Jeannette returned to the parking lot, dredging up a reassuring smile for the solemn occupants of her Civic as she opened Mariam’s door. “Help is coming.”
The woman nodded, as if she understood. And it was possible she did. All of the Shabos were progressing at a remarkable pace, and it was obvious Mariam was putting in extra hours on the vocabulary and pronunciation links she left with them after each lesson. But Elisa was advancing fastest, thanks to her interactions with Molly.
Three minutes later, Logan pushed a wheelchair through the door and joined her beside the car. “Sorry you got pulled into this.”
“Emergencies happen.”
“What’s the story?” He leaned down to examine Mariam’s ankle.
“According to the eyewitness who speaks fluent English—that would be your niece—Toby gets the blame for this.”
He sighed. “Why am I not surprised?” He finished his preliminary probing and stood. “I don’t think this is too serious, but we’ll take an X-ray to verify that.” He positioned the wheelchair and helped the woman into it. “Where is the demon dog?”
“In his cage—and not happy about it. He was very vocal in his protests.”
“I can imagine.”
Jeannette shut the door behind Mariam. “Shall I bring the girls inside?”
“For now. Thomma gets off in about forty-five minutes. I’ll have Susan try his cell and leave a message if he doesn’t answer. He can swing by here and pick up Mariam and Elisa.”
Frowning, Jeannette unbuckled the two girls. That took care of Mariam and Elisa, but Logan was stuck here until five. Molly couldn’t sit in the waiting room that long . . . and he didn’t know anyone else well enough yet to ask for a babysitting favor.
Except her.
And he wouldn’t solicit her help. Not after she’d rebuffed his few friendly overtures.
Besides, he didn’t come across as the pushy type—or the kind of person who would ever want to impose.
You could offer to help him out, though. It wouldn’t kill you to watch Molly for a few hours.
That was true.
But Molly was a charming child—and her uncle was big-time appealing. It would be far too easy to fall under their spell. Get involved. Let them finagle their way into her heart.
And that would be scary.
Stomach roiling, she took the girls’ hands and led them toward the urgent care center.
In the lobby, Logan paused. “I hate to delay you, but would you mind waiting with the girls for a few minutes while I line someone up to stay with them until Thomma gets here and try to find someone to watch Molly?”
“No problem.” She took a deep breath. Just suck it up and do the compassionate thing, Jeannette. “But I have a better idea. I’ll wait with the girls, and after the Shabos leave, I’ll take Molly home with me until you get off work.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes. She can help me make sachets. And I can take her and Toby down to the beach later.”
“That would be great.” Some of the tension in his features eased.
“I’ll need a key, though. I locked your door behind me after I put Toby in the cage.”
He fished out a ring, pulled a key off, and handed it over. “I owe you.”
“No, you don’t. This is what neighbors do.” She slid the key into the pocket of her jeans and motioned toward a sitting area in the corner, where a table held an array of children’s books. “We’ll wait over there until Thomma gets here.”
“It shouldn’t be long.”
As he turned his attention back to the patient, Mariam grasped her hand. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Jeannette squeezed her fingers.
Elisa had been silent throughout the ordeal, but as Logan began to wheel Mariam into the treatment area, she whimpered and latched onto the woman’s arm, tears welling in her eyes.
Mariam spoke to her in soothing tones in Arabic while Molly patted her back. “It’s okay, Elisa. Teta will get better.” She sent her uncle a beseeching look.
Picking up her prompt, he got down on Elisa’s level and crossed his heart. “Teta okay. Promise.”
Mariam spoke again in Arabic, and at last Elisa relinquished her grip.
“Come over here, girls, and we’ll find some picture books.” Jeannette took their hands again and led them to the corner. Elisa came without protest, but she kept looking over her shoulder until Logan and her grandmother disappeared through the door.
Jeannette did her best to entertain them—and to give Elisa an extra language lesson in the guise of fun—but it was obvious the girl was worried and having difficulty concentrating.
Yet when her father pushed through the door, she didn’t rush to him for reassurance as he strode toward the reception desk. She simply sat and watched, waiting to be noticed.
Hoping to be noticed.
Jeannette wasn’t surprised.
Based on what she’d observed during her tutoring sessions, Thomma was so mired in grief over the family he’d lost that he was oblivious to the needs of the loved ones he still had.
“Can I help you, sir?” The thirtyish guy now behind the desk—Chuck, according to the nameplate—rotated his chair away from the computer.
“Mariam Shabo.”
“Are you related?”
It was obvious Thomma had no idea what the man had asked.
Jeannette rose. “Thomma.”
He swung around, and the lines of tension in his face smoothed as he joined her. “Mother . . . here?”
“Yes. Sit.” She motioned to the chair beside Elisa.
He sat, gave his daughter’s shoulder a distracted pat, and said a few words in Arabic.
Not the kind of comfort the child hungered for—a hug would have been far better—but Jeannette couldn’t tell this man how to love his lost little daughter. That had to come from within.
She could only pray he realized how much Elisa needed him before it was too late.
Jeannette crossed to the desk. “This is Mariam’s son. Would you let Logan . . . Dr. West . . . know he’s here?”
“Sure thing.” He disappeared into the back.
Jeannette rejoined the small group in the corner.
“Is Mrs. Shabo better?” Molly sidled up to her.
“Your uncle will tell us that in a few minutes.” The girl’s ponytail had slipped sideways, and she retied the purple ribbon.
Molly leaned close to her ear. “Elisa’s scared.”
Remarkable how children could pick up nuances, even if they didn’t speak the same language.
“I know. It’s always scary if someone we love gets hurt.”
“My daddy got hurt—and my Nana got sick. They both went to heaven.” Her voice quavered. “Is Mrs. Shabo going to heaven?”
“No. She just hurt her ankle.” Jeannette put her arm around the girl and gave her a squeeze. “Your uncle will fix her all up.”
As if on cue, the door opened and Logan pushed Mariam into the waiting area. The woman’s ankle was wrapped in a compression bandage and elevated, but her color had returned. Logan handed Thomma a cell phone as he joined them, and Elisa slipped out of her chair to stand beside Mariam, leaving her father sitting alone.