For the Children

That was an understatement. When Thomas had returned home that night, he’d been oblivious to the entire event, having deleted her messages without listening to them.

“Yeah! Get him!” Brian said as Blake maneuvered the game in his hand. He didn’t seem to be bothered by the limited movement imposed by the IV attached to his hand. Another hour or two, and they should be able to go home.

“We need to talk about this, guys,” Kirk said, slouched in his chair with an ankle over his knee, one elbow resting on the arm of the chair.

Both boys, with apprehension in their identical green eyes, looked up at him, the abandoned game in Blake’s hand continuing to emit sound effects.

His head sliding along the back of the chair, Kirk glanced over at Valerie. “Do you mind?”

“No, go ahead.” Mind? Didn’t he know how much he’d helped her that day? The strength she’d been able to give to her sons—one while he was subjected to uncomfortable tests and the other while he waited anxiously to find out if his twin was going to be all right—was in large part due to the strength she’d gained from Kirk’s calm presence.

From the beginning, he’d treated the entire episode like just another day in sunny Arizona. And in the end, things were going to be as fine as he’d made them seem.

“You heard what the doctor said about the cause of bleeding ulcers,” he said, addressing both boys in a voice sterner than she’d ever heard him use.

Two dark curly heads bobbed solemnly.

“He explained that you might have a predisposition to gastric ulcers, but there are certain things that can trigger them or make them worse. Do you understand all that?” Both boys nodded. “The drugs he listed—aspirin and so on—are out. So is heartburn and almost everything else he named.” Though his pose was relaxed, Kirk’s expression was intent. Looking between him and her boys, Valerie was glad just to sit back, not to carry the burden all by herself for once. She could have; she knew that.

But how wonderful that she didn’t have to.

“So what does that leave?”

“Worry,” Brian said. Blake looked down at the blanket.

“Right.” Kirk’s forehead wrinkled in a way that had grown endearingly familiar to Valerie. “So what do you think was worrying your brother so much that it made him sick?”

The boys exchanged a glance that brought tears to Valerie’s eyes. Their silent communication had always been a source of awe to her. Tonight, even she could hear the message of shared affection, sorrow and blame.

“Me,” Brian finally answered. “He was worried about me.”

“And Mom,” Blake said, peering over at her, his look one of apology, but also of an odd defiance. “She’s always doing everything by herself. Just tells us not to worry and she’ll take care of it.” He met Kirk’s eyes. “We’re going to be teenagers in another couple of months. And she won’t let us help.”

The smile on her face didn’t falter, but the calm that had settled over her heart after she’d been assured that her son was going to be fine with medication and a carefully watched diet was no longer there.

She’d caused this?

“It’s the same with Brian,” Blake continued while Brian stared at the game in his brother’s hand. “Everyone keeps saying he wasn’t eating ’cause he had low self-esteem. Well, how do you think it makes a guy feel to always have his mother taking care of him and never letting him do anything to take care of her? We’re the men of the house, but you sure wouldn’t know it.”

A long speech for anyone, it was even more astonishing coming from Blake.

Kirk’s head still rested against the back of the chair, and his gaze turned on Brian. “You agree with your brother?”

With hooded eyes, Brian glanced from one adult to the other. And then nodded.

“So what do you guys think can be done to fix this?”

“I’m going to eat every meal every day for as long as I live,” Brian said with such vehemence Valerie almost smiled. In spite of the tears pressing at the backs of her eyes. And then he grinned. “Kind of hard for a guy to feel worthless when his own brother cares so much he gets sick about it.”

Valerie did smile then. But they weren’t through yet. “And I guess I’m going to be doing less and you guys are going to be doing more,” she said, knowing how difficult that would be. She’d been taking care of them single-handedly for twelve years. She’d had to. Giving that up was not going to come easy.

But perhaps it would make their lives easier. In the long run.

“There’s another thing bugging me, Mom,” Blake said. He looked at his twin and Brian nodded. “They’re going to split us up when we go into eighth grade next year,” he finished for his brother.

“Yeah,” Blake took up. “Mr. McDonald said we have to be on a whole different track from each other.”

“It means we won’t even be in the same classes.” Brian sounded as though he’d been sentenced to life in prison.