Wednesday's Child Read online

  The game started, and Layne watched the action with only half her mind. She was

  remembering other days, and other games.

  It seemed to her that fully half of Kyle’s brief courtship had taken place at the ballpark.

  Either he was on the field and Layne was watching from the bleachers, or they were in the stands at the professional games, eating hot dogs and cheering Kyle’s favorites. Layne hadn’t cared who won or lost, but she minded very much when he was unhappy.

  Baseball had never been her passion. She was certain, however, that Kyle had never

  suspected her lack of interest in the sport. She had bought books, learned to read base scores, studied all the players, in an effort to be what he wanted her to be.

  It wouldn’t have mattered what he wanted to do. If Kyle had wanted to hunt elephants in darkest Africa, she thought, she would have been waiting at his elbow to hold his gun. Layne had been so thrilled at seventeen to be noticed by the older, handsome and frankly sexy Kyle that she would have done anything to please him.

  How very much she had grown up over the last eight years, she thought a little sadly. She couldn’t help wondering just a bit what Kyle would think of her now. Had he missed the little wife who would have breathed for him if it had only been possible? After all, the honeymoon had scarcely been over. Or had he been relieved when she disappeared from his life?

  Had her clinging love smothered him? That’s funny, Layne thought. The idea never occurred to me before.

  Robbie hit safely into right field and easily beat the throw to first base, hitching up his uniform with a flair as the ball arrived ten seconds after him.

  “He’s a bit of a showoff,” Layne muttered as he looked towards the dugout for approval.

  Gary must have supplied it, for Robbie pulled his cap down tight over his ears with a swagger, turned his attention to the pitcher, and paced off a two-yard lead towards second base. Layne watched him, but her thoughts were in the past.

  She had adored Kyle so blindly that it never occurred to her to wonder just what it was about her that he found attractive. He’d actually treated her like a little sister much of the time, dragging her along on his outings with the guys. He had said that being alone with her was too much temptation. Had he been telling the truth?

  Why, she wondered now, had she not questioned his reasons when he asked her to marry

  him? But she had been so eager to be his wife that nothing could have stopped her.

  A world of illusion it was that she had lived in, she knew now. Jessica Tate had left her illusions in shreds that dreadful day in the library at Wheatlands.

  A cheer went up from the crowd, and Layne’s attention snapped back to the field. Robbie had stolen second base; he was dusting the dirt collected by his slide off his uniform. He retrieved his cap and took a graceful bow towards the stands.

  “What a little actor!” Layne told herself. And no wonder that his uniform was so hard to keep clean. It was one gigantic streak of dirt up the left side. Thank heaven whoever was in charge of uniforms hadn’t chosen white ones.

  The inning ended with Robbie stranded at third, and the Angels took the field. The game dragged on, and Layne yawned in the stands. The sun beat down mercilessly, and she wished that she had remembered to pick up her sunscreen lotion. She brushed a hand experimentally across the back of her neck; the skin felt hot and tight.

  Kyle used to tease her about how easily she sunburned. It was amazing, he used to say, that he was actually the fair-skinned one, but he tanned and she burned. But that was because of all the hours he’d spent in the sun in the days when he was just a construction worker instead of the owner of the business...

  Why was she wasting so much time thinking about Kyle today? Layne asked herself, and

  decided that it was only because Robbie had brought the subject up.

  It was Robbie’s turn at bat again, and this time he scarcely beat the throw to first base. But the umpire signaled that he was safe, and Robbie pulled his cap down tight and took his lead off the base.

  “The little brat is going to try it again,” Layne thought, and watched half-admiringly as Robbie inched himself into a position to steal. The pitcher eyed him suspiciously before going into his wind-up. The instant the ball was released, Robbie was off in a blur of blue-and-gold uniform and dust from the path, sliding the last six feet into second base—and the second baseman. The crowd went wild. Even the opposing team’s fans realized that here was something unusual and cheered the accomplishment.

  It was close, so close that the umpire hadn’t yet ruled when Robbie popped back to his feet.

