“Well, Mrs. Miller, it seems you are going to be all right. Your blood tests came back fine.” The word fine, he stretched out like pulling at spaghetti noodles spun around a fork. “I’m not sure if you weren’t taken out any later, we would be here talking to you.”
Rachel sighed. How many times had she heard something like this before?
The doctor cocked his head back, seeming to telepathically receive her message. There was a slight dimple on his chin, under the scruff of hair he hadn’t shaved that morning. “All right then, I’ll just leave you two, and the nurse will be in with discharge papers.” He shook the bottom of her covered leg. “Take it easy for the rest of the day and definitely no driving for a day or so.”
Rachel gave him a half-smile and thanked him for his time.
“What are you doing here?” Rachel asked Dane when the doctor finally pulled the glass door shut.
She wasn’t sure why but his presence made her uneasy. It brought up too many memories of bad times she wished she could forget. Her tacky hands gripped the sheet tighter.
“I was checking on a patient.”
“Liar.” Rachel could always tell when Dane was lying. His eyes could never make contact. They seemed to drift somewhere deep in her hairline when he wasn’t telling the truth.
“What? I’m not lying.”
“Dane, come on. It’s me you’re talking to.”
“Fine. Jillian was here with Bradley getting tests done and called me when she saw them rolling you in by ambulance.”
“Is any type of privacy sacred in this town?” She tilted her head to the ceiling, letting go of her death grip of the sheet and moving it to the back of her neck, where she pinched and rubbed it hard.
“Come on. You know how small this town is here.” He leaned against her bed and fidgeted with his facial hair. “Now are you going to tell me what happened?”
“Nothing happened. The stupid gas leaked in my house.” She smoothed back her hair and stared out the window. The glare from the reflection hurt her head even more than the poisonous gases still loitering in her body.
“They just leaked in your house? Spontaneous leaking?” His brow arched.
“What is this?” She touched her chin, imitating the goatee Dane had grown. It’d been a long time since she’d seen him. It wasn’t easy to see the guy who directly reminded her of her deceased husband. Probably why she hadn’t returned to work either. Well, okay, she hadn’t returned to work because she couldn’t face the public. Or get off the couch before eleven. Take your pick.
“Don’t try to change the subject, Rach.”
“What do you want me to say, Dane?” Her voice rose, making her wince.
“I thought you were getting better, that’s all.” He looked to the ground.
“I am.” Her teeth gritted. Talking about her mental progress to him was possibly worse than denying it to her therapist.
“Are you still making your appointments to the counselor?”
“Yes, Dad.”
Dane bit his lip. “I’m just concerned, Rachel.”
“Don’t be.”
“You’re going to need a ride home. Let me take you.”
For some reason, the thought made her body tense. “Jimmy Minter already called Peggy. She’s going to be here any minute.”
Thank goodness for small towns sometimes. She heard him in the ambulance dispatch to the diner to let Peggy know she’d need a ride.
“Don’t be silly. You know Frank can’t afford her to pick you up.” He looked at his watch. “It’s almost dinner—she’ll be needed for the dinner crowd. Let me take you home.”
Just then there stood a set of white uniform shoes underneath the pulled curtain.
“Knock, knock,” said a familiar voice.
“Come in.”
Peggy drew back the curtain and seemed shocked to see Dane. Her pink dress looked as if it’d been an easy day at the restaurant. It barely had a food stain anywhere on it. “Dane, what are you doing here?”
“I’m trying to talk Rachel into letting me take her home.”
Peggy squeezed by him and took hold of Rachel’s arm, pulling her out of bed. “No need. I’m here now.”
Rachel looked at Peggy, who was grunting while pulling her up. Rachel’s head began to pound. She forced her legs over the side of the bed and began to pull herself up to walk. Dane came quickly to her side. She turned to look at him the same moment he turned his head toward her. For a moment, something jarred her memory. His eyes looked deeper than usual. Darker and more mysterious than she could remember. And the moment of angst she just felt began to quiet down inside her. Like a raging storm that moved back out to sea. Just as quickly as it’d come to shore. His proximity seemed to have the ability to calm her spirit—taking away some of the pain from her head, too. But it also propelled her from getting too close to him.
