boy squared his shoulders, sucked in a breath—and resolutely remained facing away. “My name is Drew,” he corrected her, speaking to the French doors. “My dad and my grandma still call me Andrew. I keep telling them I’m Drew now, but they keep forgetting.”
“Drew, then,” Ronni said. “I like that. Drew.”
With a deep sigh, the boy turned toward her at last. They studied each other as the rain drummed away and lightning flared again, a boom of thunder following seconds after.
Ronni asked, “What are you doing here in the middle of the night, Drew?”
The boy chewed on his upper lip for a moment, then replied gravely, “I couldn’t sleep. I had to check and be sure about you.”
Ronni frowned. “Be sure?”
“Yeah.” He was defiant now, the dark head held high. “Be sure. That you’re really okay. That you won’t…hurt anything. Here in the little house—or at my house, either.” He glanced again toward the French doors—and escape.
“Did something make you think I might not be okay?”
“No. I don’t know. I’m the oldest, that’s all. I should be watching out. But I guess it was a bad idea.”
He was way too far away, in the shadows. “Drew, I can hardly see you.” His shoulders tightened, his body tensed. She thought again that he would bolt. But no. He was caught and he knew it. “Won’t you come here?”
He took three reluctant steps in her direction. “What?”
She pushed back the covers and swung her feet to the floor. “I’m a doctor, did you know that?”
He answered with a careful nod. “I’ve seen you. At Dr. Heber’s office. He’s my doctor.”
“Yes.” She dared to stand, to reach for her robe at the end of the bed. “And did you also know that when you’re a doctor, you take a solemn vow?”
His eyes narrowed. “A solemn vow?”
Quickly, she stuck her arms in the sleeves of the robe, flipped her thick braid out from under the collar and tied the belt. “Do you know what that means—a solemn vow?”
His black brows drew together. “Solemn. That’s like…very serious, and vow means like a promise you can never, ever break.”
“Exactly. A serious, unbreakable promise to ‘First, do no harm.’ That means, more important than trying to help someone get well, is not to harm them. Not to hurt them.”
Was he buying? She couldn’t be sure. And right then, even her five feet two inches felt a little too tall. She sat again and gave a small pat to the edge of the bed.
He looked at the space she’d patted, mauled his upper lip some more—and then gave in. He came and sat beside her—but not too close, nearer the end of the bed than to her.
“Do you see what I mean, Drew?”
“Yeah, but you don’t need to help me get well, because I’m not sick.”
“I can see you’re not. And what I’m saying is, that as a doctor, I’ve taken an oath not to hurt people no matter what.”
“An oath?”
“An oath is the same thing as a vow.”
He peered at her closely, gauging the truth of her words. At last he conceded, “Well. Okay. Since you made a solemn vow like that, I guess you have to keep it.”
“I do. It’s a promise I will never break.”
He went on staring at her. He looked so…dignified. So young to be so old.
She longed to reach out and put her arm around him, to comfort with a touch. But she sensed a deep reserve in him. And a desire to be considered mature. A hug would be too much—too forward, and too patronizing.
All right, she thought, if hugs are out, what next?
In the silence, the rain sounded even louder and harder than before. Lightning flashed twice, and thunder rumbled in the distance. It would be a wet walk back across the big yard to the main house.
“Drew, how did you get in here?”
He squirmed a little, as if the edge of the bed had suddenly become an uncomfortable place to sit. Then he admitted, “My mom always kept a key under the flowerpot outside there.” He pointed toward the French doors. “I put it back where I found it.” Another sigh, a gusty one. “But you’re gonna say I shouldn’t have used it, huh?”
“That’s right. You shouldn’t have.”
He sniffed, and pulled his shoulders square once more. “Well, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.” He stood. “And I’ll just go back to my own house now.”
Nice try, kid, she thought. She rose to stand beside him. “Fine. Let’s go.” As she said that, she thought of the boy’s father, her temporary landlord, Ryan Malone. Chief administrator of Honeygrove Memorial Hospital, Ryan Malone was an imposing man, a man who wore designer suits and came across as both cordial and aloof at the same time.
Ronni had only really talked to him once—at a fund-raising dinner about two weeks before. Marty Heber, Drew’s doctor and one of the two other pediatricians in her practice, had made the introductions. Somehow the talk had gotten around to her new condo, which wouldn’t be ready before her apartment lease was up.
“I have a guest house. You’re welcome to use it,” Ryan Malone had said. He’d pulled out a gold-embossed business card. “Call my secretary at Memorial. She’ll handle the details with you.”
She hadn’t spoken to Ryan Malone since. She’d called the number on the card. His secretary had described the little house to her and told her no rent would be required. Ryan Malone’s mother-in-law had shown her around a week ago and turned over the key just yesterday.
And now here she was, about to wake a virtual stranger in the middle of the night to return his wandering son to him. The idea did not thrill her. But what else could she do?
Evidently, Drew’s thoughts mirrored hers. “My dad won’t like this. I think it’s better if I just go back alone.”
“Drew. You know I can’t let you do that.”
“Yes, you can. Nobody has to know I was here. And I promise I’ll never do it again.”
Ronni gave the boy a long, patient look. Drew stared back, his eyes pleading. Ronni kept her expression firm.
Finally, the boy muttered, “Oh, all right.”
She granted him a smile, then instructed, “Give me a minute. I’ll see if I can dig up some coats and an umbrella.”
He slumped to the edge of the bed again as Ronni hurried out to the small front closet, where she got the trench coat and the boots she’d put there just the evening before. She’d thought she’d left her umbrella there, too, but
