Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

After checking in on Grace, who was doing very well post-op from her procedure and settled in the pediatric ICU, Aaron decided he couldn't put off speaking with Dale Fullerton any longer. As much as he detested the need to address his colleague, patient care had to be a priority.

Maggie had once accused him of avoiding conflict, and she was probably right about that. He preferred to get along with people, ignoring the drama.

But he couldn't ignore this. Not when there might be a time when Aaron wasn't in the city to take care of an emergency if Dale decided he didn't feel like answering his pager or his phone.

He headed to his office and took the time to make himself another cup of coffee with the single-cup machine. Then he settled into the leather chair behind his desk and reached for the landline phone. He paged Fullerton through the normal process, as if he was one of the residents up on the floor. He'd thought Fullerton might recognize his office number and answer anyway, but he didn't. Gritting his teeth, he called the surgeon directly, knowing his name and number would flash on Fullerton's cell phone screen.

Fullerton didn't answer, letting the call go through to voicemail. Maybe he'd done that on purpose because of his failure to respond to the earlier page. After all, Fullerton had to make it look as if his phone was off or not working properly.

Sure enough, less than ten minutes later, Aaron's cell phone rang. Seeing Fullerton's name, he didn't bother with niceties. "Where have you been?" he demanded. He hadn't intended to start off this way, but his anger and frustration boiled over. "I had to take a six-month-old baby to the OR because you didn't answer your pages."

"I—I'm sorry. My phone was on silent." Fullerton sounded concerned. "I had no idea that a baby was in trouble."

"And what's wrong with your pager? Dead battery?" He didn't hide the snark in his tone. "Give me a break. This is not the first time you haven't responded to calls on a weekend, and I'm fed up with others having to cover your lapse. This time, I'm taking formal disciplinary action against you."

"What? You can't do that! Just because I missed a few pages!" Now Fullerton sounded angry.

"Watch me. I took a little girl to surgery because you didn't answer your phone or your pager." He enunciated each word carefully as if explaining this to a dimwit. "That's dereliction of duty. You should have been here doing your job. But you weren't. Be in my office first thing Monday morning. I'll arrange for a meeting with the chief of staff."

"Now wait a minute!" There was a note of panic in Fullerton's tone. "There's no need to go off the deep end just because I accidentally put my phone on silent?—"

"It's too late for excuses," he interrupted. Maybe he was tired and stressed over the situation with Maggie and Joey, not to mention having to come in early, but he was not budging on this. "You're relieved of duty until further notice. I'll cover your call for the rest of the weekend since I've been here since three in the morning anyway."

There was a long moment of silence as if the reality of the situation was finally sinking into Dale Fullerton's tiny brain. Dale's voice was subdued when he spoke again. "I'll be happy to cover your next weekend on call in exchange for you working this weekend."

Yeah, nice try , he thought. "Monday morning. My office at seven a.m. Don't be late." Aaron quickly ended the call. After setting his cell phone aside, he scrubbed his hands over his face. Why had he taken a leadership role?

Oh yeah, because it seemed like a good idea at the time.

With a sigh, he sipped his coffee. Then he sent a flurry of emails. First, he made sure to remove Fullerton from the call schedule, then he made sure the chief of staff, Dr. Rob Kent, would be able to attend the Monday morning meeting. Finally, he went back through his notes to document the four times in six months that Fullerton had not answered his calls.

When those administrative tasks were finished, he downed the last of his coffee and rose to his feet. He'd make rounds on the cardiac surgery patients, then head home.

To his empty house.

Turning away from his troubled thoughts, he ran a report of all cardiac surgery patients within the hospital. Then he began making rounds, pleased to note that most of their tiny patients were doing fine. One patient happened to be on Joey's unit, and he had to force himself to walk past the little boy's room without poking his head in to see Maggie.

He needed to stop letting her mess with his head. She wasn't in town to see him. She'd attended a conference, responded to a bus crash, and jumped in to help support a scared and injured little boy.

If not for the crash, Maggie would be back in Boston right now doing whatever she did on her weekends off.

Dating? He hid a wince as he logged into the next patient chart. Why wouldn't she be dating? She was beautiful, smart, and single.