  Then, it seemed to Layne, two things happened simultaneously. The umpire swept his arms out to signal that Robbie had made it in time, and the child dropped to the ground in a heap like a rag doll tossed aside by a child at play.

  Layne broke the Little League record for fastest time in the downhill bleachers and reached the field only an instant behind Gary. She peered over the coach’s shoulder at her son’s face.

  He’d lost his cap somewhere on the run, and his dark hair was rumpled. The freckles that dusted his nose stood out like puddles against paper-white skin, and his eyes were dark with pain.

  “Mom?” he questioned with a catch in his voice.

  “I’m right here, Robbie.” Layne took his hand, and Robbie sighed and closed his eyes

  against the pain.

  “It’s his ankle, Layne,” Gary said. His eyes met hers; they were full of concern.

  “A sprain?”

  “Probably. But I think we should have it X-rayed. Where’s your car?”

  “It’s right by the gate.”

  “I’ll bring Robbie.” He cradled the child in his arms and carried him to The Tank, carefully strapping him into the back seat. “I’d come with you, but...”

  “That’s all right. The rest of the boys need you.”

  “I’ll stop by the house after the game to see how he is.”

  “Thanks, Gary.” Layne was shaking a little as she started the car. This was exactly what she didn’t need right now, she thought. Emergency room, X-rays – and no insurance to cover the cost. Why had Robbie tried that darn fool stunt? she thought, and then scolded herself for letting it cross her mind. Robbie hadn’t done it on purpose.

  He looked a little better; the color was starting to come back to his face. “How are you feeling, Rob?” she asked.

  “It hurts, Mom. When I tried to get up, my foot just wouldn’t hold me.” He winced. “Was I safe?”

  “You were safe.”

  Robbie cheered up. “That’s okay then. Gary can put in a pinch runner. He’ll probably pick Tom because he’s the fastest runner on the team. After me, that is.”

  “I’m sure Gary will figure something out.”

  An orderly saw them coming and met them with a wheelchair. Robbie was already in the

  radiology department by the time Layne had the forms filled out, and she sat in the waiting room, her hands clenched, till the X-rays were completed.

  Robbie chattered as the orderly wheeled him back down the hall. “I broke my record,” he bragged. “The most I ever stole before was one base in a game. Today I got two.” His leg was propped up on the chair’s footrest. “Isn’t this neat, Mom? They took pictures of my ankle.”

  Layne didn’t trust herself to answer.

  A few minutes later a young man in a lab coat came down the hall. “Mrs. Emerson?” he

  said, and Layne thought he looked slightly surprised when she answered. Let him wonder, she thought. She was young to be the mother of an eight-year-old, and the shorts and low-necked top she wore didn’t make her look any older. She followed him into an office where an X-ray hung on a light box.

  “All Robbie cares about is that he broke his record,” she said, a little nervously.

  He glanced at her and flipped the switch. “Yes. Well, he also broke his ankle.” He took a pen from his pocket and pointed out a faint shadow on t
he X-ray. “Right here. He did a good job of it, too. He’ll need to be in a cast for four to six weeks.”

  Layne sat down abruptly in the nearest chair. “That will kill him. Isn’t there any

  alternative?”

  “None. I imagine he’ll adjust quickly. Most kids do. By the second day there isn’t any place they won’t go on their crutches. If it’s any consolation, it would be more painful if he’d just sprained it, and ligaments are slower to heal than bone is. As it is, a month or so and he’ll be good as new.” He turned the light box off. “Do you want to tell him, or shall I?”

  “You may have the pleasure.” No baseball, no swimming, no running about the

  neighborhood... It was going to be a very long month.

  “I’ll refer you to an orthopedic surgeon.”

  “Surgeon?” Layne’s voice was sharp with alarm.

  “That doesn’t mean Robbie needs surgery, Mrs. Emerson, but you should have the fracture X-rayed again in a week or so to be sure it’s healing properly. The doctor can do that right in his office, through the cast. Then he’ll give you a better idea of when the cast can be removed. We specialize in putting plaster on around here, not taking it off.” He gave Layne a crooked smile and a slip of paper.

