Steel, Danielle: The House On Hope Street

“I don’t need to,”

“Why not?” Liz looked blank as she waited. Her mind was already full of what she was going to say at the hearing. It was set for the week between Christmas and New Year’s.

“Scott died of a massive brain hemorrhage last night,” she said quietly, and to her credit, she sounded sad. But he had been her husband, and her son’s father.

“Oh …” Liz said, startled into silence for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I … I’ve hated him for the past two years, but he’s still Justin’s father. I haven’t told him yet.” Hearing that made Liz squeeze her eyes shut, and it brought home to her what had happened.

“I’m really sorry.” The child was going to be heartbroken, even if Helene wasn’t. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you.”

“I guess you know what that’s like, for your kids, I mean.”

“Yes, I do. It’s going to be hard for a long time. We haven’t gotten over it yet.”

“I’m going back to New York to stay with my parents, as soon as Justin can travel.”

“That sounds like a good idea.”

They hung up a minute later, and Liz was still looking pensive when Jean wandered into her office. “What was that all about?” She had heard Liz telling Helene she was sorry, and knew she’d been with her at the hospital nearly all night. She looked shocked when Liz told her.

“It’s incredible the things people are willing to do to their kids,” Jean said, with a look of disapproval.

“Which brings me to another piece of bad news,” Liz said, feeling guilty, but she had wanted to tell her all morning. It was good news for her, but not for Jean. And Liz was going to be sorry to lose her. “I don’t know how to tell you this, except straight on,” which was how Liz did everything, it was one of the things Jean loved about her. “I’m closing the office.”

“You’re retiring?” Jean looked stunned, although she knew she shouldn’t have. Liz had been carrying an insanely heavy load ever since her husband died, and Jean had figured that it was only a matter of time before Liz decided she just couldn’t do it. The truth was she could, but she didn’t want to. Not without Jack. And she didn’t want another partner.

“I’m going to work part-time, from home, on child advocacy. It’s what I really loved about what we did. I hated all the catfights and all the fancy footwork, and all the bravado and bullshit. That was always more Jack’s style than mine. I care about the kids, and that’s all I want to do now.”

Jean smiled generously at her, and came around the desk to give her a hug. “You did the right thing, kid. This place is going to kill you. You’ll be great at the child advocacy stuff.”

“I hope so.” Liz looked worried then. “But what are you going to do? I’ve been thinking about it all morning.”

“It’s time for me to grow up too. This may sound crazy at my age” – she was forty-three – “I want to go to law school.” Liz beamed at her, and then laughed. It was the perfect solution.

“Well, don’t go into family law, you’ll hate it.”

“I want to go into criminal, and work in the prosecutor’s office.”

“Good for you.” Liz estimated it would take her three months to wind up all her cases, and then she wanted to take a few months off, and let everyone know what she’d be doing. She had earned a break, and she wanted to spend the time with her children. They had been patient for the last year, while she kept a dozen balls in the air, and worked long hours and endless days. She felt as though she owed it to them to take a break now.

“If I apply to law school before the end of the year,” Jean said, looking pleased, “I should be able to start in June, or at the latest September. That’ll give me a couple of months off too. It’ll do us both good.” They both felt as though they had aged a century in the last year, although they didn’t look it.

Liz was still sitting at her desk chatting with Jean when Carole called, and Jean thought she detected a note of panic, but Jean didn’t say anything to Liz when she told her Carole was on the phone. She figured it was just her imagination, and Carole was too busy over Christmas with the kids home.

“Hi there.” Liz was feeling expansive and relaxed, after having made her momentous decision. “What’s up?”

“Jamie.” The way she said it rang a bell from the previous summer. She was speaking in shorthand.

“What happened?” Liz felt a sudden wave of panic as she waited for an answer.

“He was trying to hang a papier-mache angel we made on the Christmas tree. He got the ladder out while I was doing something for Meg, and he fell. I think his arm is broken.”

“Shit.” It was five days before Christmas. And now that Liz listened carefully, she could hear him crying in the background.

“How bad is it?”

“It’s at a very nasty angle.”

“I’ll meet you at the hospital as soon as I can get there.” At least it was nothing as dramatic as what had happened to Peter, or little Justin the night before. But it was the first time Jamie had broken anything, and she knew he’d be panicked. She grabbed her coat and bag and ran out the door as Jean asked her what had happened. “Broken arm,” Liz shouted as she ran down the stairs. There never seemed to be a minute to just sit down and enjoy life. But what was there to enjoy these days anyway? Christmas was looming like a boulder about to fall on them, Jack was gone, and so was Bill now too. Merry Christmas.

The House On Hope Street

Chapter 12

Liz flew into the hospital emergency room as she had the night before at Children’s for Helene, and this time she was the anxious mother and not the professional comforter. It was a little different. Jamie was obviously in pain when she arrived, and screamed every time one of the nurses tried to touch him, and it made Liz feel sick when she looked at the way his arm was sticking out. There was no doubt about the fact that it was broken. The only question was how badly.

They were trying to reason with him when she arrived, but they had already concluded that they were going to have to sedate him, and they were going to take him up to surgery to set the arm. An orthopedic surgeon had been called, and Carole looked guilty and frantic.

“I’m so sorry, Liz … I took my eyes off him for five minutes …”

“It’s all right, it could have happened if I was home too.” Jamie did things like that sometimes. All kids did. And Jamie was a little less sensible and less steady than most boys his age, for obvious reasons. Liz tried fruitlessly to calm him down, but he was screaming so loud he couldn’t even hear her. He was in so much pain, he just sat on the gurney shrinking from all of them, and wouldn’t let her hold him. It was very upsetting. And she was looking frazzled and worn out as she tried to talk to him again, and heard a familiar voice just behind her shoulder. “What’s going on here?”

Liz turned instinctively and found herself looking into the eyes of Bill Webster. He had been in the ER to take a patient to the trauma unit when he heard the fuss, and saw the familiar red hair, and couldn’t stop himself from coming over. “What happened?” he asked her, without introduction or greeting.

“He fell off a ladder and broke his arm,” she said simply, as he walked in front of Jamie and put himself in the child’s field of vision to be sure he saw him. And for an instant, die wailing abated. It tuned down to vehement sobs, and as Jamie looked at Bill, his little shoulders were heaving.

“What happened, champ? Were you training for the Olympics again? It’s not time yet. Didn’t you know that?” He gently reached for the arm, and although Jamie shrank from him, he didn’t scream or jump off the gurney, and let Bill touch him.