Family Matters (3 page)

“Michael, he wasn't
with
you,” she shouted. “You were at the hospital. You're always at the hospital. Why couldn't you have been with him? Why couldn't you have seen it coming?”

Michael clenched his fists, his voice steady. “Where would you have been, Jennie? If this had happened while he was at your house, what would you have been doing? You would have been at the newspaper office. You would have been drawing and having meetings and making plans to blow somebody else's political career sky-high in Austin.” There. He'd said it. She ruined people sometimes by what she did, when all he'd been doing was trying to fix them. He'd questioned her motives the entire time they'd been married. He'd told her that, finally, when they were battling for custody of Cody in the Dallas County courtroom. “You wouldn't have seen it coming. You would have been just as helpless as I was.”

“I don't know that, Michael,” she said coldly. “All I know is that you fought for joint custody and look what's happened. This smacks of negligence. You could have done something if you'd been
with him
.”

Here it came again, the same words she said so often.
You could have saved everything if you'd been home.
“Do you think I'm magic because I'm a doctor? Do you think I could have done any more because I have a medical degree and a license to practice?”

“Yes!” she shouted. “Yes, Michael, yes!” It was true. She'd always felt Cody was safer when he was with Michael.

“I'm tired of you holding me responsible for everything,” he said quietly as she turned to walk away. “Please don't do this again. Not now.”

Jen didn't turn to look back at him. She stalked off and left him standing there, hopeless and alone.

A
ndrea Kendall entered the room and read the name on his chart. Cody Stratton. Age: Eight.

She hummed as she flipped through the pages and began to take notes. The interns had called her in on the case early this morning. Mr. Cody Stratton was about to begin the fight of his life.

“Hi,” came a bewildered small voice from the bed. “Who are you?”

Andrea could see his eyes peeking out from the bedcovers. “I'm Andrea. Call me Andy.”

“Are you a nurse?”

“No. I'm your new physical therapist. I stopped by to take a look at your charts and to meet you.”

Cody smiled at that, apparently satisfied. “Good,” he said. “This is Mason.”

“Has he been sitting here with you ever since you got sick?”

“Yeah. My mom brought him up. He stays at her house usually.”

Andrea surveyed the charts once more. She wondered how much Cody knew about his condition. “Has your mother been here this morning?”

“No. I think my dad was here all night. I kept waking up and seeing him over there in the chair. I don't know where he is now.”

“Did he talk to you last night after you woke up, Cody? Do you know how sick you were?”

“Yeah,” the little boy said. “My dad told me.”

She probed further. “What else did he tell you?”

He looked her straight in the eyes. “That I won't be able to use my legs for a while and probably not my arms, either.”

She sat down beside him and laid one hand on his leg. His little face was grave. “That's why the doctors want me to work with you, Cody. I've got exercises that will get your arms working again. I've got others that will keep your leg muscles toned.”

“Can Mason do them, too?”

“Of course,” Andrea said, grinning. “I'll bet he'll be good at it.”

There came a knock at the door and the woman who entered was tall and beautiful, her blond hair piled in a fashionable twist atop her head. She nodded to Andy with a smile. “Hello, Cody.” She knelt beside the bed. “How's my kid this morning?”

“I'm good.” He said it matter-of-factly. The two women in the room knew it was the furthest thing from the truth. But that was okay. It was what Cody thought that mattered.

“How's Mason?”

“He's good, too.” Cody glanced at Andrea. “And so's my new friend. That's Andy. My new…”

“Physical therapist,” Andrea helped him out, winking at him.

“I'm Cody's mom.” She extended a hand. “Jennie Stratton.”

Andrea stepped forward to take Jennie's hand. “I'm glad you're here. I need to start working with Cody this morning and I wanted you to be in on it so I can teach you what to do when you get him home. You and your husband are going to have to work just as hard as Cody does.”

Jen said sharply. “Cody's father and I are divorced.”

“Who does he live with?” Andrea asked. “The parent he lives with will be the parent to administer his therapy.”

“He lives with both of us. We have joint custody.”

“Eventually, then, your ex-husband—”

Cody interrupted both of them. “Dad was here all night. He slept in that chair.” Then, to his mother, “How come you didn't stay, too?”

Jen couldn't answer. She'd left because she'd been exhausted and scared and angry. What had she expected? Michael to come running after her?

The therapist straightened the bedding around the little boy and when she took Cody's hand, she massaged his palms. As she worked, Cody's fingers began to spread apart. Then she took his hand, pushed it flat and straight against her own, so the little boy would bend his elbow. “See,” she said, grinning at the bunny. “That's all there is to it, Mason. You can do it, too. What do you think, Cody?”

“I don't know,” the little boy told her dubiously.

“I'll never be able to do that,” Jen commented.

“You will. Just wait.” Andrea continued to manipulate Cody's muscles. “It'll get to be second nature to you. Every time you talk to Cody or do something with him, you just do this a few times. See…watch this.”

“What if I hurt him?”

“It'll be painful some days. You can't get around it.”

Jennie looked doubtful but she gamely rolled up her sleeves. With a deep breath she turned to her son. “You're sure about this?”

“I'm sure about it,” Andrea said.

“I'm sure about it,” Cody said.

Andrea held on to Jennie's hand, helping her feel the way it should move against Cody's muscles. “There you go. Look at
that!
”

“
Great,
Mom!” Cody cheered from the pillow.

“Hey,” Andy told her. “You're a natural at this.”

“Go, Mom!” Cody said, grinning. And with a sinking heart, Jen realized that this was the moment he ought to give her a high-five, only he couldn't.

