“I could run into that man any day,” Anne said. “He’s got an earthy appeal. He’s almost as good-looking as…” She glanced around the group and laughed self-consciously. “As Jared,” she said, flashing a smile Meg’s way.
“Well, that’s what happened,” Rachel said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Now, can we order? I’m starving.”
“Eli’s single, I heard,” Meg said, looking from Anne to Pilar, still hot on the trail. “And isn’t he Gracie’s doctor?”
“Which has nothing to do with me,” Rachel emphasized. So much for diversion. The conversation was getting out of hand.
“I don’t know, Meg,” Pilar said with a wink. “I think this girl has been struck by the arrow of love.”
Rachel looked around at her so-called friends, sighed and pulled out the heavy ammunition. “He drives a motorcycle. Okay?”
The silence that followed this pronouncement showed Rachel how well her friends understood what that meant to her. She’d lost one man to a two-wheeled death machine.
“Are you ladies ready to order?” Miranda Jones stood in front of them, her arms clasped behind her back, her dark brown hair pulled up in a twist.
They were distracted in the flurry of ordering. After that, as they settled into their usual conversation, catching up on one another’s lives, Rachel felt herself relax. They ribbed her about her dedication to her work. Pilar shared some of her struggles with one of her most recent cases, Meg talked about her twin boys, Anne about her work at the church. Rachel settled in to the conversation, thankful for her friends and their company.
Then, as she was halfway through her hamburger, her cell phone chirped.
“Leave it,” Pilar, Meg and Anne all said at once.
But Rachel could no more let her cell phone ring than she could let her hair fly loose as her friends were always encouraging her to do.
She glanced at the call display. It was her father.
With an apologetic smile at her friends, she answered the phone, half turning away from her friends. “Hey, Dad.”
“Rachel, honey—” His voice broke.
Concern flashed through Rachel. “Dad. What’s the matter?”
“It’s your mother. We’re at the hospital. She broke her leg.”
“I’ll be there right away.”
She closed her phone and pulled her wallet out. “That was my dad,” she said, her voice trembling. “Sorry, girls, but I have to duck out. My mom broke her leg and is in the hospital.” She laid some bills on the table, enough for her meal and a large tip.
“Oh, no. Do you want me to take you over there?” Anne asked, half rising from her seat.
“No, no.” Rachel waved her down as she got up from the table. “I’ll be okay. Really, I’ll be fine.”
“Let us know how she is,” Pilar called out after her as Rachel hurried from the diner.
Fifteen minutes later she pulled open the door of the hospital and her brave words to her friends melted in the pervasive scent of disinfectant and ammonia. It rolled over her like a wave, dragging with it memories she wanted to be rid of.
Her steps faltered, but thoughts of her mother in pain drew her past her long-held dread of hospitals. The too-familiar nausea and fear gripped her with their icy fingers.
Stop. Stop! Your father needs you.
She pressed her fingertips to her forehead just as she heard her father’s voice coming from one of the cubicles. She followed it, slipping past the curtain and stopping at the scene in front of her.
Gracie sat on the bed, and Eli, wearing a white lab coat over his shirt and blue jeans, was bent over her, shining a light in her eyes as her father held her still.
Her father looked up as she came in and gave her a wan smile.
“Where’s Mom?” Rachel gave him a hug and glanced at Gracie, who twisted her head around to see who was here.
“Easy, Gracie.” Eli’s quiet voice drew the child’s attention back to him, and she reached out for the stethoscope that hung around his neck as he finished his examination.
“Let’s have a look here.”
“Mom’s in surgery right now,” her father said. “It was a bad break and they’re not sure they can do what they need to here.” He blew out a breath and wiped his shining forehead with a hanky.
“How did it happen?” Rachel struggled not to sway.
Don’t faint. Not in front of the cowboy. Dad needs you.
“She was carrying Gracie down the stairs, lost her balance and twisted to break her fall. She caught her leg in one of the uprights on the staircase.”
“How is Gracie?” Rachel studied the girl who, at first glance, seemed okay.
“So far so good. I don’t see anything out of the ordinary.” Eli snapped the light off and dropped it into a pocket of his lab coat. A light frown creased his forehead as his eyes took in Rachel. “You’re a little pale.”
“Rachel dislikes hospitals. She spent—”
“Do you know exactly what kind of break mom had?” Rachel felt rude interrupting her father like that, but Eli Cavanaugh didn’t need to know her personal history.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know,” said Eli. “But I can go find out.”
“Could you? Please?” Rachel gave him a careful smile and was surprised to see him return it. In spite of her surroundings, she felt it again, that little frisson of awareness. A sensation she hadn’t experienced in a long time.
“I’ll be right back.” He touched Gracie on the nose and left.
The hiss of oxygen from a cubicle beside them, the rattle of carts and gurneys slipped into her consciousness, pulling memories along with them. She sucked in a breath, and another, fighting the light-headed feeling that threatened to overwhelm her.
Her father was wrong. She didn’t dislike hospitals. She despised them. They held out the offer of hope, but really despair walked their halls. And now her mother was upstairs. How badly was she really hurt? What would happen to her?
“Here, honey. Sit down.” Her father took her by the arm and sat her in the only chair in the curtained-off cubicle.
“Eli was right. You look very pale.”
Rachel shook off her growing panic. “I’m okay, Dad.” Though, the way the room tilted around her gave lie to her protest.
After a few long slow breaths, she was standing up and in control again.
“Go down. Down,” Gracie insisted, holding out her hands to her father.
“Can you take her, Rachel?” Charles asked, steadying Gracie, who was trying to wriggle off the bed.
Rachel was surprised to see her usually jovial father looking drawn. Then she glanced in the direction he was looking and saw Eli swishing the curtains aside, followed by another doctor. She hadn’t heard either of them coming down the hall.
She glanced at Gracie, bit her lip and then, carefully, picked the child up off the bed, not sure if she was holding her right.
“I’ve got news. I’m afraid it isn’t good,” Eli said.
The serious tone of his voice quashed the faint wall Rachel had erected against her fear. He was bringing bad news. How could he?
“This is Dr. Mendoza. He can tell you more,” Eli said.
In