A Reason to Stay (26 page)

Dr. Viv took the mug from her hand and set it next to her own on the table. She took Faith's hands. “That little boy's name is Conner Anderson,” she said, her voice quiet. “He survived the shooting and is in our pediatric rehab ward.”

She openly stared at the doctor. “He—he's alive?”

Dr. Viv nodded. “Yes. He's very much alive. Unfortunately, he did suffer a spinal cord injury that has impaired his ability to walk—perhaps permanently.”

She tried to let the news sink in. “But I saw the shooter point. Saw him shoot.”

Dr. Viv's face turned solemn. She leaned back into the sofa. “Yes. Sadly, Conner's mother was killed that day. Even more tragic is that she was a widow. Her husband, Conner's father, was killed in Iraq two years earlier.”

The news took Faith's breath. She found herself struggling to inhale. “That little boy is an orphan? Who's taking care of him?”

Dr. Viv shook her head. “I'm afraid he has no one. Without
family, he's a ward of the state. Before long, he'll be ready for release. It's weighing heavy on his medical team, myself included.”

Faith's muscles tightened. “So, what—he goes into foster care?”

“I'm afraid so.”

“Will you take me to visit him?”

Dr. Viv raised her eyebrows. “Who? Conner?”

“Yes,” she said, not willing to take no for an answer. “I want to see him.”

“Faith, I'm not sure that's a good idea. It may cause flashbacks that wouldn't be healthy for him at this stage. He's having nightmares as it is.”

“Maybe my visit would be a good thing. Healing in the aftermath of something so evil is difficult, but perhaps having someone to journey with—someone who was there too—will make the process easier for him,” Faith urged, not willing to consider that the connection they'd made that day, however brief, wouldn't be vital to both of their healing journeys. “Maybe he could use a friend. I know I could.”

“A four-year-old?” Dr. Viv paused, appearing to reconsider the possibility that the visit might benefit both patients. At last she nodded. “Let me see what I can arrange. I guess there's no harm in letting you visit. I'll be there as well, and if I see any signs of distress—”

“I understand,” Faith assured her.

Finally, she had something to look forward to.

T
he pediatric floor was a short ride up in the elevator. Faith found herself both excited and a little nervous. Perhaps she'd oversold the benefit of connecting. This kind of trauma and the aftermath challenged even the strongest adults, let alone a child who had his father taken from him, and now his mother—literally in a fashion that would scar his little mind forever.

It was also that thought that propelled her—no,
compelled
her—to want to come alongside this little fella, to provide whatever comfort she could. She knew what it was like to face a harsh world through the eyes of a young person, not able to completely make sense of pain inflicted by others.

In some ways, since she'd heard he was alive and all alone, it was as if some unknown force had taken up residence inside her and had fueled an instant obsession—one to love a little boy who needed to be cherished.

So much of her own future life had been robbed. She now faced so many limitations. But this one thing—without even having seen him again—Faith sensed deep inside herself.

She was going to make a difference in his life.

When the doors slid open, Dr. Viv wheeled her out of the elevator. “Are you ready for this?”

Faith nodded. “I've never been more ready.”

“Well, be warned. He's been through a lot of trauma. He may not respond well to a stranger. So be prepared to take it slow.”

“Okay,” she said, glancing around the floor. Here everything was smaller. The whirlpool against the wall, the parallel bars, and even the stacking stairs were miniature sized. Watching children working to gain mobility after suffering physical trauma made her heart ache.

“There he is.” Dr. Viv pointed to a wheelchair parked by a window. She pushed Faith's wheelchair in that direction. “Conner? I have someone here who wants to see you.”

Faith leaned forward and took in the little guy—his blond hair, the little train engines he held in his dimpled hands. The sadness in his eyes.

“Hey, buddy. Do you remember me?”

He gave her a quiet look, followed by a generous offer to look at one of his trains. “This is James.”

“Oh?” she said, taking the little red engine and examining it. She handed it back. “That's a good one. What's this one's name?”

“It's Thomas.”

Her heart became weighted inside her chest, overwhelmed by the emotions pooling inside of her. “You like trains?”

He nodded. “My mommy's in heaven.”

Her heart thudded. “Yes, I know. I bet you miss her a lot.”

His little blond head bobbed. “She's with my daddy.”

