Coming Home (The Surrender Trilogy 3)

“Well, that wasn’t smart. Says here you got knocked out for a bit. What hurts?”

“My arm and my head.”

She placed her clipboard down and reached in a drawer. Producing scissors, she made quick work of

cutting away the remainder of his sleeve. Dr. Sheffield examined the arm and he winced. “Hmm. It

hurts because it’s broken. See this? That’s not supposed to be there. You’re going to need a cast, and if you argue with me about it, I’ll plaster your mouth shut. How’s your breathing? Your chart says your

ribs may be broken.”

“It hurts.”

“I’m going to run some x-rays and an MRI. While you’re gone doing that—and behaving like the

quintessential good patient—I’m going to chat with Evelyn.” She left for a moment and returned with

a nurse and a wheelchair. “Bonny, this is Lucian Patras. He’s very grateful you offered to take him

down to radiology.”

Evelyn sat up and helped Lucian out of the bed and into the chair. Reluctance to watch him leave

again had her gripping his good hand. Just as Bonny was wheeling him out of the room, Dr. Sheffield

called, “Oh, and Lucian, you’re going to need a tetanus shot.”

He cursed and then he was gone. The doctor faced her and smiled. “He’s such a baby. How are you

doing?”

“I’m . . . okay.”

The doctor made a sympathetic smile. “You’re limping. I heard about your mother. I’m so sorry,

Evelyn. There are fantastic grief counselors here at the hospital if you want to speak to anyone.

Lucian’s name carries a lot of weight. They’re at your disposal if you need them.”

“Thanks, but I’d rather work it out on my own. Do you know how long he’ll have to stay here?”

She sighed. “I was hoping you’d be the one to convince him to stay if it was for the best.”

“Sorry. I hate hospitals.”

“A match made in heaven. If his x-rays and MRI check out and it’s just the arm and ribs, we can

have him wrapped up in no time and home before dinner. If I spot any signs of internal bleeding or

other issues, I’m going to insist he stays. I don’t give a hoot what his name is.”

Evelyn stared at the doctor for a long minute and then finally found the courage to ask what she’d

wanted to ask since their first meeting. “How do you know Lucian? I mean, aside from being his

personal physician? How did you meet?”

She smiled. “I’m shocked you waited this long to ask. I’m Shamus’s sister.”

Evelyn’s mouth drooped open like a trout. “But your last name’s Sheffield.”

“Yes, and I’m happily divorced, but I was married when I got my MD. I’ve known Lucian since he

was a baby and spent most of my adult years torturing him for all the ways he used to torture me when

I was a girl.”

“I see it now . . . in the set of your eyes and your smile.”

“Well, I look more like my mother. Shamus gets his curls and freckles from my father.”

“How come you weren’t at his party the other week?”

“I was here. That reminds me, I may break Lucian’s other arm for buying Shamus that death trap.

Now, let me look at your ankle.”

Evelyn lifted her leg and winced under the weight of her sneaker. The doctor’s cool hands gently

probed. “That’s quite a sprain you have there. How about I wrap it for you?”

Evelyn nodded and the doctor left for a moment. The silence was too much. Her mother’s face,

unblinking eyes, haunted her every thought.

“Okay, this should do,” Dr. Sheffield said as she returned to the room. “I’ll show you how to wrap it

and if you keep it elevated for—Oh, Evelyn . . .” She tossed the bandage aside and Evelyn was

suddenly wrapped up in the doctor’s arms as sobs racked her body.

“I did everything I could and it still wasn’t enough,” she cried. “Everything! I was never enough,

never a reason for her to stop killing herself. Why wasn’t I good enough? Why?”

“Shh. Oh, honey, your mother’s death has nothing to do with anything you did or didn’t do. She was

an addict. But that long, painful journey she always took alone is over, and now she’s finally found

some peace.”

Evelyn cried beyond countable minutes. It hurt to love her mother from the time she was young.

There were no selfless whispers of hope breathed to her in sleep. No encouraging expectations or

coddling during the moments she was too weak. It was always the wrong way, her doing for her

mother who loved her heroin— always— a little bit more than she loved her daughter.

The doctor’s hair smelled of berries. Her embrace was a warm pillow wrapped around Evelyn’s

fragile heart. Once she got her sobs under control, Dr. Sheffield produced a damp cloth and washed the

grime from her face as if she were a small child. Deft fingers with cherry-painted nails wrapped her

ankle.

Just as the doctor clasped the small metal clip to hold the brace in place, Lucian returned.