CAT scan. Thinking. As with a great many neurological problems, time was of the essence, but they did have a little leeway. He wanted Raven to use that leeway to carefully think things over before she gave him the okay to go ahead.
This wasn’t the kind of dilemma a boy of seven should be privy to, even if it was his body. Turning his chair back around, he looked at Blue. “I’d like to talk to your sister alone.”
Rather than being upset, Blue looked resigned. “Whatever you tell Raven, she’s only going to tell me later.”
“That’s up to her.” And undoubtedly, the woman could couch this a great deal better than anything he could say to the boy. He’d lost the knack of talking to children, not that he’d really ever had it. It was just that Becky had talked to his heart and that was how he communicated with her.
“Okay.” Blue rose and crossed to the doorway.
“Wait for me in the hall,” Raven told him. After Blue let himself out and closed the door behind him, she looked at the surgeon expectantly. She supposed it was better this way, after all. Dr. Sullivan might say something to make Blue feel that the surgery wouldn’t go well. “All right, we’re alone. What is it you want to tell me?”
Without the boy to listen, Peter felt less restrained. “Are you aware of the risks involved?”
“I think I am. I’ve been reading everything I can get my hands on ever since Dr. DuCane told me what she suspected.”
He didn’t bother mincing words. “If I operate, he might still become paralyzed.”
“If you don’t, he definitely will.”
Like the rest of his body structure, the boy’s spinal cord would be small, delicate. Peter had the hands of a skilled surgeon, but he didn’t like taking chances if he could help it. “There’s a small chance—”
She knew what he was about to say. Raven shook her head. “Too small to take. I believe in meeting problems head-on instead of hiding from them.”
“There’s also the fact that the tumors might be malignant—”
Her eyes met his. She could feel the air backing up in her lungs again. “Yes?”
“If that’s the case, the operation might cause the malignancy to spread—”
“Let sleeping dogs lie, is that it?” She smiled, shaking her head. She wasn’t about to place her head in the sand and hope for the best. She had to tackle this and then hope for the best. “It might spread anyway—if it’s malignant and there’s no proof that it is,” she informed him with feeling.
He’d found that when emotions were involved, the right decision was not always made. It was best to make decisions after the heat had left and things had cooled off. “Ms. Songbird, I want you to think about this—”
“My name is Raven,” she told him, “And I have thought about it.”
He sincerely doubted it. He heard the passion in her voice, the urgency. He didn’t want her making a final decision like that. “Think about it some more,” he countered. “We have a small window of time. Use it.”
She blew out a breath, trying not to sound as impatient as she felt. God, why weren’t her parents here? She needed someone to lean on. “How long am I supposed to look through this window?”
Now she was being rational. “At least twelve hours, twenty-four would be better.”
Raven nodded her head. “All right,” she told him even though she already knew what the decision was going to be.
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