The Good Mum. Cathryn Parry

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?”

      “I’m not sure yet. I’ll keep you posted, though.”

      “All 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.

      * * *

      AIDAN 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.

      “No.” 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 seemed that this Ashley woman was good at surprising him.

      She smiled wistfully and cracked open her own water bottle, then took a long drink. Sighing, she pressed her hand to her lips. “Don’t tell anyone I just did that,” she confided. “Staff aren’t supposed to drink the Evians and Perriers. That’s protocol.”

      “That doesn’t seem fair.”

      “Maybe. But life isn’t always fair, as they say.” She fiddled with the label on her bottle, her eyes lowered to his. “I heard you just came back from overseas,” she said softly. In the sunlight her hazel eyes were even more spectacular than he’d noticed. Speckles of copper and green. She had a faint—very faint—smattering of freckles, too. “I’m sure it must be an adjustment for you.”

      “Did you talk to my grandmother?” he asked.

      “No.” She smiled winsomely. “I haven’t even seen her yet. I...don’t keep up with the news as much as I should, so I’m sorry I didn’t realize who you were right away. I certainly wouldn’t have babbled on about my son like that if I’d known.”

      “You still want your kid to be a doctor?” he couldn’t help saying bitterly.

      But she didn’t take it wrong. She just smiled gently, as if understanding his anger at his situation and excusing him for it. “It’s not about me,” she said. “If he wants to be a doctor, then it’s my job to help him through his schooling so he can get there.”

      He glanced sideways at her. “Are you married?” he asked bluntly.

      “No,” she murmured.

      “Divorced?” he asked again, even though he knew it was over the line. Knew he was pushing it with his rudeness.

      A small smile came to her lips, as if divorce was, for her, a silly thought. “No,” she said.

      “Widowed?” He had to ask—he was curious now.

      She shook her head, but she had a flush to her cheeks this time. The color just heightened the fact that she was pretty. It didn’t matter at all to him that she was a single mother, and he might have told her so, if he didn’t think it would embarrass her to hear it.

      He opened the water bottle she’d brought him. It was good stuff; he’d been drinking boiled bracken tea for so long in the camp they’d set up that it felt good to have fresh, cold, bubbly water slide down his parched throat.

      He couldn’t stop drinking. He finished it greedily.

      Then he sat and stared at the label on his bottle. He hadn’t exactly chosen his situation in life, either, even before Fleur’s death. She’d been the driver of the whirlwind, and he had tagged along for the adventure.

      In the end, nothing had been what he wanted.

      Maybe he and Ashley were in sort of the same boat.

      “I never expected this to happen with Fleur,” he found himself muttering aloud.

      “Losing someone I love would be my worst fear,” Ashley agreed.

      He squinted at her, the harsh sunlight in his eyes. “You worry about your son, don’t you?”

      “All the time,” she confessed.

      She was being honest with him. He got the sense that she wasn’t being manipulative as he’d feared. He hated manipulative people. And it really did impress him that she cared so much about her boy.

      Aidan wasn’t usually sentimental. In fact, at Wellness Hospital, he’d been known as somewhat gruff. He knew what others said of him, and it didn’t bother him. Usually.

      He sighed. “Yeah, okay. I’ll go back to the salon with you. I’ll talk to the owner and make sure you don’t get in trouble, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

      “Actually, I have another suggestion. You see, Aidan, I’m really good at washing hair.” She gave him such a sweet smile that he didn’t know how he could refuse her. “And this salon has a nice men’s shampoo. You could face the world feeling cleaned up and relaxed. You could close your eyes and for fifteen minutes, forget about everyone else in there, including me.”

      He just stared at her.

      “No one will bother you, Aidan. I promise.”

      It sounded appealing, actually. He was tired. He didn’t want to go out to lunch with his grandmother right now, but he’d committed himself.

      He stood. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but