Page 29 of More Than a Hero (Baytown Heroes #12)

Angie glanced up from her desk as the ESAAA receptionist called out, "Angie, you’ve got a call on line four."

"Okay, thanks." She pushed her reading glasses up onto her head and pressed the button on her phone. "This is Angie Brown. How may I help you?"

"Ms. Brown?"

The voice on the other end belonged to an older man. His tone was steady but carried a faint tremor, an edge of worry that sent a prickle of unease through her.

"Yes, this is Ms. Brown. Who is this, please?"

“This is Jed. Jed Reeves, ma’am.”

Recognition settled over her. Mr. Reeves was a familiar name, one of the clients who occasionally needed transportation when his daughter worked late shifts. He also received Meals on Wheels twice a week. Angie sat up straighter, her instincts sharpening.

“Mr. Reeves, what can I do for you? Is everything okay?”

“Not really, Ms. Brown. I… I’m sorry to have to call. I don’t want to be a burden, but things aren’t so good right now.”

His hesitance deepened her concern. She softened her voice. "Can you tell me what’s going on? Are you safe? Are you hurt or injured?”

“No, ma’am, nothing like that. It’s my grandson. Robert. When he gets off the bus, he helps with his brother and sister until his mom gets home—if she’s working during the day. But… but he’s been arrested.”

Angie inhaled sharply. “Arrested?”

She tried to recall what she knew about Robert. Teenager. Responsible. At least, that was her impression. But teenage boys could make mistakes, and whatever had happened, Mr. Reeves was clearly shaken.

“Do you need help at home? Someone to step in while your grandson can’t?”

“Yes, ma’am. Our neighbor’s real sweet—she watches the younger kids when she can. But my daughter’s upset, and she doesn’t know what to do. She switches between day and evening shifts and takes double shifts when she can for extra money. I just… I just don’t know how to help her.”

His voice wavered, and Angie’s heart clenched. “Are you at home alone right now?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Why don’t I come over? We can sit down, have some tea, and figure out a plan together.”

A small pause, then a breath of relief. “Oh my goodness, Ms. Brown. You’re an answer to my prayers.”

"Don’t worry about it. I’ll also notify Karen, our home visiting nurse. I know she checks in on you every other week. I’ll let her know I’m coming out and fill her in."

"That’s real nice of you, ma’am."

"Give me about twenty minutes, and I’ll be there."

After disconnecting, Angie glanced at her schedule.

With a few adjustments, she could still get everything done.

As the head of ESAAA, her job was largely administrative, but she loved getting out into the community when she could.

The adoptive grandparents’ program gave her a sense of purpose, and if she could ease Mr. Reeves’s worries, she’d gladly make the time.

She dialed Karen and quickly explained the situation. "If I get there and he seems distressed, I’ll call one of the nurses to check on him."

"That sounds good," Karen agreed. "Let me know if I need to move him up in my schedule."

Angie ended the call, fired off a few emails, and grabbed her satchel. Slipping it over her shoulder, she strode out the door, pausing just long enough to inform the receptionist where she was headed.

As she slid into her car, another thought nagged at her. Her rheumatologist appointment was later that afternoon, and she really didn’t want to miss it. The swelling in her knee hadn’t gone down, and she knew Pete was worried. He’d already told her how much he hated seeing her in pain.

She exhaled as she started her car. If she handled things efficiently with Mr. Reeves, she’d still make it to her appointment. At least, she hoped so. With one last glance at her watch, she pulled out onto the road, determination settling deep in her chest.

Soon, she was climbing the worn steps of the apartment building.

The structure had seen better days—its once-white paint had faded to a dull gray, and rust clung to the metal railings.

A few people lingered at one end of the building, their voices low, their gazes watchful.

For the most part, it seemed like a decent place to live, but unease coiled in her stomach.

She had no idea why Robert had been arrested, but she prayed it wasn’t linked to drugs or gangs preying on this neighborhood.

She hated to think of the boys in their group, or any children, being exposed to that danger.

She knocked on Mr. Reeves’s door, hearing the soft shuffle of movement inside before the locks clicked. The door creaked open, and he peered out, his lined face weary but warm.

"Oh, I’m so glad to see you using your walker. The last time I visited, you were still in your wheelchair."

"I’m glad, too, Ms. Brown. Come on in."