The next few hours dragged by with excruciating slowness. Knowing Maggie was there made it difficult to get back into his usual routine.

At home, he flipped through TV stations to find the Big Ten college football game. But after several minutes, he realized he had no idea who was playing or what the score was.

When his phone rang, he startled badly. Expecting the call to be from the hospital, he was surprised to see Alec's number on the screen. "Hey, Alec. Don't tell me you found something on Oliver Chism already?"

"Bro, it's been five hours since you called," Alec drawled. "So yeah, I spent time digging into your guy. And you're right about his history of drug abuse. I found a court-ordered rehab from last year after he crashed his car into a tree."

He took a moment to digest that information. "I guess he could be clean since that happened."

"Doubtful," Alec drawled. "He was arrested six months ago with possession. He wasn't carrying a lot of weight, just a couple ounces of crack cocaine, but he spent another month in jail before he was released on parole."

"What impact does his being on parole have on his ability to be granted custody of his son?" To Aaron's mind, it should be a no-brainer for the judge to rule against giving Chism custody of Joey. Why take the risk of Chism falling back into his old ways? And how did a drug addict support himself anyway?

"Depends on the judge," Alec said. "If custody is granted, someone from Child Protective Services would be expected to make frequent home visits to make sure Chism was treating his son well."

"Home visits." He shook his head in disgust. "Anyone can pull it together long enough to pass a home visit."

"Not if he's using again," Alec said. "And my impression is that the home visits are not scheduled ahead of time."

"Yeah, okay." He didn't like it, but getting mad at Alec wouldn't help. "Would the judge mandate drug testing too?"

"Yes, that's part of being out on parole." Alec was silent for a moment. "I wish I could reassure you that Chism won't get custody, but there are too many variables at play to know how things will shake out. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, I know." It was Joey who would suffer the most if things didn't work out with his father. "I appreciate you digging into the guy for me. I feel bad taking you away from your family on a Saturday."

"No problem, I took time off for Shannon's soccer game." Alec chuckled softly. "Gotta say, she plays with heart, even if there isn't a whole lot of skill."

"She's young, give her time," Aaron said. He'd liked being closer to his parents, but seeing the happy families of his siblings was bittersweet. Yet he had nothing to complain about, seeing as Andrea had lost her husband.

He and Andrea had bonded over their respective losses at the last family dinner. Andrea had her two kids, Bethany and Ben, to help keep her busy.

He didn't have anything but his work to distract him from his loss.

"I'm not complaining," Alec said. "If Shannon is happy, that's all that matters."

"Yeah, I hear you." He thought briefly about the kids he'd never have. "Hey, do you mind throwing a quick summary together on what you've discovered about Oliver Chism? I think that might come in handy down the road."

"Sure thing. I'll send it along later today," Alec agreed. There was a brief pause, then Alec added, "Be careful, Aaron. You're allowing yourself to get personally involved with this kid. Much the way Adam did last Christmas with baby Joy."

"I know. It must be something in the Monroe DNA, though, because I can't turn my back on this little boy's situation. Thanks again, Alec. Spend the rest of your day off with your family."

"I will. Later." Alec ended the call without saying anything more.

But as Aaron stared at his phone, he realized probably would not have been as emotionally invested in Joey's care if not for Maggie's involvement.

Maybe he wasn't as good of a person as Adam. And that knowledge sat like a rock in his gut, making him wonder if he was the real reason Maggie had left.

Not her inability to bear a child.

* * *

The hours Maggie spent at Joey's bedside passed with an odd routine. The pain meds made him fall asleep, but in between doses, she'd encouraged him to get out of bed and move around. It was heartbreaking how Joey tried to please her, and tears rolled down her cheeks when she thought about handing him over to his father.

At two o'clock in the afternoon, Kyle Flores came into the room to check on Joey's abdominal drain. "How are you feeling?" he asked the little boy.

"Sometimes my tummy hurts," Joey said. "'Specially when I move. But I got to watch Aladdin ! It was so good."

