Holly wouldn’t have recognized Lance Arnold as a parent if the ER nurse hadn’t pointed him out to her. She’d seen hundreds of parents stuck in ER waiting rooms, anxiously drinking endless cups of coffee, their eyes locked on the door to the trauma center. Rich or poor, old or young, male or female, they had one thing in common—their bodies vibrated with pent-up tension, and worry was carved in the lines on their faces. Until they received the news that their seriously ill or injured child was going to be all right, they always sat rigid in their chairs, or paced from one end of the waiting room to the other.
Not Lance Arnold. The bulky, bull-necked man was sprawled in a chair near the door, legs splayed wide, a men’s fitness magazine held up with both hands. The sleeves of his white tee shirt had been cut off, leaving frayed edges over powerful, bare shoulders. His biceps bulged and his forearms looked like small tree trunks, but the skin was pale. Not a construction worker or some other kind of outdoor laborer. He had the muscles, but not the tan. From twenty feet away, Holly could hear cracking sounds as he worked over what appeared to be a serious wad of gum.
He didn’t even glance up as she approached. She looked down at him, noting the amount of gel in his short, spiky blond hair. On top of that scent, the stench of stale cigarette smoke wafted up into her nostrils, and she had to school her features to hide her distaste.
“Mr. Arnold?” Holly tried for a completely neutral expression. A smile might present the wrong impression, while a frown or grim face could also convey an inappropriate message.
The man finally looked up. “Yeah.” He closed the magazine and tossed it onto the pile on the small table beside him. He ran his eyes from her head to her toes and back again, with a pit stop at her chest. “What’s happening?”
Holly’s teeth clenched at the mental undressing he’d just given her, but it wasn’t the time to push back. “I’m Dr. Bell, the surgeon assigned to Tyler’s case. Since Dr. McMillan’s retirement.”
She offered her hand and Arnold gave it a half-hearted shake. At the same time, his eyes flicked over her body again. “Like I said, what’s happening?”
Holly wanted to reach down and yank him to his feet. An anxious parent she could relate to and deal with. But this guy looked sullen and bored, and acted like a rude teenager. She remembered McMillan telling her that Tyler’s father had proven difficult at times.
She sat down in an empty chair next to his and swung around to look straight at him. “Tyler’s condition is stable at the moment,” she said. “We have him on a ventilator, but he’ll be taken off it very soon. We’re running a series of tests. I’ve also started him on an antibiotic.”
Arnold gave a small snort. “Yeah, I thought it was just some kind of bug he’d come down with. But his grandmother kept nagging me to bring him in.”
“His grandmother was right,” Holly said. “Tyler is seriously ill, and it’s much more problematic than a simple virus. I’m afraid he’ll have to be here for some time.”
Arnold frowned, looking more concerned. “His heart?”
Holly nodded. “If I’m correct—and we won’t know for sure until the lab results come back—Tyler has a bacterial infection of the heart. That’s always a serious matter, but it’s further complicated in his situation by the condition of his mitral valve.”
His eyebrows arched. “Mitral valve? Didn’t McMillan fix that?”
“Yes, Dr. McMillan repaired the valve, but sometimes repairs don’t work, or don’t last. Defective heart valves are tricky, especially in growing children.”
Arnold sat up straighter. “So, what are you saying?”
“I think it would be better to wait until the tests are completed before we discuss the options we may have.” She wouldn’t have that conversation in an ER waiting room, anyway. “Why don’t we meet in my office on Monday?”
“Is he going to have to be here overnight? In the ER, I mean?”
Holly shook her head. “No. We’re going to move him to Cardiac ICU as soon as a bed is ready. That should be fairly soon.”
Now Arnold looked more annoyed than concerned. “I don’t know about Monday. I work for a living, and the boss doesn’t give me much time off.”
Arnold said it without a trace of regret or emotion in his voice. Holly tried not to judge how families dealt with these situations, but he might have been talking about the difficulty he was having in taking the boy to soccer practice or the dentist.
“Well, let me know when you’re available,” she said. “As soon as you can, please.”
When he didn’t respond, she got up, tugging her dress over her thighs. His gaze dropped down to follow the movement of her hands.
As Holly strode through the waiting room, she could practically feel Lance Arnold’s gaze burning through the clothes on her back.