Читать книгу Eye of the Storm - Hannah Alexander - Страница 9

Kirstie Marshal no longer held out hope of regaining her dignity anytime soon, especially not in Jolly Mill. She had mud up her nose, silt between her teeth and fish eggs in her hair. When she caught a reflection of herself in the glass entryway to the clinic, a leaf appeared to be sticking out of her right ear—or was that part of her hair? If Lynley’s hands weren’t already trembling so badly she’d barely been able to steer the car to the clinic, Kirstie would have goosed her.

“I can’t believe you’d allow me to appear in public like this,” she muttered, fighting Lynley’s attempts to hold on to her arm from the car to the clinic.

“I want to make sure you’re okay.”

Kirstie pulled away long enough to tug the leaf from her hair. “I’m fine except for the public humiliation.”

“And bloody feet.” Lynley’s serious coal-brown eyes, lustrous from recent tears, narrowed slightly. She blinked as if seeing her mother’s face for the first time. Her hair, dark as twilight, the way Kirstie’s once was, stood out in odd directions, proving she’d plunged from bedclothes to search clothes without a glance in the mirror. No toothbrush had touched those pretty white teeth this morning, that was for sure.

“How did you discover I was gone?” Kirstie didn’t want her kid doing bed checks at thirty-minute intervals.

“Your bedroom door was open and the light was still on. The light woke me up.”

“You fell asleep studying again?”

Lynley nodded. “You sleep with the door closed, not to mention the lights out.”

Kirstie sighed. “Sorry again, sweetie. You’re not old enough to be part of the sandwich generation. You don’t even have kids. And I’m not an old moldy piece of bread.”

“No, you’re not, so stop expecting me to throw you away like one.”

“That isn’t what I’m doing.”

Carmen Delaney, clinic director and a stalwart member of Kirstie’s shrinking band of trusted friends, opened the inner door and held it for them, keys still jingling in her hands. She had her silvery-blond hair pulled straight back from her face in a severe ponytail.

Carmen was the only forty-eight-year-old Kirstie knew who had a face pretty enough—and taut enough—to support such severity. Kirstie knew, however, that Carmen kept that rubber band tight to smooth out the lines that had begun to form. Soon she’d be bald, what with the bleaching and the tugging. Then what would she use to keep those wrinkles stretched?

Oh, that’s right, menopause time. Soon the fat will fill those wrinkled places quite nicely. Poor Carmen was in for the shock of her life anytime now, if she hadn’t already learned something from Kirstie’s and Nora’s shared experiences.

“Kirstie, honey, you gave us all a scare and a half!” Carmen said. “Lynley, how’s she doing?”

“I can answer that question for myself, thank you very much.” Kirstie limped, barefoot and still dripping leaves and mud, onto the smooth wooden floor of the waiting room. “I’m not elderly yet. I can swim, apparently, even when I’m out of my mind.”

“You mean you found a place along Capps Creek deep enough for swimming in this drought?” Carmen asked.

“I found her at the edge of the mill pond,” Lynley said.

Kirstie held her arms out and looked at the mud. “Don’t ask me how it happened. I came to myself up on a cliff somewhere just before the ground gave way.”

“Did you get hurt?” Carmen asked.

“No. I’m fine. It’s just a little blood.”

“We’ll find out as soon as we get her into the exam room,” Lynley said. “I expect Megan’ll come racing up any moment.”

“Why bother Megan for a few cuts and bruises?” Kirstie said the words, feeling like a fraud. She wanted Megan here more than Lynley did, though at the same time, she hesitated to consider dragging Megan into this mess more deeply than she already was. Something was going on with her, and she didn’t seem able to talk about it to her closest friends. Although Megan was one of the strongest and most resilient young women Kirstie had ever known, this kind of pressure might overwhelm even her.

“I could just wander back to an exam room and take a look at these feet myself,” Kirstie said. “Then I can walk home if someone will loan me some shoes.” She knew that would never go over, even if it was only a few blocks away. “Then you can all get to work on the real patients.”