She stepped inside as he moved aside, closing the door behind her. The apartment was modest but tidy, with a few well-worn armchairs and a recliner arranged in front of a television.

"You have a seat, and I’ll heat some water for tea."

"That sounds mighty fine, Ms. Brown, but I’m not sure what my daughter has."

Angie grinned and reached into her satchel, pulling out two tea bags. "I come prepared!"

He chuckled, shaking his head, but the sadness rolling off him in waves was impossible to miss.

She busied herself in the small kitchen, filling the kettle and setting it to boil.

In minutes, the tea was steeping, and she even tossed an ice cube into his cup to cool it faster.

Carrying both mugs over, she placed one on the coffee table for herself and handed the other to him in his recliner.

"Okay, Mr. Reeves, tell me what’s happening, and let’s figure out how to make this easier for you."

For the next several minutes, she listened as he explained the changes he'd seen in his grandson, then he told her about the phone call he'd received from Robert.

Her heart ached for the young man who'd made such a grievous error in judgment, but she was heartened to know that he was not involved in drugs.

She even decided to bring the situation up to Pete, but said nothing to Mr. Reeves about that plan.

She didn’t offer false hope and knew they needed to plan for the worst possibility. "I know you'd like your daughter to continue working her regular shifts so her pay isn’t compromised."

He nodded. “She works changing shifts, either seven in the morning to three thirty. Or she works three in the afternoon to eleven thirty at night. Sometimes, if overtime becomes available, she’ll take it for the extra pay.

Robert gets the little ones up when she has to leave early in the morning.

Our neighbor helps them get on the bus with her kids.

When my daughter works afternoons, Robert gets home first and gets the kids off the bus. ”

He rubbed his whiskered chin. “Between her, me, and Robert, we managed to get the younger ones up and on or off the bus, whichever is needed. I can do it by myself, but it’s gonna be a lot harder.”

Angie’s mind raced with the possibilities they could work out to assist. “I know you are on Meals on Wheels twice a week. Let’s move that to four days a week during this time. Technically, if someone is coming to assist you, their job is not to babysit children.”

“Oh, I totally understand, Ms Brown. The kids are so good. They come in and have a snack and do their homework or watch TV. I can handle that, but if Robert’s not here to help out with me, it’s not so easy for me to move around easily.”

“I’ll need to have your daughter‘s work schedule, so I’ll know when we might need someone to assist. I can’t promise that we can have somebody here every day, but I’ll try to get someone here to assist in the afternoons or mornings.”

He nodded, his face more wrinkled than she’d ever seen it, and his shoulders slumped as though the world's weight pressed upon him. “I still have hope, Ms Brown. Robert’s a good kid who made a dumb decision. But he wasn’t using any drugs, and he was in the passenger seat.

I’m hoping he’ll end up okay and can come home soon, and we won’t even need this help. ”

“I hope for the same thing, too, Mr. Reeves.” They finished their tea, and he seemed more relaxed as they chatted. She washed the empty tea cups and left them on the drying rack. Grabbing her purse, she bent to offer him a heartfelt hug. “I can let myself out, but I know you want to lock the door.”

He pushed himself up, gripping his walker. "You’re a real angel, Ms. Brown.”

She opened her mouth to object, but he shook his head. "Nope, it’s true. At least to me.”

Smiling, she stepped outside, hearing the latch click behind her. As she descended the steps, her gaze flickered toward the group of young men still gathered at the far end of the building. A chill ran down her spine, but she kept walking, slipping into her car and pulling away.

She never noticed the dark car with tinted windows parked nearby. Nor the hidden driver watching her. And the slow, knowing smile that spread across his face, his gold tooth sparkling.

Angie settled into the chair across from Dr. Ketz, shifting slightly to ease the stiffness in her knee.

The sterile scent of antiseptic mixed with the faintest hint of floral from the air freshener plugged into the wall.

A soft hum filled the room as the doctor typed something into her computer, her gaze flicking up with a warm, knowing smile.

“How have you been feeling?”

Angie scrunched her nose, already feeling the familiar internal debate. "I'm programmed to say that I feel fine, but I’m trying to remind myself that this is where I need to be honest."

Dr. Ketz chuckled, leaning back slightly in her chair. "Think of your older clients, Angie. When you ask them what they need…"

Angie sighed, then grinned. "I need them to be honest, or I can’t help them properly."

