Cathy Gillen - Tangled Web

Watching Chase gently examine Joey’s scrapes and bruises was adequate distraction, however. She observed with uncharacteristic helplessness; prior to this she had always been the one who bandaged Joey after a mishap. She was struck by not only Chase’s gentleness and physician’s expertise, but also by his innate talent for dealing with kids, period. Chase was a very good doctor, she admitted grudgingly, but his ability to handle young patients didn’t exactly jibe with his irresponsible, nomadic life-style. Did he miss having kids himself? she wondered absently as Chase took a closer look at a long, rather nasty-looking scrape under Joey’s chin. He seemed to find it nothing to worry about and only cleaned it without comment. Would Chase have kids now if his engagement to Lucy had worked out? Chase was so closemouthed about his private life; no one knew why his engagement to Lucy had ended. Certainly she’d been beautiful and intelligent, if a bit aloof and almost superficial at times.

But that was none of her business, Hope reminded herself sternly, turning her attention back to the unfolding drama. From what she could judge as Chase swabbed antiseptic on the scratch beneath Joey’s chin, then daubed it with cream and fastened a bandage over it, Joey was in fair shape, all things considered.

That being the case, the conversation shifted back to how Joey had gotten into his predicament. At Chase’s gentle, pragmatic urging, the story came tumbling out.

“Well, see, it was like this. The Bateman twins said I was a sissy and shouldn’t be allowed to play at all ’cause sometimes I lose my breath and have to stop and use my inhaler. I got mad and called them a name back. A—uh—real bad one, Chase.” When Joey admitted this to his half brother, Hope sighed and rolled her eyes.

“And then one of them punched me and I punched one of them. The next thing I knew somebody’d knocked my glasses off and I was on the ground, fighting both of them.”

Both Batemans against little Joey! Hope felt color drain from her face. Those twins outweighed him by twenty pounds apiece, and were sturdy and muscular to boot. They could have really hurt him. Or brought on a full-blown asthma attack. But they hadn’t, she reminded herself firmly. Hanging on to her composure by a thread, nevertheless, she asked as calmly as possible, “Where are your glasses now?”

“Dunno.” Joey shrugged. Apparently that was the least of his worries.

“Well, you defended yourself courageously and held your own and that’s something,” Chase remarked. He gently cleansed the bruised skin around Joey’s left eye. “You’re going to have a shiner here, all right.” Chase straightened and held up three fingers.

Hope had to flatten herself against the sink to avoid rubbing up against Chase from shoulder to thigh. “How many?” Chase asked, his eyes riveted on her son.

“Three.”

Chase nodded in satisfaction then gave Joey his laconic smile. “Well, I guess you’ll live.”

He might, Hope thought wryly. But she was going to die from lack of oxygen if she didn’t get out of there soon. Standing this close to Chase for such a prolonged period of time made it a little difficult to breathe. Fortunately Carmelita was back, ice pack in hand.

Still steadfastly ignoring Hope, Chase put the ice pack in Joey’s hand and pressed it to his eye. “You need to keep that on for twenty minutes, then off for twenty, then on again the rest of the night. Got that?” he instructed his young patient kindly. “It’ll keep the swelling down.”

“Okay.” Joey started to get up.

“Just a minute, young man,” Hope said. There was a lot more she wanted to know. “Where was your coach when all this brawling was going on?”

“Over by the fence. Why?”

“And he let you boys fight?”

Joey shrugged his thin shoulders. “Well yeah, until the end, then he broke it up.”

“I don’t believe this!” Hope said, turning on her heel. She slipped past Chase, narrowly avoiding a collision, and slipped out into the hall. As far as she was concerned, the fight should have been stopped at the name-calling stage. One punch thrown was too many.

Joey dashed after her, catching up when she reached the telephone table in the hall. “Mom, you’re not going to call the coach, are you?” he asked anxiously.

“I most certainly am. This is not acceptable behavior. And if he doesn’t understand that, then I’m pulling you off the team.”

“You’d make me quit?” Joey cried. He sounded both incensed and fearful.

“Rather than have you hurt, yes, I would,” Hope said firmly, reaching for the phone.

“Wait a minute here, Hope.” Chase put his hand over hers, using just enough pressure to prevent her from picking up the receiver. His hand acted like a bolt of lightning on her already highly charged emotions. She froze, paralyzed both by the cool, adult determination in his hazel eyes and by the extraordinarily sensual heat that radiated from her fingers, through her arm, to her chest. She didn’t want to let him, or anyone else for that matter, tell her what to do about her son. Still, Chase’s insistent male presence was as hard to fight as his low, persuasive voice. “Yes, the boys got in a brawl, but there was no real harm done. The other kids were all right, too, weren’t they?” Still touching Hope’s hand, Chase looked at Joey for confirmation.

Joey nodded. And where Chase’s hand met hers, Hope’s skin began to burn and tingle.

“Everyone lost their tempers,” Chase continued reassuringly. He looked at Hope, his intent gaze searing hers. “I’m sure it won’t happen again.”

“You’re darn right about that,” Hope muttered. Her anger about the indignity her son had suffered returned full force. She still planned to call the coach and tell him exactly what she thought of him but Chase kept his hand squarely on hers. Hope wanted nothing more than to jerk her hand free of his light but implacably confining grip. Not about to tussle with him in front of Joey for ownership of the receiver, however, and knowing Chase wouldn’t give it to her willingly, Hope remained where she was, glaring up at Chase all the while.

Joey swallowed. “Mom, you’re not going to try to get the twins kicked off the team, are you?” he asked in abject misery, as if the possibility would be unbearably humiliating

Hope considered the call something that had to be done. Those twins had been trouble for a long time. Just because their father owned an oil company, they thought they could do anything and get away with it. Unfortunately, usually they did. Not afraid to take a stand, she said, “Under the circumstances, those Bateman twins shouldn’t go unpunished. You could have really been hurt. The next time you, or whoever else they decide to pick on, might not be so lucky.”

“Mom, there isn’t going to be a next time. Please. Don’t do anything!” Joey wailed. Hope said nothing in reply. She wasn’t about to commit to any line of action before she’d had time to think it through. Joey glared at her in mute exasperation. To her increasing aggravation, Chase looked equally pained.

“About your glasses—is there any chance they’re still at the field?” Chase asked.

“Maybe.” Joey shrugged, distracted. “If they’re not, am I gonna have to pay for new ones?”

Hope ran her free hand through her hair. She hadn’t felt so harried or distressed in a very long time. This wasn’t the worst day she had ever had, but it was certainly a close second. Chase seemed to intuit that; he kept his hand squarely over hers, more in empathy now than remonstration. “I don’t know, Joey,” Hope answered her son tiredly, aware he was still waiting for an answer. “I’ll have to think about it.” She wanted him to be responsible for his belongings, and not take them or the money it cost to buy them for granted. But was this his fault?