A Heart of Flesh: An Arrow's Flight Novella (Arrow's Flight Novellas Book 2) by Casey Hays

Author:Casey Hays [Hays, Casey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Whispering Pages, LLC
Published: 2017-10-14T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

The clinic lobby is empty, and the young, pretty receptionist has no idea who I am.

“May I help you?” She smiles at me through a clear panel of glass. She’s an Outsider. Not everyone has taken a liking to mingling with Outsiders. It’s nice to see, at least, that my dad doesn’t hold to that prejudice.

“Hi. Yeah, I’m here to see Dr. Phillips.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No. It’s… a social call. Sort of.”

“Oh.” Her answer is a surprised quip. “He doesn’t normally take those.”

“He’ll probably want to take this one.” A moment of hesitation. That’s presumptuous on my part. “I’m his son.”

She tilts her head in confusion, but she presses a button on an intercom. “Doctor? Your… son… is here to see you?”

Her voice raises on a question. There’s a sharp click as she releases the button. She smiles up at me with glaringly white teeth. “I didn’t know he had a son.”

I simply nod once, overcompensating my confidence to fight my nerves. “I’ll wait over here.”

I slump into a plastic chair and situate the small satchel I carry onto my knee, my stomach in knots. I take a minute to scan the lobby. The same white-washed walls, same rows of hard seats, glaringly clean tile flooring under dull lighting. I spent the better part of my boyhood years here helping Dad out. Learning the ropes. Lots of memories of this place rest in my mind, buried deep. I wrestle to keep them there. Dormant. I don’t feel like being sad today.

Fifteen minutes pass. I tap my foot. The intercom buzzes again.

“Sir?” The receptionist comes to her feet, looking at me over the glassed partition. “Dr. Phillips says you can go on back. He says you know the way.”

“Thanks.” Clutching the satchel, I make my way across the room to the narrow hallway that will take me to Dad’s office. I’ve walked this hall hundreds of times in my life. Even raced past all these doors at full speed a time or two. Today, it feels like the walk of death. My tennis shoes pad softly against the tile; my heartbeat thumps in my ears. I’m terrified.

I pause outside my dad’s door and take a deep breath to regain my courage, straining to feel Mom’s prayer. The satchel I carry contains everything I need to discuss the children’s conditions, and it feels heavy with the burden. Penelope was very thorough, even printing the images of Stephen’s scans for me to show him. I’m prepared. Still, that old fear climbs up my spine to sit on my shoulder.

A quick swallow, and I ease open the door.

Dad stands at the window behind his desk, his back to me. His silver hair has grown long, kind of shaggy, but he stands tall, almost regal with his hands on his hips. I step into the room, my nerves on fire. His statuesque form does nothing to settle them.

“So the prodigal son has returned.” He swivels his head to the side, and I catch a glimpse of his full beard—black as his hair once was.

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