Page 6 of Guarding Over You
“How so?”
“I overheard her mother telling her she deserved the cut for talking back. And for dropping the glass. The little girl is crying. It’s just horrible the way her mother is talking to her.”
He sighed. It was a fine line to take steps over words without proof. “Do you know if there is any physical abuse? Have you talked to the child alone to find out if what was said was true? That she cut her hand picking up the glass?”
Which sounded plausible to him.
“No. Her mother won’t leave her side.”
“Why don’t I pull her mother out to talk and leave you with the patient?”
“That was going to be my suggestion,” Erika said, her smile lifting. “I’m good with kids.”
“Yes, you are.” He followed her in. “Hi, I’m Dr. Ridgeway. I see you’ve got a cut on your hand? Abigail, correct?”
The little girl, who was eight, nodded her head, then looked at her mother and back to him.
Lots of reasons to be fearful so he wasn’t going to jump to conclusions.
“She cut her hand when she picked up the glass after she had dropped it,” the mother said.
He sat on the stool and rolled closer to the bed. “Can I see it?”
He held his hand out as if she was a wounded animal just testing his scent. No reason to spook anyone.
“Do it, Abigail,” the mother snapped.
“It’s okay,” he said softly. “We’ve got the time.”
“I don’t want stitches,” Abigail sobbed.
“You know what?” he said, his voice much softer. He put his hand on the side of his mouth. “I don’t like stitches either, but I can do it fast. If you let me look at it, I might be able to glue it.”
“Glue?”
“Yep. Medical superglue. I call it the wonder tube. Can I see your hand to find out?”
He held his hand out closer to her, Abigail moved her much smaller one to his and he pulled the gauze off of it. It wasn’t bleeding as much now. He touched, prodded, then moved the skin, blocking out the flinching from the child. He couldn’t let those things hinder him from doing his job.
“Can you glue it?” Abigail asked, her voice just a faint sound as if she thought she’d get in trouble for talking out of turn.
“Why don’t you put this back on and I’m going to talk to your mother quickly,” he said.
“What’s wrong with it?” the mother asked.
He angled his head to bring her out into the hall. “Why don’t we chat out here and Abigail will be fine with Erika. She’ll keep her entertained.”
Abigail’s mother walked out with him, and he moved them a few feet away so that Erika could get some information.
“Do you have to stitch it? I told her not to touch it, but she never listens to me.”
“I can glue it, but she’ll have to keep it dry. And not use or move her hand much. That’s not always easy for kids.”
“She’ll be fine. I’ll make sure of it. If she has to give up swimming and playing at summer camp, that’s on her.”
The woman wasn’t doing that great of a job keeping her sarcasm at bay nor sympathizing with the injury to her child.
“Then we’ll glue it shut, but you can come back if it opens up or go to her primary doctor.”
