The Good Mom Read Free Page B

Doctor Killed.”
    Hub was the unique word that the local headline writers used for “city of Boston.” Ashley froze reading it, barely able to breathe. Her hands shaking, she could only skim bits of phrases from the newspaper article, dated last October.
    Dr. Aidan Lowe, an orthopedic surgeon of this city, escaped injury during an attack that firebombed a volunteer clinic in the war-torn region of southern Afghanistan...
    Dr. Fleur Sanborne, also of this city, the chief medical adviser to Doctor’s Aid, International, died this morning after succumbing to her injuries...
    Gasping, Ashley put down her phone. This was horrible! No wonder poor Dr. Lowe— Aidan , he’d asked her to call him—had seemed traumatized. It had nothing to do with her, and everything to do with what he’d been through in Afghanistan.
    Trembling, she shook her head. She couldn’t even imagine losing someone close to her. And she’d been so worried about a haircut ?
    She tucked her phone away in her pocket. “I need to go outside,” she told Kylie. “I’ll be right back.”
    Kylie glanced up from her own phone. “What’s going on?”
    â€œI’m not sure yet. I’ll keep you posted, though.”
    â€œAll right.” Kylie glanced nervously toward Ilana’s private treatment room. “I’ll cover for you,” she whispered.
    Ashley smiled at her. “Thanks. I’ll return the favor someday.”
    On the way outside, she stopped by the beverage cart in the consultation area and grabbed a bottled water. On second thought, she grabbed two bottles, even though it wasn’t protocol. She had no idea what she was going to do. She was in too much of a rush, racing the clock, to be nervous about it.
    Outside, the balmy air was welcome, and she sucked in great breaths of it. Early September in Boston was the best time of year to be in the city. Crowds of people—college students and tourists and suited financial types—wandered down the sidewalks flanking the wide boulevards lined with trees and flowering bushes. To the right was the small historic church she passed each day on her walk to Brandon’s school, but she very much doubted that Aidan had sought refuge there. He seemed angry and disoriented, wanting to leave rather than receive comfort. She didn’t know much about leaving—she’d never quite been able to find the courage to pick up and do that—but Ashley knew everything about giving comfort. It was the story of her life, and at the moment, this was the only gift she could think of to offer him.
    She walked straight ahead and found Aidan sitting on a bench in the midst of a small courtyard-size garden where she’d noticed office workers gathering to eat their midday lunches. At the moment, most of the benches were deserted. The tended garden plots they faced were beautiful, yellow roses and purple flowering lavender plants scented the air. In the middle of the courtyard was a multitiered fountain that streamed soothing plumes of water.
    Aidan, however, faced a completely dead plot, with spaded-up earth as desolate as a grave.
    She felt sorry for him. Carefully, she headed over to his bench. The cold water bottles were sweating in her palms, and he glanced up at her as she sat.
    She had no idea what to say or even how to begin talking to him. But now that she saw him in person, deeply grieving, she decided to just speak from her heart, and see where things went from there.
    * * *
    A IDAN STARED AT the pale, auburn-haired waif who’d had the nerve to follow him outside. “You tracked me down here for a haircut?” he said, incredulous.
    â€œNo.” She smiled brightly at him. “I’m not giving you a haircut today. I’m just bringing some water while we wait.” She handed him a cold water bottle—which he really was dying for—and he gladly accepted it.
    In spite of himself he laughed. It