The living room held a short sofa, two folding chairs and a television on an ugly metal stand. “It came furnished,” he explained.

But she didn’t notice the furniture when she saw the paintings she’d forged, the ones Francie had saved for her, covering the walls. His mother had loved the impressionists and these glowed with the brilliance of color and light, illuminating the room. She turned to take them in, reaching out her arms to bathe in the beauty. Then she walked slowly toward one and touched her fingers to the rough surface.

“Oh, thank you,” she said. “I’d forgotten how much I love these.”

After a few minutes, she shook herself and walked through the rest of the house. First, she wandered back to the kitchen which had maybe five feet of counter space, a few cabinets and a card table with three wobbly chairs.

“I fix most of the meals in the microwave,” Mike said.

“Then I’ll do the cooking,” Mom said.

“I gave you the master—well, the larger—bedroom.” He led her toward the door, shoved it open and followed her in to put the suitcase on the bed.

She turned to consider the double bed, one dresser and bare walls. “White,” she said. “All the walls are white.”

“Tim and I can paint them. You choose the color.”

“Thank you. I’d like that.” She left the room and looked into the bathroom and the other bedroom. “You and Mike both sleep in here?”

“We’ll be fine, Mom. We’re brothers. We’ll get to know each other better after the years apart.”

She nodded again as he followed her back to her bedroom.

“This is a nice part of town. There’s an H-E-B grocery store only a block from here. It’s an easy walk. And there’s a park nearby.”

She placed her hand on his arm and patted it. “Mike, this is fine. I appreciate you opening your house to us. We’ve been apart so long. I’m glad we’re together.” She smiled and for a moment it was her old smile. “You’re a good brother and a fine son.” She dropped her hand. Opening the suitcase, she placed her things in a small pile on the bed before she opened the closet.

When she saw what was inside, she pulled out one dress, sat on the end of the bed and stared into the closet. In her lap she held a gown of brilliant green with a shimmering pattern of gold. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

“My clothes,” she said. “All of my favorite things are here. Thank you.” She stood and embraced Mike.

When Mike opened a drawer in the dresser to show her the jewelry Francie had kept and a small bottle of his mother’s favorite perfume he’d bought for her, she cried harder.

“Thank you, son. You’ve given me a wonderful homecoming.”

Oh, boy. Too much emotion for him. When the phone rang, he gave his mother an awkward pat on her back. “I’ll get that.” He pulled away but touched her shoulder, which seemed to satisfy her. Then he ran into the living room and grabbed the receiver.

“Yes, I can come in early today,” he said as he checked his watch. “I’ll be in by three.”

He hung up the phone, placed his hand on one of the paintings and closed his eyes. With his mother here, the house was filled with turbulence. He could feel it—the tingle of her strong personality, the scent of her musky perfume, the rough swipes of paint in the painting under his fingers.

Yes, Hurricane Tessie had hit. As calm as she seemed today, his mother was always a force to be reckoned with.

He’d let her settle in today, but tomorrow he’d have to talk to her about getting a job to satisfy the conditions of her parole and because they just plain needed that income.

He thought how tired and how much older she’d looked when she got off the bus, about her joy at seeing her clothes and her art. Then he shook his head as he remembered her tears. His mother never cried.

Maybe he’d wait a few days before he suggested she find work.

Almost midnight a few days later, and a moment of quiet during a long shift in the E.R.

Mike headed outside and leaned back against the wall of the hospital. He took a deep breath, held it and let it out. Sometimes he was overwhelmed by the smell and the stress of the E.R. Tonight it was more than he could handle. After a few minutes and more cleansing breaths, he turned to go inside, walking back through the waiting room and the door into the E.R.

“When did you come in today?” Williams, the big orderly, asked as he pushed an empty gurney.

Stretching, Mike answered, “Three.”

“Double shift, huh? You must need the money.”

“Don’t we all?” He covered a yawn before he went back into Exam 5 to clean the empty room.

“Why are you doing that?” Williams said. “Housekeeping’s supposed to do that.”

“Because they’re running behind and I don’t have anything else to do.”

“You make us all look bad.” Williams headed toward the central desk.

As he dumped the paper bed cover in the trash, Mike realized how beat he was after nine hours of the double shift. With his mother back home, Mike could work longer hours because he didn’t have to worry about Tim. Before her arrival, Mike had covered only the night shift, eleven to seven. That way he could get his brother dinner, make sure Tim got up in the morning, and push him out to look for a job. Hard to do all that between a couple of naps.

Now Mike could work more hours to cover his mother’s expenses until she got work. Maybe earn enough to catch up with the bills.

“You said last week your mother was coming back to Austin. How’s that going?” Mitchelson came into the room.

“Okay. She got here Wednesday and is settling in.” He pulled on a new pair of gloves and began disinfecting the counters.

“Where was she?”

“The women’s prison in Burnet.” When he turned to throw a paper towel into the bin, he saw Dr. Ramírez standing next to the curtain. Her mouth was open a little. She had obviously heard what he’d said.

Actually, it was a good thing she’d caught the conversation. She might as well know he wasn’t the man she thought he was. Maybe she’d stop nagging him and leave him alone. A mother in prison wouldn’t fit into her idea of what a doctor should be or the kind of man she’d date.

A man she’d date? Where had that thought come from? The one cup of coffee last week hadn’t been an invitation, wasn’t meant to be a date of any kind. No, there wasn’t any chance of a relationship between them other than doctor-orderly. But, even if the smallest possibility of that existed, the information about his mother would completely scuttle it. An ex-con in the family tended to do that.

“Transfer, Fuller.” Dr. Ramírez moved back to the other operating room.

Five minutes later, the injured from an automobile accident and two gunshot victims came in. All needed immediate stabilization and surgery.

He was working calmly until he saw one of the injured was a four-year-old girl, her pink T-shirt smeared with blood and her leg at an angle he didn’t like. He forced himself to grin at her as he untied her little sneakers. They had kittens on them, kittens covered with blood.

“Hey, kid,” he said. “My name’s Mike. Your shirt says you’re Naomi.”

“My leg,” she whispered. “Hurts. A lot.”

“I bet it does, buddy. The doctor will be out in a few minutes. She’ll help you.”

“Fuller,” Dr. Ramírez called.

Mike started to move away when Naomi grabbed his hand. “Don’t go,” she said.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He wished he had something to give Naomi to keep her company. He took a clean towel, tied it in a knot and handed it to Naomi. “This is Whitey, the friendly polar bear who lives in the hospital and keeps little girls company.”

Naomi took the towel and hugged it.

“Nicely done, Fuller,” Dr. Ramírez said from the doorway. “Have you thought about working in pedes?”

He faced her. “Need a transfer?”