Sensitive to his pain, she leaned forward and touched his arm. “My mommy and daddy are in heaven too.” She made herself smile and added, “My name is Faith. Dr. Viv tells me your name is Conner.”

Dr. Viv knelt by his wheelchair. “Faith wants to be your friend. Is that okay, Conner?”

Without hesitation a grin sprouted on his face. “Yeah. That's oh-tay.”

Faith and Dr. Viv exchanged glances. Dr. Viv stood. “Well, I'm going to leave you two alone for a few minutes. I'll be right back.” She positioned Faith's wheelchair so that she and Conner faced one another, then patted Faith's shoulder and turned to go.

Once they were alone, Conner frowned. “Your wegs are bwoken too?”

She nodded. “Yes, one of my legs isn't working. I have to do exercises to strengthen the muscles so I can walk again. Do you do exercises?”

He pointed to the whirlpool. “Sometimes I go swimming in the water. The wadies let me take Thomas and James with me—'cuz sometimes I get scared.”

“I get scared too sometimes,” she admitted.

He patted her knee. “I'll pway for you—that you'll be bwave.”

“That's unacceptable.” Faith shook her head. “No, I won't allow that.”

She'd lain awake all night, making herself even more vulnerable to her emotions. No matter. This situation demanded intensity.

She wanted this like she wanted air.

“I'm afraid there aren't any viable options.” Dr. Viv's voice turned patient. She leaned back on her office sofa, her glasses folded in her hands. “These things have a way of working out. Really, they do. We've already contacted several churches who have agreed to help get the word out to anyone looking to adopt.”

“And?” she asked.

Dr. Viv opened her glasses and slipped them onto her face. “Well, Conner's spinal injury is permanent. It's a lot to take on. But I'm sure a family will be found. Like I said earlier, we'll keep him here as long as possible.”

“I don't want that little boy in foster care.”

“None of us do, but sometimes these things are out of our
hands. I'll continue to see him even after he's officially released. Emotionally, he's very fragile, and the next months are critical to his future emotional health.” She grabbed her file and opened it. “But enough about Conner. Right now it's time to focus on you. Tell me why Geary hasn't been to visit lately. Did something happen?”

Her head jerked up. “That's private.”

“I'm here to help you, Faith. What you're thinking, feeling—it's all relevant to your own emotional health. Do you want to tell me about it?”

“Not really,” she replied, hearing her own petulant tone, one that sounded like she was the four-year-old. She quickly corralled her attitude. She was an adult and shouldn't cower from telling Dr. Viv the truth. “Look, I never really disclosed the fact that we were having issues prior to the shooting. I'm simply continuing on the same course as before, which shouldn't cause alarm.”

Dr. Viv nodded slowly. “Let's talk about that. Your marriage, I mean.”

Faith took a deep breath. “I don't think we're so different from a lot of couples who wake up and realize they have very diverse personalities and approaches to life.”

Dr. Viv looked unconvinced. “Earlier you told me you thought he was a keeper.”

“I believe those were your words,” Faith reminded her. “I'll grant you that I fell in love with Geary—probably still love him in a lot of ways. But a little less than a year into the marriage we encountered some fairly severe difficulties. Difficulties that highlighted the fact that internally we were two very different people. In order to go forward, one of us was going to have to morph into someone we were not cut out to be. That wasn't acceptable. I wasn't going to change, and I never would expect Geary to either.” She looked at the doctor. “Some things are just too broken to fix.”

“Like you?” Dr. Viv suggested.

“What? I don't understand what you mean.” Why did she feel
like she was under a microscope every time she had a session with Dr. Viv?

“Often what we see in TBI patients is an effort to isolate. For a number of reasons, really. One being the feeling that no one could ever really understand what you've been through—what you face. Another is the misunderstanding that you are now damaged and unworthy of a relationship.”

There were those microscope eyes again, looking at her in a way that made her squirm. She hid behind a chuckle. “Well, sounds like you're on to me. What can I say? I'm broken. A real Humpty Dumpty.”

“A good man loves you. Why are you pushing him away?”

Clearly, Dr. Viv wasn't going to let her slide past this one. She had an agenda. Still, Faith's marriage was her private business. Any motivation for leaving Geary was not up for interpretation or discussion. Especially not with some stranger who only sat across from her because it was her job.

“I guess you're the one to answer that, aren't you? I mean, you're the neuropsychologist, the one charged with picking up the pieces and putting them all back together again.” She couldn't believe how mean she sounded, or that she didn't really care.

