Wish Me Tomorrow. Karen Rock

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ up her work.”

      “You think?” he asked rhetorically, furious with himself and sorry that Mrs. Luce had been put in the middle of this mess. He grabbed the annoying, clanking silver balls and stilled them, guilt heavy on his shoulders.

      “Mr. Roberts,” she began, pulling the apparatus out of his reach. “We see this every day. Children acting out in school when something is wrong at home.”

      “Everything’s fine,” insisted Eli, wishing he felt as sure as he sounded.

      “Your family is facing a devastating crisis.”

      He shifted in his seat. Someone must have told her about his cancer. The guidance counselor. What was her name? The one who smiled a lot. Sort of like Christie without the charm.

      “Mrs. Kevlar,” he murmured and pulled out his twitching phone. He powered it off without looking at the screen.

      Mrs. Luce nodded. “Yes. Mrs. Kevlar told me of your health issues. And of your wife’s...absence. Is there some chance that she might be of help?”

      Absence? Was that the euphemism used for being dumped? He passed a hand over his eyes. “Let’s leave her out of this. She won’t want to be involved.”

      “But surely, as a mother, she’d—”

      “She was never a mother to them.” And it was true. He’d changed their diapers, read them to sleep, made their lunches, ordered their birthday cakes. As the eldest child of twelve, his ex had once told him she’d already done her share of parenting.

      Mrs. Luce’s face softened. Did she pity him? Now, that he couldn’t stand. His family might be having a tough time, but they’d get through it. They always did.

      “And have you been engaging Becca and Tommy? Talking to them about everything that’s going on? Encouraging them to express their feelings?”

      Now she sounded like Christie.

      “We’re going to counseling today,” replied Eli, certain now, more than ever, that he’d been right to make that appointment. If only he’d done it sooner. Prevented Becca from digging herself this hole. He noticed a penny by his loafers. It was heads up. Christie would say that was good luck, though fate was hardly on his side today.

      Mrs. Luce rested her head on the high brown back of her chair. The rain-forest sounds quieted, replaced by the muffled thrum of Manhattan traffic. After a long moment, she leveled her gaze on him.

      “Given the extenuating circumstances, I believe we can work out a plan so that Becca still has a chance of attending Elisabeth Irwin this fall.”

      His heart sped as he leaned forward. “It would mean a lot.” He would do whatever it took to get his family back on track. But for right now, he needed Mrs. Luce on his side.

      The principal hit another button on her sound soother and set the metallic balls back in motion. “If you agree to attend family counseling until school starts in September, and Becca makes up her work over the summer, I will recommend her promotion to ninth grade.”

      Relief flooded him. “That’s generous. Thank you.”

      She pointed a gold-tipped pen. “I’ll need to see signed documentation from your counselor along with Becca’s completed assignments. You can pick them up tomorrow.”

      “Will do.” He glanced down at the gleaming copper penny. He almost left it on the floor then discreetly pocketed it instead. Not that he believed in crazy superstitions. But it would remind him of how close he’d come to losing touch with his daughter.

      “Would you excuse Becca and Tommy so they can leave with me? Our appointment is at Memorial Hospital in an hour.” No way was he taking a chance they’d be late.

      “Of course. And, Mr. Roberts?”

      He stopped at the door and turned.

      “Good luck.”

      * * *

      CHRISTIE’S ACHING FEET carried her down the hallway of Memorial Sloan-Kettering Counseling Center. A pink-and-white-checkered dog leash drooped by her side, Sweet Pea trotting on the other end. Where did her pet’s boundless energy come from? After working seven days straight, she couldn’t wait to hang up her monkey-ears stethoscope and head home. Not that Sweet Pea worked every shift. As an Angel on a Leash therapy dog, the spaniel accompanied her two times a week and during their monthly Toward Tomorrow group forum.

      “Paging Nurse Bates. Nurse Bates line 224,” crackled the PA system.

      She rubbed her forehead. Minutes from a clean getaway. She pressed a hand to her tender back and turned into a nearby nurses’ station. She hooked Sweet Pea’s leash on an unused IV pole and leaned over the gray countertop for the phone.

      “Christie Bates,” she said after punching the blinking red button.

      “Christie!” exclaimed her friend and fellow grief counselor Joan. “Thank goodness you haven’t left yet.”

      She twisted the cord around her finger. “Nope. Still here. What’s up?” She leaned down and ruffled Sweet Pea’s long ears.

      “Look, I hate to ask a favor, but Michael is tied up in court and Haylee gets out of school in half an hour. Would you take my last client? We’ve been trying to cancel, but he hasn’t answered his phone.”

      Her gaze bounced from the rushing nurses to the furiously scribbling doctors. An intercom buzzed while the receptionist drained her coffee and put a third call on hold. “No problem.” She strove to keep the sigh out of her voice. They were all working on fumes.

      “Yes! I knew you’d understand. Thanks so much, Christie. He’s new and the file is outside my office.”

      She stepped aside to let a nurses’ aide wheel a blood-pressure machine past her. On the other end of the phone a car honk sounded. “Where are you calling from?” She definitely heard someone shouting about roasted chestnuts in the background.

      “I’m already outside. But I can come back in,” her colleague finished in a rush.

      “Don’t give it another thought.” Christie seated herself at the desk and pulled a pad from her pocket. “What do you know about the patient?”

      “Father’s in remis for osteosarcoma. His teenage daughter’s been withdrawing. Straight-up family counseling. No surprises.”

      She pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut. She’d suggested that Eli’s kids needed someone to talk to. Could he be Joan’s patient? Heaven help her if he was. “Joan, by any chance...is there a younger son?”

      Joan’s voice rose. “Taxi! What do I have to do, wear a fur coat and wave a ten-carat ring?” Her voice lowered. “But yes. The boy’s in second grade. Has a habit of running away.”

      The chattering nurses, ringing phones and beeping pagers receded, and a dull roar filled her pounding head. She was not ready for this today. Not when she hadn’t thought about Eli in—she checked her watch—four hours.

      “The name?” she whispered. СКАЧАТЬ