The Bride Wore Red Boots by Lizbeth Selvig Read Free Book Online Page B

fit for this child.”
    â€œI hadn’t heard the appendectomy part of the story.”
    â€œI was wondering if you could add anything to this issue from your perspective.”
    â€œI have a few opinions,” Mia said slowly. “A lot of them are subjective, though. I don’t believe the woman has an uncaring heart.”
    â€œCaring and safety aren’t necessarily the same thing,” Sam said. “My concern is whether the child is safe.”
    â€œI can tell you what Rory told me. He doesn’t like the boyfriend, but it doesn’t seem to be because he feels unsafe. He made the boyfriend seem like a mere presence, not any kind of hands-on parent.”
    She related the rest of her interactions with Rory and Shawna as factually as she could, but she didn’t really feel as if she’d contributed much damning evidence. She allowed one personal opinion, however, at the end of the conversation.
    â€œI know a situation like Rory’s is stressful for a parent, especially a foster parent. My worry is that I didn’t think Mrs. Murray showed the right amount of concern for what happened. She treated it like an unlucky accident. A ‘stuff happens’ kind of thing. I may be off base, but if it were my decision, I’d at least make another home visit.”
    Sam nodded. “That’s actually helpful.”
    â€œIs there a chance Rory will be moved to a different home?”
    â€œA chance. Sometimes we just have to try several places in order to find a good match.”
    â€œCan you keep me in the loop? I’d like to be able to find him.”
    â€œOf course. Goes without saying.”
    T HE AFTERNOON ’ S EVENTS should have elated her. Buster semilocated. Social services looking into Rory’s well-being. Instead, her head pounded with concerns she really didn’t want on her plate. Hunting down a homeless cat. Monique’s health. Half-worrying about Brooke’s prediction that she’d overstepped her bounds with Dr. Wilson. Finding time to help her sister. Knowing she’d have to speak again with the annoying Gabriel Harrison . . .
    Wondering why her stomach insisted on flipping cartwheels every time his name and the memory of his low, smoky voice ran through her brain.
    She reached her office and gratefully closed the door. She had no more rounds today and no more meetings. More than ready to leave, she gathered her coat, her purse, and her laptop. And yet, a weird, internal nagging feeling that she needed to follow up on Buster wouldn’t let her walk out. With a sigh, she sat at her desk and unfolded the yellow sheet of paper from Hannah White. Picking up her office landline phone, she dialed the number for St. Sebastian’s Shelter.
    The woman she spoke to remembered the earlier call about Buster. Mia identified herself and her reason for wanting to find the homeless man.
    â€œI’m not looking for him as such,” she said. “I am only after any information he has about my patient’s cat. Even if he can tell me no such animal exists.”
    â€œI will be glad to have Aaron—Buster—contact you if I see him again,” the woman said. “I haven’t seen him in nearly two weeks, however, so I can’t promise you when that might be.”
    â€œThat’s all I can I ask,” Mia said. “Thank you for your help.”
    â€œI wish you good luck,” the woman said. “I hate hearing about lost pets and sick kids. I hope you can reunite the boy with the cat.”
    Her attitude sent the first warmth in four hours through Mia’s body. She wouldn’t do the woman’s job on a dare. Surgery was a snap compared to figuring out how to shelter and feed the homeless and hungry.
    By the time she reached her building in the Upper East Side an hour later, her headache had peaked into the kind of pounding pain that made climbing the steps to her third floor apartment excruciating. Not