Dr. Ketz nodded approvingly. “Exactly.”

Angie inhaled deeply, steadying herself. “My joints hurt—especially my hands. When I try to grip something too tightly, it’s like they rebel against me. At night, my hips and knees are the worst. And, of course, my left knee is still inflamed and swollen.”

Dr. Ketz listened intently, her fingers flying across the keyboard, documenting everything.

Then she lifted her gaze and gave Angie an encouraging nod.

“I appreciate your honesty. It seems like I either have patients who tell me everything hurts but can’t be specific, or patients who put on a brave face and refuse to be honest, which isn’t helpful for diagnosis or treatment. ”

Angie let out a dry laugh. “It’s just hard to have a condition where I look the same as always, except for my knee. But on the inside, I feel different. Sleep is hard. Moving in the morning is hard. Fatigue is my constant companion… one I’d really like to break up with.”

Dr. Ketz smiled at her description but didn’t downplay the reality. “I can imagine. Given how your symptoms are progressing, I’d like to start you on one of the injectable medications. If that doesn’t work, we may need to consider moving to infusions.”

Angie exhaled slowly, shaking her head. “I know both of those options are expensive. The injections are cheaper since I can do them at home, but I can’t imagine going to the hospital every month for a four-hour infusion.”

Dr. Ketz’s expression softened. “I understand. It does sound daunting, and yes, intrusive. But our goal is to prevent as much damage to your joints as possible.”

Angie nodded, understanding the necessity, even though she resented the reality. She hated the idea of relying on medication just to function.

“You also need to ensure you’re getting enough rest, eating well, and trying to reduce stress.”

Angie snorted before she could stop herself, then blushed. “I’m sorry, Dr. Ketz. But I’m not sure reducing stress is an option for any of us. And I’m not just talking about me. It seems like everyone is under stress.”

Dr. Ketz laughed, nodding in agreement. “I know. I have the same conversation with all of my patients. There’s no way we can live completely stress-free lives.”

“I doubt even if we moved to a mountaintop in Tibet and lived with peaceful monks that we’d be able to do that.”

Dr. Ketz’s shoulders shook with laughter. “You might be right. But sleep is important—it allows your body to heal as much as possible.”

They continued talking for several more minutes before Angie climbed onto the examination table.

Dr. Ketz carefully examined her joints, taking extra care with her left knee, manipulating it gently but thoroughly.

After more consultation, Angie met with the nurse practitioner, who placed the order for her injectable medication.

“Many of our patients prefer injecting into their thigh," the nurse explained. "But some prefer the stomach since there’s a little more fat under the skin, making it less painful.”

Angie wrinkled her nose, then sighed. "Okay, let’s try the stomach."

She lifted her shirt slightly, and the nurse pinched her lower abdomen, then pressed the injector firmly.

Angie braced herself, but the sting was minor—nothing compared to the deep aches she lived with daily.

The nurse counted to ten before pulling the device away, leaving only a tiny red mark on Angie’s skin.

“Whew,” Angie breathed, inspecting the spot. “Not too bad. I can do that.”

“This particular medication is only administered every other week. Once you receive it in the mail, keep it refrigerated until you’re ready to use it.”

Angie nodded, absorbing the information as she finished up at the office. When she finally stepped outside, the sun was shining, the sky a brilliant blue, but she couldn’t shake the lingering unease. Even the warmth on her skin couldn’t dissolve the uncertainty gnawing at her.

She sucked in a deep breath, walking toward her car, giving herself a pep talk. A lot of people have it worse than this. You can do it. One little shot every other week. Stop acting like a wimp ? —

“Do you always talk to yourself when you leave the doctor’s office?”

She jumped, her heart stuttering in her chest. Lifting her gaze, she spotted an SUV parked beside her car. Leaning casually against it, arms crossed, was Pete. The day suddenly felt a little brighter.

“Hey!” she said, her lips curving into a surprised smile. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, pushing away from the car. “You mentioned you had a doctor’s appointment today. I thought I’d stop by and see how you were.”

Reaching out, he caught her hand, his fingers warm and steady as they intertwined with hers. Without resistance, she let him pull her closer, his strength grounding her. When she leaned into him, he wrapped his arms around her, and she melted against his chest, closing her eyes.

The world still spun with uncertainties, but at this moment, she felt calm. Stronger. Whole.