A New Hope - Robyn Carr Page 0,77

out at the dock and Troy made us sandwiches. I told him I had money for lunch and he said it wasn’t necessary.”

“I could have made you lunch,” she said. “I could have made something while I was fixing Mrs. Banks’s lunch. Or while she napped.”

Charlie sighed. “He made it in the same kitchen, Mom. We’re good.”

“Did you ask what was in it?”

“I checked, Mom. It wasn’t peanut butter or anything like that. You have to relax.”

She took a breath. “You have your inhaler? EpiPen? Sunscreen? Vitamins? Power bars and fruit drinks?”

He glanced at her. He pushed his glasses up on his nose again.

“Yeah, I guess you have everything,” she said.

“I think Troy or Landon might take me out on the paddleboard today.”

“Oh, Charlie...”

“It’s okay so don’t freak. I’m not falling in or anything.”

She appreciated that he wasn’t paranoid about his fragile health but she thought one plunge into the cold Pacific could bring on an asthma attack or bronchitis or pneumonia.

“I haven’t been sick,” he reminded her, reading her mind.

“Last winter,” she said.

“I didn’t go to the hospital and I haven’t had asthma attacks or allergic reactions. Not too many, anyway. I had a doctor who said there was a good chance I’d grow out of it and even though I haven’t grown that much, I’m leaving all that shit behind.”

“Your language,” she said.

“Is entirely appropriate,” he argued. “It’s all a lot of shit and you know it.”

She completely understood the attitude. It wasn’t just his disgust with chronic illness, it was also his impatience with a mother who watched every bite he took, every move he made, listening to every breath. In fact, those days she started out tired were usually caused by her inability to sleep, listening to him snoring or wheezing or the whistling of his sinuses.

There had been times during the first ten years of his life that he’d been so sick, so weak and fragile, that she feared losing him. Complicated allergies, a weak immune system and asthma conspired against him, leaving him vulnerable to infections and viruses.

It was true—in the past few years he’d gotten stronger. It was also true that she hadn’t relaxed enough yet. But what mother wouldn’t understand sitting vigil at the bedside of a small boy in an oxygen tent? She’d lost years of her life every time he was hospitalized. She’d felt so alone.

That wasn’t fair, she reminded herself. In the fourteen years since Charlie had been born there had been good friends here and there, coworkers or neighbors. They’d had to move around too much for a lot for reasons ranging from rent to changes in work, but she’d always known good people along her way. She’d been working in the small hospital in Bandon when they moved into the trailer park. When the hospital downsized, laying off a few nurses and staff, Dr. Grant suggested this job to her if she was willing to make the drive. Ha! Willing? She’d be willing to walk it! She was interviewed by Dr. Grant and his wife, Peyton, but then it was the patient herself who chose her, with Grace sitting in on the interview.

“When I do a background check, what will I learn about you?” Winnie had asked her.

She wasn’t surprised by the question. People who could afford a private nurse were usually well-off, worried about having their property plundered. So she answered, “I prefer private home health care when there’s a need for me. When there’s no job in the private sector I work in hospitals or clinics. I’m good at what I do and have an excellent job record.”

“And why don’t you work for an agency?”

She shook her head. “They don’t pay well. The patient will pay the agency a substantial amount of money for the luxury of having a bonded health-care worker but pay the actual professional very poorly. And then they’ll move the nurses around—not good for the nurse or the patient. The irony is—the bond won’t get you much. Who cares about bond? Find a professional who checks out instead. After a dozen years, I have references you can call. They’ll tell you if I did my job well. They’ll tell you I’m trustworthy. And I’m not limited to a shift or specific number of hours. I can be your primary caregiver. Provided you want me to be.”

Winnie had agreed to give her a month on trial but within two weeks she was established as permanent. And now Charlie was a part of