Dr. Viv smiled. “Okay, I'll play Mother Goose. Here's what I think—I believe you had a very extraordinary and immensely difficult childhood. Your father wasn't there for you. He was far too busy skirting around. Your mother was half crazy and her antics were emotionally dangerous for both you and your little brother. Like you said, Teddy Jr. self-medicated. You became the family hero—the one bent on surpassing the shame of your family.”

The doctor glanced over the contents of her file. “You were class president, on the debate team, in the Spanish club, a school ambassador—and that was just high school. It says here you were awarded a full-ride scholarship to several prestigious schools,
turning them all down to study here in Houston—likely so you'd be near your brother. His life was spiraling after the damage of your mother's behavior.

“You graduated summa cum laude with a degree in journalism and then landed your first job at one of the largest stations in Houston—KIAM television—beating out several other qualified candidates. You worked night and day, and in almost no time you were not only the morning anchor but the host of your own television show,
Faith on
Air
.” She looked up. “Have I missed anything yet?”

Faith sulked and shook her head.

“Good, then I'll continue.”

The determined doctor seemed to believe she alone held the glue gun that could paste her shattered pieces together. Strangely, Faith found herself appreciating that someone got it. Life had not been a bed of roses, so to speak. But she'd been determined and had not played the victim. She'd raised herself up and above it. All on her own.

“On the surface, you've spent nearly all your adult years desperately trying to show the world you are valuable, while beneath it all you push anyone away who tries to get close because you're afraid they'll discover what you fear most is indeed true.”

Okay, now the doctor was getting in her business. And she didn't like it. Despite her resolve, her erratic emotions betrayed her and she teared up. “Yeah, and what's that?”

“You are desperately afraid that once anyone gets to know the real you—the authentic person you are deep inside—they'll discover you're broken. You long to be cherished, but you push everyone away. You won't let anyone love you to that extent. Not even your husband.”

Dr. Viv leaned forward and placed her hand on Faith's knee. Her touch felt like an electric shock. “You hide behind achievement, but that will never fill you up. Add the emotional trauma
of having your life threatened by a madman, and you can't argue the fact all this has left you crippled. And I'm not talking about that wheelchair.”

The doctor's words swept her up and knocked her foundation loose. Made her angry. Faith's tears became real now, flowing hot down her cheeks. “You think I don't know all that?” she challenged. “I've read all the self-help books, Dr. Viv. And I'm the one who had a gun pointed at her head. I'm well aware of how all that affected my life.”

“Maybe so, but you've never considered the possibility that someone who is broken doesn't have to be fixed before she can be loved.” Dr. Viv's gaze grew more intense. “Your treatment is at a critical junction. As the physician in charge of your emotional well-being, I believe it's important for you to acknowledge where you are on this journey to health, so we can link arm in arm and get you farther down the path to stable health.”

Dr. Viv gave her knee a pat and leaned back. “You have a lot of strikes against you—a bad childhood, a wounded spirit as a result, and then you found yourself the victim of a horrendous crime. Allow yourself to heal—both physically and emotionally. Don't just go through the motions like none of your therapy matters. Let others love you and help you. You do that and I can promise you'll quickly find yourself on the path to recovery.”

Faith looked back at her miserably. “You mean Geary?”

“For starters.” Dr. Viv pointed to her arm and leg. “You're already getting back the use of your limbs as your brain heals. After appropriate rehabilitation, you'll eventually walk out of here. My job is to make sure you walk out with your anger and emotions healed as well.”

Faith considered Dr. Viv's assertions. To a great extent, she had to admit the doctor had done her homework, had accurately assessed the situation, and was correctly reporting exactly how she felt inside.

Yes, she'd tried to be the best she could be—the most accomplished. All in an attempt to overshadow the shame she'd lived with all those years, the hurt and sadness.

Yes, she was angry.

A thousand times she'd pondered why God would allow her to be at the Johnson Space Center that day, why she had to suffer all that followed.

Why her entire life had to be ripped apart.

But in her brief time with little Conner Anderson, life took an unexpected turn. One that for now she intended to keep to herself.

Normally she'd never sit and listen to this psychoanalysis. She was far too practical to give much credence to how she was shaped by her early life experiences, even if it made a lot of sense when spelled out the way Dr. Viv had just meticulously done.