Chapter 4

“Not too high,” Monica called to Devon and Derrick. The boys had left the slushy mud puddle they’d been excavating with toy backhoes to scamper over to the tire swing. Monica rolled the pair of trucks out of the middle of the muck and up onto the last clean patch of snow. They were certainly keeping her busy, but it had been years since she’d had this much fun.

She glanced down at her mud-soaked jeans and shook her head. If only her clients in California could see her now! They’d never recognize their perfectly coifed, always serious, financial adviser in the disheveled mess she’d become.

Over the last few weeks life had settled into a predictable pattern. Luke took his older children to their school bus and then brought Devon and Derrick to the daycare. Sometimes he stayed for a cup of coffee, but usually he was rushing to a meeting. He claimed he was trying to get his work done within normal hours in order to adhere to Monica’s strict schedule, but he rarely made it back before six o’clock. She didn’t complain—he was doing his best—and she enjoyed the children’s company. If she was honest, she enjoyed Luke’s company, too, but that wasn’t why she often insisted he and the children stay for dinner.

George the gander ventured out from behind the bird barn, where he kept watch over the rest of the flock at the pond, to check on his other charges—the twins. He and Monica had come to an uneasy truce, perhaps each recognizing they shared a common concern for the boys. She still wasn’t happy to be saddled with a gaggle of geese, but she’d assigned each child a bird—Devon and Derrick shared George—so her involvement with them was minimal. The kids had risen to the challenge and seemed to relish their new responsibilities, not even complaining when they had to clean out the bird barn.

“Devon! I said—”

She wasn’t sure if the unholy scream came from her or George as Derrick flew out of the tire swing and tumble head-first onto the ground. The mud sucked at her feet, tripping her twice as she raced to him. He lay motionless while Devon stood beside him, pale and on the verge of tears.

“It’s okay, Devon,” She tried to soothe the boy, but her real focus was on Derrick. She knelt beside him. “Derrick?” She only had time to check that he was breathing before she heard him moan. Thank goodness. “Derrick, can you hear me?”

His eyes fluttered open and he winced. “My head hurts.”

“I’m not surprised,” she said. “That was quite a fall you took.”

“Yeah, it was wicked wild,” Devon said, his tears gone. “You were flying.”

She scowled at Devon. “Little boys are not supposed to fly. He could have been seriously hurt.” She turned back to Derrick. “Can you sit up?”

“I think so.” He slowly raised himself up. “Was I really flying, Devie?”

“There will be no more flying.” That tire swing was coming down right away, Monica decided. She’d never been one of those childcare workers who advocated banning swing sets and monkey bars in a misguided attempt to protect kids from themselves, but this hit too close to home. She’d been right there watching and, still, Derrick could have…She didn’t want to think about it.

“My head is thumping,” Derrick said.

She peered closer and gingerly prodded his scalp. There was a bump forming on the right side of his head. She suspected that under his dark hair there would be one heck of a bruise. But could he have a concussion? “Let’s go inside,” she said. “I’ll make you some hot chocolate while I call the doctor.”

“Am I sick?” Derrick asked, unsteadily rising to his feet.

“I don’t think so, but I do think Dr. Myer should have a look at that bump, just to make sure.”

“I’m sorry, Derrie,” Devon said, following them into the house. “I pushed too hard, and you got hurt.”

“It’s okay. I got to fly.”

Her first call, to Luke, went straight to voice mail. She simply asked him to call her cell phone as soon as possible. The next call wasn’t any more effective. The Donovan’s pediatrician was away at a conference and her office “strongly suggested” she take Derrick to the hospital to get him checked out immediately.

Monica glanced at her watch. What were the odds they’d get to Rochester Hospital, see a doctor, and be back before the rest of the kids got home? She regretted calling Cathy at work, but it couldn’t be helped. Surely the school would understand that this was an emergency.

She strapped the boys into their car seats and cranked the engine on the daycare’s large white van. She hated driving the thing, partly because of its size—it could hold fifteen—and partly because of the enormous cartoon goose painted on both side panels. But it was already equipped with child car seats and her rental wasn’t.

The boys’ animated conversation behind her should have reassured Monica that Derrick was going to be fine, but she felt guilty. This had happened while she was looking after him. She pressed a little harder on the gas pedal.

It wasn’t until she ushered the boys into the emergency room and saw the startled looks from staff and patients that she considered how the three of them must appear. They hadn’t taken the time to do more than wash their hands after their outdoor adventure; all were still dressed in their mud-stained clothes.

The mere possibility of a concussion moved Derrick to the front of the emergency patient line. He was quickly seen by a resident and taken to be x-rayed. And then they waited. Monica had grabbed the bag of coloring books and games that her mother always kept in the van, but after three hours she was finding it difficult to keep the boys entertained. She’d called Luke several more times, leaving messages updating him on their latest status. Why hadn’t he returned her calls?

Finally, the resident they’d originally seen called them into one of the private cubicles to meet with the senior doctor. Derrick was fine, he said. There wasn’t cause to suspect concussion, but keep an eye on him for the next few days. If the headache persisted, or if he had vision problems, she was to bring him right back.

Relieved and exhausted, she didn’t have the energy to argue with the boys when they pleaded for her to take them to the local fast-food restaurant for hamburgers. None of them had eaten for hours, and she agreed they had been “extremely good and deserved a treat.”

She was strapping them into their car seats when Luke bellowed from across the hospital parking lot. “Monica!”

He streaked toward them like a man on fire, not even trying to dodge the puddles. Monica glanced down at his feet. Tomorrow he’d be tossing out those fancy shoes.

“I wish you’d have called,” she said as he approached. “You could have saved yourself a trip. Derrick is just fine.”

