Choosing You Page 2

  “Beyond amazing.” Her voice cracked and her eyes watered but she was holding it together, which impressed him. “He’s the love of my life.”

  He reached across his desk for a box of tissues and rested it in her lap. He felt for all his patients but something about her unguarded vulnerability got to him. “Then no matter what, he’ll always be the amazing love of your life.”

  “He will.” She dabbed at her blue eyes with a tissue and turned away to collect herself. Gathering up her courage, she asked, “Are you saying you won’t be able to perform the procedure?”

  “No, what I’m saying is that even with surgery, Henry might not have full use of his legs. His injuries were extensive and Dr. Brunswick is one of the best pediatric orthopedic surgeons in the country.”

  “But not better than you.” She turned slightly in her chair. “I’m grateful for everything Dr. Brunswick did. Really I am. Because of him and the entire team at Boston Children’s, Henry is alive. But . . . Are you a father, Dr. Daniels?” She leaned forward in her chair and he nodded. “Then you understand that I would do anything for my son. Anything.”

  He not only understood, he felt it in every fiber of his being. The day Veronica was born, holding her tiny body in his arms, he’d felt an overwhelming instinct to protect her. To keep her safe. To love her beyond anything he could’ve imagined. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for his daughter.

  “I do, Ms. Barnes but there is a lot to consider here. The accident crushed much of Henry’s femoral shafts. Dr. Brunswick focused on open reduction and internal fixation, using screws and pins to align his bones together. The problem is the damage was severe and the bones aren’t healing.”

  “Dr. Brunswick explained all this,” she said. “He said if anyone can repair the damage it’s you. That you have been successful with a new, experimental treatment that could give Henry back full use of his legs.”

  Successful in the world of science didn’t mean a hundred percent. And with a patient as severely injured as Henry the returns were even more diminished.

  “Stem cell therapy is not a guarantee and will require hours of post-op physical therapy, not to mention a level of pain that would be difficult for anyone, let alone an eight-year-old. And, at the end of the day, Henry may not have any more mobility in his legs than he has now.” He looked at her, assessing whether she truly understood the magnitude of what he was telling her. Every parent of a hurt child wanted a magic bullet and he simply couldn’t promise her one.

  “What are you telling me, Dr. Daniels? You won’t do it? You won’t help us?”

  “What I’m telling you are the facts. It’s my duty as a surgeon to help you make an educated decision about your son’s care.”

  “Tell me this, Dr. Daniels, could the surgery make Henry worse?”

  With any surgery there were dangers. Anaphylaxis, infection, heart failure, the list went on and on. But that wasn’t what she was asking. “Besides the inherent risks of anesthesia, no. The question is whether the gain will be worth the pain, Ms. Barnes. Your little boy has already been through so much.”

  Ethan had pored over Henry’s case history. An all-terrain vehicle accident eight months ago had left the young boy’s father dead and Henry with a severe concussion, broken wrist, and two femoral shaft fractures.

  For a long time, she didn’t speak and he got the sense she was thinking long and hard about what he’d said. Good. A decision like this should be made with her head, not her heart.

  “I need a drink,” she said at last.

  Ethan laughed. There was no shortage of bars in Reno but he didn’t think she’d actually meant liquor. Though he’d known her all of twenty minutes, she didn’t strike him as someone who looked for answers at the bottom of a bottle. Considering what she’d been through, she’d sat through their appointment like a steel magnolia. Her clothes—a black pair of trousers, a red silk blouse and a cashmere coat—were impeccable. Her dark hair was neatly tied back from her face and her blue eyes sparked with intelligence.

  From the moment she’d walked in the room he’d been rendered speechless by her looks. But now it was her fortitude he admired. As bleak as the picture he’d painted of the bone regeneration treatment Bentley and he had pioneered, he could tell by the set of her jaw that she was still determined to get her son into his clinical trial.

  “Let me see if I can scare up a beverage for you. At least a juice box.” He grinned and went in search of a bottled water or a can of soda, returning a few minutes later with both.