“I’ve got it.” She grabbed Peggy’s arm with both of her hands.
Dane stepped back, almost sensing something. “Okay. I’ll go.”
Rachel finished signing all the paperwork and walked out of the hospital beside Peggy while she stared at her neon socks. The asphalt was cold in the parking lot and seemed to be seeping through the loose threads of the puffy material. Peggy wrapped her shawl around Rachel’s shoulders. It smelled like cheeseburgers and fries. It made her a little queasy, but she made it home without expelling anything. It’s not as if she had more than that dried-up chicken in her system from last night. Surely that’d already been used up for the energy it took to go through the drama of her morning.
Like clockwork, when Peggy left the house, Rachel’s phone began to ring. She was too bundled on the sofa to move far, so she was happy to find it in the cushion of her sofa. Now to pull out a voice that would convince her mother everything was fine.
“Hi, Mom.” Her voice was cheery, despite wearing a hospital bracelet and having cymbals crash inside her head. “I’m still alive. You can stay home and cancel your plane ticket.”
“I was giving you exactly thirty more minutes until I called Peggy to check on you. Where were you when I called? Do you have electricity? Is it still cold there?” The questions flew out of her mother’s mouth like machine gun artillery.
“I didn’t hear the phone, Mom. I was probably walking Gus. The electricity is actually back on.” Rachel heard the registers cut on the second she made it in the house. And all the lights she had on a few nights ago were on, as well. Peggy closed all the windows that were open from the fireman visit before she left.
“Are you out of wood yet? I bet you never called that man to bring you more, did you? I told you it was going to get colder this week. You know, I watch the weather up there. I need to stay educated, because I know you won’t.” She didn’t take time to pause a lot between her daily interrogation.
Rachel looked down to see her pooch curled up on her lap. “Mom, I have to go. I’m not out of wood, the man is bringing more today, and I gained two pounds. Now that will have to keep you until tomorrow. I’m going to be at the bookstore later today. I’m joining their next meeting. I think we’re going to be reading some classic, maybe Jane Eyre.”
“Thank God, Rachel. You know I worry so about you. I’ll send you another Bundt cake, your favorite. The one with the apple slices. You know if you don’t simmer them in butter on the stove for just the right amount of time, they’re harder than rocks.”
“All right, Mom. I’m looking forward to it.” Her tone was hurried. “I love you and I have to go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, bye.”
She pressed the button and let out a giant sigh. She loved her mother with all her heart, but she’d be glad when her brother would turn dysfunctional again and their mother would use her time stalking him. The last time she checked, Chris was still dating the same girl and they were taking it slow. No drama there. Just a sensible relationship with no bones of a problem for her mother to smack her lips about.
Rachel felt around in the cushions for the televisio
n remote and turned it on. She fell asleep watching some reality show about people building tiny houses and traveling the world. Scott and she talked about vacationing more, but his busy schedule took over that plan. With that size house and a trailer to pull it with, Rachel dreamed of living out their dream. Alone.
CHAPTER SEVEN
First Date Jitters
Rachel only made it off the sofa a few times that next day. To let her dog out to use the bathroom, to fry herself an egg—it was one of the few things in her fridge with a good expiration date—and to use the bathroom herself. Other than that, she lay on the sofa, watched movies, and fielded calls from Peggy and her mother. She lied to both of them, telling them she was going to the bookstore and then to grab groceries. Gus even raised his head when she told that nugget of a lie. Perhaps he understood the word grocery.
Dane called, too, to check on her. She let that go to voicemail. She really didn’t question herself at the time, but now she wondered why she just didn’t pick up the phone and tell him she was fine. Maybe it was in part because every time she talked to him, he brought up the question when she was returning to their practice. Right after the accident, he told her to return when she wanted—when she could. Other than the obvious reason of not knowing how she would get out in the world again, she didn’t know what was holding her back from the patients she once loved.
