“You finished your computer science degree, didn’t you?”
“Yes. But Mrs. Carlton?—”
“Helen,” she corrects me again. “And if I remember right, you used to tutor math?”
“Well, yes. But that was years ago.”
The corner of her mouth quirks up. “I doubt math’s changed very much. Look, Melissa, between you and me, Brookline’s in a jam. They pride themselves on having a STEM focus and an all-female staff, but they can’t find a woman qualified to teach higher level math. It’s a bit of an embarrassment. Can I give Carole your number?”
“Of course.” I imagine Brookline’s principal will lose interest quickly when she realizes I’m not qualified, but it seems easiest to say yes.
I notice that Liam’s getting antsy. “We should get going,” I tell Helen. “Thanks so much again.”
She nods. “Why don’t you take him inside to wash his hands?” she suggests, gesturing to the back door.
I carry Liam to the washroom to prevent him from wiping his dirty hands on the Carltons’ furniture, and Helen goes to find his backpack of clothes.
“It was nice to see you again, Melissa,” she says kindly as she hands me the backpack. “Best wishes to your daughter.”
Helen Carlton is a classy lady.
“Thank you again, Helen,” I answer, before turning to walk Liam out to the car.
As I’m buckling him into his carseat, my phone buzzes with a text from Luke. He’s replying to my invitation to meet for coffee.
Luke: I don’t think that’s a good idea, Melissa.
TEN
MELISSA
I take Liam home for a bath and fresh clothes before heading back to the hospital. When we get back to Claire’s room, Troy’s on his laptop, no doubt trying to keep up with his work responsibilities, and Claire’s watching cartoons on the iPad.
Troy offers to stay in Somerset tonight and look after Liam, and I gratefully accept. Claire seems fine, but there are no guarantees, and if she ends up in the ICU again I don’t want to be scrambling for childcare. After Luke’s last text, I certainly don’t want to have to ask him or his family for another favor.
The day passes slowly. Troy takes Liam out for lunch, and they don’t return until it’s nearly time for dinner. I read a little moreAnne of Green Gableswith Claire and then she has a nap. I try to nap too—although I managed to sleep last night, I still feel exhausted—but I’ve never been good at sleeping during the day.
And I reread Luke’s last text more times than I care to admit.
I don’t think that’s a good idea, Melissa.
He doesn’t explain why it’s a bad idea, though. Maybe he thinks I’m trying to ask him on a date. I’m not; I know there can never be anything like that between us again. But I’d started to hope we might be friends.
I guess I read too much into the fact he talked me to sleep last night. Claire had an anaphylactic reaction, and Luke’s a nice person; he probably took pity on me. It doesn’t mean he wants any sort of relationship with me again, friends or otherwise.
So as much as I want to text him back and ask why it wouldn’t be a good idea to meet for coffee, I don’t. I asked, he said no, and I need to leave it there. The only relationship I have with Luke Carlton is as the mother of his patient.
And when Luke comes by the following morning, he greets Claire with a big smile but barely meets my eye. He’s with his resident and medical student, and he lets the resident do all the talking. Claire’s going to be discharged this morning, with a plan for a follow-up appointment in two weeks. They recommend we get a Medic-Alert bracelet for the antibiotic allergy, along with an Epi-Pen, and they’ll make a referral to an allergist.
As the resident rattles off the discharge instructions, I notice Luke still has dark circles under his eyes. He’s probably working too hard. I wonder if he has a girlfriend to nag him to look after himself.
Troy arrives with Liam shortly after Luke leaves. Troy’s unshaven and irritable, and I suspect his night with Liam was more difficult than he expected. I thank him profusely for looking after his son, which seems to soften his mood, and he helps me pack up our stuff to go home. The nurse brings a wheelchair for Claire, but she insists she can walk to the car.
As we’re crossing the hospital lobby, someone calls myname, and I turn to see a tall redhead dressed in scrubs. We haven’t seen each other in years, but I recognize her immediately; Sophie Kaminsky was one of my best friends in high school.
“Melissa Lawrence!” she says again. “I thought it was you. Been a long time!”
A long time is an understatement; I haven’t talked to Sophie in almost ten years. I’m surprised when she leans in for a hug, and I return it a little awkwardly.