  She chose the water and seemed to get a second wind after a few sips. “If Henry doesn’t do it now will he blame me later? Will I blame myself?”

  “You’ll tell him what was at stake.”

  She leaned forward in her chair. “But if you do the procedure there’s a chance my son could get full mobility?”

  “There is a chance.” They’d had good results on adolescents and even better results in children five and younger. Bentley, a biomedical engineer and an orthopedic surgeon, started the research specifically to repair severe fractures in toddlers who’d been abused and children with birth defects. “And as I stated before there is a chance that the large gaps in his bone may never be repaired. We just don’t know, Ms. Barnes.”

  “Please call me Brynn. What would you do if you were me, Dr. Daniels?” She looked at him expectantly.

  He started to say that he wasn’t her but it was a cop out. Ethan knew exactly what he’d do. “Is Henry here?”

  “He’s in the playroom.”

  “May I see him?”

  “Uh . . . yes . . . of course.” She started to get up and he motioned for her to remain seated.

  He picked up the phone. “Letty, please bring Henry Barnes to exam room two.”

  Together, they walked down the corridor, the walls covered in laminated children’s artwork. Fish and whales. Somewhere up there was a picture Roni had drawn on a day he’d brought his daughter to work.

  Brynn Barnes’s high heeled shoes clicked on the linoleum floor beside him. At the exam room, Ethan tapped on the door and went inside. Henry’s wheelchair had been pushed to the side and the young boy sat on the exam table, reading a comic book.

  “Hey, buddy, I’m Ethan.” He bumped fists with Henry, then went to the sink and washed his hands. “Let me take a look at that wrist of yours. That okay?”

  Henry glanced at his mother, who smiled and nodded encouragingly. “Uh-huh.”

  The boy was a good-looking kid, same dark hair and blue eyes as his mother. A little on the slender side. Henry didn’t quite make eye contact, leading Ethan to believe he was shy. Or sick of doctors. Lord knew the boy had seen enough of them since the accident.

  “This the one?” Ethan lifted Henry’s left hand and winked. According to the boy’s X-rays the scaphoid had healed nicely. He gently rotated Henry’s wrist. “How does this feel?”

  “Good.” The boy brushed a lock of hair away from his face. Looked like he could use a haircut.

  Ethan picked up Henry’s comic book. “Spider-Man Loves Mary Jane, huh?”

  “It was all that was out there.” Henry shrugged.

  Wheeling a stool over, Ethan sat, facing the exam table so he could be eye level with Henry. “What do you like to read?”

  “The Last Kids on Earth, My Big Fat Zombie Goldfish, books about facts.”

  Ethan grinned. “What kind of facts?”

  Ethan hitched his shoulders again. “Stuff about everything. Sports, whatever.”

  “You like sports?”

  “Yeah. Football and baseball mainly.” Henry let his eyes drop to the white paper on the exam table.

  “You ever been to a rodeo?”

  “No.” Henry shook his head. “What’s that?”

  Ethan rolled around to the foot of the table so he could take a closer look at Henry’s legs. The righ
t one was longer than the other. The boy had taken the brunt of the accident on his left side. “Cowboys and cowgirls competing on horses and bucking broncs and bulls. It’s something to see.”

  Henry raised his face to Ethan’s, suddenly interested. “Is it on TV?”

  “Yep. You’ve got to look around for it but it’s there. Better to watch in person, though.” Ethan gently manipulated Henry’s left femur. “Can I get you to stand up, son?”

  He reached out his hand to help Henry get down from the table but the boy rejected the assistance. Henry scrambled to the edge and used his arms to lower himself down, holding on to the table for stability.

  “That hurt?”

  Henry nodded and lowered his eyes. Brynn jumped up and started to go to him but Ethan gestured for her to stop.

  “Can you get to the door without the wheelchair?” It was roughly eight feet away.

  Henry made it a few steps before stumbling and grabbed onto his mother’s chair.

  “Pretty good there, champ.” Ethan helped Henry back to the exam table and resumed his spot on the stool, tilting his head to one side. “Do you know why you’re here, Henry?”