She could recall the one night late when she went to visit the office. You know, to see whether it was a place she could return to without having a panic attack. She waited until everyone was gone, and went for a tour through the examination rooms. She touched the glass jars that held the tongue depressors, the fluffy cotton balls they never seemed to use past the first box when they opened the doors a few years ago, and she sat at her desk, looking at the picture on her desk. It was of her, Scott, and Dane. They were posing at the receptionist desk of their medical office. Scott stood in the middle, an arm around each of them. A feeling of sickness rose from the pit of her stomach until it strangled around her neck and she ran out of the office and never returned. How could she get past writing the first round of prescriptions if she couldn’t sit at her own desk?
Gus growled and startled Rachel. Her half-closed eyes opened wider when the fur ball jumped off her lap and ran for the front door. She jumped up when she heard the knock.
Crap, who can that be? She looked at the clock on the mantel. It was three o’clock. Rachel lay still on the sofa, her dog barking up a storm at the door. She remembered one time when Gus was a tiny puppy and how happy she was the day he finally could bark. That seemed like years ago, and a wonderful thing at the time!
The knocks got louder, almost persistent, and not going away. Rachel threw back the blanket and sat up. She hoped it wasn’t her mother and she’d heard from Peggy what happened. She recalled asking Peggy specifically not to say a word. She wanted to tell her in person. When her mother could see she was all right. Maybe by Christmas.
“Okay, I’m coming,” Rachel called out to whoever was behind the door. Pesky newspaper boy. She’d settled her account three months ago. Subsequently, she’d been blacklisted from delivery. What did she care? Scott read the paper, not her.
She pulled at her sweatshirt and smoothed back her hair before she turned the knob. No need in frightening the neighborhood children, if that’s who it was.
“Hello.”
It was John. The guy from the diner. The guy from yesterday morning who evidently saved her life. She wasn’t sure whether she was grateful or not yet.
“Hello.” She stood there in a trance. She didn’t know why he was there, and had there been a large rock nearby, she’d gladly hide underneath it. Nothing cried pathetic more than being dragged out of your house from poisonous gases. In neon socks.
“Hey, I just wanted to drop by and check on you. Make sure you’re okay.” His hands were clasped in front of his coat.
“Yeah.” Rachel held onto the side of the door, almost seeking security from it. “By the way, thanks. I didn’t get a chance to tell you. You know, with the ambulance whisking me away and all.”
He chuckled. “Yeah. It was a little awkward, wasn’t it?”
“To say the least.” She pulled at her dog, who was steadily jumping at John’s feet.
“Nah, he’s okay. I love dogs.” He bent down and picked up the terrier, letting him smell his shirt.
Rachel noticed he was wearing regular street clothes. Dark-blue shirt, button-up and a jacket, the collar trimmed in leather.
“Well, he’s very eager to see visitors.”
He dodged a few wet kisses and began talking again. Rachel felt a surge in her blood pressure. Kind of like when a guy you’ve been eyeing from a distance finally zeroes in and asks what you had in mind with all the telepathy. Had she been using any telepathy that morning? None that she recalled. Unless you counted the look of genuine stupor from lack of oxygen to the brain.
“So I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go out sometime? You know, just to dinner or something.” His feet seemed restless on the welcome mat.
Her heartrate moved into full panic mode. The last time she was asked out, it was by her husband—her deceased husband. The thought of being pursued made her a bit uneasy. Then again, it made her a bit giddy. Was she going to adopt the penguin way of mating for life with one mate, or was she up for considering the opposite sex as an option? It was too quick to think about it logically and get back to him. He was standing right there. With crystal-blue eyes, tight jeans, and a way with animals. Gus was all but throwing a French kiss down his throat.
“Go out?” Buy some time.
