be okay,” she said. “The doctors are good here. And the staff’s the best.”
Some of the stress in the woman’s eyes settled. A dash of kindness really did work wonders. Once their gazes met, Claire spoke slowly again. Remembering her son’s last scrape, worn like a badge of honor, she said, “So, how’d you get cut?”
But that question didn’t achieve the results she’d hoped for. Instead of an explanation, all she got was a suspicious look. Finally—almost defiantly—he mumbled, “I cut it on a can.”
The woman’s chin rose a bit. “We were…collecting cans and one had a torn edge.”
Claire’s wooziness increased tenfold. And not because of the blood. Unfortunately, she knew all about collecting cans in the dark. Swallowing hard, she fought to keep her voice neutral. “We’ll get you fixed up in no time.” She darted another look to the reception desk.
Lynette raised two fingers. “Two minutes, tops.”
Claire touched the woman’s arm again. “Let’s go have a seat. I’ll need to take you over to the—” Her words faded as the staff door to her left opened and she saw who arrived.
Ty Slattery.
Of course he had to be the one to come to provide assistance.
If she could, she’d cue movie trailer music and one of those announcers with a big, booming voice. Just when she thought things couldn’t get any worse…
“Hey, Claire,” Ty said as he approached.
“Hi, um, Dr. Slattery. We’ve, um, got a little issue here.” She groaned inwardly at her awkwardness.
“My son got cut pretty bad,” the woman said.
Ty didn’t even blink at the soaked towel. “You sure did. I think you came to the right place,” he said, his voice caring and kind. “I’m Dr. Slattery. Who are all of you?”
The mom blinked. “I’m Deanna Johns. This is Taylor. And this little thing is Annie.”
“Nice to meet you,” Ty replied, just like they were at the park instead of the hospital.
Claire sighed. Honestly, did he have to be so perfect? Time and again she’d seen Ty Slattery work magic with everyone who came in contact with him. For a man who wasn’t all that heart-stoppingly handsome, he sure had a way with women.
When Dr. Slattery faced her, he pointed to the hallway on the opposite side of the room. “I was just about to leave for the day when I heard Lynette’s page. Thought I’d see if I could help out.”
She knew she should tell him thanks.
She knew she should smile back at him. But that felt almost impossible to do. He affected her too much.
Luckily he was ignoring her rudeness. After quickly looking at the trio by Claire’s side, he pointed to a wheelchair parked near the admission desk. “Go grab that, will you? We’ll get Taylor settled.”
Claire hurried to do as Dr. Slattery bid, thinking that his calm, soothing voice was affecting her just the way she’d hoped her smile had reassured Deanna.
Too bad she didn’t want her emotions around him calmed down. No, sir. She needed to be vigilant and on-call around this guy.
Claire wheeled the chair to the teen. He eased into it. Then, before Claire could stop her, Annie scrambled onto her brother’s lap. “Hey, sweetie, you need to let your brother—”
In spite of his injury the boy made room for her, lifting his hand into the air so it wouldn’t get jarred. “Don’t worry, it’s fine.”
“No, it’s not, Taylor,” Deanna said, iron in her voice.
“I’ll take Annie while you get fixed up.”
But the little girl cuddled closer.
Claire was just about to pry her away when Ty stopped her. “If we take a ride down the hall, then will you hop off?”
Amazingly, she nodded. Okay, maybe not so amazingly. Everyone—young and old—seemed to have a soft spot for Ty Slattery.
That’s how the five of them ended up walking toward triage, all together, Ty in the lead, Claire pushing the chair and Deanna looking like she was in the middle of a really long streak of bad luck.
Claire knew that look. She had once been an overwhelmed young mom, too. More than a day or two had passed when she’d felt completely in over her head, but nobody had cared.
“Here we go,” Dr. Slattery said, pushing through the stainless steel double doors. As soon as they stepped inside, he picked up the phone and spoke into it.
Claire did her best with the chair, the mother close to her heels. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Deanna said. “I never thought about Taylor getting cut.”
“I know you didn’t.” Claire had never worried about broken glass or torn up cans either. She’d been too worried about feeding Wes. “That’s why they’re called accidents, right?”
The skin around her lips whitening, Deanna kept her focus on her son. “I suppose.”
The teen closed his eyes. As Dr. Slattery spoke with two nurses, Deanna started looking agitated again. Seeking to calm her, Claire smiled. “So, how old is Annie?”
“Almost four.”
“She’s a cutie.”
“Oh, she is. I tell you, more than one stranger’s stopped me and said she needs to be on TV.” After a pause, she added, “When I think of the things we’ve been going through, I can hardly believe it. I always thought I’d be doing better than this.”
Reaching into her pocket, Claire wrote down two numbers. One was for the Applewood Women’s Shelter, the other was her phone number at work. “This place helped me out a couple of years ago. You might want to give them a call. Or, call me if you like and we’ll talk.”
“You?”
Biting her lip, Claire nodded. “Yeah. I know exactly what you’re going through. Applewood helped me a lot.”
Further conversation was prevented by the appearance of the two nurses. “We’ll take care of things now,” one said as she reached for the wheelchair.
Deanna picked up Annie, who started crying. “I’m sorry,” she said. “She just really likes being with Taylor.”
“We’ll be as quick as possible. I’ll come get you after we take a look.” With a genuine, warm smile, Ty said to Claire, “Thanks for your help. We’ll handle this now. You’ll make sure she gets the paperwork done?”
Thanks for her help? Oh, for heaven’s sakes—she was just doing her job. “Yes, doctor.”
Deanna stared at the curtained area all while juggling a squirming Annie in her arms. “I feel awful that I’m not in there with him.”
“I know the feeling, but I promise, right now it would be better for Taylor if you and Annie let Dr. Slattery and the nurses do their jobs. They’re good people, I promise.”
“Do you know that doctor very well?”
“I do.” Claire knew more about Ty Slattery than she wanted to. He was a resident, too handsome, too friendly and four years younger than herself. “Dr. Slattery’s a good doctor.”
After handing Deanna the paperwork again, Claire knew it was time to leave. “You take care, Ms. Johns,” Claire murmured, barely waiting for her to reply before retreating to the safety of the reception area.
But as the double doors whooshed open and Claire stepped through, she didn’t know if she was more anxious to put some space between her and Deanna Johns—a woman who reminded her way too much of her past—or the one man who’d reminded her that maybe she wasn’t as