“No real patients for an hour,” Carmen said. “Megan won’t want you walking home. She may even decide to keep you here for observation.”

Kirstie grunted. Not if her plan panned out. Of course, in order for that to happen, one had to remain in one’s right mind.

“She’ll need to see if you inhaled any of that creek water,” Carmen said.

“More likely silt.” Lynley’s voice continued to tremble.

“Oh, sweetie,” Carmen said, wrapping an arm around Lynley—something Kirstie should’ve done. “She’s going to be just fine. This may be just what we need to convince Megan to run some tests of her own.”

“She turned us down, remember?”

Kirstie hated that tremor in her daughter’s voice. “She had her reasons, sweetie.”

“What reason could she possibly have had to turn down—”

“None of our business what the reason is.” Kirstie met Carmen’s gaze of understanding, then patted Lynley’s cold, moist cheek. “But I expect it has something to do with wanting me in more experienced hands. You want someone placing their whole life, their future, all their hopes in your hands when you aren’t a specialist in the field? You want to be responsible for that kind of burden?”

“But you’re not going to either of the other specialists.” Lynley’s voice no longer trembled, but there was a hint of rancor in place of the agitation.

It seemed that ever since Lynley arrived back in Jolly Mill, her emotions had swung from fear to anger to grief. She didn’t know how obvious it was to everyone that she had begun the grieving process. Kirstie wished she could swallow all that pain for her precious daughter, but her own emotions kept getting in the way.

“Don’t tell me you’re blaming Megan for that,” Carmen said. “Honey, if you ask me, our Megan’s barely hanging on as it is. Did you see her face when she caught sight of Forrest the other day?”

“Who?”

“You know, as in Gump. The man with the wild gray hair who walks all over the place.”

“You’re talking about Kendall Ross,” Lynley said. “He looks like a homeless man, but he has a house and three kids and a wife.”

“I know, plus he has three cats and two dogs, but he looks homeless. Smells it too, sometimes, and he talks to himself.”

“So do I,” Kirstie muttered.

“Recovering addict, you know,” Carmen said. “Last I heard he was under house arrest.”

Kirstie fingered her mud-stiff hair.

“Anyway, Megan’s face went white as my refrigerator when he walked past the clinic a couple of days ago,” Carmen continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted. “That long, bushy, gray hair of his was flying every which way. Megan’s eyes teared up and she had to get to the bathroom quick. If you ask me, our poor Megan worked with the homeless a little too long and her heart just broke. She’s burned out at the age of thirty-two.”

“Wish she wasn’t living alone,” Kirstie said.

“I told her she could stay in my guest room,” Carmen said. “And Nora has that whole huge house to herself and begged Megan to move in with her and keep her company. Nothing doing. The best she could do was give Megan that isolated cabin in the woods.”

“Megan always did love that place,” Lynley said. “She has what she wants.”

Kirstie glanced out the window and saw a bright yellow car flashing through the shadows of trees overhanging the road. Hmm. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad situation, after all. Quite a way behind the yellow Neo came another car, bright red, and Kirstie suppressed a smile. If she wasn’t mistaken, the cavalry had arrived. Thank you, Jesus!

“She’ll have to at least weigh in on your case now, won’t she?” Carmen asked, voicing Kirstie’s thoughts as she stepped up beside her at the window.

“Nope. Let’s lie low for a bit, okay? She doesn’t need that right now.” Such a hypocrite, Kirstie.

Carmen gave Kirstie a once-over. “Wouldn’t hurt you to get some street clothes on.”

“She’s not walking home, anyway,” Lynley said. “I’ll drive her.”

Kirstie looked down at her mud-caked nightgown. “I’ve decided to make a new fashion statement. I call it ‘Blackout Chic.’ I might as well capitalize on all the attention my loving daughter keeps sending my way.”

“Mom,” Lynley warned. “You want me to just let you wander out in the forest like a wild animal?”

“Wild animals should be caged to protect themselves.” Kirstie sucked on her tongue to corral further hurtful words.

“I can’t believe you said that.” Tears once more filled Lynley’s eyes.

