The Pint-Sized Secret Read Free

the young woman was on the phone.
    Gretchen glanced up, then covered the phone’s mouthpiece and called out to her. “Hey, Mrs. O’Ryan, wait a sec, okay?”
    Brianna’s heart thudded dully as she waited for the nurse to finish her call. Had something happened today? Was Emma regressing? Her progress had come in fits and starts, in frustratingly slow little bursts, followed by weeks of status quo. All too often there were twice as many steps backward as forward. Brianna grinned ruefully at the mental pun. In Emma’s case, there had been no “steps” at all.
    Gretchen, tall, blond and athletic, strode out from behind the desk, a smile forming. “Don’t look so worried,” she said, giving Brianna’s suddenly icy hand a warm squeeze. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Emma’s fine. I just wanted to be with you when you saw her.”
    “Why?” Brianna asked, still not entirely reassured.
    “You’ll see. She’s in the sunroom, watching TV.”
    Brianna followed her down the hall, her mind whirling. It wasn’t something bad. Gretchen wouldn’t torture her if it was—she’d say so straight out. She was the most direct person Brianna had dealt with at the facility, always telling Brianna the unvarnished truth, even when the doctors danced around it, even when it was painful to hear. And because Gretchen was on in the evenings when treatments were over and the facility was settling into a quieter rhythm, she had more time to spend with anxious parents like Brianna.
    In the sunroom, which was mostly glass, she spotted Emma at once with her halo of strawberry-blond curls, watching reruns of a favorite sitcom. For a moment, just the sight of her daughter was enough to clog Brianna’s throat with tears. She was so blessed to still have her baby. Everything else in her life was just window dressing.
    “Emma,” Gretchen called out. “Your mom’s here.”
    The wheelchair slowly rotated as Emma struggled with the mechanized controls she had finally mastered only a few days earlier. A frown of concentration knit her brow. She didn’t look up until she’d stopped in front of Brianna. Then that shy little smile stole across her face.
    “Hi, Mama.”
    Brianna leaned down and kissed her, resisting the desire to linger, to cling. Even at five, even under the circumstances, Emma craved her independence.
    “Hey, baby. What’s up? Gretchen has been hinting you have a surprise for me.”
    Emma nodded, clearly bursting with excitement. “Watch.”
    Ever so slowly, with an effort that was almost painful to see, she slid to the edge of the seat, then placed her feet gingerly on the floor. Her knees wobbled uncertainly for a heartbeat, then stiffened. Finally she released her hold on the wheelchair and stood. All alone. Not quite upright, but completely, amazingly, on her own. Tears filled Brianna’s eyes and spilled down her cheeks.
    “Oh, baby, that’s wonderful. ”
    “I’m gonna walk, Mama. I am,” Emma said with fierce determination.
    Overcome with emotion, Brianna knelt and gathered her in a fierce hug that for once Emma didn’t resist. For the longest time words wouldn’t come.
    Then she leaned back, dabbed at her eyes and beamed at Emma. She stroked her baby’s cheek.
    “Sweetie, I am so proud of you. You are going to be walking in no time at all. I never doubted it for a minute,” she said, even though she had. Late at night and all alone, she had worried and wondered if Emma would ever run and play like other kids again, if she would have the friends and the adventures she deserved.
    This sweet, poignant moment was the reason she worked herself to exhaustion. It made all the sacrifices, the loneliness and the single-minded focus of her life worthwhile. Emma was going to walk again.





Chapter Two
    J eb was a big believer in the direct approach, especially when it came to his social life. There were plenty of people in Houston who thought of him as a scoundrel, nothing more than a rich playboy who thought he