How are you today?”
Brian couldn’t understand a word she said, of course, but he understood her smile. Maybe he even remembered her from when they’d met before. She’d given him a present, after all. That must have made an impression. The boy returned her smile with one equally bright and reached out to touch one of the red flowers on her hat.
She quickly tipped her head away, saving the flower from certain destruction, but she held her arms out to him. “Would you like me to hold you for a while? Your papa must be getting tired,” she said, just as if the boy could hear her.
But he didn’t need to hear the words. He knew what extended arms meant. He threw himself forward so hard Frank almost dropped him, but she caught him with no trouble at all and drew him into her arms.
“Oh, my, you’re such a big boy,” she said, settling him comfortably on her hip and starting to walk around the room so he could examine the few furnishings of the modestly appointed waiting room. She looked very natural, holding the boy like that, as if she did it all the time. Frank found that thought disturbing. “I can’t imagine your mother letting you take him away like this without her,” she said to Frank over her shoulder.
“She didn’t like it, but when I told her this doctor might be able to fix Brian’s foot, what could she say?”
“Didn’t she want to come along?”
“She doesn’t like to meet people who might make her feel like she isn’t as good as they are,” he said, knowing that wasn’t exactly an accurate description but unable to truly explain his mother. “She probably thought the doctor would make her feel ignorant or might blame her for Brian being crippled.”
“David isn’t like that at all,” she said.
“David and my husband, Tom, were good friends,” she said with a small smile.
Frank couldn’t help wondering if he was good friends with her now, and he hated it that he wondered.
The door leading to an inner office opened and a woman in a nurse’s uniform appeared. “Well, now this must be Brian,” she said in that voice people used when speaking to young children.
“Brian can’t hear you,” Mrs. Brandt explained in the most natural way Frank could imagine. “He’s deaf.”
“He certainly is friendly anyway,” the nurse replied, returning Brian’s delighted grin of greeting. She turned to Frank. “And you must be Mr. Malloy. You can bring Brian back now, if you will. The doctor is ready for him.”
Mrs. Brandt handed the boy back to Frank. She must’ve seen the uncertainty he was feeling, because she said, “It’ll be all right. David is an excellent surgeon.”
“Are you going to come in with us?” he asked, hoping his desperation didn’t sound in his voice.
“If you’d like for me to,” she replied with a smile. Did she actually look pleased to be asked or was he imagining it?
“I might not understand the medical stuff,” he said by way of excuse.
She nodded in acceptance and led the way, following the nurse down a short, narrow corridor. The nurse paused outside a door and indicated they should enter.
Sarah Brandt went in first.
Dr. David Newton was a man approaching forty, tall and somewhat stoop-shouldered, and wearing a tailored suit that fit him so badly it looked as if it had been tailored for someone else. His hair and close-cropped beard were threaded with gray, but his eyes shone brightly as he jumped to his feet and came around his desk to greet his visitor.
“Sarah, my dear, how wonderful to see you,” he said, taking her hand in both of his and gazing at her affectionately. Frank might have said “adoringly,” if he was of such a mind. Or if he really was jealous.
“It’s wonderful to see you, too, David. How are Anne and the children?”
“Anne is as sassy as ever, and the children have grown a foot since you saw them last. Anne said I must make you promise to come to dinner soon. We’ve missed you terribly.”
“And I’ve missed you, too. Tell Anne I’ll call on her next week, unless an onslaught of baby arrivals prevents me.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” he said, then turned at last to where Frank had paused in the doorway.
“This is Frank Malloy and his son, Brian,” she said. “Malloy, this is Dr. Newton.”
Frank nodded, unable to shake hands because he was holding Brian, but the doctor didn’t seem to be offended. “So glad you could come,” he said, as if they’d been personally invited instead of making an appointment. “Please sit down and tell me all about young Brian here.”
They took the chairs in front of Newton’s desk while he resumed his place behind it, and Frank settled Brian on his lap.
“How old is Brian?” the doctor asked when they were all seated.
“A little over three,” Frank replied.
“Has he had any medical treatment on his foot before now?”
“No,” Frank said, feeling absurdly guilty. “When he was born, they said nothing could be done. A doctor told me that,” he added defensively.
Dr. Newton didn’t remark on this. He simply nodded his understanding. “Brian’s mother isn’t with you today?”
Frank ignored the pain he felt at the mention of Kathleen. “She… she died when he was born.”
Dr. Newton nodded again. “I’m sorry to hear that. I hope you know that Brian’s condition would have no relationship to your wife’s death. By that I mean that Brian’s foot would have been like this regardless of how your wife fared during the birth. We believe that club-foot is caused by the way the child lies in the womb. We don’t know for certain, of course, but that seems as good a reason as any for it to happen. The cause isn’t quite as important, since we can’t stop it from happening, but we do know some ways to treat it when it does, and to you that will be very important indeed.”
“What can you do?” Frank asked, still not certain he believed Dr. Newton could do anything at all. “The other doctor said it was hopeless.”
“Could I examine Brian’s foot for a moment before I answer that question?” the doctor asked.
“Yeah, of course,” Frank said.
“Let’s take him into the examining room, shall we?”
The examining room was a small, sterile chamber containing a metal table and a couple of tall cabinets. Frank set Brian on the table and stood beside him, holding him so he wouldn’t fall or try to get away. The boy sat quietly, as he always did, looking at Frank uncertainly but not at all frightened.
Dr. Newton poked and prodded Brian’s leg and foot, then tapped his knees with a small hammer and made his legs jerk. Brian looked up in surprise when his leg moved as if of its own volition, and he grinned when the doctor made it move again. The doctor made the examination a game, tickling Brian and letting him hold the tiny hammer when he was finished with it.
After a few minutes he turned to Frank. “Your son is very fortunate, Mr. Malloy. I’ve seen feet much more severely disfigured than his. I believe that with surgery, we can repair most of the damage and that Brian will even be able to walk. He might have a slight limp or have to wear a special shoe on that foot, but he
Frank felt such a rush of emotion, he could hardly breathe. Relief and amazement and suspicion and a terrible rage. “Why did that other doctor tell me there was nothing he could do?” he demanded furiously.
Dr. Newton didn’t look like he’d taken offense. “I’m afraid I can’t speak for my colleague. Perhaps he was simply unaware of the advances that have been made or of the newer techniques.”
This was, of course, the politic answer, the kind of answer Frank would have given if asked why one of
“What will you have to do to the boy’s foot?” he asked.
Dr. Newton explained as simply as he could how he would cut and sew and rearrange the various parts of Brian’s foot to make it whole, answering Frank’s questions patiently.
Frank couldn’t help wondering how patient the doctor would have been with the likes of Frank Malloy if Sarah Brandt hadn’t brought him in herself, but he didn’t let that stop him from making sure he understood everything as well as was possible.