Kyle smiled as he took his stethoscope from his pocket and used it to listen to Joey's heart and lungs. "I'm glad you're moving around; it's important you walk in the halls with your—er, Maggie."

Joey nodded, but his gaze had been drawn back to the television screen. Another animated movie was playing now, one she didn't recognize.

"His lungs sound good," Kyle said. "You've been doing a great job of keeping him quiet and active at the same time."

"I honestly had no idea how difficult a task that would be," she said with a wry smile. "If not for the pain holding him back, I think he'd be bouncing off the walls."

"Spoken like a true parent," he said. "I need to double-check how much drainage he's had since surgery."

"The same as I told you earlier, roughly ten milliliters." She couldn't blame him for logging into the computer to see the information for himself. "Nothing from the drain since zero six hundred."

"I keep forgetting you're a physician," he said, turning to smile at her. "Okay, I think we can safely remove the drain." He logged out of the computer, then reached for a pair of gloves from the box mounted on the wall. "I'll need you to hold Joey still for a minute while I do that."

"Of course." She wasn't going anywhere.

Kyle didn't ask for help from the nurse or delegate the task to a resident. He opened a clean dressing and set it off to the side, then glanced down at Joey. She lifted Joey's hospital gown and began working the tape from his skin.

Thankfully, Joey was so enamored of the show he didn't pay much attention. When she had the tape off, she tightened her grip on the little boy.

With a smooth, swift movement, Kyle pulled the drain and covered the opening with a fresh dressing. She held the white gauze in place as he disposed of the drain, then stripped off his gloves.

"He didn't even notice," she murmured.

"It's a good thing," Kyle agreed. He taped the dressing down, then stepped back. "He has one more dose of antibiotic to get, then we can get rid of the IV too."

"I guess that means he'll be ready for discharge soon." She frowned. "How does that work on a weekend when there's no legal guardian?"

"I was planning to keep him inpatient until Monday," Kyle said. "It won't hurt to give him an extra day here, especially being a weekend. I need to see how he tolerates food too. I've written orders for him to start with clear liquids tonight, and if he does well with Jell-O and popsicles, we can move into full liquids by morning. I've also written orders to have the social worker talk to Child Protective Services first thing Monday morning to discuss our next steps with Joey's discharge."

A wave of panic hit hard. There was no way she'd be approved to be Joey's foster parent by Monday afternoon. Logically, she'd known it wasn't likely she'd be able to stay with Joey after his discharge, but hearing it now felt like she'd been hit by a brick.

Since Kyle was looking at her expectantly, she nodded. "I understand."

"Maggie." He rested a hand on her shoulder. "You've developed a bond with Joey. He's doing really well, and I'm happy to let the representative from Child Protective Services know that if needed."

"Thanks. It's just…I feel bad for him." She managed a smile. "He's been through a lot, and the thought of handing him over to a stranger…"

"I know." Kyle looked as if he wanted to say something more, but then he turned back to the computer. He logged on, probably to write a note about removing the drain and updating his orders. When he finished, he turned back to face her. "You should know that most of the foster parents I've run across are kind and caring people. No matter how this turns out, I'm sure Joey will do fine."

Easy for him to say, he hadn't met Joey's father. But he had a point about the foster care system. Every profession in the world had a few bad apples in the bunch, but focusing on the negative was silly. She could stick around in Milwaukee to make sure Joey was assigned someone decent.

The bigger concern was Oliver Chism. She couldn't bear the thought of Oliver getting custody of Joey long term. There had to be a way to prevent that, but how, she wasn't sure. Especially if the guy had managed to clean up his act.

"Thanks, Kyle. You've been great through this."

"You're welcome. I'll see you again in the morning," he promised, before heading out of the room.

She smoothed Joey's hair back from his forehead, her thoughts whirling. She'd need to request a personal leave of absence from work so she could stay in town longer. At least she had the hotel room, but depending on where Joey was placed on Monday, she may need something different.

Either a rental house where she could have a bedroom for the little boy to use or another hotel closer to wherever his foster parents lived.

Was she crazy to be doing this? Kyle was a decent guy, and he wasn't getting all wrapped up in Joey's future the way she was.

