Annie Hemby - Healing His Widowed Heart

When a teenage boy walked in the front door that afternoon, she turned to Dr. Marcus.

“Do you mind seeing him?” Dr. Marcus asked, pretending to be busy.

Lexie nodded thankfully and led the young boy back to her examining room.

“Where is your mother?” she asked as he climbed onto the table.

“At home. She told me to come here. It was just a skateboarding accident. Happens all the time,” the kid said. Lexie recognized him from the Teen Center the other night. He was wearing an oversize button-down shirt and had a backward ball cap on his head. There was a grin on his childlike face despite the intermittent grimace that came when he moved his arm.

Lexie nodded, turning her focus to his wrist. She’d already palpated the bone and he’d nearly jumped off the table. His wrist wasn’t broken, just sprained. A dark pool of purple blood resided just below the skin between his forearm and hand. She gently placed an ice pack over it.

“Ouch!” The boy shifted uncomfortably.

Lexie lifted her gaze to the rectangular bulge in his front pocket. “I’m more concerned about those cigarettes in your pocket. You’re not even eighteen.”

His mouth dropped slightly. “They’re not mine. They’re for my mom.”

“I see.” She twisted her mouth to one side thoughtfully, knowing a lie when she heard one. In the sterile room, she could smell the stale smoke clinging to his clothing. “Do you know the harmful effects that smoking can have on a body? You’re young now and probably think you’re invincible, but cigarettes are bad for your health,” she warned.

The teenager stared at her, his eyes glazing over. He wasn’t listening. He might as well have had earbuds blasting music in his ears like all the teens she’d seen around did lately.

“By the time you’re my age, you’ll be short of breath just going up a flight of stairs if you keep that up. You certainly won’t be fit enough to ride your skateboard.”

“They’re for my mom,” the teen said again, his gaze skittering to the wall behind her.

She frowned. “Well, in that case, you should tell your mother that I advise her to quit the habit and take care of herself, because she’s worth taking care of. And so are you.” Lexie pulled a pen out of her white lab coat and jotted down something on her prescription pad. She wasn’t sure her patient was fully listening to her right now, and she wanted to make sure he followed her instructions. “Rest your wrist. Keep ice on it over the next few hours and take over-the-counter ibuprofen for the swelling. You should be fine by tomorrow, but if you’re not I want to see you back here in my examining room.”

The kid nodded. “Okay.”

“And I’d give the skateboard a rest for the next few days. You don’t want to fall on your arm again while it’s healing.”

The kid jumped down from the examining table. “Thanks, Doc.” He took the paper and started to walk toward the door.

“And remember to tell your mother my advice about those cigarettes,” she said, even though she was really advising him. “Quitting now will be easier than trying to quit later. Taking care of yourself is important.”

Lexie opened the door for him and froze at the sight of Mason on the other side of it. “Mason. What are you doing here?”

His mouth was set in a deep frown just like last night. His gaze moved from her to Trevor. “I told you that you could call me anytime,” he told the boy. “I would have taken you to the hospital.”

“I just saw this doctor,” Trevor said, pointing at Lexie. He held up the piece of paper she’d handed him, which outlined her care instructions. “See? Rest and ice. That’s all I need.”

“And stop smoking the cigarettes,” Lexie added.

Mason’s brow lifted. “Really?” He shook his head. “We’ll talk later. Right now we’re getting a second opinion on that wrist.”

Lexie crossed her arms and took a deep breath, mentally counting to five before speaking. “I’m sure Dr. Marcus wouldn’t mind doing that for you if that’s what you need to feel better about my treatment of Trevor.”

“I want the best for him.”

Meaning that she was not the best.

She rolled her lips together and held her tongue, turning to Trevor. “Is that okay with you?”

The teen shrugged. “Mr. Mason is overprotective. He acts like my father sometimes.”

She forced a smile, trying not to take Mason’s behavior personally. “Nothing wrong with that. I’ll just go see if Dr. Marcus can take a quick look.” She gestured for him to take a seat in her examining room again. Mason followed behind him.

He was right. She was a new doctor, not skilled enough to complete brain surgery. But she’d known how to treat a sprain since she was in the Girl Scouts.

“Dr. Marcus?” she called, poking her head into her mentor’s office.

He turned and offered a quick smile. “Everything okay?” he asked. “I saw Mason come in.”

She nodded. “And he wants a second opinion on my patient.” She blew out a breath. “Would you mind?”

Dr. Marcus stood and patted her shoulder. “I’m sure you did a great job, but if it eases Mason’s mind, I’ll take a look. He tends to hover over the kids from the Teen Center. That place means a lot to him.”

She watched Dr. Marcus head toward the examining room that she’d just left, staying back and deciding to keep her distance right now because she didn’t enjoy being doubted. And also because Mason made her nervous for more reasons than his scrutinizing gaze. He was handsome and she admired the fact that he wanted to look after the teens that he volunteered with. He was one of the good guys, even if he didn’t trust that she was any good at the moment.

* * *

Mason glanced around as he walked out of the examining room with Trevor at his side. Lexie was nowhere to be seen, probably off treating another patient, he guessed. Good. He was a little embarrassed by the fact that Dr. Marcus had given Trevor the same diagnosis and medical advice that she had.

“No shooting hoops for you for at least a week. Your arm needs some R & R,” Dr. Marcus said, following them out of the tiny room.

Trevor shrugged and mumbled an inaudible agreement.

“Trevor.” Mason bumped him gently.

With a sigh, Trevor met Dr. Marcus’s eyes. “Yes, sir,” he said. “No shooting hoops for a week. Got it.”

“And?” Mason urged.

Trevor grinned. “Thank you, Dr. Marcus. And that other doctor lady, too.”

Dr. Marcus laughed. “You’re very welcome, Trevor. Anytime.”

Mason was as proud of his teaching the kids at the Teen Center as he was of putting out fires and helping kittens out of trees. “I’ll take you home,” he said, his gaze falling on the rectangular bulge in Trevor’s front pocket. “And we’ll talk on the way there.”

“Hey, Mason,” Dr. Marcus called as they started to leave. “The clinic’s open house is next weekend. I was hoping you’d help.”

“Help?” Mason turned back to look at the older doctor.

“Well, I know you’re trying to raise money for the Teen Center. You could set up something outside to raise money for your group and to draw people in for us. It would help with the clinic’s outreach efforts, as well.”

Mason considered this. It wasn’t the clinic that he had a problem with. Dr. Marcus was a great doctor and he’d told Mason just now in light conversation that other experienced doctors from Carolina Medical would be volunteering their time here, too, in the coming weeks. It was really just the inexperienced physicians that Mason didn’t trust. Mason glanced around the room for Lexie, not seeing her. “I wanted to talk to you in more depth about those outreach efforts.”