Page 57 of At His Beck & Call

Henry gravitates toward the toys in the corner, and I sit down alongside three other sets of parents and their kids. One girl is next to her mother playing with a fidget spinner that lights up around the edges, and I stare at its mesmerizing colors for a moment, breathing slowly to try to calm my nerves.

I’m the only single parent in the room. All the other groups look like real families. Worried thoughts plague me as I watch them.

Maybe I should tell James. This is his son! Is it terrible of me to keep his son’s health issues from him?

But I know too well what will happen if he finds out the truth. All my power will be removed, and he’ll insist on using his health insurance plan to help Henry. I won’t be given any say in what happens to my son after that.

Insurers and hospitals follow the money in cases like this. If James can prove he can pay the bills, he will do what he always does, slowly but surely limit my contact with Henry, take over his care, and eventually take him away from me altogether.

He’s done this to me so many times already. That’s how he began to control my finances, how he convinced me to come off the pill, how he trapped me when I got pregnant. James is a master manipulator, and he’s used to getting his way.

If he finds out about Henry, it will only be a matter of time before I have to choose between James’s fists and watching my son grow up.

“Mrs. Davenport?”

I look up to see Dr. Erkhart standing in the doorway. She’s in her mid-forties, with laugh lines around her eyes. She looks like a person who smiles constantly, and as her gaze moves to Henry, I can see why.

She grins at him mischievously as she approaches us, holding her hand out, not to me, but to him.

“You must be Henry,” she says as he looks at me uncertainly.

“Yes,” he says, and the doctor nods, taking something from the paperwork in front of her and handing it to him.

“They told me you were coming. You’re very important.”

Henry looks down at the little sticker she has given him. By a happy twist of fate, it’s a yellow golden retriever wagging its tail that says “you’re so brave” underneath.

Henry doesn’t say anything before he peels it off its backing and moves to stick it to his shirt. Then, at the last second, he changes his mind and hands it to me.

“My mom is brave,” he says firmly. “She should have it.”

My gaze meets the doctor’s, and she smiles sadly at me as she shows us into the room. The office is bright and airy with a little window open on the far wall that lets in the smell of freshly mown grass and the faint sound of traffic below.

I sit at the desk as Henry walks to the edge of the room, where there is a pile of stuffed toys in the corner.

“Thank you for coming in, Mrs. Davenport. Did you find us okay?” the doctor asks.

“Yes, fine, thank you. I appreciate you making the time, and for all the information you gave me on the phone.”

“I know that this is scary for you both, but he’s in good hands. This disease is something I’ve worked with for most of my career, and with the right treatment, Henry has a very good chance of a full recovery.”

I nod, clinging to her words like a lifeline. “That’s great.”

“I’d like to get Henry in for surgery as early as we can. The good news is, we have an opening. Prep would be today, and he’d be with us for the next couple of nights with an early-morning surgery on Monday. Does that work for you?”

I stare at her, totally blindsided by the speed at which it’s happening. I was expecting a week or so before it took place, and the idea that it’s going to be in less than forty-eight hours is overwhelming, to say the least.

“Uh… I … I have to work Monday,” I say lamely, thinking feverishly about whether I’ll be able to get the time off. I’ve just started the job, not to mention the horribly awkward moment with Oliver yesterday.

What if he’s already decided to fire me over that?

“Of course, I understand, and I appreciate the circumstances with your ex-husband. Later next week is also an option, just let me know when might work, but the sooner we can get him into surgery, the sooner the follow-up treatment can start.”

“How long will the surgery last?”

“Usually about three to four hours. Sometimes it can be longer, but I’m hopeful that Henry’s won’t be a complex procedure. If we can get him in later today, we can run the bloodwork, CT Scan and MRI, and that’ll put us in good shape for the surgery.”

I nod, glancing over at my son, feeling totally freaked out.