Yes, she'd taken him from his dying mother's arms and held him close. Yes, he'd bonded with her—out of necessity as he was injured too. Yes, she'd stayed the night with him to make sure he didn't have a relapse.

But right now he was content watching cartoons. And one thing she'd learned during her years of being a pediatric anesthesiologist was that kids were incredibly resilient. Joey was only four years old; he may not even remember his time with her once he was placed in a loving home with parents who adored him.

She was the one making a bigger deal out of his future. As if becoming Joey's foster mother was the only acceptable option.

How many other kids in this hospital didn't have parents? Probably more than she wanted to know. If circumstances were such that she couldn't be there for Joey, there was nothing to stop her from returning to Boston and going through the process there to become a foster parent. The hoops she'd need to jump through couldn't be that much different.

Yet somehow Joey had taken hold of her heart.

"Hey, do you want to try a popsicle?" she asked.

Joey glanced at her and nodded. "I like purple the best."

"I'll see what I can do." She slid from the bed and walked out into the hallway. There was no sign of Joey's nurse, so she found the kitchenette and peeked into the freezer. Just as she'd suspected, there were plenty of popsicles inside. Although finding a grape one wasn't as easy. It must have been a popular flavor because she had to dig way down into the plastic bag to find one.

On her way back to Joey's room, a familiar man stood in the hallway. Her stomach clenched as she hurried forward. "Mr. Chism? What are you doing here?"

"I deserve to see my son." He sneered, bolder now that Officer Thomas wasn't standing beside him.

"I'm sorry, but that's not possible." She kept her voice even with an effort, hoping she wouldn't have to get into a physical altercation with the guy. A quick glance confirmed they were alone in this section of the hallway.

As if sensing her fear, Chism took a threatening step toward her. "Who's gonna stop me? You?"

"If I have to," she said calmly. "But I don't think you want me to call Officer Thomas to let him know that you are not acting in your son's best interest. Something I'm sure the judge in family court would not like to hear."

His narrow gaze pierced hers for a long moment as he seemed to consider what she'd said. She hoped he'd turn and walk away, yet the fact that he'd even shown up in the first place was concerning.

She could only imagine he'd thought he could bully her into allowing him to visit, or he'd assumed she wouldn't still be there.

Wrong on both counts. She edged closer, putting herself between Oliver and Joey's door.

Where were the nurses? Or better yet, a security guard? Surely, Children's Memorial had them the same way they did in Boston.

"I talked to a lawyer," Chism said.

Already? She wondered what kind of lawyer he could get calling on a Saturday. "I'm sure you have. But you shouldn't be here now. Joey needs his rest."

"You can't keep me from getting my kid," Chism sneered. "My lawyer says we're getting big bucks from the bus accident."

He'd spoken to a personal injury lawyer? She wasn't sure if she should laugh or cry. The lawyer handling the bus crash would not be the same one to represent Oliver Chism in family court.

But it made sense now why he'd risked coming back to the hospital. Oliver was seeing Joey as his payday.

"Maggie? Is there a problem?"

She turned to see Aaron striding toward them, concern etched on his features. She smiled in relief and quickly nodded. "Mr. Chism seems to think he can see Joey whenever he wants. I'll need you to reach out to Officer Thomas. I know you have his phone number."

"Absolutely," Aaron agreed. "I'll call him right now."

"I'm going. I'm going." Apparently, Oliver wasn't in the mood to speak with Officer Thomas again. The skinny, twitchy man finally took a step back. He flashed an eerie smile. "But I'll be back. My lawyer says I have rights."

She nodded, waiting for him to turn and leave. When Chism was gone, Aaron asked, "How in the world did he get a lawyer so fast?"

"It's not what you think. He has a personal injury lawyer. He probably called one of those numbers on the billboards along the freeway." She sighed and gestured to Joey's room. "I need to give him this popsicle before it melts. Then I'll fill you in."

"Of course." He held the door for her. As she gave Joey his popsicle, which thankfully wasn't as melted as she had feared, she was glad Aaron had arrived when he did.

Yet it was odd that Aaron was proving to be more supportive of her now that they were divorced than when they were married.