“Yeah, I realize it’s short notice and I’m standing here so it’s a bit awkward again to say no, but you can. Say no, I mean. I didn’t exactly have time this morning to get your phone number.” His brow arched. “I promise not to take offense if you have other plans.”
As if. Um, how about spoonfuls of cookie dough and a chaser of Fireball while watching the new series of Jail breakers and Where are they now? Rachel released the door and fidgeted with her collar. She felt her breathing becoming more like gasps. “Yeah, that’s fine.”
OMG. Why did she just agree to go out? Was it because she didn’t want to hurt his feelings? Was it because she was still hopped up on gas? Why would she just say yes? It could be that her hormones yelled out that answer. She was suffering from the no-touch thing, clearly.
His smile beamed. “Okay. I realize you just had your accident. Is tonight too soon?”
Um, yeah. Next year would be too soon. She didn’t know what she was saying. She’d never been put into this position before. Dating? She was married, for goodness’ sakes. Her smile faded. No she wasn’t. Not anymore.
“How about tomorrow night?” She said it without thinking. Maybe she just wanted to get to a safe room, scream into a pillow, and cancel like a yellowbelly with a text.
“That sounds great.” He smiled and turned to Gus and winked.
“Let me get your number.” She walked off in the direction of finding a piece of paper. “You know, in case something happens,” she yelled back.
“Sure,” she heard him reply.
The junk drawer was a mess. It would’ve been easier to go into Scott’s den off the foyer, but she hadn’t been in there since the day of the accident. A screwdriver jammed underneath her nail as she rifled for a piece of paper. She kissed her finger and continued to look for something to write on. There was a piece of paper in the back, caught in the crack. She pulled it out. It already had something written on it.
“Thinking about you. Wondering if you’re thinking of me.”
What? Whose writing was that? It wasn’t hers or Scott’s. Where did it come from? She crinkled her nose and put it back, before she grabbed a coffee filter from the cabinet above the stove and a pen from the counter.
“Here. This is my number.” She handed half the torn filter to him. “Now, give me your number.”
He said it slowly while she transcri
bed it on the white paper. Her hands shook and she hoped it didn’t show.
“Well, I look forward to seeing you tomorrow evening. What time would you like me to pick you up?”
“I don’t know. Maybe six?” She bit her lower lip.
“Okay, I’ll see you then.” He smiled again before he turned to leave.
She watched him walk down the sidewalk. Her insides were tripping and falling short of a complete surge of anxiety. She needed words of wisdom from her best friend. She hoped she was available to talk. She wouldn’t blame her if she could and still refused to pony up advice. Rachel had been anything but a friend to her lately. She hadn’t taken Collette’s calls for at least a month. She was going through a rough patch of envy. Collette seemed to be moving swiftly along in life. And for some reason, it really pinched Rachel’s nerves.
“She lives,” Collette said, answering the phone.
“I know. I suck at being a friend.”
“No, don’t be so hard on yourself. I should realize after leaving the fifth message, you’re not ready to come out and play.”
And that’s why she was her best friend. She gave Rachel all the time she needed. It was a shame she still lived in Georgia.
“What’s up, girl? It’s so freaking great to hear from you.”
“Thanks, Cee. I’m having a bit of an anxiety attack at the moment.” She fanned herself with her free hand and continued to pace around the room.
“Oh my gosh, what’s going on? Did you have a breakthrough?”
Collette was there for the first month of Rachel’s recovery—after the car accident. She lived by light of the computer monitor, trying her best to play psychologist and unlock Rachel’s memory. She thought she came close a few times, only to have Rachel shut her down. No monster-sized vise existed that could come close to unlocking what Rachel had pinned up in her brain.
“No, nothing yet. Although I’ve got tons of memories of my wedding and the hundreds of dates we went on. The other night I remembered the one in which we met Dane’s new fling. She was such an airhead. She thought Dane was serious when he told her he once did a heart transplant using a monkey’s heart.”
The Secret He Keeps Page 7