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The boy hadn’t said a word since he’d been wheeled off the plane. Susan shot a quick glance at him in her rearview mirror, wondering how to make him smile, and found that he’d fallen asleep.
“He’s been excited about the trip since you called on Tuesday,” his mother said. “He’s exhausted.”
Once she was safely on the freeway, Susan turned her thoughts to the ordeal that lay ahead. “I have to warn you again,” she told the younger woman. “Tricia Halliday doesn’t know you’re here and I have no idea how she’s going to react.”
Susan had spent two sleepless nights worrying about Ronnie McArthur, afraid she might be doing more damage than good by exposing him to the possible heartless rejection of her boss.
“Ronnie knows she’s the bad guy,” his mother assured Susan. “And he’s John Wayne, riding into town to fight the bad guys.”
“An eight-year-old kid’s heard of John Wayne?”
Smiling for the first time Susan had ever seen, the other woman said, “His father’s a John Wayne addict. We have videos of every movie that man ever made.”
Susan’s worries returned. “John Wayne always wins.”
“Only at the end,” Mrs. McArthur said softly. “And Ronnie will, too. This may not be the end. He knows that.”
“You and your husband sound like pretty remarkable people.”
“We just love our son.”
“Do you have any other children?” It wasn’t a question Susan had allowed herself to investigate earlier. She couldn’t get that close.
The other woman shook her head. “We tried, but we only got lucky once.” She glanced down at Susan’s stomach, the pregnancy fully visible in the new blue maternity suit Susan was wearing. “When are you due?”
“October, but the doctor thinks I’ll probably be early.”
Frowning, Mrs. McArthur asked, “You’re having problems?”
It might just have been politeness, but Susan had a feeling the other woman was sincere in her concern. Even in the midst of her own heartache, she was capable of having compassion for someone else.
“No problem.” Susan smiled a little, still feeling a secret thrill when she thought of her babies. “I’m having twins.”
“Congratulations!” There was no doubting that Mrs. McArthur’s delight was genuine.
“I want you to know,” Susan said, biting her lip as she signaled their exit. “If this doesn’t turn out well today, I’m not giving up. Not until Ronnie wins.”
“Why are you doing this?” Ellen McArthur asked, tears in her eyes.
“Because it’s right.”
“But you fought against us in court.”
And she hadn’t slept peacefully since. “That was right, too.” she said, slowing as she hit the exit ramp. “I was under obligation to Tricia Halliday then. But that part’s over now, so I’m free to try something else.”
“I’ve never thanked you properly for your help with money for Ronnie’s surgery. Or for the lawyer.”
“You may not be thanking me shortly,” Susan felt compelled to warn again as she pulled into Halliday Headgear, her stomach in knots. After what she’d done to Michael, she’d lost a lot of confidence in her own instincts.
And this was a shot in the dark.
Susan pulled into her reserved parking spot. “I’m curious,” Mrs. McArthur said before she turned around to wake her son. “Why do you think a meeting with Mrs. Halliday is going to make any difference?”
“Just a hunch,” Susan said. She was going on so little; she should be hanged for putting the McArthurs through this. But Michael had told her to keep looking. She had—and the only thing she’d found was Tricia’s aversion to dealing with this entire episode.
Tricia had insisted that she didn’t want to know anything about the boy, about his situation. She hadn’t gone to court. Hadn’t even wanted to discuss the case. Which could all have been put down to the woman’s coldheartedness. Except that every other incident Susan had taken to Tricia had been met with professional interest. Tricia always wanted details. And follow-up.
And Susan had discovered on Monday that the woman was on the board of the local chapter of the Children’s Heart Association. Not the act of a selfish woman. Nor a woman who was indifferent to sick children.