“Girls,” Carmen said, “you could both use a little color, a little foundation, some eye-popping makeup. Want to borrow mine for the day?”

They ignored her, as she obviously expected them to, but she opened a case of her own wares at any rate and pulled out a tube of concealer. “At least prepare for patients. You can’t have them thinking someone died on the table this morning.”

Kirstie sighed. Perhaps insulating Lynley from so many of life’s trials when she was a child had hindered her emotional growth; she could still be easily wounded, at least by her mother’s sarcasm. She’d always been tenderhearted. With no siblings to be supportive of her—or to teach her how to better integrate—she had needed the extra attention, especially since she had a father who preferred reinforcing his delusions of manhood with as many women as he could unearth, rob from the cradle or lure away from other men.

Right now, Lynley was still too fragile after her divorce from Barry’s clone. Girls really did marry their daddies.

“Megan should be here any second. I hope she at least had time to put her face on,” Carmen said. “And it’s possible you’ll have the chance to convince Megan to give us another opinion. She’s a good diagnostician.”

“And as she’s said,” Kirstie reminded her friend, “she’s too close to the case herself. Of course, if she were to diagnose me with Alzheimer’s also, then maybe Lynley would give up and let me be placed in a lock-down unit and stop wasting her nights chasing after me.” Kirstie’s feet hurt, and this hard wooden floor didn’t help matters.

Lynley glanced at Carmen and then glared at Kirstie. “There’s that word again. Wasting? Really. You’re my mother.”

“You can’t watch me every second. You’ll ruin your own future.”

“It usually happens at night. We could set up an alarm—”

“No!” Kirstie took a slow breath. “What kind of mother would I be if I allowed you to give up your life for mine?”

“It’s not over yet. We’ll figure something out. And don’t even think about getting Megan to help you gang up on me again. She tried to this morning, you know. No nursing facility. Period.”

Carmen waved an arm between the two of them. “Excuse me? Would you two postpone this boxing match until I’m out of hearing range? And speaking of our doctor…” She gestured toward the parking lot, where Megan pulled in with her bright, eye-hurting Neo, followed closely by a red mini SUV. With a man inside.

Kirstie smiled. Wow. Was she finally going to meet, face-to-face, the unacknowledged man in her darling Megan’s life? He was some man. Not Megan’s type at all. Megan had always been attracted to the soft-spoken intellectual. This time, however, she might need to bend a little.

Megan jerked her car to a stop, had the door open less than a second later, and was hot-footing it toward the front door as she shoved her keys into her oversize purse.

She didn’t spare a glance for her stalker. She wasn’t wearing her usual scrubs and lab coat.

“That must be him,” Kirstie murmured.

“Who?” Carmen’s green eyes widened as the man got out of his car and stood up. “Wow.”

Kirstie smiled. The sun appeared to dazzle his face—but that could have been because his face was so close to the sun.

Kirstie reached for a tissue and blew her nose. “And here I am looking and smelling like a bed of dried fish eggs. Oh my goodness, he’s a hunk. Would you look at him?”

“Who is he?” Oh yeah, Carmen could be smitten. Six years was too much time to grieve even the best of men, and though Gil had been a better man than Barry, his idea of a romantic gesture had been taking out the trash every couple of weeks. Lack of exercise was why he’d succumbed early in life to a premature heart attack.

“Careful, Carmen,” Kirstie said. “He’s too young for either of us. I could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure he’s Megan’s boss.”

“Alec Thompson is Megan’s boss,” Lynley said.

“I mean her boss in Corpus Christi.”

Carmen leaned closer to the window for a better look, and a bemused smile tipped her curvy pink lips. “That guy she couldn’t shut up about the day she flew up here for Lynley’s divorce party?”

“It wasn’t a party,” Lynley said. “It was commiseration.”

For Kirstie, it had been a party. “He fits her description, doesn’t he?”

“He still runs the rescue mission?” Carmen asked.

“He also matches the hunky photo his sister took for his online profile.”

Lynley cleared her throat as if to remind them she was still in the room. “Would you please stop talking about hunky men in front of your only child?”