Page 29 of Silos and Sabotage

“You’ve got this,” he urged in a low voice.

“If that includes ugly crying and bloating up like a puffer fish,” she sighed, “then, yes. I’ve totally got this!” She swung a fist playfully through the air for emphasis.

Gage caught her fist and cradled it between them, informing her in an undertone, “Since there’s two of us out here, we’ll have both the front and rear exits covered.” Then he raised his voice to a more conversational volume. “As much as it pains me to say this, Johnny is right. You’ve got this.”

She smiled her gratitude for his whispered assurances, as well as his attempt to lighten the air between them.

“Can you say that again?” Johnny pulled out his cell phone, hit the record button, and held it up to catch whatever Gage said next.

“Cool your spurs, cowboy.” Gage dropped her hand to slap away Johnny’s phone, but Johnny had already swung it out of reach. “We both know it’s unlikely it’ll ever happen again.”

Ella was chuckling as she stepped through the door, which she was reasonably sure was their plan. They were truly amazing guys, both of them.

The nurse shut the door behind her and trilled, “Wow! You go, girl!” She had on so much makeup that it was impossible to tell her age. She could’ve been anywhere from thirty-five to fifty.

Ella blinked at her, hardly knowing what to say.

“Is one of them your husband?” the woman pressed as she led Ella to a chair to take her vitals.

“No. We’re just friends.” Ella didn’t appreciate her prying. Her bedside manner could definitely use a little work.

“I’m going to take your blood pressure and temperature.” The nurse briskly went to work, wrapping a blood pressure cuff around Ella’s arm and rolling an external thermometer over her forehead. “Would you like anything to drink? We have bottled water, sparkling water, tea, and soft drinks.”

“No, thanks. I’m fine.” Ella stifled a shiver at the memory of being poisoned the last time she’d taken a drink of water in public.

“If you change your mind, just let me know,” the woman said quickly. “We have other refreshments, too. Crackers, fruit, and?—”

“I really am fine,” Ella interrupted, feeling the first wave of alarm sweep over her. She watched the woman undo the blood pressure cuff and record the numbers on her electronic tablet. Part of her wanted to get up and run out of the office. She was dreading the whole idea of spilling her innermost fears and misgivings to a perfect stranger.

As she glanced longingly toward the waiting room, the door to their right opened. A forty-ish woman in a sunset orange pantsuit appeared. “That’ll be all, Triss. I’ll take it from here.” Her dyed blonde hair was piled high on her head, and her makeup was so thick that it accentuated the lines around her eyes and at the corners of her mouth.

She waited until Triss bounced out of the room before holding out a hand to Ella. “I’m Dr. Avery Radcliffe. It’s so nice to meet you, Ella.” Her fingernails were painted in an eerily familiar shade of red, the same red that the fingernails of her organ donor had been painted.

Ella was so busy staring at her fingernails that she was slow to shake her hand. “I, um. It’s nice to meet you, too.” Then she frowned. “I thought I was supposed to meet with a man by the name of Dr. Jones.”

“He called out sick today. I’m his partner, so I’m covering his appointments for him. The first one is more of an introduction, anyway. Shall we?” Avery Radcliffe fluttered her hand toward the office she’d come out of.

Ella wordlessly stepped past her. The moment she was inside the room, however, she felt like she was suffocating. It was too small. Too dim. Too…something. Visions of hospital beds, IV lines, and people in white jackets flashed through her mind, along with the scent of antiseptics.

“I can’t,” she gasped, backing out of the room so quickly that she nearly plowed into her therapist. She tugged at the neckline of the pink t-shirt she was wearing beneath her blue jean vest. “I’m so sorry! I need windows or something.”

“There’s no need to apologize.” Dr. Radcliffe looked concerned. “It’s a classic case of claustrophobia. No biggie. We can meet in the conference room.” She pointed down the hallway. “It’s the last room on the left.”

Gulping and fanning her face, Ella moved down the hallway into the conference room, still clutching her box of tissues. It was immediately easier to breathe in the brighter, more spacious area on the other side. Floor-to-ceiling windows graced the outside wall. She moved around the table and claimed a seat right by the windows.

Avery Radcliffe followed her and pulled out the chair beside her. “I’m going to start this session by sharing something very important about my background.” She smoothed a hand down the front of her bright orange blazer, looking a tad nervous. “Though Dr. Jones will remain your therapist on record, he’s agreed to include me in some of your appointments going forward, assuming you agree to it.”

“Okay. Sure.” Ella shrugged. “As long as you don’t charge me extra for it, I reckon two psychiatrists are better than one.”

“It’s because I’m your biological mother, Ella. It would be group therapy. For both of us. We weren’t planning on charging you at all.”

My what?It was a good thing Ella was already seated. Otherwise, she might’ve fainted. The box of tissues slid out of her nerveless fingers and bounced to the floor. She opened her mouth and tried to say something. The only thing that came out was a strangled squeak.You were supposed to be dead.

For a long, tension-charged moment, they simply stared at each other.

“Oh, honey!” Dr. Radcliffe was the first one to break the silence. “Why did you run away from the coast? From the new life you’d built for yourself there? It was safe. I made sure of it.”

Ella gaped at her. “What are you talking about?” Even if it was true that Dr. Radcliffe was her mother, they’d only just met. How was it possible that the woman sitting in front of her knew anything else about her life? Ella had purposely left most of her patient questionnaire blank.

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