This Very Moment (17 page)

“This is going to make a good story,” said Deedra, one of the ladies from 60 Minutes. “As soon as Anna has recovered enough so that our viewers can see the improvement, we’ll be able to air the show. We’ll do an update when she has her next surgery.”

“Thank you,” Kylee replied simply.

Deedra touched her shoulder. “Don’t look so dismal, Ms. Stuart. I know this has been hard for you, but when we air the show, I think public opinion will change, and they’ll be willing to help you rebuild. You’d be surprised at how forgiving people are.”

Her words were comforting and Kylee was grateful. “I hope you’re right.” Still, Kylee wished that regaining the public’s trust wouldn’t take so long. Thoughts of Jeffery, the second child on the list, filled her mind. How would it have been to lose your parents and go through life so terribly disfigured? Jeffery must have endured teasing and much heartache.

Impulsively, Kylee opened her mouth. “It’s just that the little boy we had scheduled must be so disappointed not to get his surgery. It was to have been done the same time as Anna’s.”

“What’s his story?” Deedra looked idly at the monitor, as though not completely listening.

“Jeffery’s parents died two years ago in a house fire. Jeffery was burned, but one of the neighbors was able to get him out. He lives with his only relative, his grandfather. They simply can’t afford the medical care he needs, yet he doesn’t qualify for any but the basic government help.”

Deedra looked away from the monitor and met Kylee’s eyes. “That might make a good hook. If the people could see the child they would be helping next . . .” She let the sentence die away, her meaning clear.

Kylee nodded, stifling the rebellion in her queasy stomach. Deedra was trying to be nice, but the bottom line for her was the story; she didn’t think of these children as victims but as ratings.
Did she ever wonder how many nights they or their loved ones had cried themselves to sleep?

Even as the thought came Kylee clenched her jaw, ready to forge ahead with whatever she had to do to help Jeffery. Her pride or Deedra’s intentions couldn’t get in the way of saving another child. Additional images came to Kylee—of nameless youngsters she had met the day she’d filmed her video. What about them? The knot in her stomach crept upwards to her heart.
I can’t look beyond Jeffery,
Kylee thought,
not yet.

She gazed steadily at Deedra. “I have to warn you he’s very shy. It may take some time to get footage you can use.”

“I can make it work.”

“Will today be good for you?”

A slight smile played on Deedra’s face. “We can work it in as soon as we finish here. I’d like to do it at their home for the mood.”

“I’ll call and set it up.” Kylee figured if Jeffery was at school she could pick him up herself on the way to his home.
This has to work. It just has to.

* * * * *

Bill pulled into a parking place and switched off the engine of his Blazer. His mouth and throat were as dry as the day he had walked three miles in the Arizona desert when his car broke down on the way to Mexico. He had been with three other medical students, and they had joked about dying of thirst. At last they had found a gas station with an attendant willing to give them water and take a look at their car.

Memories of that experience brought back the rest of the trip. Hordes of little children, many not more than two years old, pushing their wares on him, eagerly grabbing his money. Some of the small faces had shocked him. Birth defects such as little Anna’s, or damage caused by accidents, were all too noticeable in the sea of normal faces. Obviously their parents didn’t have the funds to help these children, and his heart went out to them.

Shortly after that trip, he signed up to study more in depth about the surgeries that would most benefit those born with birth defects. Nicole, engrossed in her own obstetrical career, had been pleased. Though he didn’t often fix such deformities these days, he knew his in-depth studies had contributed to his current success as a plastic surgeon. There was nothing he couldn’t fix; it was as though he
felt
inside how the cutting should be done, how each stitch should be made.

Bill swallowed hard and carefully folded the memories away for later study. So much of his life he’d put on hold after Nicole’s death, or even forgotten. But now the question Jourdain had asked him last week kept coming back to him, despite his attempt to bury it. Why had he turned almost completely to optional surgery? When had he given up his idea of helping children?

But he knew. Patients seeking optional surgeries didn’t need him. If he wasn’t available, they could always go to someone else. Their plights didn’t require his heart. Jourdain’s comments had been right on the money.

The idea made him uncomfortable. His throat throbbed, and it was almost as though he tasted ashes as he had that terrible day in France. Then the ashes had been Nicole’s. Whose were they now?

Better not to think about it.

Leaving the Blazer, he made his way into the Hubbard Craniofacial Center. He had to find Kylee. The past week and a half of separation had been too long and painful. He couldn’t stare at the drawings anymore, working up the courage to face her. He had to see her now, to beg her to let him have some part in her life. Any part.

“I’m here to see Kylee Stuart,” he said at the desk. “She’s with the group who is helping—”

“Little Anna,” replied the dark-haired receptionist. “Yes, I know. But you’re not allowed—”

“I’m a doctor too.” Bill didn’t often abuse his status, but he had to see Kylee before he lost courage altogether. Would she even want to see him? He hoped so because he needed her desperately. “Dr. Dubrey.”

The woman smiled, her hazel eyes suddenly bright and eager to help. “I’ve heard of you. Come on, I’ll take you back. The people from 60 Minutes are going to take after shots of Anna, though they aren’t going to see much with all the swelling and stiches. I suppose they’ll get better pictures of her in a few weeks.”

