Page 23 of Wandering Souls

Twenty minutes later, the waiting room sat empty until a tall fit blond woman entered. Abi watched her glide up to the reception desk and sign a ledger. The elegance of her movements was mesmerizing and the delicate features of her face glowed, even under the harsh florescent lighting of the emergency room.

“Morning, Rose,” she greeted the nurse at the desk. “Busy morning?”

The short, dark haired Rose rolled her eyes. “Mountain bikers coming off their bikes, kids with ear infections and fevers, and then there’s old man Clive. Apparently, his apprentice distracted him and he lost three fingers in one of his machines.”

“Oh.” The blond woman nodded, as if it was nothing out of the ordinary. “That’s why Crawford called me in.”

The two women looked at each other and chuckled. “Not voluntarily.”

“I see.” She shrugged out of her knee-length coat, revealing a baby-bump. “Surgery it is, then.”

Rose smiled. “Should you be on your feet in your condition?”

The blond laughed, folded her coat and laid it on the counter. “I’m pregnant, Rose, not an invalid.”

Turning, the blond woman looked up in time to see Abi shift in her seat. She stopped and tilted her head to the side, her long hair falling over one shoulder as she studied Abi. The close attention stirred a hornet’s nest in Abi’s stomach and she wanted to look away, but the blue eyes staring back at her held her still. A sense of familiarity gripped her, though why, she didn’t know.

With a smile, the tall blond nodded toward her. “Is anyone seeing to you?”

Abi swallowed nervously. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“Stevie?” Rose held a phone receiver out. “Crawford’s on the blower.”

The woman, Stevie, waved it away, never taking her eyes off Abi. “Tell him I’m on my way.” She smiled and took a step forward. “Have we met? You look familiar.”

Abi wanted to say the same thing. “No. I’m from out of town.”

“Stevie.” Rose sounded impatient. “They’re waiting. Those fingers aren’t going to reattach themselves.”

Stevie rolled her eyes. “Fine.” To Abi, she said, “Enjoy your stay in Wills Crossing. Perhaps we’ll meet again.”

And then she was gone, leaving Abi with the weird sensation they would. She shook off the bizarre feeling and settled back in her seat. The room had grown quiet now that she was on her own and the emptiness gave her the space to relax. From her pocket, she pulled out her phone and found she’d missed a call from Ray. Her thoughts drifted back to their breakfast and the sympathy in his eyes when she’d opened up about her family.

She hadn’t intended on sharing so much with him, but his willingness to listen and his compassion encouraged her. Speaking her father’s name opened a well of vulnerability and she’d needed some distance. Did he want to talk to her about it again? Or check in on her? Either way, she didn’t want to have that conversation here, in public. She swiped away the notification and opened her e-reader app, determined to lose herself in a good book while she waited.

An hour later, Colt returned to take a seat beside her. He sighed dramatically and wiped at his brow. Abi chuckled and nodded her approval.

“You guys are efficient.”

“And this is a good day. In winter, it’s the skiers. In summer, it’s the hikers. Right now, it’s everyone else. Spring brings them out of hibernation and they conveniently forget how dangerous these mountains can be.”

“Sorry, I should have called or made an appointment.”

He shook his head and patted her hand. “Not at all. Besides, now that the rush is over, the X-ray machine is free for us. I assume that’s why you’re here?”

Abi rubbed her thigh. “I’m probably worrying over nothing.”

“But better to be safe than sorry, right? Agreed.” With flare, he pushed up to his feet and held out a hand. “Shall we?”

As they turned, the swing doors to the emergency department burst open. Two young police officers in uniform led through a feisty man in his twenties who clearly didn’t want to be in their custody. Beside her, Colt stopped and set his hands on his hips.

“Quinn?”

The petite female officer stood to attention. “It’s not me, not this time, Doc.” She winked. “He put up a fight and banged his head. We’re just crossing our i’s and dotting our t’s is all.”

Abi blinked at the mismatched metaphor.

“Police brutality, I swear,” the prisoner claimed. “I didn’t do nothin’.”

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