11 Whiskey Tango Foxtrot Read Free Page B

counting off the ticks in the emotional ping-pong.
    He didn’t want to talk about his emotional state. “Doc, what facilities does the medical center offer for children here?” It had bugged him most of the night and again that morning. Mrs. Carter wasn’t active duty, which suggested her spouse might be. She mentioned being there for her daughter, but the baby was so very tiny. In a facility where they treated war wounds, physical and emotional, could they have a pediatric wing?
    “Depends. We have the clinic hours for standard checkups, triage for emergency care and a maternity ward—with exactly three patients at the moment. But that can always change.” James studied him. “Why?”
    He shook his head, half-thinking to wave away the question but thought better of it. He could ignore a question or refuse to answer one, but lying didn’t sit well with him. Too many years of his mother’s radar and sharp aim—she could ping him from ten feet away with a wooden spoon. If they gave points for accuracy, his mother would hold the world championship cup, twenty years running.
    “Neighbor’s baby has something wrong with it. Made me curious.”
    “Her or her baby?” Doc kept it casual, pausing to shake Jazz’s hand as she headed out. And again with Matt and two more.
    “Both.” Joe answered when they were alone again. “She’s a little rough around the edges.” How did one fish about her husband? Pursuing another man’s wife didn’t sit well with him. I’m not pursuing anything. I’m being neighborly .
    “Good.” James rose and motioned to the coffee and donuts. “Looks like the horde left us some. Hungry?”
    “Nah, I’m good.” Maybe Mrs. Carter could use some lunch. He glanced at his watch. They had a great cafeteria in the main medical building. If nothing else, he could hold the baby for her while she ate—if she went for it. “Could you do me a favor though?”
    “Name it.”
    “Make a call and see if a Mrs. Melody Carter is still here at the med center?”
    The doc didn’t answer for a long moment. “I can do that. Hang out.”
    “Not going anywhere fast.” Joe gave him a quick grin and ignored the fact that his left foot tapped almost impatiently on the wheelchair bar. If she did head home, he could pick something up—course he didn’t know what she liked. Maybe they could split a pizza.
    Joe. You’re a fool. The woman’s probably married and exhausted. Why the hell would she want pizza with you ? He ignored the snide, little voice. It was nice to have something to look forward to. No reason she might not feel the same.
     
    ***
     
    Libby disliked doctor’s appointments almost as much as her mother. The poking and prodding elicited sad little whimpers and sobs. But Melody walked with her back and forth as the physician consulted with two other doctors in white lab coats. Words like mitral valve stenosis, balloon procedure, and valve replacement floated through their conversation. If not for the pair of nurses also present, she might have lost her mind. The consultation room was large, a table for conferencing sat in one corner, a long sofa tucked against the wall and three oversized chairs filled in the intervening space. The room reminded her of a college dorm—without the smell of dirty socks and bad food.
    Melody paced, because it was simply easier to keep moving. She cradled Libby as the baby dozed. She slept so much better when Melody walked.
    “Mrs. Carter, would you like me to walk with her for you some? That way you could take a break?” the steel-gray-haired nurse offered. Her name was—Noel? She couldn’t quite remember.
    “Thank you. I’m actually kind of used to this now.” And if she stopped moving, she would probably pass out. She needed to stay awake, for Libby. As if she really could sleep with the doctors in the room. The churn in her gut seemed pretty constant now.
    “Mrs. Carter?” Doctor Phelps looked more like someone’s grandfather than a physician