It wasn’t hard to find the camera crew. They were gathered in the recovery room where Anna was beginning to come out of the anaesthesia. Her upper lip was swollen almost beyond recognition, as was the skin around it, but she gave them a weak smile.

“We’ve got enough here,” announced a woman in a striped suit. “Let’s get over to the boy’s house.”

“Uh, excuse me,” Bill said. “I’m looking for Kylee Stuart?”

“She just left,” the woman told him, “but we’re going to see another patient of hers right now.”

“Could I have the address?”

The woman hesitated, but Anna’s doctor stepped forward. “You’re Bill Dubrey, aren’t you?”

Bill flashed a smile he knew didn’t reach his eyes. More than anything, he wanted to leave and find Kylee. “That’s me,” he managed.

“I thought I recognized you from the plastic surgeon’s banquet.” He held out his hand. “I’m Curtis Nelson. Nice set up you have there at the Plaza, with all the variety of doctors you could ever want. That’s what I hope to have one day. Of course, I’ll need a few partners. You aren’t looking for a change, are you?”

Bill chuckled politely, secretly irritated at the doctor’s suggestion.
Why can’t everyone leave me alone?
He knew he was being unfair, that these people couldn’t possibly know of his inner turmoil and suffering. “Not at the moment,” he answered shortly. “Now where did you say Kylee was? I really need to talk with her.”

The lady from 60 Minutes copied something from her planner onto a pad of paper and tore off the sheet for him. “It’s the address of the next child she wants to help. We’re hoping to raise funds with the show.”

“I wish I could help more,” Dr. Nelson said, his forehead wrinkling with concern. “But I have to pay the bills. I have school debts up to my ears.”

The woman smiled. “We do understand, Dr. Nelson. Perhaps one day Ms. Stuart will be able to raise enough money to be able to employ doctors to help these children full time.” She turned to the crew. “Come on, guys. Get packed up. We have a time limit here.”

Bill took one last look at Anna. Her mother sat by her side, smoothing the small ebony head. The hope and exhaustion in her face made Bill remember the helpless children he had seen in Mexico. His dry throat returned in force.
Where is a drinking fountain when I need one?

As he left the room, Dr. Nelson called after him, “Let me know if you change your mind, Dr. Dubrey. With someone of your prestige, we could attract a lot of specialists. We could help more children like Anna.”

Bill lifted one hand in a wave but didn’t reply. His throat was too constricted. He reached his Blazer with relief and stared at the address, recognizing its location as one of the poorest sections of Los Angeles.

He drove faster than usual, trying not to think of what awaited him. He could do this—he could. He had lost Nicole, but maybe he could still have a small part in Kylee’s life. If only he could find her before he lost his courage. He hoped she would forgive him.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Kylee didn’t think about Bill as she raced to the Rivers’ home to brief Jeffery and his grandfather. Or at least she told herself she didn’t. In reality, she thought constantly about him. She ached to hear his voice.
I’ll probably never see him again.
The thought hurt terribly.

Mr. Rivers walked up his crumbling driveway to meet her, his barrel chest covered by a thin navy jacket. He moved with the awkward gait of the very old. It was obvious that he didn’t get around well, and Kylee wondered who played ball with Jeffery now that his dad was dead. Did anyone take him to the park?

Jeffery peered at her from behind the solid bulk of his grandfather. “Oh, you’re here already,” Kylee said.

“He ran home fast when I called and talked to his teacher,” Mr. Rivers answered. “The school ain’t more’n two blocks away.”

Kylee grinned at Jeffery, hoping to draw him out of his shell. The people from 60 Minutes would be there soon, and she didn’t want him to refuse to talk as he had that night at the TV station. At least today they were on his turf, and that might make a difference. “You must be a good runner,” she told Jeffery. “I used to like to run when I was a kid. It was fun.”

 He smiled shyly—or tried to. The left side of his face twisted awkwardly, and his left eye could only partially open. “I’m the fastest runner in the third grade.” His voice was soft and unsure.

“I bet you are. You’ll have to show me soon. You do remember me, don’t you?”

“Yeah. When we made the video and when we was on TV. I liked that.” He came into full view, apparently feeling safe enough to leave the protection of his grandfather’s body. “Gran’pa taped it so I watch it sometimes. I liked being at the station.”

That surprised Kylee since he had been too shy to speak to the news reporter. “That’s great! You know why? Because someone’s coming over to talk with you again, and this time you’ll be on TV for a lot longer. It’ll help us raise money so that we can fix your eye and your face.”

“My ear too?” he asked.

“Your ear too.”

Mr. Rivers cleared his throat and said to Kylee. “Does he look all right? I don’t see so well these days.”

Kylee made a show of examining Jeffery. “Well, your shirt is clean, and you look like you just combed your hair.”

Jeffery giggled and ducked his head. “Gran’pa did.”

“Hey Jeff, do you have a ball?” Kylee asked. She glanced up to make sure there were no rain clouds in the crisp blue sky. “I bet we can play some catch before the camera guys get here—what do you say?”

His eyes widened. “Sure, I got a ball. I’ll be right back. Not sure where it’s at.”