Finding Dr. Right. Lisa B. Kamps
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I hate them. Always have.”
Catherine remained still, eyeing him warily, wondering if he was playing some kind of joke on her. She noticed both sincerity and embarrassment in his eyes. The laughter escaped her before she knew it was coming, before she had a chance to push it back. The look of mortification in his eyes only made her laugh harder and she clamped her hand over her mouth.
“Sure. Go ahead and laugh. It’s a real hoot. Big hockey player brought to his knees by a tiny needle. Hysterical.” His deep voice was light and laced with irony, making Catherine laugh even more.
“I’m sorry.” Another deep breath. “I just didn’t think…I mean…” One more breath. “I’m sorry.”
“No problem. Anything to brighten your day.” Nathan smiled then rose from the chair, his large frame unfolding with a feline grace in spite of the obvious discomfort in his knee. Her breath caught as she watched him stand, only inches from her.
“Don’t stop.” Nathan reached out and gently grabbed her chin with one hand, turning her face toward him. “You have a nice smile. You should do it more often.”
“Mr. Conners, I—”
“Nathan, please.”
“Nathan.” Catherine stepped back, needing to put distance between them. She heaved a sigh of relief when he released her from his gentle hold.
“And should I call you Catherine?” His crooked smile and tawny eyes were focused on her with a charm that was nearly irresistible. She took a nervous step back and silently cursed when the edge of the desk bit into the back of her thighs.
“Yes. I mean, no. No. I don’t believe in doctors and patients getting personal with one another.”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing you’re not my doctor, isn’t it, Catherine?” His smile never faltered as he turned and walked to the door, stopping to look back at her with an unreadable expression on his face. “I was serious about that clinic for Matthew. And I think it would be good if he went to more games, too. I’ll send over some more tickets. Catherine.”
She stared after him, astounded at the onslaught of charm she had just been subjected to, wondering which was worse: that she had allowed the flirting banter, or that she had enjoyed it.
Don’t do it.
A voice of conscience piped up and screamed at her before she could get any idiotic notions in her head. She could not—would not—let Nathan Conners into her life. Or Matty’s. It would only invite disappointment for both of them. Matty would become attached, then be hurt when he left. And he would leave. It was unthinkable that any steady dependability would come from someone who wasn’t family.
Catherine sat behind the desk and absently shuffled the files in front of her. She couldn’t allow anyone else into their lives. She had to think of Matty’s feelings, nothing else. She grabbed the card Nathan had given her and threw it into the wastebasket beside her desk, hoping she could remove the other influences he had left behind just as easily.
“You don’t need to be so tense, Catherine.”
“I can’t help it.” She unclasped her hands and wiped them down the front of her jeans before facing Brian. “What if he gets hurt?”
Brian chuckled then swung his arm in a wide arc, encompassing the large room with machines of all shapes and sizes, with an attendant at each one. “Here? You’re sounding unreasonable. This is the safest place for him and you know it.”
“I don’t know,” she whispered. They were standing off to one side, watching as Matty practiced with his new prosthesis. Two weeks had passed since he first got it, and even his therapist was amazed at how well he was doing. Catherine kept her gaze on Matty, watching for the slightest indication that he might fall or that he was tiring. Then she would firmly suggest to everyone that the prosthesis could wait until later.
“He’s not going to give up, you know.”
Catherine pasted a smile on her face and waved to Matty, then faced Brian. He was watching her with a hooded expression, his eyes serious behind the wire-rimmed glasses. “I don’t want him hurt. He’s been through too much already.”
“So you’d take away his new freedom? I thought I knew you better than that.”
The accusation hung between them, made worse by Brian’s quiet voice. In all the years she had known him, he had always been reliable, always supporting her and Matty. It wasn’t like him to sound so critical.
“You need to let him go, Catherine.”
“He’s nine years old. I don’t need to do anything but protect him.” The words came out in a hiss and caught the attention of another parent standing several feet away. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want him hurt. Is that so terrible?”
“No, it’s not. As long as you don’t go overboard.”
“But what’s overboard? Are you saying it would be better if I just let him go, let him do what he wants?”
“That’s not what I’m saying, Catherine, and you know it. And you also know how far is too far for him. Don’t let the voice of reason get lost in your need to protect him.”
“Voice of reason.” Catherine forced a half laugh, her attention focused on Matty. He was back in the wheelchair, removing the prosthesis with the therapist’s help. “He told me the other day he wants to play hockey. Hockey, for crying out loud! Like I don’t know where that idea came from.”
Brian crossed his arms in front of him and shrugged, almost too nonchalantly. “Who knows? Maybe one day he will.”
“What? You didn’t just say that. I’m imagining things.” Catherine studied her friend, saw the barely noticeable blotch of red creeping up from his shirt collar. A muscle twitched in his jaw. “What is it, Brian? What aren’t you telling me?”
His mouth opened and closed silently. He pursed his lips together and shrugged again, still refusing to face her. She folded her own arms in front of her and stepped into his line of vision, ready to demand an answer.
“Hey, Mom! Did you see that?” Matty’s excited voice came from behind and she turned to face him, forcing a bright smile. She gave the therapist a passing glance then bent down so she could be on eye level with Matty.
“I sure did. You’re getting better each day.”
“He’s done remarkably well, Dr. Wilson. At the rate he’s progressing, it won’t be long before he’s sprinting with that new leg of his.” Catherine straightened and leveled a serious look at Matty’s therapist, Paul. She wanted to tell him, to scream at him, that there was no way she would allow her son to risk getting hurt by doing something as foolish as sprinting with a prosthesis. Or running. Or even walking fast. But there was no way she could say any of that, not now and certainly not here, so she just smiled tightly and said nothing.
Matty waved goodbye to Paul then looked from her to Brian and back again, a look of excitement on his face. Catherine felt the bottom of her stomach drop in anticipation.
“Did you tell her yet, Uncle Bri?”
“Um, not yet.”
Catherine looked from one to the other, at the excitement dancing in Matty’s eyes and the frown creasing Brian’s forehead. Her stomach did another funny little dip. “Tell me what?”
“Uncle Brian got me into this neat camp for kids like me. It’s got sports and all kinds of stuff, and there’s even going to be some pro guys there. Isn’t that cool, Mom?”
Catherine clenched her jaw against the sudden fear and fury that ripped through her and turned to Brian, ignoring Matty as he pulled on her hand. “What is he talking about?”
“I heard about this sports camp run by the players of some local teams and thought it would be good for Matty.