin’s head to keep him from bouncing forward and stood. She snagged the handle of the bag and walked down the hallway. The nurse stood in front of an open door. Shania slipped through, placed her sack beside the navy metal visitor’s chair, and sat down. The medicinal scent from the sterilized metal equipment made her want to sneeze. She turned her head and sneezed into the loose material of the gown.

  Dr. Adam Raimo stood in the doorway a few minutes later, flipping through Justin’s chart. He snapped the pages down and a smile appeared on his round face. His teeth were bright, perfectly straight. Dark brown hair curled slightly around his ears. He’d been their doctor since her first pregnancy visit. An obstetrician delivered Justin, but Dr. Raimo examined her baby. They had been partners in Justin’s health ever since. “Hi, Dr. Raimo.” She shifted Justin around, placing him face out.

  “Hi, Miss Miller.” His long fingers touched the side of Justin’s face, then his forehead. “Buddy, you have a bit of a fever. What else is bothering you?”

  “I’m sick,” Justin whined and turned his face into her chest again.

  “Let’s take a look.” He patted the cot, paper crinkling as he did.

  Shania stood and placed Justin on the white covered examination bed and lifted his shirt. “He has a red rash. I thought it was from the heat, but now there are tiny white dots.”

  “Sleeping much?” He turned Justin’s head side to side.

  “No, and he’s had a fever for the past two days. This is the third day”

  “Does his urine smell?” He continued to search, thumping this and that and looking inside Justin’s ears with a rubber funnel.

  “Just a little stronger than usual. He’s good at drinking water and juice. Liquids generally aren’t an issue.” She helped Justin to lie on the cot, positioning him for the doctor’s examination. “Could it be measles?”

  Dr. Raimo lifted an eyebrow. “Has he been around anyone with measles?”

  “Yes, a child at the playground had measles a week or so ago.” She clenched her fist.

  “Unlikely, because his MMR shots are up to date. Justin, we’re going to remove your pants and look at your legs, okay?” Dr. Raimo asked.

  “No,” Justin hooted.

  “Don’t ask a three-year-old a question and expect yes as the answer, unless it involves toys, play or food.” She smiled.

  Dr. Raimo grinned and slid the elastic-banded pants off Justin. Justin twisted and turned, trying to avoid contact, but his socks followed. No rash was visible on Justin’s legs. The primary points of the red welts were under his arms, neck and back.

  When the doctor tickled Justin’s feet, they reacted as normal, curling into tight balls. Dr. Raimo replaced the pants and the socks. “Now, Justin, I’m going to sit you up so I can listen to your heart and lungs.”

  Dr. Raimo caught her glance and nodded. Shania set Justin upright on the padded bench and spoke nonsense words into his ear. Justin closed his eyes, until the stethoscope touched skin, then he jerked backward.

  “Sorry, let me warm it.” Dr. Raimo blew on the round dial. His breath flowed across the table. Spearmint surrounded them. He unbuttoned his white jacket and rubbed the metal against the linen of his black shirt. The material made his brown eyes darken to a solid walnut color.

  He touched the stethoscope to Justin’s chest. “Better?”

  Justin nodded.

  Dr. Raimo moved the device around to Justin’s sides, and then to his upper and lower back.

  “Well?” she asked, impatient to find out what was wrong with her son.

  “You can put his shirt on.” He held Justin’s tiny hand in his large one. “Good job, Justin.”

  Dressed, Justin latched onto her, like a chimp holding onto his cage. His heels dug into her sides.

  “From the examination, he appears to have roseola, but I want to check for anemia.”

  Shania dropped onto the visitors’ chair, crushed Justin to her chest, feeling his heart beat against hers. Her throat closed off.

  “Shoot.” Dr. Raimo sat on his wheeled stool and slid it closer to her. “I should have explained what roseola is before I mentioned a blood test.”

  He placed his hand on Justin’s back. “Roseola is similar to measles. The virus lasts two to four days. His temperature can be treated with acetaminophen or cool water and you’ll want to take a fever seriously. The symptoms are a pain for the patient and the caretak
er.”

  “So, he’ll be all right by tomorrow then?” Her breath hitched.

  “As long as he’s kept in a comfortable, quiet environment and you watch his fever, he’ll be fine. If his temperature keeps rising, you’ll need to take him to the ER.”

  “Quiet?” She closed her eyes and opened them again.

  “Yes, will that be a problem?” He dropped his hand, pressed a button on the wall, then picked up the documents.

  “No. Yes. It’s just we’re moving to Briarwood at seven tomorrow morning. I’ve scheduled movers.” She bit her lip. What to do? She couldn’t jeopardize Justin’s health.

  “Do you have anyone to watch him while you get settled?”

  “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 spor
adic 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 hair. It was comforting to talk about her past and for some reason felt compelled to continue. “The trauma of the terrorist interrogation has affected Beck. He’s changed.”

  “There have been a lot of cases of PTSD, military personnel in Iraq, most who learn to manage the illness incurred while on duty.” He lowered his leg and leaned forward. The interest in his eyes mixed with his sympathetic tone.

  “Yes, the doctors said the same thing. Except it’s not just the illness. I don’t have the same feelings for Beck. I’m not sure we can even be friends.” She witnessed the pity in Dr. Ramio’s eyes and lowered her glance to the floor. She didn’t want or need sympathy. Her folks choose not to support her. Beck’s parents denied Justin as their grandson. Townspeople believed she was a whore. And the man she truly loved was marrying another woman. Commiseration was the last thing she needed.

  “A month ago I ended our engagement, which was best for both of us. I’m going to finish school. Justin and I will begin again.” She loosened Justin’s shirt from under his arm where the fabric had wrinkled during the fidgeting.

  “Shania?” Dr. Raimo whispered.

  She glanced at him, shocked at his using her given name with an intimate tone. Should she run or stay and hear him out? The nurse remained outside, right?

  “You’ve done nothing wrong. You’re an excellent mother to an amazingly bright boy. Accomplishing as much as you have with such limited resources should make people clap in your honor, not shun you.” His brown eyes held sincerity and another emotion she couldn’t place.

  Heat rose to her face. In the past three years, she hadn’t heard praise, other than from Morgan. “Thank you.”

  “Since Justin’s no longer my patient, I’ll tell you something personal about me.”

  Her chest restriction lightened because of his compliment. Her cheeks didn’t burn as much as they had a moment ago. She shook her head. Had he said Justin wasn’t his patient anymore? “Are you dumping us?”