His Holiday Family. Margaret Daley
young man would solve all of Kathleen’s problems. She would discourage her mother of that thought when she went back to pick up her sons.
Her glance ran down Gideon’s length, categorizing his injuries. Two cracked ribs, wrapped but very painful, a broken arm above his left wrist, which would be set tomorrow, and an assortment of bruises. The doctor was still concerned about internal bleeding and wanted to keep a close eye on him overnight.
When her survey returned to his face, it connected with his gaze. Molten silver, framed by long, thick black eyelashes. Captivating. Powerful. Those thoughts sent warmth to her cheeks that she was sure rivaled the fire he’d fought.
Kathleen looked away. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
“You didn’t,” Gideon said in a scratchy voice. “You were at the fire. In the E.R. Ruth’s daughter.”
She nodded. “I’m so sorry you and Pete went into the building after my children.” She reconnected with him visually. “They were supposed to be there. I had come to pick them up. I didn’t know Sally had taken them to the park and was running late getting them back to her apartment.”
He shifted, gritting his teeth. “I’m glad they’re safe.”
“But—”
“So why are you up here?”
She wanted to say so much more to him, but a closed expression descended over his pain-filled features. “I wanted to make sure you were all right before I left.”
“Define all right.” One corner of his mouth lifted for a second then fell back into a neutral line. He tried to reach for the plastic cup of water on his nightstand and winced.
“Let me get it for you.” Kathleen picked up the cup and held it to his lips so he could take a few sips. The scent of smoke clung to his dark hair. “Is your pain manageable?”
“I’ve had worse.”
“You have?” She’d heard from other patients in the past how much broken or cracked ribs could hurt.
“Afraid so.” Creases in his forehead deepened. Gideon gulped in a breath of air and started coughing. Agony contorted his features, his eyes shiny. “That hurt.”
“Let me see if you can have more pain meds.” Anything to help make him feel better. Then maybe she wouldn’t feel so guilty.
He coughed again. His pale face urged her to hurry. She left his room and hastened to the nurses’ station. “Mildred, can Gideon O’Brien have any more of his pain medication?”
“I’ll check and take care of it. I was just coming to get you. Your mother called and said you need to get home right away. Something about Jared falling off the side of the house.”
“Is he okay?”
“She didn’t say. But she sounded shook up.”
Kathleen rushed to the elevator, punching the down button. Seconds ticked by so slowly she started for the stairs when the doors swished open. This day was quickly going from bad to worse.
Two minutes later, after retrieving her purse in the E.R., she hastened out to the parking lot while digging for her cell. She slipped behind the steering wheel of her eight-year-old Dodge and punched in her mom’s number.
“How’s Jared?” In the background Kathleen heard her son crying, and her grip tightened on the phone.
“I don’t know. He’s holding his arm. He might have broken it.”
“I’ll be there soon.” She flipped her cell closed and pulled out of the parking space.
Ten minutes later Kathleen turned onto Oceanview Drive. Her seven-year-old son was too adventurous for his own good. She guessed he was going from climbing trees to houses now. Next he’d want to try flying off the roof. The thought sent panic through her as she drove into the driveway and parked.
The front door banged open, and Kip came racing out of the two-story stone house. “Mom, Jared climbed up there.” He pointed toward the second floor. “You should have seen him. I can’t believe he did it.”
“Did you dare him?” Kathleen charged up the steps to the porch. At the door Kip’s silence prompted her to glance back at him. “You did.”
“Aw, Mom. I didn’t think he would really do it.”
“We’ll talk later.” Kathleen entered her childhood home and headed toward the kitchen where the crying was coming from.
Kathleen’s mother stood over her son, her face leached of color. “I’m so glad you’re here.” Relief flooded her features. “If you need me, I’ll be—”
“Mom, I’ll take care of this. Don’t worry.” Her mom never did well when someone was hurt or even sick. She usually fell apart. She certainly hadn’t gotten her desire to be a nurse from her mother.
Jared sat cross-legged on the tile floor, cradling his left arm to his chest, tears streaking down his face. His look whisked away any anger she had at him attempting something dangerous.
Kathleen stooped down, putting her hand on his shoulder. “Honey, where does it hurt?”
He sniffled. “Here.” He lifted his arm and pointed at his wrist. “Nana thinks I broke it.”
When Kathleen gently probed his injury, Jared yelped and tried to pull away.
“Let’s take you to the doctor. You’ll need an X-ray.”
“Am I gonna get a shot?” Jared’s brown eyes grew round and large.
“I don’t know.”
“I am! I don’t want to go.” Jared scooted back from her. “I can tough it out.”
“If it’s broken, it needs to be fixed. It’ll hurt a lot more than a shot if you don’t get it taken care of.”
“Don’t be a baby,” Kip said behind Kathleen.
She threw a warning look over her shoulder. “I’m sure you have homework. Go do it. Have Nana help you if you need it.”
Jared stopped moving away from her. He peered down at his wrist, sniffed and then locked gazes with her. “I’m not a baby.” He pushed to his feet, tears swimming in his eyes. Blinking, he ran his right hand across his face, scrubbing away the evidence of his crying. “I’m ready,” he announced as if he were being led away to some horrible fate.
While Jared trudged toward the front door, Kathleen spied Kip sitting on the stairs. Before her older son could open his mouth, she followed Jared into the foyer. Jared went outside on the porch, sticking his tongue out at his brother as he left.
Kathleen swept around, her hand resting on her waist. “Don’t forget you and I need to have a talk. This fighting between you two has got to stop.”
“We don’t fight.”
She arched her eyebrow. “Oh, since when?”
“We’re playing.”
Gesturing toward the den, she said, “Homework. I want to see it finished by the time I get back to Nana’s to pick you up.”
Kip leaped to his feet and stomped toward the den, making enough racket to wake up anyone who was within a several house radius.
As Kathleen covered the distance to the den to tell her mother what she was going to do, her mom said, “Glory be. This is great news.”
Kathleen stepped through the entrance into the room. “What is?” she asked, swinging her attention to The Weather Channel on TV. She could certainly use some good news.
Her mom muted the announcer. “Hurricane Naomi has changed course. I think we’re going to miss most of it. Maybe get a touch of the western tip, but not like