Chapter 7 - The Surgery of the Little Lion
At 6:00 AM, the storm clouds broke over Austin, letting the first golden rays of dawn stream into the specialized pediatric surgical pavilion at Dell Children’s Medical Center.
Dr. Aaron Bennett, the country’s preeminent pediatric orthopedic surgeon whom I had flown in via private jet from Baltimore, stepped into the scrub room.
“Thomas,” Dr. Bennett said, washing his hands. “We are performing an open reduction, internal fixation with bio-absorbable micro-plates on Leo’s fibula. We will realign the bone, relieve the chronic nerve impingement, and cast it properly. The boy is young and resilient. His bone density will fully recover.”
I stood beside the gurney where six-year-old Leo was being prepped for anesthesia.
Leo looked up at me, his small hand reaching out from beneath the hospital gown. His hazel eyes—the exact shade of my late brother Ethan’s—were clear, free of the terror that had shadowed them for months.
“Uncle Thomas?” Leo whispered.
I took his small hand in both of mine, kneeling beside the bed. “I’m right here, little lion.”
“Is Maya safe?”
My heart swelled with a fierce, profound ache. “Maya is in the private suite upstairs, eating blueberry pancakes with extra whipped cream. And the bad people are in cages where they will never touch you or your sister again.”
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A soft, peaceful smile spread across Leo’s face as the sedative began to take hold. “I knew you’d come for us, Uncle Thomas. Daddy told me you were the strongest man in the world.”
“Sleep now, Leo,” I whispered, kissing his forehead as his eyelids closed. “When you wake up, you’re coming home.”
