A Family of Their Own. Gail Martin Gaymer
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tension in her tone had eased.
Ross shifted in the chair. “Magazines aren’t great company.”
“So true.”
Silence.
“Ross, I’m sorry we didn’t finish our conversation about Peyton. I don’t even know what kind of illness she has.”
The word stuck in his throat. He sucked in air. “Cardiomyopathy.”
A gasp echoed into the receiver. “I’m so very sorry. How bad is she?”
“I try to be hopeful.” He’d been optimistic during his wife’s illness, too. Ruthie had been so sure she would live to be a mother to her daughter. “These tests will let me know how she’s progressing.” “More waiting.”
The line hummed with silence, and he lifted his shoulders, knowing he needed to say goodbye.
“Let me know what the doctors say, okay?” Her voice breezed from the line, a different spirit than he’d heard earlier.
“Sure.” He’d have Ethan tell her. “I need to—” “Ross.”
His flesh prickled. “Yes.”
“About dinner. I can get a sitter for Friday, I think, if that works for you.”
He stopped breathing. “Friday?” Confusion skittered along his frame, but he gathered his wits. “Works for me. How about if I pick you up at six?”
“Six is good.” She gave him her address.
His gaze drifted to the clock. “I’ll see you then.”
She said goodbye, and he tucked his cell phone into his pocket as he rose. The wait addled him, but not as much as it did Kelsey. He lifted his shoulders and eyed the volunteer at the desk. Maybe she’d have some information on Peyton’s status. As he strode toward her, a nurse called his name from the doorway. When he turned, she beckoned him to follow.
Though relief washed over him, he also succumbed to dread. He followed the young woman, knowing he could hear good news or bad from the doctor, or maybe today nothing at all. Life seemed like one long delay.
The nurse paused outside a consultation room. “You can wait in here with Peyton. The doctor will see you soon.”
He thanked her and stepped inside.
Peyton sat in a chair, looking so young despite her constant reminders. “I’m almost twelve, Dad. I’m not a baby anymore.”
To him, she’d always be his baby. But he knew better than to say that to her. “How did it go?”
“Same thing every time. Don’t move. Hold my breath.” She shrugged. “You know the drill.”
He nodded and sat in the only other chair in the room. “But you’ve been doing well, right?”
She shrugged again. “I guess.”
Attitude grew with age. He realized that. His daughter was on the cusp of her teens and nearly a woman in so many ways.
“Mr. Salburg.”
He looked up as Dr. Timmons stepped through the doorway. The doctor closed the door and leaned against it. “We’ll need to read the results more thoroughly, but for now, things look pretty much status quo.”
Ross’s pulse skipped. Status quo was better than a decline in her health, but he so longed to hear the word improvement. “That means no real changes.”
“My main concern is Peyton’s recurring arrhythmia. She is taking her blood thinner as directed, right?”
Ross nodded.
“Once we read the tests, we’ll know if we have to up her blood thinner. I hate to do it because that will restrict her physical activities a little more.”
Peyton groaned. “I don’t want restrictions.”
His gaze shifted to her. “I know you don’t like that, but it’s for your safety. Blood thinners prevent blood clots, and that can happen when the heart gets out of rhythm. We’ve talked about this before.”
They had, and while Peyton would say nothing more in front of the physician, Ross would hear her complaints on the way home. Physical restriction upset her, because she felt different than the other kids. Peyton wanted to be normal, like everyone else. She wasn’t.
Dr. Timmons pulled his back from the door. “But the good news is, from what I see, your heart looks about the same. No new dilation, and that’s great.”
“So what’s next?” Ross rose from the chair, his focus on Peyton.
“When I receive the full report, I’ll give you a call. For now, follow the same medication protocol.” He stepped aside and pulled open the door. “I’ll see you again, Peyton.”
She gave a nod, and when Dr. Timmons’s back was turned, she rolled her eyes.
“I know, honey, but the medication is keeping you safe.”
“Right.” Another eye roll.
Frustration coiled through Ross. He longed to have the right words to offer her hope, but she had to grasp that herself. When it came from him, he received eye rolls and nasty looks. He’d do anything to take away her illness. His thoughts diverged from the stress. It’s the only way he could deal with it all. The phone call came to mind and then Kelsey’s plight. How did she handle the situation with her daughter?
Kelsey gazed at the barnlike structure of Peabody’s Restaurant, one of her favorites. Ross had suggested a few places for dinner, and she appreciated his thoughtfulness. Besides delicious food, the restaurant had reasonable prices.
Ross walked beside her and pulled open one of the double doors at the entrance. They climbed the few stairs and turned into the dining area. Once seated in a cozy nook on the second floor, Kelsey focused on the man who’d tried to be so kind—the first man who’d tugged at her heart since her husband. Her stomach knotted as she tried to cope with the new emotion.
“Kelsey, I hope your accepting this invitation isn’t because you feel sorry for me. That’s something I don’t want from any—”
“Ross, no. Not at all.” As she pled innocence, her mind shot back to the call and what had triggered her acceptance.
His loneliness. The waiting. Was that pity? She struggled for an explanation. “Yes, it had to do with the long wait and wondering, but it’s not pity. It’s different. It’s mutual understanding. I need someone to talk with about those things, and I have the mother’s group. MOSK has been a relief for me. It’s a place where I don’t burden others with my woes because they understand.” She looked into his questioning eyes. “I relate to your situation. I’ve been there.”
He looked down at the table and then up again. “I guess that’s why I was disappointed when your group said no. The time and place are so convenient for me. It fits my schedule, but maybe you’re right. Maybe a man sitting with all those women would put a damper on their openness. I don’t want to do that.”
Her chest ached for him while her mind flipped to a new awareness. “I don’t think we thought of you as an individual, Ross.”
Confusion filled his face.
“We thought of you as a gender. Man or woman—some of us need support, and we weren’t thinking along those lines. I’ll pursue this topic with them. You need people dealing with the same problem you’re struggling with. A child with a serious illness. Our vote seems selfish, now that I think about it.”
“Not selfish. I think you were being protective.” He’d hit it on the head.
Ross reached across the table and touched her hand. “I only want you to do what’s best for the group. I’ll survive. I always have.”
And so