Heather felt Sheila wrap her arm around her waist. She turned to look into her friend and former boss’s concerned face. “Thanks so much for being here for us.”
“Honey, it’s the best part of being a volunteer. I don’t have to race to the next patient, ’cause I get to spend time where I want to. And taking care of you and that boy is what I want to be doing right now.” A wide grin spread across her face. “And you wanna know what the second-best part of being a volunteer is?”
Heather couldn’t help but smile as she shook her head.
“I get to call up to administration and tell them what needs to happen. What they going to do? Fire me? So that’s what I just did. I told them we need to move this boy up to the fifth floor and get him out of this ER.”
“Is he ready to move?”
“Already cleared it with Doc Queen, and he’s signed the order. Medically, all this boy needs right now is that IV, some sedatives to deal with the pain, and someone to change the dressings. It’s going to get busy down here, anyway, once people start stirring ’bout town, so up there’ll be much quieter. I even got him a room all the way down at the end of the hall so no one will bother him.”
“Thank you.” Heather hugged Sheila. “When?”
Sheila pulled the curtain back to reveal a waiting wheelchair. “Horace is ready, so ain’t no time like the present.”
Horace came into the room and helped Jaxon out of his bed. The boy stood on unsteady legs, leaning on Connor as Horace guided him gently into the chair. Without any personal effects to move, they were soon rolling toward the elevators as the ER nurses called out well-wishes and gave Heather hugs. Minutes later, they were on the fifth floor. Horace and Connor assisted Jaxon back out of the chair and into bed.
Horace wheeled the empty chair out of the room, and Sheila left with a promise to check in later. The room fell quiet as Connor draped his jacket over the back of a chair then flopped down into it.
Heather stood at the foot of the bed, her arms crossed as she hugged herself, her eyes dancing back and forth between the boys’ faces. For the first time since learning of Jaxon’s return, she wasn’t surrounded by others bustling around. The quiet was unnerving.
“I’m going to find some coffee. You boys need me to bring you something back?” They shook their heads, and she slipped out the door, hearing it latch behind her in the quiet. She only took a couple of steps before her emotions overwhelmed her, and she crumpled into a chair at the end of the hall and sobbed.
She stared out the hall window at the snow-covered mountains, tears streaming down her face. She needed to be strong for Jaxon—for both her sons. They didn’t need to see her cry, but how could she not bawl at the sight of him? His dull eyes had followed her around the room, obviously questioning why she had given up on him. That jagged scar running down his face seemed to accuse her of not caring about his suffering. His gaunt features and lifeless hair…
Coffee wasn’t what she desired. She craved her little boy, the one gone for so long. She yearned to hear his infectious giggles as she made him pancakes on the rare mornings she wasn’t racing off to a day of classes after working all night. She wished to see his eyes light up when she agreed that he and Connor could split an order of french fries. She longed to feel his little arms snaking around her neck as he hugged her.
She wanted him back, not the hollow shell propped up in a bed, hooked up to machines, the bony teenager who didn’t seem like her son at all.
If only…
She had spent many a sleepless night, staring at the ceiling, playing the if-only game.
Her last memory of Jaxon was wrapping her arms around him at the breakfast table as she was leaving for class. He’d rewarded her affection with a big, wet, sloppy kiss on her cheek, his mouth full of cereal and milk. He’d cackled in delight, and she’d laughed along with him as she exaggeratedly wiped the mess off her face. She’d sent him one last smile as she kissed Connor on the top of the head, grabbed her car keys and bag of nursing textbooks, and raced out the door, late for school.
She never saw him again. She didn’t even remember saying “I love you.” She had found the time to nag them, though, reminding them to do their chores, not to watch TV all day, and not to leave the house until Harold got there.
Except Harold never showed. The boys didn’t really expect him to because he had failed so many times before, but they had always backed their dad up, claiming he was there when he hadn’t been. The lies had flowed freely because that was easier than them facing how much of a loser their father was. How many times had Harold not shown up? How many times had Connor lied for his dad? How many times had Jaxon played in that playground by himself? How many times did I suspect they were alone but hadn’t pushed because then I would’ve had to do something about it?
I didn’t know.
But she did know—if not the specifics, the generalities. She was months away from completing her coursework for being an RN, which came with a big raise. Without Harold’s steady contribution, that extra money was supposed to help her keep up with the mortgage payments so they didn’t lose their house. She needed to buy clothes and food for a pair of growing boys. Maybe, she hoped, she could even save a little extra for their college years.
What was I supposed to do?
She had held Jaxon’s cereal bowl in her hands that night, staring at the dried cereal stuck to the side, left from their half-hearted effort to rinse their breakfast dishes. She didn’t wash it for weeks, scared to remove the last tangible sign that he had been in the house.
She had stood in the boys’ room, looking at the wrinkled beds, the sheets pulled up in their best bed-making effort. Pillows still lay on the floor from a pillow fight they must have had as they waited on Harold. She knew them and knew that they must have planned to straighten up before she got home so they wouldn’t get into trouble.
Connor had been reluctant to admit that his father had never shown up that day. At first, he had claimed he had been there, just like he was supposed to, but the lie quickly fell apart, and he recanted.
That change in story made the police wonder if Harold had really been there all along. They seemed to think that maybe Connor’s real lie was that the man wasn’t involved.
Confused and frustrated, Connor had broken down and told the whole story. His friends had shown up, and they played in the front yard. They grew bored waiting and decided to go to the park without Harold. It was close to the house and a safe place. Lots of kids in the small town went there unsupervised.
Connor had seen no harm in joining them. He’d hopped on his bike and had Jaxon follow. He made sure Jax was on the swings and having a good time. He made him promise not to leave and noted there were other kids and parents hanging around. He made him promise not to tell Mom what they had done. He had no qualms leaving to ride the dirt trails with his friends.
He wasn’t worried because it was something they had done dozens of times before, he had confessed with tears in his eyes.
I didn’t know. I suspected, sure, and had even heard from other moms that they had seen Con and Jax playing at the park without Harold in sight. But I didn’t know-know. Maybe Harold was sitting on a bench, smoking a cigarette. Just because they didn’t see him…
Heather hung her head. She had lied to herself because it was easier than admitting she’d left two little boys alone to fend for themselves. Sitting in that hospital room, staring at the husk of her boy in that bed, she grew tired of the justifications in her mind. A mother’s job was to know what her children were doing. Her first priority was to keep them safe. And she had failed.
And why? Because it was also her job to put food in their bellies, clothes on their backs, and a roof over their heads. Harold never helped much with that either.