Michael stood in the shower, his back against the tile, hot water running down his skin. Every muscle ached from sleeping in that chair. He stuck his head under the steaming water and held his breath. The pain in his muscles began to ease. The pain in his heart did not.

Jennie's words from the night before continued to echo in his head. Just as they'd done all night long.

“Why couldn't you have done something?”

And it turned into a futile prayer.
Dear God, why couldn't I? I have helped so many others, why not my own son?

He stayed in the shower until the hot water ran out on him. Shivering, he stepped out and toweled himself dry.

He had already telephoned his receptionist and instructed her to cancel his appointments for the rest of the week. A colleague had agreed to take care of emergencies. Michael had nothing left to do except dress and get back to the hospital again.

Jen would be there.

He still knew her, knew how she thought, knew how she struck out in frustration. He'd heard the same words so many times. It seemed she never tired of letting him know how he failed. She never stopped making him question himself.

Why couldn't you have done something? Why couldn't you have been with him? Why couldn't you have seen it coming?

He stood in the center of his Spanish-tiled dressing room and stared into the mirror without seeing. Where had his life gone? What had happened to everything that he'd once held dear?

Negligence, Michael.
He heard her voice as clearly as if she'd been in the room with him. He focused on a snapshot of Cody he had taped up above the light where he shaved. A boy in his Little League uniform. There were other pictures, too. Michael's mother and father holding hands at the Honolulu airport. Cody in the bathtub, a pointed beard of bubbles hanging off his chin.

He had taken that one at Christmas. He couldn't remember the year. Maybe 2003. The only thing he knew for certain was that his wife had been there, standing beside Cody just out of the eye of the camera. They'd been playing Santa Claus, trying to make Cody understand, though he was only two years old.

“You look just like Santa,” Jen had told Cody as she scooped up another mound of bubbles and let them dribble down his chin. “He's got a long white beard and he's going to come on Christmas Eve and bring you everything you've ever dreamed of.”

Everything you've ever dreamed of.

It happens,
Michael reminded himself.
Some people get what they dream of. Others, well, they have to go a different direction.

As Michael stood there measuring the fractions of his life, it honestly surprised him how he'd been able to edit Jen out. Five years ago, he had thought cutting her out of his life would be impossible. But he was living on his own now, enjoying an occasional dinner date with a lady friend if he ever found the time, this row of glossy photos and three-and-a-half days a week with his son.

Michael yanked a comb through his hair harder than he had intended. He'd already been away from Cody too long. He pulled on a pair of jeans and buttoned his shirt. He looked in the mirror and sighed. A sigh that came from the very depths of his soul.

As Jen watched Andy now, she could tell Cody was exhausted. “Now this,” the therapist told him. “Push your hand against my hand. See if you can do it just enough so I can feel the pressure.”

“Can't you stop now? He's getting so tired,” Jen insisted.

“Let me show you this and then we'll quit. This exercise will make his muscle tone come back. But you must perform it with him at least thirty times each day. Like this…”

Cody groaned at last. “I don't want to do any more. It hurts.”

Jen said, “Please don't hurt him.”

Andy stopped and stroked back his hair just the way she had seen his mother do it. “It's going to hurt sometimes, little guy. And sometimes it might not hurt but it's going to be uncomfortable. I'm sorry. But it's the only thing that's going to make you better.” She sat down beside him on the bed. “I've got lots of exciting things planned for you, Cody. In a month or two, you'll be ready to go into a therapy swim program. Water therapy's great. My brother's been working with kids just like you and they have a great time.”

Just then, it all sounded too overwhelming for Cody. “I don't want to do all this stuff,” he said as big tears began to roll down his little cheeks.

Andy encouraged Cody as best she could. But then, “Hey, kiddo,” asked a jovial voice from the doorway. “What's wrong? What are the tears about?”

Jen glanced up to see Michael standing in the doorway. She didn't think she'd ever been so glad to see someone. After all the accusations she'd flung at him he'd stayed the night here, and here he was again, ready to stand beside Cody. She didn't have the time or desire to examine the relief she felt. She just let it spill.

“We're over here learning about therapy,” she said. Michael's breath caught a little when he saw how, for the first time, the smile she'd given him went clear to her eyes. “Cody's been doing fine. But he's exhausted now. I'm worried about him.”

“Don't get discouraged, Jen.”

He read her perfectly. She was surprised he could. But maybe she shouldn't be after the hours they had spent together in the waiting room holding each other up. “I am. Silly, right?”

“No,” he said. “Not silly. Just human.” He'd counsel any of his patients this way. But because he was telling Jen it meant more.

“Dad.” Cody addressed him from the bed. “This is Andy. My new friend. My—” he glanced up at the stranger, trying to remember the right word. This time he did “—physical therapist.”

Now Michael saw the cheerful-looking woman waiting quietly on the far side of Cody's bed. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Then, without more preamble, “I'll work with you, too, of course. You'll need to know these exercises since you have joint custody of your son.” She made a note on Cody's chart and then she was out the door. “See you tomorrow, Cody.”

Cody didn't answer. He was already asleep.

Michael looked at her pointedly. “I see you explained our situation to her.” Then, “She worked him hard,” Michael said. “What did she tell you?”

“Enough to scare me,” she whispered.

“I was afraid of that,” he said.

“Yeah,” she said. “Me, too.”

She gave him a sad little smile. “I wish you didn't know me so well.”

For one long, poignant moment, neither of them spoke. Neither of them moved. Neither of them even breathed. They just waited—for what, neither of them knew—matching gaze to gaze. Finally Michael picked up Cody's chart and read it to break the tension. “It would have been harder to go through this alone.”

“No,” she said. “Nothing can make this harder than it already is.”

“Maybe you're right,” he commented.

She sounded so certain when she agreed. “I am.”