Hi! Sorry it took me so long to return to this story. One thing leads to another, and this unfortunately ended up back burnered. In any case, I promise to complete it. I Hope all of you (and your families) are well and staying safe during this unprecedented health crisis. I've been working from home, and at least my dog (the "real" Riley) has been extremely happy to have me at her disposal 24/7.

Chapter 21

Smiling politely as she selected another forkful of pasta, Rachel nodded her head thoughtfully, all the while engaging in an internal monologue, "If I hear one more fishing story, I think I'll lose my mind…"

A direct question momentarily derailed her thought train, and she answered (wearing a sweet smile, thank you very much…that's acting), "Yes, I'm sure it was," before returning to her meal and her own musings. "He seems nice enough, but we so have nothing in common…I have no idea what Blaine was thinking…I may have to kill him…"

Before she could devise an appropriate method for Blaine's untimely demise, Rachel was prompted with, "Have you ever been fishing, Rachel?"

She briefly answered, "Yes, my dads did take me fishing once or twice when I was little."

Rachel sipped her water as her date began an anecdote about the first time his father took him fishing, enabling Rachel to wryly reminisce, "Once or twice? More like once and done. The first time Daddy tried to bait his hook, I cried and insisted 'You can't do that to Fred!' He asked 'Who's Fred?', and I pointed to the worm in his hand. Dad thought it was hilarious, but the next time they went fishing, I stayed with Bubbe."

Jarred from her memories by her cellphone, she interrupted his story, "Sorry, I have to take this; it may be about my son." Rachel removed the phone from her purse, answering, "Noah? Is everything OK?"

"Rach," Noah anxiously replied, "I'm so sorry, but Max fell out of bed and I think he fractured his wrist. We're on our way to Mount Sinai Beth Israel…"

Rachel gasped, her eyes widening in fear. "Oh, my G-d…my baby…is he in pain?"

"His wrist hurts, but he's bein' very brave about it…aren't you little man?" Noah answered, deferring to Max.

Before he could respond further, Rachel interjected, "Noah, I'll meet you there. Please take care of my baby."

"Always, Rach," Noah assured her.

Rachel hung up from the call and explained, "I'm sorry to cut this short, but my son's been injured and I have to go to the hospital, now."

"Is there something I can do to help?" her date offered.

"Thank you; that's so kind of you," Rachel responded, "but I've got to go and hail a cab." She reached into her purse and extracted her wallet. Before she could pull out any bills, her date covered her hand lightly with his.

"Don't even think about it, Rachel," he stopped her. "Just go and be with your son. I've got this."

"Thank you, Ben," Rachel acknowledged. "It's been nice meeting you."

"You, too, Rachel," he concurred.

Arriving at the emergency room entrance at Mount Sinai Beth Israel hospital, Rachel hurriedly paid the driver and all but ran into the hospital. As soon as her handbag was scanned to check for contraband, she retrieved it and approached the desk.

"Excuse me; my son arrived here a short time ago…Berry…Max Berry…" Rachel hastily explained at the main ER desk.

She opened her purse, removing her wallet as the dispatcher responded, "Just a minute, ma'am; I'll check for you."

"He was brought in by his father…Noah Puckerman," Rachel clarified. "He's on my insurance; here's my card," she offered, handing over the ID she'd retrieved from her wallet.

The women entered her information and returned the card to Rachel. After searching through the admission records, she confirmed, "He was admitted about 20 minutes ago. They're in 5C." She peeled a sticker from a sheet, handing it to Rachel along with a marker. She instructed, "This will identify you as a visitor. Fill in your name and make sure it's visible at all times."

Rachel printed her name on the makeshift badge and adhered it to her dress near the right shoulder.

"Now, you enter over there," the woman pointer toward a double door, "turn to the left, go to the end of the corridor, make another left, then a right, and you'll find his bed. If you happen to get lost, there are plenty of people who'll be able to help you."

"Thank you so much," Rachel acknowledged. The woman released the doors, and Rachel walked quickly toward them, following the instructions as she made her way through the maze of corridors. After the final turn, she saw Noah standing at the foot of a bed. She gasped softly and accelerated her pace. Glancing away from the bed, he noticed Rachel, placing his right index finger in front of his mouth and then opening his arms as she approached, enveloping her in a comforting hug.

"He finally fell asleep," Noah whispered. "Poor kid's been through a lot. Our little man's a trouper, though."