  Henry played with the pages of the comic book. “So you can fix my legs so I can play Little League when I’m ten.”

  “Is that the plan?” Ethan mussed the boy’s hair.

  Henry bobbed his head enthusiastically. “Yep. Shortstop.”

  “Like Brandon Crawford, huh?”

  “Nope, like Derek Jeter.”

  “The Yankees?” Ethan threw up his arms in feigned outrage. “Then let’s see what we can do. In the meantime, do you want to hang out here or in the playroom while I talk to your mom in my office?”

  “The playroom, please.”

  The kid had nice manners. Ethan was working on that with Roni, who couldn’t sit still long enough to say please or thank you. His little girl was a bundle of energy.

  He got Letty to take Henry back to the playroom, a plexiglass room with colorful carpet tiles and donated books and toys.

  “Let’s take a walk,” Ethan told Brynn. It was too cold for the children’s garden. The manicured yard with its flowers, whimsical sculptures and interactive games was often where he took stressed out parents for pre-op discussions. Instead, they strolled in the direction of the cafeteria. “You asked what I would do if I were you.”

  She unconsciously moved closer. “Yes?”

  “I’d do the surgery.”

  Chapter 2

  Brynn rose the next morning in her hotel, wondering if she’d made the right decision. Henry had been to hell and back. But if there was a chance, even a small one, that he’d gain more mobility in his legs wouldn’t the surgery and subsequent therapy be worth it? Yeah, easy for her to say. It was Henry’s small, battered body taking the hit. Though sometimes she could swear she felt his physical pain right down to her marrow.

  Ever since the crash, she’d spent most nights either crying herself to sleep or mentally punching Mason in the face.

  She could hear Henry’s gentle snores in the bed next to hers. He slept so soundly that she stayed still under the covers just so she wouldn’t wake him, when what she wanted to do was lean over and kiss his sweet face. Her beautiful boy.

  There were a million things to do today, including arranging shipment of their things. She assumed that after their meeting with Dr. Daniels they’d return to New York until he could fit them in for the procedure. He was a world-renowned surgeon after all. It had taken her two months just to get in to see him, even with a referral from Brunswick. But now everything was moving at warp speed, even arrangements for housing.

  Dr. Daniels offered them a cottage. A sort of Ronald McDonald House for the families of the patients in his trial. The cottage was funded by the Bentley Foundation, a charity named after Daniels’s mentor to help parents with their out-of-pocket expenses during treatment or just to give them one less thing to worry about. The foundation had housing closer to the hospital but unfortunately it was full. Though she could rent a nearby apartment, it would be difficult on short notice.

  When Dr. Daniels said there was a cottage to handle the overflow that was available to trial patients who could provide their own transportation to and from the hospital, she jumped at the chance. The lodging was a good drive from Reno but she could rent a car.

  They’d taken a Lyft from the airport to the hospital and Dr. Daniels dropped them off at the hotel after their appointment in his pickup. A beat-up truck with a scraped up back bumper and a crack in its windshield. The distinguished doctor, who’d worn jeans, a Western shirt and cowboy boots to their appointment, was surprisingly down to earth. She liked him more than Brunswick, who had a bit of a God complex and was always rushed and impatient when she asked too many questions.

  Daniels, on the other hand, had gone slow with Henry and welcomed her questions. He was certainly easier on the eyes than Brunswick. The fact was Ethan Daniels was easy on the eyes, period. Tall and broad with a thick head of dark hair and hazel eyes that seemed to see inside you.

  Not that Dr. Daniels’s good looks mattered. Quasimodo would be beautiful in her eyes too if he could help Henry.

  She slipped from under the blankets and tiptoed to the bathroom with her phone and laptop, careful not to wake her son. The long plane ride and his hospital visit had knocked him out, even with the three-hour time difference.

  She could make her calls while he slept. The bathroom, like the rest of their suite, was awash in marble and mirrors. Her assistant, Zena, booked the casino resort to get them as close as possible to the hospital. Under normal circumstances, she would’ve preferred something smaller, like a cozy bed and breakfast.

