Page 16 of The Scars I Bare
Something akin to hope blossomed in my belly as I looked up at her, the tenderhearted woman who’d been there for me in a time of my life I’d rather forget. The bouncy ball of fire who read to patients when they were too weak to do so themselves and always brought a smile to my face.
But that girl wasn’t here.
And the guy she’d known in that hospital room? The one who’d still had hope of returning home like nothing had happened?
He was long gone as well.
Instead, I was sitting in a room with a perfect stranger, wondering what to say next and just how exactly I was going to kill my best friend for forgetting this bit of information in our weekly beer nights. Jake knew what a fool I’d made of myself in that hospital, convinced that I was in love with Cora when, in reality, I was just reaching out for someone.
Anyone.
Yet…
Yet she was here. Standing in front of me.
How was that for fate?
“So,” she finally said, “how have you been?”
“Good,” I immediately answered, almost like a knee-jerk reaction. Realizing she was probably expecting more than a one-worded response, I tried to dig deep and find something else inside my muddled brain. “Everything healed up nicely,” I replied, holding my arm up as proof. “The town hooked me up with this replacement, which keeps the stares down to a minimum. Except for the kids,” I added. “The kids always notice.”
“They’re shorter,” she said, reaching her hand out in front of her, about waist-high. “They tend to notice things we don’t.”
My eyes narrowed, recalling that moment in the hospital when I’d finally gotten the courage to ask her out and she’d refused, explaining two very important reasons.
The husband and the—
“How is your daughter?” I asked, remembering her name but not wanting to seem overly attached to our brief acquaintance so long ago. Because I had been attached.
Maybe I still am…
“Good,” she replied, mirroring my answer moments earlier. Realizing she’d done so, she smiled and continued on, “She’s starting kindergarten next month.”
“Here? In Ocracoke?” I asked, still unconvinced she was in fact moving here permanently. It wasn’t exactly the top destination for relocations. We were small and remote, and did I mention that the only way in and out was by ferryboat?
“Yes. Is it bad?” she asked, her expression showing the concern of a mother. “The school, I mean. When Jake offered me the position, I took it without much thought. I remember you gushing about how peaceful and quiet Ocracoke was, and I needed a new start for Lizzie and me. I didn’t really think about the school system at all.” She paused for a moment before glancing up at me. “God, you must think I’m a terrible mother.”
Leaning forward, my elbows on my knees, I looked up at her grinning. “I don’t, Cora. Really, I don’t. Although,” I said, leaning back, “I’m kind of iffy on your nursing skills at the moment, seeing as we’ve been in this exam room for nearly fifteen minutes and you haven’t even taken my blood pressure. But I’m pretty confident you’re a good mom.”
She gawked at me, her mouth slack, as she searched for words. Honestly, I was a little surprised, too, by my ability to string so many words together in her presence.
“And the school is good, by the way. It produced Jake and me, so it can’t be half bad. Well, I guess, Jake turned out pretty good at least.” I grinned.
“Good,” she replied, using our favorite word of the day. “That’s good. Thank you for that. My conscience is eased a bit, knowing she’s in at least capable hands.” Looking down at my chart again, she took a deep breath before speaking, “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
Confused, I watched her walk toward the door. “Wait, where are you going?” I asked.
“To get your chart. I’ve been holding Mrs. Joyner’s for the last fifteen minutes, and I was too embarrassed to say anything.”
I bit my lip, trying not to chuckle, but the moment I saw a smile tug at the corner of her pretty pink lips, I couldn’t help myself. Deep laughter sprang free as she opened the door, leaving me behind in search of my actual file.
In that moment, I finally felt like I’d found the dark-haired nurse who’d turned me down in that lonely hospital room. And, if she was in fact in there somewhere, hidden behind the baggage life had thrown on her over the last three years, I might be well and rightfully screwed.
Because I could fall for her all over again.
And, this time, there would be no husband or injury to blame. My whole body was screaming to turn and run, to flee, before any other part of me was lost to pain and ruin.
But, instead, I sat, firmly planted in that rickety old seat, and waited for her to return.
