Page 72 of Careless Hope

“Ah, honey.” Lisa moved to my side, her arm wrapping around my shoulders in a gesture so maternal it made my heart ache for simpler times. “He’s a fool if he doesn’t see what he’s losing. But right now, it’s about you picking up the pieces and remembering the strong, capable woman you are.”

I couldn’t blame Walker though. It was all my fault. My fault for falling in love with a man who didn’t want love . . . something I’d known in the first place.

“Thanks, Lisa.” My words were choked, barely squeezing past the lump in my throat. “I appreciate you being here.”

“Always,” she said firmly, giving my shoulders a squeeze before stepping back. “Now, you’ve already gotten through today. Why don’t you hold off on that work until tomorrow? Go home and take a bath and get lost in a book.”

“That sounds like the best idea I’ve heard all day,” I said witha teary laugh. “But I really should try to get through a few of these so they don’t pile up.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, you go on home. I won’t stay much longer.”

“Alright, honey. Call me if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” I said, watching her leave.

I settled into the rhythm of paperwork, flipping through charts with ease. Maybe I’d just needed to say the words aloud and get out some tears to get my focus back. The numbers and notes were now a balm to the chaos of emotions swirling inside me. Blood pressures, heart rates, prescriptions—there was comfort in their predictability.

My watch ticked away the minutes, turning them into an hour without me even noticing. I could almost pretend that my world was limited to antiseptics and antibiotics, that hearts only broke due to age or illness, not because of stubborn cowboys with stormy blue eyes and an inability to commit.

A frantic knock shattered my illusion, jolting me up from my chair. The urgency behind the sound clawed at my insides, setting off alarms in my mind. This wasn’t a polite tap of a patient who’d forgotten something; this was raw, panicked, demanding immediate attention.

“Caroline! Please!” The voice was strained, laced with fear and desperation. I recognized the voice immediately—Lily. I hurried down the hall to the door, my heart hammering against my ribs like a thoroughbred on race day, bracing myself for whatever lay on the other side.

I swung the door open, and the sight of Lily nearly buckled my knees. Her pink shirt was smeared with dirt and grime. She leaned against the railing but as she stepped forward toward the door, I saw her pained limp as she clutched at the frame forsupport. But it was the bruise, dark and angry like a storm cloud, swelling around her eye that drew a gasp from me.

“Lily, what on earth happened to you?” I reached out, guiding her gently by the elbow as she stumbled into the sanctuary of the clinic.

“Caroline, I—I just . . . it was Jim. He went crazy again.” Her voice broke into a sob. The tears on her cheeks were the remnants of terror. “Lock the door. Please!”

“Shh, it’s okay,” I cooed, my own fears tucked away behind a mask of calm professionalism. I turned the deadbolt and with an arm wrapped protectively around Lily’s waist, steered her toward the back room, as far from the entrance as possible.

“Here we go, just a few more steps.” The words spilled from my lips in a soft, even tone—a contrast to the thundering of my pulse.

We made it to the back room, and I helped Lily onto the examination table, her body trembling like a leaf in a prairie storm. The small space, usually so clinical, felt like a fortress now, and I was its unexpected commander.

A banging sounded on the front door again, this time heavy and full of rage.

“He’ll break in. He’ll do anything to get in here. I’m sorry I came here, I just saw the light on and didn’t know where else to go,” she said in between sobs.

“It’s okay, Lily. You’re safe now, I promise,” I said, my voice steady though my hands betrayed a slight tremor. There was no medical school course on fortifying exam rooms against danger, but right then, I wished there had been.

Lily nodded, her eyes wide and trusting. I draped a blanket over her shoulders, the quilted fabric a poor substitute for armor, yet offering some comfort all the same.

I locked the exam room door. The only moveable furniturewas a flimsy chair, but it was better than nothing, so I moved it to rest under the doorknob.

“Thank you, Caroline,” she whispered, her voice a threadbare quilt of gratitude and pain.

“Of course,” I replied, forcing a smile as I prepared to shield her with every ounce of my will. Lily was my patient and I’d do whatever it took to protect her.

The relentless pounding on the door echoed through the small back room, each thud a sledgehammer against my composure. Jim’s voice, thick with rage, sliced through the wood and plaster like a hot knife. “Lily! You come out here right now!”

I pressed my back against the cold wall, trying to become as small and inconspicuous as possible. My heart raced, galloping like a wild mustang across the plains of panic.

“Do you have your phone?” I asked her.

She shook her head. “He busted it earlier when I tried to leave. Stomped right on it.”

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