The Littlest Target. Maggie K. Black
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The only other person she’d ever seen hold Fitz were those moments she left him and Gerry alone to open and play with whatever new toy he’d brought. Not even Anna had shown any interest in holding her stepson. Daisy always figured she needed time to warm up. Now she never would.
“Can you hold him?” Max asked. Without missing a beat, he slipped Fitz into her waiting arms even as she felt her hands reach out instinctively to take him. “I find with a child this small, a lot of caregivers are more comfortable if they hold him during an examination.”
She watched and waited while Max carefully checked Fitz’s eyes and ran his hands over his limbs. Fitz chortled, and his laughter made something catch in Daisy’s throat.
“He’s teething,” she said. “Lower gum on the right side. He’s been fussing more than usual and has a slight fever that comes and goes.”
“All very normal.” Max nodded seriously. Then he stepped back and checked the car seat over. “Everything seems fine. No sign of injury, trauma or distress. The fact the car seat didn’t sustain any damage is a good sign. Still, you shouldn’t reuse a car seat after it’s been in an accident. But the rental place should have one and I do have a spare one in my vehicle we can use for now. Now, how about you? Any pain from the accident? How are you feeling?”
He looked at her pensively, like she was a bomb he needed to defuse or a problem he needed to solve.
“I’m fine,” she said. “A bit stiff and sore, but I’ll live. Now, tell me, why are you doing this?”
He paused. There was no smile on his face now. But even with a slight frown, there was still something soft about his face. “I told you. You’re in trouble and you need help.”
The moon disappeared behind the clouds. A shiver ran down her back. “I told you I didn’t want your help.”
“I know,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t need it.”
The rain fell suddenly, in just a few scattered drops like the splattering of a garden hose. Fitz screamed. Daisy wrapped her arms around him and ran for the shelter of the truck. Max opened the back door for her, and she climbed onto the back seat and held Fitz on her lap while Max ran back around to get the car seat.
She looked around the vehicle. She’d thought it was a police vehicle when she’d first passed it. Now she saw it was actually a truck, with both a front and a back seat. The covered truck bed was filled with brightly colored and neatly stacked bags of medical equipment, with labels like Primary Response, Secondary Response and Pediatric. The front of the unit had a laptop, a huge screen and some kind of radio device.
Fitz squealed happily and tried to lunge between the seats to push the shiny buttons. She caught him. “I think Fitz wants to play with your toys.”
Max laughed. “I don’t blame him. I’ve got some pretty snazzy gadgets.” He leaned in the opposite door and strapped the car seat in.
“What is this thing you’re driving anyway?” she asked. “I thought it was a police vehicle at first.”
“A rapid-response unit can do everything an ambulance can do except transport an injured person to hospital,” Max said. Raindrops brushed the strong lines of his jaw. He clipped the seat belt in place around the car seat, then pulled it carefully, checking each strap in turn. “Think of it like this, if you get into an accident, a rapid-response vehicle will probably get there first, then an ambulance if needed. Or, if neither can reach you, we’ll send in an air-ambulance helicopter, which happens a lot around here.”
“Do you ever fly the helicopter?” she asked.
“I fly in the helicopter, but I don’t pilot it,” he said. “I do know how to fly a helicopter, though. I’ve taken enough piloting lessons. I’ve just never tested for my pilot’s license.”
“Why not?” She felt her nose crinkle. “If I could fly something, nothing would stop me.”
He stepped back as if something about her comment surprised him.
She slid across the seat and buckled Fitz in. Then she ran around to the passenger-side door as Max opened it for her. Now she could see there was a full computer keyboard mounted between the two front seats and a whole lot of red-and-brown takeout coffee cups on the floor.
He blushed and quickly swept the trash into a black garbage bag that he yanked out from somewhere under the seat. He waited until she got in and closed the door behind her, before running back around and getting in the driver’s seat. He turned the ignition and pulled back onto the road.
“Usually people ask me the opposite question. Why did I train to fly a helicopter, considering paramedics aren’t pilots?” he said after a long moment, and she wondered how much he’d been playing her question around in his head.
“What do you tell them?” she asked.
“I tell people it’s because I’ve got two older brothers,” he said. “Trent and Jacob are eight and ten years older than me. I grew up chasing after them and trying to prove I could do whatever they could do, while always suspecting they looked at me like the annoying little brother who couldn’t keep up. Sitting in the helicopter while some other man or woman flies me around irked me. It felt too much like getting my brothers to drive me around places in the family car. I have this weird independent streak.”
“I left home at sixteen and had hiked around most of Britain and Europe by the time I was twenty-one,” she said. “I think I can beat you when it comes to independence.”
“I didn’t think it was a competition, but if it is, then you win!” He laughed and ran his hand over his head. “I don’t have a good answer as to why I never got my pilot’s license. Maybe because I’m very happy with how my life is right now and don’t want someone getting the bright idea I should make a career shift. Or maybe I’ve just always hated tests and competitions. Like, really hated them. Turning things from fun to serious ruined them for me.
“When I was a kid, my dad built this huge shooting-and-paintball range in the woods behind our house. We all learned to shoot. Both Trent and my little brother, Nick, went on to enter competitions and win trophies and medals. I just shot for fun. Or maybe I was too clumsy and hated being showed up by my overly confident little brother. Nick’s four years younger than me and he’s got the cute-baby-of-the-family thing going for him. I didn’t have that advantage.”
Oh, she didn’t know about that. Max seemed plenty cute from where she was sitting. He cut her a sideways glance, a casual and slightly wry grin slid across his mouth and something in his eyes sparkled.
She felt a sudden heat rise to her face. None of this was personal. He was only making conversation to ease her fears. He had to be. Yet, for a moment she caught a glimpse of the man he could be when there wasn’t a gunman or crisis at hand. It was a nice look.
“No sisters?” she asked.
Then just as suddenly as it appeared, the light faded from his eyes. He turned and stared ahead through the windshield, his hands tightened on the steering wheel at exactly ten and two. A frown crossed his mouth and his head shook slightly.
Okay, so she’d take that as a no.
Or at the very least, a no comment.
Silence filled the vehicle, punctuated by the occasional squeak of the windshield wipers as they wiped away the intermitted sprays of rain.
“As you’ve probably guessed, I’m English,” she said, after a long moment. “This is my first trip to Canada and I’ve done absolutely no sightseeing. Literally all I’ve seen is Fitz’s house and some highway. But I’ve traveled all around Europe and the UK. Even a bit of the Middle East and northern Africa. I grew up in this really tiny town where everybody knew everybody. I have four half siblings, but they’re all a lot younger than me. My stepfather and I never got on, so I left home at sixteen and moved in with my aunt. I finished school early, got a childcare diploma and traveled a lot. Then I started working for a temp