NYC Angels: Unmasking Dr. Serious. Laura Iding

ago, he’d vowed to never let a woman get close to him again. Josh needed stability in his life more than he himself needed female companionship. He’d willingly thrown himself into his career. Maybe a little too enthusiastically, now that he thought about it.

      “I’m going to help you stand up, okay? First we have to set the brakes.” She put her hands over his smaller ones to show him how to move the levers forward. “Now, I’m going to put my arms underneath yours, but I need you to push up on the arms of your wheelchair at the same time.”

      He watched Josh struggle to stand, noticing that Molly took a good portion of his weight in order for him to accomplish the task. Although once he was standing, she made him balance there for a few seconds.

      “I’m going to fall,” Josh whined. “Don’t let me go or I’ll fall!”

      “I won’t let you go, Josh, I promise,” Molly assured him. “Just try and stand here for a little bit.”

      After another ten seconds she let him sit back down in the chair. Dan watched intently so that he could practice this at home with Josh.

      “Good job,” she praised his son. “Did you play any games with your dad last night?”

      Josh nodded. “Yep, we played the ball game before dinner. It was fun. And I have a new tutor, too. His name is Mitch. I like him way better than Mr. Iverson.” Josh screwed up his face in an apparent attempt to mimic the stern tutor.

      Molly’s lips twitched as she fought a smile, but when she lifted her gaze over Josh’s head to meet his, Dan could see frank approval reflected in her gaze. And despite the fact he shouldn’t care what she thought of him, he was secretly glad to have earned her favor.

      The session went on, with more games that she dragged him into playing, and he was thrilled to notice that Josh was able to move his legs a little better today when Molly instructed him to kick the ball between his feet.

      When she ended Josh’s session with another massage and the ultrasound treatment, he couldn’t help voicing his concern. “What exactly is the purpose of doing the ultrasound on his legs for eight minutes? I don’t see what good it can possibly do for him.”

      She arched a brow, as she continued providing the treatment. “These are very intense ultrasound waves that are focused directly on the injured muscles. They help increase blood flow, which in turn helps to reduce pain and swelling,” she said patiently, as if speaking to a first-year medical student.

      “Really?” He frowned, trying to work through the pathophysiology of what she described. “And ultrasound waves are safe and harmless?”

      “Definitely safe and harmless,” she agreed. “But that doesn’t mean they don’t have helpful properties, as well. I also wanted to mention that you shouldn’t let Josh overdo the games at home. What you did yesterday was perfect. An hour in the evening is enough so that Josh doesn’t overwork his injured muscles. We wouldn’t want him to suffer from muscle spasms.”

      He nodded, unwilling to admit how much he’d wanted to push Josh into playing her therapy games for longer than he had. Not because he wanted Josh to overwork his injured muscles but because he desperately wanted to see his son walk again.

      Patience was a virtue, he reminded himself. Although having patience while performing heart surgery was far easier than having patience with his son struggling to learn how to stand and walk.

      When she’d finished the ultrasound therapy, she handed Josh the candy jar, and this time it didn’t take him long to choose a cherry-flavored lollipop. Dan figured that by the time they’d completed the initial twelve weeks of therapy, his son would have tried every flavor several times over.

      “Okay, Josh, I’m going to talk to your dad again for a few minutes,” Molly said as she put the candy jar away. “Wait here and I’ll help you get into your wheelchair when I return.”

      Josh nodded, the skin around his lips already stained red from the cherry sucker.

      Dan followed Molly’s petite frame back to her office, trying not to imagine what her figure looked like beneath the baggy scrubs.

      “Dr. Morris—” she began, but he quickly interrupted her.

      “I asked you to call me Dan,” he reminded. “I’ll be attending therapy with Josh because I’m his father, not because I’m a surgeon here at Angel’s.”

      “Ah, okay, Dan, then,” she murmured. She paused, as if she’d lost her train of thought, and he took a moment to savor the way she’d said his name. For the first time in six years he preferred hearing his first name to his formal title.

      “I want you to consider getting a wheelchair, too,” she said.

      He blinked, and tried to gather his scattered thoughts. “You mean one for Josh to use here as well as the one he’ll use at home?”

      “No, I mean one for you to use specially while we’re working together with Josh.” She tilted her chin in a gesture he already knew meant that this was a topic she felt strongly about. “Josh needs you to be a role model for him. And he needs to learn how to get in and out of it by himself. I think he would find that easier to do if you were learning alongside him.”

      Was she crazy? He’d never heard anything more ridiculous. What good would it do for him to be in a wheelchair, too? “I appreciate your advice but I don’t see the need to get myself a wheelchair.”

      “Dr. Morris—Dan,” she corrected swiftly, “You don’t have the option to refuse. You have to stop questioning everything I do or suggest. Like the ultrasound treatments, and now getting a wheelchair of your own. For years you referred your pediatric patients to me, but now suddenly you’re acting as if I have no clue what I’m doing. Why can’t you believe I only have your son’s best interests at heart?”

      “I do believe that,” he said slowly. He forced himself to meet her emerald-green gaze. “It’s just …” He trailed off, unable to find the words to express how he felt. Because she was right. He was acting as if she didn’t have a clue what she was doing. Just because he wasn’t an expert in physical therapy, it didn’t mean she wasn’t. He had to trust her expertise and knowledge.

      But getting a wheelchair of his own seemed over the top. He wasn’t the one who’d been injured.

      Yet it was his fault that Josh had been.

      He swallowed against the hard lump of the bitter truth. Did it matter if he felt stupid using a wheelchair? Wasn’t Josh’s recovery worth it?

      “Look, we need to settle this now, before we go any further in treating Josh because if you can’t or won’t trust me, there’s no point in us continuing.”

      Her last sentence made him scowl. “Are you threatening me?”

      “It’s not a threat. I’m only telling you that you either heed my advice and do what I say as it relates to Josh’s therapy, or you find someone else to work with.” She shrugged, as if she didn’t care what he would decide to do. “I’m not the only therapist here, there are many others equally qualified.”

      He clenched his jaw, unable to believe she was actually handing him an ultimatum. He couldn’t help it that it was his nature to question things. To make sure he understood what was going on.

      “A good therapist-patient relationship is the key to success. Maybe I’m not the best fit for you,” she said, when he didn’t respond.

      “But you are the best fit for my son.” The moment he’d uttered the words, he knew they were true. Molly had a way with children, and it was obvious that Josh was already anxious to please her. Not to mention none of the other therapists had her amazing outcomes.

      He’d tolerate whatever she decreed in order to help Josh. “I’ll accept your terms,” he said, roughly shoving his ego aside. “I’ll get a wheelchair so Josh and I can learn how to use them together. And I promise not to question your methods from this point forward.