Page 18 of A Texas Hero

On his way out, the little boy and his parents were also leaving. An attendant stopped Archer and pulled him aside.

“Do you think you could say a few words to our young amputee, Joey, about your prosthesis?” The attendant lowered his voice. “Whatever you feel comfortable with, of course. It’s actually more for the parents than him.”

Archer couldn’t imagine how he’d feel if his child had lost a foot. Especially one so young. The kid looked to be about seven or eight. Archer only had to look as far as his own parents to see the classic parent response. They’d reacted far worse about his injury than Archer had. It had become his job to convince them he wasn’t going to die and would simply need to learn to walk with a prosthetic foot. Certainly not in any way a death sentence, even if it wasn’t ideal.

The attendant introduced Archer to Joey and his parents.

“I’m also a patient here.” Archer smiled, and patted his lower left leg. “Just coming in for a checkup.”

Joey’s eyes widened. “You have a bionic foot, too?”

“It’s been about a year for me. How about you?”

“He just got it today,” the boy’s mother, Darcy, said, and Archer noticed her eyes were a little bloodshot; no doubt she had been crying while trying to hide it from her son. “He loves it.”

“I love mine, too,” Archer said, even if he’d prefer the foot he had been born with. “And there’s nothing I can’t do with this. It’s a part of me now.”

“How did you hurt your foot?” The young kid’s eyes were wide and brimming with curiosity.

“Joey,” his father said, hand on the boy’s shoulder. “That’s not polite.”

Archer waved a hand dismissively. “I was in an accident when I was overseas.”

Every once in a while, Archer woke up from a nightmare, sweating. The memory of metal and bone crunching together lingering in his mind. But the strongest and most painful memories were beginning to fade with time.

“I want to play soccer again with my new foot,” Joey said.

“You will,” Archer said.

They parted with a fist bump. Archer strolled out of the orthopedics wing of the hospital feeling much better, as he always did when he could help someone. As he turned toward the lobby, Archer recognized someone familiar. He couldn’t believe his eyes; she was not supposed to be here. His heart raced, knowing there would be only one reason why she would not listen to him and stay at home. It seemed as if she hadn’t told him everything; maybe the agency didn’t even have all the current information.

Because Zoey Lambert was walking out of the cancer ward.

Chapter Eight

Even after an awful day, Zoey always felt better after visiting the Conchita Lambert Cancer Ward. There was one in every major hospital in the state of Texas and a few across the country. Some might think it strange to feel better after visiting cancer patients, but Zoey believed it was her purpose to bring sunshine into the lives of those fighting the good fight. She’d done it for her mother, and she could do it for these people, who were at first strangers and in some cases became friends. They wrote and emailed her, thanking both her and her father for all they’d done. She liked to come at least once a month, but she came more often in the fall.

Today, she had with her a bouquet of a dozen fresh red roses that she handed out to all the nurses on the ward. Scott’s efforts at getting her back with flowers wouldn’t completely go to waste. A single long-stemmed rose for every hardworking nurse. And to make the day extra special, she was able to watch a breast cancer survivor ring the bell at the end of her treatment.

“This is Patch and Conchita Lambert’s daughter, Zoey,” a nurse said. “How about a photo op?”

“Yes, please!” The young woman, who couldn’t be much older than Zoey, beamed.

Zoey posed for a photo with the patient and wished the woman many years ahead of being cancer-free. She heard survival rates were improving every day and was delighted. Early screening was so high-tech now that they could often catch cancer before it ever happened. Mami would be so proud of what they’d done here, in her name.

But all her joy swiftly left her when she saw Archer standing near the front of the lobby. She’d planned to be back well in time for him to return from his appointment. He looked shocked more than angry to see her. But her main concern was that he’d somehow hurt his foot while helping her decorate the store. She had a feeling that had happened, but he’d been too much of an alpha male to complain.

“Look. I know what you’re going to say,” Zoey said. “I shouldn’t have come here alone. But this is a regular appointment for me, and as you know this is my only day off.”

Archer stepped forward, his eyes soft. “I am so sorry, Zoey.”

“What? Why? I’m the one who’s sorry I didn’t listen to you. But I had to be here today.”

“I…didn’t know.”

“Yes, well, that’s the point. You had your appointment, and I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d try to stop me. I knew how you’d react.”

“Why would you worry about my reaction? You should have told me that you’re ill.”