“OH MY GOODNESS, JOSH, YOU GREW AN INCH AND A HALF!” MACEY EXCLAIMED. “Gimme five!” She held out her hand and, beaming proudly because he’d accomplished something so amazing, four-year-old Josh Lang slapped her hand. “And you gained five pounds—you’re growing like a weed, little man!”
Josh grinned. “That’s because I eat so much.”
“Well, you keep eating like that and you’ll be as big as Matty Ice.”
“You think so?” Josh asked, awestruck at the prospect of being as big as the Atlanta Falcons’ star quarterback.
“Maybe bigger. Especially if you eat all your veggies,” she said with a wink to his mom as she showed them to an exam room.
Josh turned and looked at his mom, his mouth open in surprise—How does she know I don’t like veggies?
His mom raised her eyebrows and nodded, as if to say, See, I told you.
“So, Josh,” Macey continued as she put her blood pressure cuff on his arm. “Are you really four now?”
Josh nodded.
“Did you start preschool?” she asked as she squeezed the bulb.
He nodded again as she paused to listen.
“Do you like it?” she asked, gently pulling the Velcro cuff off his arm and taking the stethoscope out of her ears.
He nodded again. “This is my second year!”
“Oh, wow!” Macey said with a smile as she tapped on her computer. “Who’s your teacher?”
“Ms. O’Connor.”
“Is she nice?”
Josh nodded enthusiastically. “She’s really nice.”
Macey laughed. “I guess you like her then.”
He nodded again.
“Let’s see . . . ,” Macey said, trying to think of the other questions she asked the younger patients to gauge how they were doing socially and developmentally. “Do you have a best friend at school?”
He nodded. “Luke.”
Macey looked up to see what he was wearing—light blue shorts and a John Deere T-shirt. “Did you pick out that groovy outfit?”
Josh looked down and nodded. “My mom wanted me to wear a different shirt.” He looked at his mom and grinned as he said this. “But this is my favorite.”
“Favorite shirts are the best, aren’t they? They just make you feel comfortable.”
Josh nodded.
“Do you like John Deere tractors?”
Josh nodded. “My dad has an M he’s fixing up—sometimes he lets me drive it.”
“An M?” Macey asked, looking puzzled.
“That’s the model,” Josh said matter-of-factly, his face solemn. “Early John Deere tractors have letters. Newer ones mostly have numbers.”
“I didn’t know that. You taught me something new today, Josh,” she said, tousling his hair. “You are doing great, my friend.”
Josh nodded, and Macey smiled at his mom. “Dr. Hack will be right in.” She closed the door, changed the notification color outside the door to show Dr. Hack his patient was ready, and walked back to the staff room to finish some paperwork. She nuked her coffee (for the third time that afternoon) and sat down at her desk. It had been a long day—a long week—and she was exhausted.
“Hey, Mace,” Melissa called, peering around the doorway. “I have one more for you.”
Macey looked up and gave her coworker a weary smile. “Of course, Meliss—anything for you,” she teased affectionately.
Melissa smiled and set a thin file on the table. “Sorry. These are the only records we have. She was rushed to the ER with chest pains early Sunday morning, and they ended up keeping her several days. She doesn’t seem to have a regular doctor, so they don’t have any other records—not even immunizations.”
“How has she been able to go to school?” Macey asked, frowning.
Melissa shrugged. “I don’t know—she’s a ward of the state. The hospital thinks her heart condition might’ve been caused by rheumatic fever.”
“Sheesh,” Macey said, shaking her head. “How in the world, in this day and age, does something like that happen?”
Melissa shook her head. “I don’t know. Somehow, these kids just fall through the cracks.”
“Is Cora bringing her in?” Macey asked, her face brightening.
Melissa smiled. “I think so.”
“That woman is amazing. I don’t know how she does it—juggling all those state kids and raising three of her own. Her Rudy is a pip!”
“She is,” Melissa agreed, laughing, “and you’re right—they definitely don’t pay Cora enough. She would adopt all those kids if she could.”
Macey laughed and nodded in agreement. “She would. She’d restart the orphanage program and be the house mom. Probably do a darn good job of it, too.” She closed the file. “What time are they coming?”
Melissa glanced at the clock and realized it was quarter to five. “Any minute—let me go see if they’re here.”
Macey nodded, opened the file, pulled her reading glasses down from their perch on top of her head, and tried to discern the doctor’s scribble.
Harper Wheaton, age 9, admitted with severe angina and rapid pulse.
Guardian and contact: Cora Grant, DFCS
Insurance: State of Georgia
Echocardiogram and Cardiac MRI results to follow . . .
Melissa popped her head back in the doorway. “Mace, they’re here.”
“Okay,” Macey said. “I’ll be right there.” She quickly scanned the page and then closed the file and took it with her. She pushed open the waiting room door and looked around. “Harper?”
A little freckle-faced girl with copper-red hair stood up tentatively, and then reached for Cora’s hand.