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“That won’t be necessary.”
She blushes scarlet. “I meant to beg.”
“I know.”
“Oh God, I’m making such a mess of this.”
“You’re really not.”
She raises her eyes to mine. They’re glassy with unshed tears. “Is there hope?”
“There’s always hope.”
She drops her gaze and presses her fingers to her lips for a second. Then she says, “He’s only ten. It’s so young. I want him to have a normal life, to be able to run around again, to be independent, to have girlfriends and be able to… you know.”
I know what she’s saying—spinal cord injuries can affect a man’s sexual performance. It’s a valid concern.
“Can you help him?” she whispers.
I’ve read his reports and talked in depth with Juliette about his prognosis. The surgeon has done his best to repair the damage to Finn’s spine. Initial scans have shown that the swelling is going down, and everything’s healing as it’s meant to. Nothing’s certain with the human body, but what I do know is that his chances of getting better will improve significantly with intense rehab and physio. I can’t promise Missie that he’ll be running marathons in the near future, and I understand that she doesn’t want false hope. But I’m confident that coming to Kia Kaha is what the kid needs.
“Yes,” I tell her. “We can help.”
“You’re not just saying that because it’s what you think I want to hear?”
“I don’t lie. I say exactly what I mean. You don’t have to read between the lines to figure out what I’m trying to tell you. I’m not promising miracles. And it won’t happen quickly. It will be hard work on Finn’s part, and it’ll be tough at times. But I believe that with care and dedication, this time next year will see him on his feet again.”
I can see she’s struggling to retain her composure. “We should talk about the cost,” she whispers. “My husband took out a life-insurance policy, so I have some money.”
“That was astute of him.”
“I didn’t know he’d done it. A week after he died, I got an email out of the blue from Eastwood Insurance saying the policy was paying out. It was a real shock. Three hundred thousand dollars.”
“That must make things a little easier.”
“It’s made all the difference to Finn—we were able to get him a quality wheelchair and other equipment, and to have improvements carried out at home to make it easier for him to move around. I don’t know what I’d have done without it. I still have a good bit left. I’m saving it for him—I feel too bad about spending it on myself. I’ll use it to pay for the treatment.”
“Put it into a savings fund for him,” I tell her firmly. “You don’t have to pay a cent.”
Her jaw drops. “Really?”
“Yes. Eventually it’ll be funded through the public system, but we’re fronting the cost of the initial trials. You don’t have anything to worry about.”
Her eyes fill with tears, and then they spill over her lashes.
“I’m sorry,” she squeaks, fumbling in her pockets for a tissue.
“Here.” I pass her my pocket square, then gesture to one of the park benches. We go over and sit. She perches on the edge as she dabs at her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she says again.
“It’s okay.”
“Carly’s going to demand her ten bucks.”
“Sorry, Carly?”
“My best friend. She’s also a teacher at the primary school. She bet me ten bucks that I’d cry today.”