  She sat at the vanity and powered up her laptop. While waiting for it to load, she called Zena and gave her a list of the clothes and assorted items to send to the address Dr. Daniels had given her. After Zena, she arranged for a rental to be delivered to the hotel. Then, she made a call to her financial advisor and asked him to arrange for a donation to the Bentley Foundation.

  “Mom.”

  “I’m right here, baby.” She rushed out of the bathroom to find Henry trying to walk on his own. “Not without your wheelchair, okay?” She grabbed it from the side of the bed.

  “I’m hungry.”

  The sound of those words made a smile blossom in her chest. In the months following the accident, Henry’s appetite had disappeared. He’d lost a considerable amount of weight and his pediatrician wanted him to gain at least ten pounds back.

  She grabbed the room service menu off the credenza and leafed through it. “Pancakes, waffles or eggs?”

  “Pancakes!” He pumped his fist in the air.

  She smooched the top of his head. His hair could use a washing. And a cut. But that would have to wait until later. “Pancakes it is. How about a bath while we wait?”

  He pulled a face but didn’t argue. She drew the water in the big soaking tub and laid out his clothes for the day. While he washed, she called in their breakfast order.

  “Henry, let me know when you’re ready to get out.” He was beyond the age where he allowed her to remain in the bathroom with him.

  “I will.”

  She stepped out onto the balcony to take in the sights. It was her first time here. She’d been to Vegas with Mason when they first married and Lake Tahoe with her best friend Lexi for a long weekend a few years ago. But never Reno.

  The small city stretched out before her. In the distance, the mountains were dusted with snow. She hugged herself from the cold and stared out over the skyline, a cluster of high-rise buildings that stood starkly against the silhouette of the Sierra Nevada mountain range.

  A billboard at the edge of the resort’s parking lot caught her gaze and she smiled. It was a life-size picture of Megan Rapinoe with the soccer player’s foot in the air, shattering the glass ceiling above
her. The athletic shoe campaign was one of many that had catapulted the Barnes Group to the top of Madison Avenue.

  “Mom, I’m ready.”

  Brynn went inside and closed the slider behind her. “I’ll be right there.”

  Henry had drained the water from the bath and wrapped himself in one of the hotel’s stingy terrycloth towels. She lifted him out of the tub and even as thin as he was, her body strained with exertion. Her little boy was growing up faster than she wanted to admit.

  “Can we go to a rodeo?” Her son was a sports nut like his father. “Dr. Daniels said they’re cool.”

  She grabbed another towel and dried his hair. “I suppose that while we’re here I could look into it.” She assumed they had rodeos in New York, probably Madison Square Garden. But maybe while Henry was rehabilitating from the surgery they could go to one in Reno.

  There was a knock at the door. “You need help getting dressed? Breakfast is here.”

  “I can do it.”

  She pulled out the vanity bench for him in case he needed to sit and shrugged into one of the hotel robes from the closet, then waited for room service to leave before assisting Henry to the table. He had learned to get around fairly well in his wheelchair but getting into a chair was difficult sometimes.

  “This smells good.” She took the metal domes off the platters. “You want me to fix your pancakes for you?”

  “Mom, I’m not a baby.”

  She unfolded the napkin and tucked it into his shirt. “You’ll always be my baby no matter how old you are.”

  “Asher Stone’s mom lets him stay up until eleven.” Henry poured syrup on his stack of pancakes and watched the amber liquid flow down the sides, pooling on his plate in a puddle.

  “Does she now?” Asher Stone’s mother probably didn’t know what time her son went to bed. Between her society events and her globetrotting, Sylvia Stone was rarely home. For the most part, a nanny was raising Asher.

  Brynn was probably the only mother among her social set who didn’t have a nanny. As soon as she went back to work that would have to change unfortunately. But despite the rigors of running the Barnes Group, she planned to be home in time to have dinner with her son and tuck him into bed every night. When Mason ran the company, he missed most of Henry’s bedtimes.