been here for nearly a year. I've been unable to connect with him on any level, and while I'm not willing to say he's incurable, I do think that another doctor, maybe one with a different approach, might be able to do what I can't."
Benedict glanced at Wes again. "Medical discharge?"
Milam sighed. "Other than the deceased wife and child, does he have any next of kin?"
Benedict flipped through Wes's chart. "Parents deceased. One brother, also deceased. Oh, wait...says here there's a stepbrother, Aaron Clancy, in
Florida
."
Milam nodded. "Notify the stepbrother. I'll start the paperwork."
Having made their decision, they walked away from Wes as if he were nothing more than a potted plant they'd stopped to view. It wasn't personal, it was just part of their process.
A part of Wes had heard, but none of it had soaked in. As soon as he'd heard the word stepbrother, he'd been gone.
Wes was sitting on the stoop at the back of his house. He hadn't felt this out of control since the day his father had died. Today it had been self-preservation that had sent him to the back porch in a sullen fit.
Mom was getting married again. He couldn't believe it. It was a betrayal of everything their family, or what was left of it, stood for. He swallowed back tears and swiped his hand beneath his nose. He would be damned before he would let anyone see him cry.
This wasn't fair. None of it was fair. Billy was dead. He'd died the spring after they'd gotten their first bicycles. Mom had warned them time and time again not to ride the bikes into the street, and the one time Billy broke the rule, he died for it.
After that, Wes had figured nothing bad could ever happen to their family again, because they'd already had their share of sadness. Then, a few years later, his father went to work one day and never came home. He died of a heart attack just after Wes's sixteenth birthday. The first time Wes used his new driver's license was to take his mother to the funeral home to make arrangements for his father's burial. That was the day he 'd realized that nothing about life was fair, and that some people had more than their share of bad luck.
He'd thought nothing could ever top that until today. Hearing his mother say that she was marrying Aiden Clancy had been like being run over by a bus. Aiden Clancy was a bully, and his son, Aaron, was no different. On top of that, his father had disliked Aiden with a passion. He couldn't believe that his mom was unable to see through the man's smiles and lies.
Then he heard the hinges squeak on the screen door behind him and braced himself for the sound of his mother's voice. He knew he'd hurt her feelings. But she'd wiped out what was left of his world, and he didn't know if he would ever be able to forgive her for that.
"Wesley, would you please come inside? Aiden and Aaron will be here soon. I would like our first family dinner together to be one of congeniality."
Wes stood abruptly, and with all the displaced anger and pain a seventeen-year-old male could possess, he stared, her down.
"I'll come in, and I'll sit down at our table with those people, but I will never consider them family. Dad didn't like Aiden Clancy, I don't like Aaron, and you've known that my entire life. Still, you've chosen to ignore Dad's intuition and my feelings."
Patricia Holden stifled hot tears, channeling them instead into what she felt was justified betrayal.
"Your father is dead! I'm not. I am forty-two years old. I do not wish to live the rest of my life alone." "You have me!" Wes shouted. Patricia sighed. "But for how long, Wesley? You're growing up. One day you'll move away and start a family of your own. Am I destined to be the old woman who gets a happy-birthday phone call once a year and a visit at Christmas?"
Wes knew she was right, but he wasn't quite man enough yet to admit it.
"You're right about one thing," he said.
"What's that?"
Benedict glanced at Wes again. "Medical discharge?"
Milam sighed. "Other than the deceased wife and child, does he have any next of kin?"
Benedict flipped through Wes's chart. "Parents deceased. One brother, also deceased. Oh, wait...says here there's a stepbrother, Aaron Clancy, in
Florida
."
Milam nodded. "Notify the stepbrother. I'll start the paperwork."
Having made their decision, they walked away from Wes as if he were nothing more than a potted plant they'd stopped to view. It wasn't personal, it was just part of their process.
A part of Wes had heard, but none of it had soaked in. As soon as he'd heard the word stepbrother, he'd been gone.
Wes was sitting on the stoop at the back of his house. He hadn't felt this out of control since the day his father had died. Today it had been self-preservation that had sent him to the back porch in a sullen fit.
Mom was getting married again. He couldn't believe it. It was a betrayal of everything their family, or what was left of it, stood for. He swallowed back tears and swiped his hand beneath his nose. He would be damned before he would let anyone see him cry.
This wasn't fair. None of it was fair. Billy was dead. He'd died the spring after they'd gotten their first bicycles. Mom had warned them time and time again not to ride the bikes into the street, and the one time Billy broke the rule, he died for it.
After that, Wes had figured nothing bad could ever happen to their family again, because they'd already had their share of sadness. Then, a few years later, his father went to work one day and never came home. He died of a heart attack just after Wes's sixteenth birthday. The first time Wes used his new driver's license was to take his mother to the funeral home to make arrangements for his father's burial. That was the day he 'd realized that nothing about life was fair, and that some people had more than their share of bad luck.
He'd thought nothing could ever top that until today. Hearing his mother say that she was marrying Aiden Clancy had been like being run over by a bus. Aiden Clancy was a bully, and his son, Aaron, was no different. On top of that, his father had disliked Aiden with a passion. He couldn't believe that his mom was unable to see through the man's smiles and lies.
Then he heard the hinges squeak on the screen door behind him and braced himself for the sound of his mother's voice. He knew he'd hurt her feelings. But she'd wiped out what was left of his world, and he didn't know if he would ever be able to forgive her for that.
"Wesley, would you please come inside? Aiden and Aaron will be here soon. I would like our first family dinner together to be one of congeniality."
Wes stood abruptly, and with all the displaced anger and pain a seventeen-year-old male could possess, he stared, her down.
"I'll come in, and I'll sit down at our table with those people, but I will never consider them family. Dad didn't like Aiden Clancy, I don't like Aaron, and you've known that my entire life. Still, you've chosen to ignore Dad's intuition and my feelings."
Patricia Holden stifled hot tears, channeling them instead into what she felt was justified betrayal.
"Your father is dead! I'm not. I am forty-two years old. I do not wish to live the rest of my life alone." "You have me!" Wes shouted. Patricia sighed. "But for how long, Wesley? You're growing up. One day you'll move away and start a family of your own. Am I destined to be the old woman who gets a happy-birthday phone call once a year and a visit at Christmas?"
Wes knew she was right, but he wasn't quite man enough yet to admit it.
"You're right about one thing," he said.
"What's that?"
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