Nodding her head in agreement, Rachel looked up at Noah through tear-filled eyes, agreeing, "He is."

Freeing his right hand, Noah gently brushed away her tears with the pad of his right thumb. "Don't cry, Rach; he's gonna be OK," he assured.

"But he's so little…" she worried.

"Like I said, he's a trouper," Noah reiterated.

"Noah, how did Max hurt himself?" Rachel softly inquired.

His left arm still around her, Noah led Rachel a short distance from the gurney. Stopping, he quietly elucidated, "A few minutes after I left Max, I heard him cry out. I ran in and found him on the floor, cradling his right arm and sobbing 'Daddy, it hurts'. From what I gathered, he noticed some Legos on the floor and thought he could reach them. As he leaned down he fell out and must've braced himself with his right hand."

Noah paused his narrative, interjecting, "Rachel, I'm so sorry. I'd swear he was falling asleep when I left. I never thought…"

"Noah, it's not your fault," Rachel assured him. "Max knows he's not supposed to play with his toys after bedtime, but little boys are always testing their boundaries. Unfortunately, this was the result. Accidents happen all the time…there's no blame here."

Noah's arm still protectively around Rachel, they returned to Max and stood there silently, watching him sleep. Within 15 minutes, a young man in green scrubs approached them.

"Hi! I'm Jeff, and I'm one of the nurses," he introduced himself. "I'll be back in a few minutes to check your son's vitals and get his medical history, and somebody will be here within the hour to take him for an x-ray."

"Do you have to wake him?" Rachel softly queried.

"I'm afraid so," Jeff reluctantly answered. "Has the patient advocate been here to speak with you?"

"Not yet," Noah confirmed.

"I'll make sure they stop by shortly," Jeff confirmed. "They'll answer any questions, review some documents that you need to sign, inform you of your HIPAA rights…that sort of thing."

"Will you be able to give him something for the pain?" Rachel requested.

"Unfortunately, not until the x-rays have been reviewed by a doctor," Jeff explained. "Luckily, we're relatively quiet, tonight so it shouldn't be more than an hour or two." Noting Rachel's stunned expression, he clarified, "If the ER was busy, it could easily take all night. Two hours in 'ER time' really isn't that long, at all." Noting a lack of seating in the immediate area, he offered, "I can bring a couple of chairs over for you, if you'd like."

"Thank you; that would be appreciated," Rachel responded.

The nurse excused himself and returned shortly with two chairs, explaining, "These may not be the most comfortable, but they should hold you for now. If you'll excuse me, I have another patient to see, but I'll be back after that."

"Thank you, Jeff," Noah acknowledged. As the nurse left, Noah removed his arm from Rachel's shoulders, instructing, "Rach, please sit down. You must be exhausted."

Replying, "Thank you, Noah," Rachel kissed Noah on the cheek, then settled herself in the chair, sighing softly and focusing her attention on Max.

The discussion with the Nurse coupled with the activity around him roused Max. Noticing Rachel, he began to cry.

"Mommy, my hand hurts!" Max exclaimed through his tears.

"I know, baby," Rachel soothed, gently stroking his cheek. "Don't worry. Daddy told me all about it. We're at the hospital; they're gonna help you, and before you know it, you'll be as good as new."

"Daddy told me that Uncle Sammy broke his arm one time," Max confided, tears halting. "Daddy said that Uncle Sammy was playing with him and Uncle Artie and they dared him to do something and he did it and he fell down, too. He didn't tell me what a 'dare' is, though…"

"Really, Max? That's interesting," Rachel replied. Shifting her gaze toward Noah and catching his eye, she wryly continued, "Daddy will have to tell me all about that some time…"

"Mommy, Daddy told me that Uncle Sammy is a good drawer and he'll draw my favorite superhero on my cast," Max confided. "What's a cast?"

Rachel explained, "When we hurt ourselves and the area…like your hand…needs to rest while it gets better, the doctor wraps it in bandages so it can't move. After it heals, they cut the bandages off. You can pick whatever color you want…"

"Can I have blue?" Max requested. "Spiderman's suit is half blue, and Uncle Sammy can add the red part, can't he Daddy?"

"I think that can be arranged," Noah confirmed.

Returning to check on Max, the nurse unknowingly curtailed further debate on the merits of blue (vs. red) bandages.