Grandma On Loan

Cindy sat in her car not really sure what to do with herself. Since the arrival of Greg's mother, he seemed to want her less. She thought they had a spark; something, but it was getting less and less likely. The only thing that made sense was to go home, get in her pjs and crawl into bed.

Blythe House sat in a rocking chair rocking a newborn to sleep. The last time she made much of an attempt at soothing a child this tiny was a half of a century ago. Greg had been a fussy baby; always filled with colic and cranky. Blythe would tell John it was because he was nearly a month premature and that he wanted the comfort of his father's voice and touch. John believed the premature part, but felt the whole molly coddling thing was uncalled for. Blythe knew how much babies needed to feel loved in order to develop into well-adjusted people.

James Wilson sat by his friend's side laying a running commentary on the goings on of his Fellows in Diagnostics Department. It was followed up with the latest clinic patients he had seen. The monologue ended with the water cooler gossip.

At a few minutes to four he adjusted the television screen for House's maximum viewing pleasure and turned it to his favorite channel. "I know you feel like crap, but if you can't be cheered up by the daily events at Princeton-Plainsboro, there's always Prescription Passion."

House just nodded in thanks, his eye lids heavy with exhaustion.

Cindy lay on the couch in her jammies with her pillow and blanket watching Prescription Passion. She was usually at work while it aired, and on the days she was off, never spent time watching soaps. After the first commercial break she had no trouble changing the channel. Talk shows and soap operas were the stuff of daytime TV. Occasionally there was an infomercial or two, but nothing of any substance. Where were all the afternoon cartoons?

Blythe checked in on her son. True to his word, he was sleeping. With the babies in the nursery having their fill of a surrogate granny, she felt out of place. It wasn't until she heard a child crying that she realized she was standing in the hall looking in on her son through a window. The weeping continued, sounding like it came from a scared child. She followed the sound a few doors down.

Through the glass wall she observed a young boy crying as a nurse tried to feed him. The poor boy's arms were laden with casts. He didn't seem to want to eat, yet didn't want the nurse to leave.

"Where's my mom and dad," he whined over and over.

"They're going to be late tonight. There are a lot of cars on the freeway, and they're stuck in traffic."

"I want my mom!"

"Jeremy, you have to eat. By the time your parents arrive, they'll have expected you ate and the dishwasher in the kitchen needs to go home to his little boy."

Blythe smiled. The nurse's reasoning was sound, but not what an anxious boy wanted to hear. Bravely she knocked on the door. Both the child and the nurse looked to her expectantly.

"Hello, I'm the grandma on loan."

"What's that," the little boy asked.

"Well," Blythe started, cocking her head to the side, "do you know what it's like to borrow a book from the library?"

Jeremy nodded, eyes huge with wonder.

"I'm like that book. You can borrow me to keep you company until your parents arrive." She stepped into the room. "I can tell you a story or sing you a lullaby, feed you or just listen to your worries. Anything you want."

She slowly transitioned positions with the nurse.

"Thanks, Mrs. House," she whispered before leaving.

"Are you a real grandma?"

"I could be," she said loading up a spoonful of food. He ate willingly. "I don't have any grandchildren yet. But I do have a son."

"What's his name?"

"Gregory. As a matter of fact, here's here, in the hospital, too."

"Why aren't you feeding him?" Jeremy was entranced that a mom would be feeding someone else's kid.

"Well," Blythe had to think quickly on her feet. "First of all, he doesn't have any broken arms, so he can feed himself. And he's much older than you. When you get to be his age, you probably won't want your mom feeding you either."

"Did he eat all his dinner?"

"No, he's actually asleep right now. He'll eat when he wakes up."

"What if they take his tray away?"

"I'll make sure he gets something to eat. That's what moms do."

He nodded as if it made all the sense in the world.

"So, how did you manage to break both arms?" Blythe wanted to steer the child in a self-absorbed direction. The less he knew about her Greg, the better.

"Sledding."

"Wow, must have been a pretty serious hill."

He nodded earnestly. "What happened to your boy?"

"He fell on the ice."

"Was he playing hockey?"

"Not exactly. He forgot to wear his skates." She didn't want to make it appear that crossing an icy street was something anyone shouldn't take lightly.

More nodding, but this time with a look of confusion. The boy was trying to think through the situation. "Do you think we could be friends? Me and your son?"

Blythe pursed her lips to hold back a snort of laughter. "I don't know. He's a bit of a bully."

"He's a bully? Why?" Jeremy was completely enrapt with her story.

"Well, I think it's because he's older, and he's cranky. He hurt his leg when he was younger, and he can't do some of the things his friends can do. So he feels left out, I guess. And that makes him feel angry." She hadn't realized that she was analyzing Greg from the perspective of a child. It was surprising.

"Do you think he'll stop being angry long enough for me to meet him?"

She tousled his hair. Jeremy was a sweet boy. "I don't know about that. How about I ask him when he wakes up?"

Jeremy spied his parents outside the glass wall. "Mom, Dad, come meet library granny!"

Blythe stood up and introduced herself properly.

"Thank you so much for staying with him. The nurse tells us your son is just down the hall. I hope he's okay."

"Typical stubborn boy." She rolled her eyes. "Jeremy, on the other hand, was wonderful. He at all his dinner."

"I'm gonna meet Greg," Jeremy said cheerfully.

"My son," Blythe added. "Jeremy needs a buddy."

His parents knew she was too old to have a young son. This baffled them a bit.

"He's fifty-one," she said using her hand to shield Jeremy from what she was saying. "But he acts like he's ten." She winked before leaving.

Wilson was on his way back to House's room when he discovered Mrs. House leaving a patient's room.

"Heard we had a new Dr. House in the building today."

"Granny on loan, is more like it."

"Well, if it's any consolation, the staff prefers your bedside manner to your son's."

"We'd all like to see an improvement on that. I like to think that if we changed that about Greg, we might damage his brilliant mind. So I don't bother."

"That's an interesting philosophy," Wilson admitted uncertainly.

"It lets me sleep at night. That's all that matters."

Greg was awake. Maybe not as alert as he'd like to be, but awake nonetheless. He watched on as his mother and friend entered together, laughing.

"What have the dynamic duo been doing today?"

"Your mother sat in a differential diagnosis and saved a patient," James said without missing a beat. "She's getting the Nobel Prize in Medicine this year."

"Great. Did she use dynamite?"

"I spent the day in the nursery. And I just had a lovely visit with the boy down the hall. Told him all about you. Now he wants to make friends."

"Great. You're out saving the hospital while Cuddy writes thank you notes and Wilson poisons people. Meanwhile, I'm crippled in a bed and bored."

"Where's Cindy." Wilson just realized she was missing.

"Ugh, do we have to talk about my mistakes."

"Trouble in paradise?" Blythe went into mother mode, straightening the bed linens around him.

"I told her I didn't want company and sent her away."

"Wow," James was stunned. "That was a biggie."

"How so?"

"She took off work to spend time with you, and you rebuffed her."