  She looked at it. “Are his fees expensive?”

  The young doctor looked surprised. “Yes, I suppose they are. You could take him to your own family doctor, of course, and perhaps it would be a little cheaper. But if it were my kid, I’d go for the best. He’s only eight years old. You want somebody taking care of that fracture who can make sure he won’t have lasting damage.”

  Layne nodded and tucked the slip of paper in the pocket of her shorts. Oh, Robbie, she thought, what in heaven are we going to do?

  CHAPTER TWO

  The specialist’s examining room was large and plush, and to Layne the design in the

  wallpaper looked like dollar signs. Robbie hopped up on to the end of the table and handed his crutches to his mother. “This is neat, Mom,” he said. “And it’s kind of fun to get my ankle X-rayed. How do they do it through the cast?” He studied the plaster, decorated with a week’s worth of autographs and artwork, as though he expected to find the answer engraved there.

  “I don’t know, Robbie.” Her voice was sharp, and then Layne caught herself. He was being such a good sport about the whole thing; what was the matter with her? He had shed a few tears as the cast went on, and a few more when he had to watch his first game ever from the dugout, but on the whole he had taken to the cast easily. The young resident at the hospital had been correct; two days and Robbie had been all over the neighborhood on his crutches. Steps were no challenge at all, though Layne still watched with her heart in her mouth as he dashed up and down. The one who had really suffered from it all was Beast, who didn’t understand why his playmate couldn’t wrestle or run any more.

  “Mrs. Emerson?” The young nurse looked around the door and smiled at Robbie, who

  grinned back. “Doctor would like to see you in his office, please.” She patted Robbie’s shoulder.

  “How are you doing, Tiger?”

  Layne swallowed hard and picked up her handbag. “Stay right here, Robbie,” she ordered.

  “So where would I go?” he complained. “You put my crutches clear over in the corner.”

  Dr. Morgan was tall, thin, and intense, and looked as if he wasted no time on pleasantries.

  But he surprised Layne by holding a chair for her, then he retreated behind his desk, folded his hands, and rested his chin thoughtfully on his fingertips as he studied her.

  She shifted a little uneasily under his scrutiny.

  “I’m sure you saw Robbie’s X-rays at the hospital,” Dr. Morgan began.

  “Yes—but I didn’t pay much attention, I’m afraid. I have no experience with X-rays.”

  “I have them here.” He got up again and posted a sheet of film on a light box on the wall.

  “The fracture is right here. I don’t know if they pointed out this small bone chip?”

  “No. I don’t think the resident said...”

  The doctor put another X-ray beside the first. “Here is the film we took just a few minutes ago,” he said, and pointed out the area of the fracture. Then he sat down on the corner of his desk. “The bone chip has turned, Mrs. Emerson, and it is not healing.”

  Layne bit her lip.

  “It’s lucky that the hospital recommended you bring him here. If you hadn’t, we would

  have taken the cast off in four weeks, and then started all over. As it is, we can schedule him for surgery right away.”

  “Surgery!”

  “Yes. We’ll have to go into the fracture, pin that bone chip back into place, and then put on another cast.” He added, with a more kindly note, “It isn’t anything Robbie did, Mrs. Emerson.

  The chip turned at the time the fracture occurred, and there was no way to get it back into place.

  It isn’t the hospital’s fault, either. It’s only by comparing the two X-rays that I can see it. Even if it had shown up right away, it would have required surgery to repair it.”

  “Oh, God.” Layne put her face in her hands. Glossy brown hair spilled forward over her face. “I don’t have insurance.”

  “Perhaps you should talk to the people down at the welfare office,” he suggested. “I’ll call the hospital and get a time set up for surgery.”

  Welfare? she thought. Never! “Can’t we wait a few days? See if it might heal by itself?”

  Layne pleaded.

  “Mrs. Emerson, I don’t think you understand. If Robbie is to walk normally, he must have that bone chip pinned. It can’t heal itself because it isn’t in the right position. You don’t have a choice.” His voice wasn’t unkind, but it was firm, and he picked up the telephone as he spoke.

