A large box sat on the seat beside him. "Another gift for my mother?"
He grinned. "I enjoy giving her gifts. I hope she likes it."
"I can't imagine you doing or giving her anything she wouldn't love." Like mother, like daughter. It was enough that he gave her mother his time, but of course Sebastian always wanted to do more. "You're going to spoil her at this rate."
"Good. She deserves it."
She tried not to take his words as a condemnation of the little she'd been able to do for her mother, especially when he tucked her hand into his in the front seat of the car. Guilt, however, immediately reared its ugly little head, adding to her tension over today's meeting with the doctor Sebastian had brought in. She didn't want to make the mistake of getting her hopes up, but it was hard not to. Especially when she knew just how badly Sebastian wanted to make a difference in her mother's life. She hoped he would soon realize he already had, simply by offering his time so willingly.
She was actually quite nervous by the time they entered the nursing home. A tall, white-haired gentleman she knew didn't belong at Shady Lane strode toward them with a confident gait.
"Dr. Hillman." Sebastian shook the other man's hand. "I'm Sebastian Montgomery, and this is Charlie Ballard, Francine's daughter."
The doctor turned, then held her hand in both of his. "It's so good to meet you. I've just left your mother in the lounge. She's an absolute delight."
"She certainly is," Charlie agreed.
The white hair made the doctor appear older, though his features were unlined and his strong hands lacked even a hint of age spots. Rather than speaking to Sebastian, who'd called him, Dr. Hillman focused on Charlie. He cleared his throat, as though switching to professional mode. "I arrived early, so we've been getting acquainted. I did a cursory examination and I'm pleased to be able to tell you that her original surgeon was quite competent."
"I'm glad to hear that." More than glad, actually, both for her mother's sake...and because it was one less thing Charlie had to feel guilty about.
"Her pinkies are very elastic, but I wouldn't recommend putting in a new joint. She wouldn't see a quantifiable increase in usage. I'm afraid there's not much to be done with her other fingers, either. Even with another operation, she wouldn't gain any strength in her hands. I'm sorry, Ms. Ballard, but everything's been done for your mother that can be done."
"What about pain medication?" Sebastian had set his box on the counter, his face grave, the line of his lips flat. "Can we alleviate her pain?"
"She's already on pain management. There are other meds, but the results will be about the same. I'm afraid the pain will never be completely eradicated."
"But there has to be something." Sebastian's jaw flexed, and Charlie knew that the doctor's analysis was hitting him harder than it was her, because her expectations were so much lower.
She reached for Sebastian's hand and held on tight as Dr. Hillman said, "She's quite resilient. Many patients at her stage are confined to a wheelchair. She's good with a walker, and her pain level isn't debilitating. She has admirable tolerance."
"Admirable tolerance?" Sebastian's fingers squeezed Charlie's almost painfully, and an edge grated in his voice. Clearly, he wasn't used to not being able to fix something.
"I'm sorry I don't have better news for either of you."
"Thank you for coming to meet with her," Charlie said. A house call from a renowned surgeon was more than could be expected. But Sebastian had managed it. "It means a lot to us."
Sebastian finally seemed to shake himself, an actual tremor she felt through their clasped hands. "I appreciate your dropping everything to come by."
Dr. Hillman nodded. "I was happy to do it." The doctor shook their hands again before striding out the front door.
A nurse trundled the meds trolley past them, smiling politely. Charlie nodded in return.
"We'll get a second opinion," Sebastian said through gritted teeth when the nurse was out of earshot. "Something has to be done. Dr. Hillman's record said he was the best, but we can't leave it at that. Tell me more about the pain meds, Charlie."
"Mom could take stronger drugs, but they're highly addictive and the body builds up a tolerance to them eventually. The side effects can be worse than the pain, and she doesn't want to start down that road."
He closed his eyes briefly, then nodded once, a muscle still flexing in his jaw. "I understand." But as he picked up the box, she wasn't sure he truly did. Helping people make their lives better was Sebastian's calling. Not being able to help her mother--just as he'd been unable to help his parents--had the potential to hurt him. Badly. "Let's go see your mom."
She held on to him one moment longer. "Thank you for everything. Even if we can't find any other ways to make her feel better, you've already made such a big difference for her." And for me too.
"We'll find something." His face was determined. "For all we know, the ankle guy I've contacted might come to a different conclusion."
Charlie already knew how deeply Sebastian cared for the people who mattered to him. His friends, his foster parents. And now her mother. Though she was worried he was going to end up disappointed by the doctors he was bringing in, she couldn't dim his hope.
"So," she said as they headed down the hall toward the lounge, hoping to shift his mood back to the smiles he'd been giving her earlier, "what's in the box?"
She'd asked him the same question a half-dozen times since getting in the car. And he hadn't so much as cracked. "Are you this impatient with your own presents?"