“You had no right!” His eyes were wild, and his hair was a tangled mess. His red face stood in sharp contrast to the crisp whiteness of his dress shirt. Who knows where his jacket and coat were? His tie was askew, too.

She stepped aside as he approached the van. Through the window she watched the twin’s initial pleasure at seeing their father become muted when they saw his expression. Then Derrick spoke. “I went flying, Daddy.”

Monica groaned. “It wasn’t quite like that.”

Luke whirled toward her. “What were you thinking bringing them here? How dare you?”

What the…? “Over there.” She pointed away from the vehicle. “Be right back, boys.”

As she led Luke away from the van she could hear the boys calling out: “Don’t be mad, Daddy.” “Is Monica in trouble?”

She turned to him. “Now, can you please explain, in a civilized tone, exactly what your problem seems to be?”

“Those are my children. I am the one who decides what treatment they are to receive.”

His face turned even redder, if that was possible. He was heaving deep heavy breaths, and swaying slightly. If she wasn’t so taken aback by his comment she might have suggested she take him to emergency. He looked like he was having some sort of attack.

“If you had bothered to answer your phone any one of the dozen times I called you, you could have had a say in Derrick’s treatment.” She spoke slowly, her tone measured.

“They have a doctor. They didn’t have to come here.”

“And if you had bothered to listen to the messages I left you, you would know that Dr. Myer is out of town and her office said to come here.”

“You should have tried harder to get hold of me.”

“Excuse me if I was a little busy taking care of your children.”

“Well, it’s after five-thirty. You’re off the clock.”

Monica watched dumbfounded as Luke strode over to the van, unstrapped Devon and Derrick, and carried them away. She smiled and waved to reassure the boys that everything was all right, but inside she was seething and confused.

What had just happened? She’d never seen Luke so angry before. She’d never seen him angry at all, never heard him even raise his voice. What had she done wrong? Aside from allowing one of his children to become injured and require medical attention, of course.

She climbed into the van. Her hands shook as she tried to insert the key into the ignition. She’d been so afraid when she saw Derrick immobile on the ground. She’d been scared he was seriously injured or worse, and upset with herself for allowing it to happen. It would have been easy to lash out at Devon for pushing his brother too high, and perhaps if he hadn’t been a small child, she might have exorcized her fear and anger on him.

Imagine what Luke had felt when he heard that his son had been injured and taken to hospital? He must have been terrified.

****

Luke looked down at the number on his call display. “L. Burkholder.”

Dammit! After today’s fiasco there was no way he couldn’t take this call, regardless of the time. He took a deep breath and pressed the answer button. “Ms. Burkholder.”

“Mr. Donovan, I’m surprised you’re actually answering your phone. Usually I get shunted off to voice mail.”

“I apologize. I’ve just been very busy. You know how it is with balancing work and family. There are never enough hours in the day to do everything that has to be done.” He tried to infuse his voice with the honey-sweetness Beth used to accuse him of unfairly using to get his way.

“It’s your busy-ness that concerns me.” Her voice was clipped, no fly to his honey. “It would be a challenge even for a married couple to raise so many children.”

He tried the no-nonsense, professional approach. “I can assure you that my children are not suffering from my work schedule. I’ve arranged excellent care—”

“We’ve been through this all before, Mr. Donovan. Mother Goose Daycare has an excellent reputation; that’s not the problem. It’s your ability to handle the responsibility at issue.”

He closed his eyes. He could imagine Lydia Burkholder sitting in her tiny cubicle somewhere in the New York social services office, surrounded by pictures of her cats and solo trips to exotic locations. He’d never met the woman—hoped he’d never have to—but he doubted very much that she had children of her own. If she did, she’d understand why keeping his family together was so important to him.

“Take for example your son’s visit to the hospital this afternoon.”

Dammit! He knew that was going to come back to bite him. If only Monica hadn’t taken Derrick to the public hospital. He knew the twins’ file was flagged and social services would be notified.

“Derrick had a fall. He was taken there as a precaution. He is perfectly fine.”

“Yes, thank goodness. But that’s not what I’m getting at. Why couldn’t the hospital get hold of you? They tried for hours, but eventually gave up. I told them to return the boys to Ms. Stevens’ care so they could go home.”

“It was an unusual and isolated incident.”.”

“I’d like to think that was the case, Mr. Donovan, but my inability to speak with you for the last month makes me think otherwise.”

“I can assure you it won’t happen again.” He knew he was pleading for his family. How could he make her understand?

“No, it won’t. And I’m not going to go away. You can either help me or not, it’s up to you, but I am going to do my job. I will be in touch to arrange a face-to-face meeting.”

Luke stared out at the quiet street for a long time trying to figure a way out of this mess. The streetlight illuminated the softly falling snow. It was coming down in big puffy flakes, gently swirling, before landing on the ground. It was beautiful. Peaceful. But it wasn’t going to last. There was a storm coming off the lake. It wouldn’t be long before the tranquil scene turned into a vicious tempest.

He knew Lydia Burkholder had a job to do, but did she have to be so damned dogmatic about it? Couldn’t she see she was threatening to break up a family? He loved his kids, and he thought he was a pretty good father. They were far better off with him than they would have been if he and Beth hadn’t taken them in—especially Derrick and Devon. He knew that for certain.

Dammit, Monica.

Maybe he should have been completely up front with her when he’d told her about where the kids came from. At least, then, she would have understood why the twins couldn’t go to the hospital. Or would she? She’d softened over the weeks he’d come to know her, but she still retained that by-the-book mindset she’d shown when he’d first met her.

It was too late for second-guessing now. Luke and his kids would have to live with the consequences of today. But there was no way he was going to give up fighting to keep his family together.