  Layne rubbed her temples, trying to massage away the headache that had suddenly struck.

  It felt as if a mountain had toppled on to her shoulders.

  Maybe Clare is right, she thought suddenly. Kyle might help.

  But he would take Robbie away from her, without an instant’s hesitation. Little Robbie, who had been her one reason for living in those dark days after she had learned the truth about her marriage.

  Welfare might not be so bad after all, she thought.

  Dr. Morgan put the telephone down. “He’ll need to be in the hospital Wednesday evening for surgery Thursday morning. I know waiting for a couple of days won’t be easy on anyone, but that’s the best I can do for a non-emergency case. There’s a shortage of operating rooms in this city right now.” He studied her face. “I’ll tell Robbie. Would you rather wait here?”

  *****

  Robbie was small and quiet in his corner of the car on the way home. Neither of them said a word until Layne parked The Tank in the driveway. Then Robbie, hesitatingly, said, “Mom, I can get a paper route to help out.”

  “And just how do you plan to carry newspapers and use crutches at the same time? Or were you planning to pedal your bike with one foot?” The questions were sharper than she intended, and Robbie shrank back into his seat, his eyes pooling with tears.

  Layne bit her tongue. The child was already frightened; why had she added her anger to his load? She walked around the car and got his crutches out of the back seat.

  Robbie struggled out of the car. “I didn’t do it on purpose, Mom,” he said with quiet

  dignity.

  She put her arms around him and he burrowed his head against her, his eyes squeezed shut to block the tears. “I know it isn’t your fault, Robbie,” she murmured, her voice choked. “I love you, baby. It’ll be all right. We’ll make it somehow.”

  Robbie hopped away, and Layne watched him cross the driveway to the back door. He was

  probably going to his room to cry it out, she thought. And who wouldn’t want to? She had found him more than once in the last week lying across his bed, his arms wrapped around Beast’s neck, tears creeping out from under tightly cl
osed eyelids. She hadn’t had the heart to remind either of them that Beast was not allowed on the bed.

  Clare was lying in a lounge chair on her patio with a box of chocolates and a glass of iced tea. She turned a page of her magazine and waved a lazy hand at Layne. “You look somewhat like the camel who just saw the last straw coming,” she said, and pointed at a chair. “Sit down and tell me about it.”

  Layne collapsed into the chair, envying Clare her suntan lotion and brief swimsuit. Her own linen skirt and sleeveless top felt hot and sticky.

  “Have a caramel,” Clare recommended. “You’ll regret it next time you step on the scale, but it’s worth it today.” She looked up as a car pulled into Layne’s driveway and stopped behind The Tank. “She’s over here, Gary!” she called.

  Gary pulled up another chair and dropped into it with a sigh. “This has to be the hottest day of the summer,” he complained. “But the boys didn’t seem to feel a thing. I must be getting old.”

  He unsnapped his Angels shirt and let the breeze cool his chest.

  “I wish I could do that,” Layne complained.

  “Go ahead. I promise not to watch,” Gary told her.

  “So what did the doctor say?” Clare asked, and pushed the box of chocolates towards Gary.

  “Robbie’s ankle isn’t healing,” Layne said flatly. “He will have surgery on Thursday.”

  There was thirty seconds of absolute silence on the patio. Then Clare said, “Damn.”

  “It’s just my luck, isn’t it?” Layne said bitterly. “Eight years old and he’s never needed so much as a cut stitched until the day I don’t have medical insurance.”

  “So this whole week has gone for nothing?” Gary asked.

  “Unless you count wearing a cast as an educational experience. We start over on Thursday morning.”

  “What are you going to do, Layne?”

  “I suppose I’ll plead with the hospital to be decent for once and let me pay it off when I get a job. The doctor suggested I call the welfare office.” She didn’t look at Clare; she knew what would be reflected in the woman’s eyes. And she would not call Kyle. Better to have to work the rest of her life to pay off this debt than to take the chance of losing Robbie.