a good plan.” Caitlyn patted her. “We’ll hold on to each other, okay?”
“Okay.”
The feel of that little body snuggled up against her was doing funny things to her heart. Lonely. Steve thought she’d been lonely.
She’d denied it, of course, but there might be a grain of truth in what he’d said. Maybe her life back in New York was a bit out of balance.
“There!” Amanda pointed to a dark rocket soaring upward. It exploded into a shower of white stars that arced downward toward their reflection in the water.
That was only the beginning. One rocket after another shot up to the oohs and aahs of the crowds along the riverbank. Amanda stared, mesmerized, and Josie alternated between watching and hiding her face in Caitlyn’s lap.
Caitlyn smoothed Josie’s fine, soft hair. She wouldn’t have believed it a month ago, but it really was nice, sitting here, watching the awed looks on the children’s faces.
As for Steve—she turned so she could see his strong profile, outlined against the water. It wasn’t so bad having him here, either.
The last spectacular display seemed to go on and on as the band soared to a crescendo. Then, finally, the lights and sound faded away. It was over.
Before she could move or speak, she heard a sound drifting over the dark water, silencing the audience. It was a lone bugle, playing “Taps.” The notes hung, sharp as crystal, in the still air.
Caitlyn’s heart clenched painfully, and a tear trickled down her cheek. The sound was inexpressibly sad and beautiful.
The final notes died away, and for a moment nobody moved, nobody spoke. From somewhere in the crowd there was a muffled sob.
Then Steve pushed to his feet and moved to kneel next to her.
“She’s asleep. I’ll take her, if you can manage—”
He stopped. Then he reached out, wiping an errant tear from her cheek with one large, warm hand. Her gaze met his, and for a moment she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Attraction twinkled between them, seeming as bright as the fireworks had been.
Then Steve sat back on his heels, looking startled. “I—” he began, and seemed to lose his train of thought. He cleared his throat. “Sorry. I—I was saying that I’d carry Josie.”
Amanda tugged at his pant leg. “I want you to carry me.”
“But Aunt Caitlyn needs you,” he said. “She has to have a strong girl to carry one end of the blanket.”
Amanda’s shoulders straightened. She’d be the strong one, obviously.
He slid his arms under the sleeping child, carefully not looking at Caitlyn. It didn’t matter. She was aware of his every movement.
Was he as aware of her? Maybe it was better not to know. That flare of attraction—it was probably brought on by the emotion of the moment. It couldn’t be anything else.
She stumbled to her feet, helping a tired Amanda gather up the blanket and then taking her tiny hand. It was definitely time to go home, and she would not feel regret. She wouldn’t.
Chapter Four
Caitlyn’s stomach clenched a little as she headed toward Anna’s office. Being summoned like that in the hallowed halls of Graham, Graham and Welch was seldom a good thing. She hadn’t been at Children of the Day long enough to know what it meant with Anna.
She did a rapid mental review of her work. Everything she could think to do regarding the Ali Tabiz situation had been done, and until they received the specifics from Dr. Mike she couldn’t do anything more. Could she? She wasn’t used to work situations in which the next step wasn’t clear-cut, and that made her nervous.
She paused for just a second at the French doors, which stood ajar as usual, tapped lightly and went in. Anna was at her desk, talking, but she waved her in, never missing a beat. Anna obviously had multitasking down to a fine art, which was probably essential in running a foundation like this one.
“Here’s Caitlyn now. Let’s see what she has to say about it.”
She went to the desk, realizing that Anna was talking with someone via her webcam. Anna pulled a chair over so that they could sit next to each other, and Caitlyn slid into place.
“Dr. Mike, this is Caitlyn Villard, our new care coordinator. She’s working on Ali’s case. Caitlyn, this is Major Michael Montgomery, usually known as Dr. Mike.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Caitlyn. Glad to have you on board.”
Even against the drab background of a cement-block wall, the man in scrubs had a vitality that transcended his obvious fatigue. His even features looked drawn, but his eyes sparkled with energy.
“It’s good to meet you, as well, Dr. Mike. We’ve been hoping for some additional information on your young patient.”
Dr. Mike grimaced. “I was sorry not to get back to you sooner. It’s been pretty hot around here.”
“We’ve been praying for you. But you’re okay? And Ali?” Anna asked.
“Fine, fine.” He glanced around, as if distracted. “I don’t have much time, since people are lining up behind me to talk to their folks back home. I’m going to e-mail you a detailed medical report that you can share with the docs you normally use, so I’ll just give you the main points now.”
“Good.” Caitlyn grabbed a pad from Anna’s desk in the event he thought of anything that wouldn’t be in the report.
“Ali was injured in the roadside bomb blast that killed his mother. At first glance his injuries seemed minor, but we soon realized his condition was more serious. A blow to the chest from the blast tore an abnormal opening between the two lower chambers of the heart—a ventricular septal tear. We’ve confirmed the diagnosis with an EKG and a sonogram, and I’ve consulted by phone with a cardiologist.”
That sounded serious. Images of Amanda and Josie ran through her mind. “Will we need to schedule immediate surgery?” Caitlyn asked.
“Possibly not, but it’s a tricky situation.” His frown deepened. “The cardiologist feels that the tear could heal on its own. If so, he’ll quickly regain his strength. But if it doesn’t, if the heart begins to fail, the boy needs to be where he can have open heart surgery quickly.”
“So we need to get him back here as soon as possible,” Anna said.
“Right. There’s just no place here that has either the equipment or the pediatric cardiac surgeons who can do the job.”
“We’ll do our best.” Caitlyn scribbled rapid notes to herself. “How is he doing otherwise?”
“His other injuries were minor, fortunately. Of course he’s grieving for his mother.”
Her throat tightened. Like the twins, Ali was yet another child robbed of a mother’s love by war.
“He’s
