Page 25 of Clashing Moon

“Yes, I’m fine, but I have bad news,” I told him as succinctly as possible what had transpired, including searching for Mr. Collins before becoming disoriented in the storm. “We were headed up the mountain, thinking he might have wandered that direction when the storm strengthened. There’s a log cabin up there, and we thought maybe he’d gone there for shelter. We barely made it. Fortunately, we did and sheltered for the night. But he wasn’t there. We came down the mountain this morning, hoping for the best, but our worst fears were realized. He must have gotten lost and unable to return home before the storm. He’s dead. Fallen near his barn.”

The sheriff cursed softly and then said he’d be out as soon as he could. “They’re plowing the major roads now. I’ll tell him to clear Collins’s driveway as soon as they can so I can get in there. May take over an hour, so hang tight. You know the drill. Leave the body as is.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Call your mother.”

“I’m on it.”

“Once I document everything, we’ll get the funeral director out there. I don’t want Arabella to worry about any of that, okay?”

“I’ll stay with her, don’t worry.”

“I’ll see you soon, son.”

I hung up and returned to Arabella’s side. “Sheriff’s on his way,” I said.

She had remained huddled over his body, shaking from cold and shock. I wanted to take her inside and get her warm, but I knew she’d never leave him. In situations like these, I typically only played the part of a small-town doctor. But in this case, Arabella was my friend. I’d been intimately involved with his care for a year now. Even though she and I hadn’t seen eye to eye on his care, at the moment, all that was forgotten. This was a person I’d known all my life—a nemesis, yes, but a classmate just the same. After the last twenty-four hours, our relationship had shifted into a deeper understanding of each other. Spending time together as we had, nearly dying ourselves, had created a bond. Or at least it had for me. Thus, I was unsure what to do next. Did I remain by her side? Give her space?

While I contemplated all of that, I called Mama. She answered on the first ring.

“Rafferty?”

“Hi, Mama. I’m fine. And I’m sorry I worried you.” I explained everything, including finding Mr. Collins. “The sheriff’s on the way out here now.”

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry for Arabella. Is she all right? Of course, she’s not. Dumb question. What can we do?”

“Maybe come out here once they take him away? I don’t want her alone, and I’ll have to get into work at some point. I’m calling Ruth next to see what I missed yesterday and if anyone’s critical.”

After we hung up, I called my nurse. Ruth also expressed relief I was safe. “Thank God. I was worried sick.”

Once again, I went over the last twenty-four hours. She went through what I missed the day before, which were mostlycanceled appointments because of the storm, and said that so far, no one had called in with any emergencies. “I called out to the Morrises’ yesterday to see if you had arrived. She told me you hadn’t shown and hoped you’d gone home.”

“How are they?”

“Mother and baby are doing just fine. If you can get out there today, I’m sure they’ll be grateful, but there’s nothing to worry about. The baby’s eating, and Mrs. Morris is recovering nicely under the care of her husband.”

I sighed with relief. I’d not been particularly worried about a perfectly healthy mother and baby, but one never knew when complications might arise. Fortunately, in this case, all was well.

By the time I hung up, the sound of the snowplow headed down the Collinses’ long driveway broke the silence of the morning. I returned to Arabella, who looked up at me as if she hardly recognized me. She was in shock.

“Can I talk you into going inside and getting warm while we wait for the sheriff?”

She stared at me blankly. “What’s that noise?”

“Snowplow. They’ve come out so the sheriff can get down the driveway.”

“Oh, right. Of course.” She remained by her father’s side, though, as if I hadn’t asked the question about returning to the house. I didn’t ask again, simply resigned myself to waiting with her.

About fifteen minutes later, the sheriff’s SUV appeared on the driveway. Soon enough, Winthrop and his deputy had parked and were headed toward us. I helped Arabella to her feet and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, holding her against my side. She leaned into me, resting her head against the side of my arm.

Sheriff Winthrop and his deputy, McCall, approached quietly. Winthrop nodded to me, giving a brief but respectfullook in Arabella’s direction. “I’m sorry for your loss, Dr. Collins. Please forgive the formalities, but I’ll have to follow protocol.”

“I understand,” Arabella said.

He began by observing the scene, his gaze lingering on her father’s still form half buried in the snow, recording notes in his small notepad. McCall stood by, keeping a respectful distance but making sure no one else would disturb the area.

Winthrop took out his camera and started to document, snapping photographs in quick succession—the body’s position, the blanket of snow around him, the heavy drifts that had hidden him from sight until now. He paused to note the snow depth and the clarity of the air after the storm, his jaw tight as he worked.

---