DESTINED AFFECTION

FOUR

The instant Lauren saw the brunette head turn toward her and the tremulous smile of recognition on her daughter's face, her panic began to ebb. She's awake and alert, no head injury. Oh, thank God. Despite the fact that her stomach still churned with anxiety laced with the aftermath of old terrors, she smiled and kept her voice level and steady as she reached for her child. "Hi, sweetie. Come here and let me hold you a while. Aunt Perrie probably needs a rest."

"I can walk," the brunette child said fretfully, but she extended her arms to Lauren nonetheless.

"I know you can, but I want to give you a hug first."

Carefully, Perrie passed the child to Lauren, who hitched her daughter onto her hip as if she were two instead of nearly eight. Even as she did so, she searched the one eye she could see for any signs of altered consciousness. "I guess you bumped your head, huh?"

"Jeannie bumped it," Kyle grumbled with a mixture of residual tears and emerging indignation.

Lauren glanced at Perrie in concern. "Is Jeannie okay?"

"She's got a goose egg on her forehead, but no other damage." She reached out and stroked Kyle's hair and looked over at Ally, who stood nearby. "I've got to run. The kids are out front in the car, and the security guard is baby-sitting."

Ally gave Perrie a quick hug. "Go ahead, honey. I'll call you later."

As Lauren walked back to the nearest open examining room, she explained to Kyle, "We 're going to have to take that bandage off and see what's underneath, okay?"

"Will it hurt?"

"Does it hurt now?"

Kyle seemed to give this some consideration. "A little. It feels kinda like my knee did when I fell off my skateboard."

"Well, it might hurt a tiny bit more for a few minutes while we put some medicine on it to clean it up. But not a lot,"

"Will you do it?"

Lauren hesitated. She still felt the effects of the swift surge of panic accompanied by the unexpected resurrection of past fears, and she wasn't certain how steady her hands would be. Before she could answer, Ally spoke up.

"You know what, Kyle? I think Mom ought to hold your hand while one of the other doctors fixes you up. What do you say?"

"Who?"

Lauren looked past Ally and Camila walking quietly along beside them, the memory of the reassuring hand against her back comforting still. Deep brown eyes, kind with compassion, met hers. Without a second thought, Lauren extended her free hand and Camila took it, stepping closer. "This is Camila, Kyle. She's a surgeon, and she'll take really good care of you, okay?"

"Okay."

Ally held the curtain to exam room one open, and Lauren gently deposited her daughter on the stretcher. Then she pulled a stool close and sat down as Camila walked to the other side.

"I'm going to take this big Band-Aid off your forehead," Camila explained. "There's some tape that will pull a little bit when I do. You ready?"

Kyle held her mother's hand and nodded.

"So," Camila said conversationally, surveying the four-centimeter laceration just above the child's eyebrow, "baseball, basketball, or soccer?"

"Soccer," Kyle proclaimed as if anyone should know the answer.

"Neat." Camila glanced at Lauren's, whose eyes were fixed on the wound on her daughter's forehead. She waited for Lauren to look up at her, and then she smiled reassuringly. Lauren rewarded her with a swift, if slightly shaky, smile in return. "I'm going to shine a light in your eyes. It'll be really bright."