“Luke!” Melissa says, staring at me in surprise. She’s wearing a gray T-shirt and slouchy pink sweatpants that ride low on her hips, leaving an inch of skin exposed. It’s clear she wasn’t expecting company, and I’m struck by a pang of guilt.
“I should have texted first,” I say apologetically.
“It’s fine,” she says, collecting herself. “Please, come in. Is it something to do with Claire?”
I can see the worry in her eyes, and I mentally kick myself. She’s probably wondering if some test has come back, suggesting Claire’s problem was far more serious than appendicitis.
“Nothing’s wrong,” I reassure her. “I just missed seeing Claire at her follow-up this morning, so I thought I’d stop by and check in.”
As I say the words, I realize how lame they sound, but Ican hardly tell her the truth.Nothing’s wrong, Melissa. I just wanted to see you.
“And I wanted to thank you for the cookies,” I add.
Claire comes running down the hallway with Liam at her heels, and overhears my comment about the cookies. “Dr. Carlton!” she exclaims. “Did you like them? Mom and I made them together.”
“And me!” Liam puts in. “I helped.”
“Yeah, Liam helped too,” Claire agrees. “We couldn’t decide whether to put pretzels in or not, but Mom thought we should.”
“Well, it was a good choice, because everyone liked them,” I tell her. “Maybe too much, because I only got to eat one.”
Claire’s face falls. “Really? But we made them for you.”
“I know,” I tell her with a grin. “But we always share stuff like that with the rest of the staff in the clinic. And the one I ate was delicious.”
“We’ll bake you some more,” Claire declares. “I don’t think we have any more pretzels, but we could do plain peanut butter? Or chocolate chip?”
“Cookies!” Liam exclaims.
“Oh. No, that’s okay,” I say quickly. I glance at Melissa, who’s looking at me quizzically. She’s probably still wondering what I’m doing at her house. “I just came because I didn’t get a chance to see you in the clinic this morning.”
“We saw Dr. Nick,” Claire says. “He said you had a meeting.”
“That’s right,” I nod. “He told me you were feeling good?”
“Yeah,” she says. “I got a MedicAlert bracelet, for the allergy.” She holds out her wrist to show me the silver bracelet.
“That’s great. Have you heard from the allergist?”
“Their office called, and Claire has an appointment next month,” Melissa says.
“Good.”
“Do you want to look at Claire’s scars?” Melissa asks. “I mean, your resident thought they’d healed well, but I don’t know?—”
“Sure.” I can’t tell if she’s really concerned about the scars or if she’s trying to validate my decision to pay this house call.
Before I can suggest she lie down on a couch, Claire’s lifted her shirt above her belly button to show me her three tiny scars.
“They look really good,” I tell her. They’re healing beautifully, and I bet in a few months, they’ll hardly be visible.
“Mommy, can we make cookies?” Liam tugs at Melissa’s pant leg to get her attention. My gaze strays to her waistband, which has slipped an inch lower on her hips.
Melissa sighs and smiles at Liam. “I guess so, yeah.”
“Yes!” Claire exclaims, and the two of them hustle off, presumably toward the kitchen.
“Wash your hands first,” Melissa calls after them.
