“Well, here’s what I’d like to do. We’re going to go ahead and do the X-ray today and see what’s happening with her wrist, but I’d also like to refer you to a neurologist.”
He stiffened. “Is it that serious?”
“That kind of increased risk taking, paired with forgetfulness and some of the other things I’ve observed just now? It’s not good. I’m not ready to make any kind of guess yet as to what kind of illness it is, but . . .” He sighed. “If she didn’t hit her head, then there’s a few other reasons why she might be having trouble cognitively, none of them good.”
Crash just stared at him, then his gaze fell to the tile. “I see.”
“Where’s your dad?”
“He’s in Tokyo this week. Then he’ll be in Australia for a while . . . then I’m not sure.”
“Are there any family members living with your mother right now? It might be better if she wasn’t alone . . . even given the presence of the staff.”
His gaze was still trained on the floor, and Kyle thought he might have tears in his eyes. “Chase is in rehab, and Christopher’s living in New York.”
“Okay. Well, it doesn’t have to be decided today, but the four of you should talk about ways to keep your mom safe. She got lucky this time. If she’d hit her head on something on the way down, it might’ve been a very different story.”
“Okay. I see. Yes, I will . . . investigate.”
Kyle pulled a card out of his wallet. “When you get stuck in the wheels of bureaucracy, shoot me a text or an email, and I’ll see what I can do to help.” Carter wasn’t a kid, but he was the youngest in his family. He shouldn’t be the one dealing with this. But he’d met Mr. Carpenter before, and he wasn’t the kind of person who was going to reschedule his work trip to accommodate someone else. Kyle wasn’t judging it; it was just a fact.
He could see down the hall to the waiting room. It was standing room only.
“I’ve got to keep moving. Sorry.”
“That’s okay,” Crash said, rousing from his quiet moment. He shook Kyle’s hand firmly. “I appreciate your time. I’ll follow up with you soon.”
“Please do.”
Too bad it would constitute a HIPAA violation for him to tell his mom to be extra understanding while making small talk with Willow the next time she came in. Few would expect a woman so young to have Alzheimer’s.
CHAPTER FOUR
KYLE GOT UP EARLY ON Friday morning; normally, he might give himself a break and do VR boxing or go to the gym, but today, he had a mission. Today, he started Phase Two: Win Ainsley’s Time. He often saw her running when he was out in the morning. She never appeared to notice, but then again, she ran with headphones on, blasting music, against the advice of every running blog ever. He didn’t like it when she ran through the woods; anyone might be waiting for her around a corner, any kind of creep.
Luck was on his side today, and she came trotting down the stairs of her apartment building and out into the street . . . but she wasn’t alone. His brother’s fiancée, Winnie, was running, too, but was already falling behind. Ainsley turned around to tease her, and he waved. She waved back with a shy smile; she was too far away from him to clearly see her left hand. He’d thought to join her, but this wasn’t going to work . . . She already had a running buddy today. He followed them until they went into the park, then turned back toward his own house.
Rats. He’d just have to find a moment to speak to her another day. Where could he do it that wouldn’t seem obvious? A neon-pink flyer on a telephone pole caught his eye as he passed it:
TOWN MEETING FRIDAY 7:00 P.M.
Discussion on how to save the historic covered bridge in Manfield Park, how you can participate in the Fall Carnival at Franklin Elementary, and other upcoming notable events.
Kyle took a picture of the flyer with his phone. If a school event was being discussed, chances were good that Ainsley would be there. His mom was always bugging him to come to those things anyway. Two birds? Meet my stone.
COUNCILMAN ROGERS STOOD up from behind the long folding table they’d placed for him horizontally at the VA hall. “Good evening, fellow Timberites.” Kyle pretended to cough so he wouldn’t let out a snort at the moniker. His mom glared at him, well versed in the ways men covered their tracks. Maggie sat on his other side, immersed in a fantasy book thick enough to kill a man if it fell on him.
“What book is that?” Kyle whispered.
“Terry Pratchett,” she said, not looking up.
“Is it . . . good?” He didn’t know how to talk to his sister anymore.
“Yes.”
“Is she your favorite author?”
Maggie glared at him over the top of her glasses. “Sir Terry Pratchett is one of the best fantasy writers of the modern era. His Discworld series has forty-one books, of which I have read twenty-five. There is no one like him.”
“Gotcha. So it’s just a midlist thing . . . kind of an under-the-radar, indie thing,” Kyle mumbled under the councilman’s droning. Maggie rolled her eyes at him, but turned back to her book with a smile. He elbowed Maggie and she elbowed him back. He did it again.
“Stop it,” his mother hissed under her breath. Kyle looked up. Councilwoman Park on the end was staring at him, and he resolved to get himself together. He’d hoped to at least get to see Ainsley, if not sit next to her, but she didn’t appear to be here . . . Sigh. At least there would be cookies at the end. He’d gone for a run today. He could have at least one. He was still thinking about what kind of cookie he’d get when Maggie stood up next to him. Reflexively, he stood up too, even before he realized that someone was edging down the row.
“Excuse me, sorry,” Ainsley whispered as she passed, and it took all his self-control not to reach out and steady her at her hips. She was always so . . . wobbly. She should really be doing some balance and strength training with her morning runs. She only had until thirty before her bone mass would start depleting.
I must be insane to care about the bone mass of a woman I’m not even dating.
But what if she falls and breaks something? his mind argued back. That’s expensive, not to mention the potential for complications like blood clots, bones not set correctly . . . Teachers don’t make a lot of money.
She flopped into a chair four seats down, and Kyle leaned forward under the auspices of scratching his ankle. Ainsley was wearing a skirt with black and white stripes in wide slashes, shorter at the front than at the back, and a black cardigan over a white T-shirt. It was tight across her chest, and he made himself look away. That was the polite thing to do.
Of course, the really polite thing to do would be to just ask her out instead of following her all over town. He crossed his arms and sat back in his chair. What was so hard about it? He’d gone to medical school at Stanford, for heaven’s sake. It couldn’t be harder than that. Just ask the question, just walk up to her and say, “Ainsley, would you like to get lunch sometime?”
“Dr. Durand?” His father and his brother were both absent; that meant Councilwoman Park was talking to him. Everyone was looking at him.