Free So Much More by Kim Holden Page A

reading through an email on my laptop screen at the same time.
    I hear her stunned irritation through the receiver before she answers, “It’s Seamus. He’s been taken to the hospital. He says he can’t feel his legs from the waist down. He said it started this morning. He’s scared and asked that I call you because he’s left several messages on your cell phone today and you hadn’t answered him.”
    I pick up my cell phone from my desk and look at the missed calls and voicemails. Twelve. All from Seamus. I toss my phone back on my desk. “I’ve been busy. Meetings. Trying to run a company,” I offer flatly. How dare she try to call me out.
    “He’s at Mercy General,” she adds.
    I hang up without acknowledging the information and glance at the time on my laptop. Four o’clock. Daycare is open until seven o’clock I’m guessing. I tap the button on my phone for Justine.
    “Yes?” Justine answers. She still sounds concerned.  
    “Find out what daycare the boys are at. And what time they close,” I order before tapping the disconnect button.
    Ten minutes later Justine calls. I pick up the receiver, and she immediately starts talking because she knows I don’t like to waste time with greetings. “They’re at Big Hearts Daycare. I have the address and phone number for you. They close at five-thirty.”
    “Five-thirty?” I question incredulously. “That can’t be right. Call them back, there must be some mistake.”
    “I’ve just confirmed with them that they close at five-thirty,” she challenges. Justine is feisty and outspoken, which I usually appreciate because she’s using it on others in my favor. I don’t appreciate it being turned on me.
    “Confirm. Again,” I grit out.
    Justine confirms with the daycare again. And then confirms with me again. Five-thirty. Fuck. I don’t have time for this. I have emails to answer and a report to complete and get to Loren by midnight tonight.
    I leave the office at five-thirty to pick up the boys.
    It’s six o’clock when I walk into Big Hearts Daycare. The woman seated in a chair holding a sleeping Rory in her lap greets me. “Can I help you?” She looks exhausted, but with a patience that only a loving heart can display to a stranger. What a sap , I think.
    I point to Rory and say, “You’re holding my son.”  
    When I say it, Kai walks out of a door with signage that reads Boys , I’m assuming the bathroom, and looks at me with mild shock racing across his features. “Where’s Daddy?”
    “He’s at the hospital. Get your stuff. Hurry up. We need to go.” I know I probably should’ve softened that so I don’t scare him, but I’m too irritated to censor.
    “The hospital?” he questions timidly. Kai has always been softhearted. He’s so much like his father, not an ounce of me in him.
    “Yes. Hurry up,” I repeat.
    The woman holding Rory looks as if she’s driving by the scene of a horrendous car accident, mouth gaping, eyes wide with alarm. “Oh my goodness, is Seamus okay?” she asks with a tremble in her voice. “I’ve been trying to call his cell, and he didn’t answer, which is so unlike him. I tried the back-up emergency number, too—your cell number, Mrs. McIntyre—but there was no answer.”
    I think back on my phone ringing from my purse as I drove here. I ignored it. So, I lie, “My phone didn’t ring. Must have a bad number.”
    “Is he okay?” she repeats.
    “I don’t know. I’m sure he’s fine. It’s nothing life threatening if that’s what you’re asking.” Numbness hardly indicates he’s on the precipice of death.
    She looks at me oddly, judging me for my lack of concern I’m sure, and says, “I need to see some ID, please, to release the boys to you.”
    I look at the ceiling and shake my head as the frustration in me mounts. “Goddammit, I’m their mother. What do you need ID for?”
    “Security purposes,” she says as she stands with Rory in her arms.
    I dig through my purse for my wallet