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“See, it’s that kind of statement, not to mention act, they would like to avoid from now on,” Smitty said in what Abby thought of as his disarming tone.
“Tough toenails. You’re not my keeper.”
He had the nerve to laugh. “Good one.”
Abby rolled her eyes. “Get out, Smitty.”
He tried to stop laughing. Well, he made an effort anyway. Though all it did was make him snort. “Now, Abby, you’ve got to understand, they’re worried about you.”
“They’re going to be worried about you if you don’t get out of my clinic.” She went into her office, tossed her jacket on a chair in the corner and put on a lab coat.
Smitty followed her. “I can help. I’ve got medical training.”
Oh, really? She stopped and gave him a sweet smile. She had the perfect job for him. “Do you know what today is?”
“Um, Wednesday?”
“Right. And do you know what I do here at the clinic every Wednesday?”
“No. They didn’t provide me with a schedule, they just told me to keep you from blowing yourself up.”
“Wednesday is complete physical day. Do you want to do all my prostate exams?”
“No.”
“’Bye, Smitty.”
“But...oh, come on.” He threw his hands up into the air like she was the one being unreasonable.
With a shake of her head, Abby walked out the door and down the hall toward the front desk.
He followed her. “Don’t be like this. I thought you’d be happy to see me.”
She stopped and without turning or looking at him said, “As in is-that-a-banana-in-your-pocket happy to see you?”
“Well—”
“Because I distinctly recall you attempting to examine my tonsils the last time I talked to you, and I never pegged you as an ear-nose-and-throat guy.”
“No, I’m more of a t—”
“Don’t say it.” She pressed her lips together to prevent herself from saying something out loud she knew she’d regret. “Go away.” She strode towards the front end of the clinic and her first morning patients.
He followed. “Why are you so mad?”
She glanced at his face, all puppy-dog-sad, but no calculation. Maybe he really didn’t know. “You want to do something useful? There’s a coffee shop across the street. Buy the waiting room a round.”
“Are you serious?”
“It’s either that or put on some latex gloves and step into one of the exam rooms.”
“Coffee. Right. On it.” He darted out the front door.
The entire waiting room full of people turned to look at her.
“Is he really going to buy us all coffee?” One older lady asked.
“He’d better. If he doesn’t, you all have my permission to pick on him mercilessly.”
“About what?” Someone else asked.
Abby smiled. “He has three older sisters and mostly wore pink and purple until he was about ten years old.”
“A big muscular guy like that?” the older lady asked.
“Took ballet too,” Abby added.
“Is he gay?”
“Not that I noticed.” She picked up the first chart on the pile. “Roger, room one.”
Eight patients later she stopped to use the washroom, looked at her reflection in the mirror and realized something horrendous was on her face.
A smile.
It had probably been there all morning. Well, since the moment Smitty turned up.
Damn it, the last thing she wanted to do was justify his hanging around.
Where was he anyway?
Laughter from out in the waiting room drew her out of her office and down the hall. Smitty stood near the reception desk talking to a rapt audience of townsfolk.
“So, there we were, covered in chocolate sauce and feathers, and this sergeant walks in and asks Abby, “What the hell is going on here?” Wrong question to ask Abby, because she comes back with—”
“Chemical weapons drill,” Abby said before Smitty could. “We were picking feathers up with tweezers for days afterward.”
The whole room laughed. The whole full room. With patients she’d seen more than an hour ago still sitting there.
“Hey doc, how come you never told us some of these stories?” Roger, her first patient of the day, asked.
She tilted her head to one side. “For some reason they’re always funnier when Smitty tells them.” She frowned at Roger. “Weren’t you supposed to meet your wife five minutes ago?”
He stared at the clock on the wall, squawked, leaped to his feet, and dashed out the door. A couple of other people followed at a slightly slower pace.
“Sorry folks, Smitty is going on a break. He’ll be back to entertain you in fifteen minutes.”
There was some grumbling, but most of them got up and left.
Smitty followed her around back of the desk. “Nice bunch of folks here.”
“Oh yeah, we’re really friendly here in Bandit Creek. Until you realize someone has stolen not your car or your wallet sitting on the front seat, but all the gas in your tank.”
“Hey, they were really nice to me.”
“I noticed. I’m thinking of charging a five dollar cover just to get into my waiting room.”
“Huh. That could pay for the gas they’re going to steal.”
She grunted and started pulling charts for patients who were due in the afternoon.
“Do you want me to shut up with the war stories?” he asked a few moments later.
“Depends on which ones you’re telling.”
“Not...those.”
She stopped moving, then turned and looked at him.
He watched her with quiet, serious eyes. “Aside from the Army shrink, I haven’t told anyone about that day. Have you?”
She shook her head.
“Maybe we should. Talk about it, I mean.”
Abby was about to respond, but the door opened and a couple of her next patients walked in.
Now was not the time to get into it. Not that there was ever a good time to relive the worst thing that ever happened to you.
She met Smitty’s gaze and saw his typical determination there. Determination to finish the job, to support his team, even though she was the only team member left. He wouldn’t just walk away, not now that he knew she was lighting up old dynamite every morning in an effort to cope with... everything.
Maybe he was right. Talking to him might help, since he already knew all the bad parts. “You got a place to stay?”
“The mayor told me there was a B & B I could stay in, but I haven’t called them yet.”
“Don’t bother,” she said. “I’ve got a couch you can crash on.”
One corner of his mouth tilted up. “Cool, a sleepover party.”
“Oh, and what did you do with my bag of dynamite?”
“I gave it to a concerned citizen,” he said with an innocent smile.
“The Sheriff, right? Because a few people have been asking where I get it.”
“Yeah, it was the Sheriff.” He hesitated for a moment, then said, “Those sticks are old enough that the nitroglycerine has crystalized all over the outside of them. One bad shake or drop and boom. Where’d you—”
“Not telling. It’s a secret.”
“Abby...” He said her name like she was five years old and had been caught with a lighter.
“What?”
“What’s going on?”
“Physicals, I told you that earlier.”
He stared at her for a moment, then shook his head and went to the door. “I’m going to go on a walk-about around town.”
“You’re leaving me alone? Aren’t you afraid I’ll do something hazardous?”
“I think it’s safe to let you work without me hovering over you. What time do you finish for the day?”
“Five.”
“See you then.” He left.
The rest of her morning and afternoon moved along without any snags and she found herself locking up dead on time. Smitty hadn’t appeared, so she walked across the street to the coffee shop. Something hot and chocolatey was definitely called for. Maybe a mocha.
She put her hand on the knob of the door and noticed a penny on the ground. Was this her lucky day? She bent over to pick it up.
The glass door of the shop exploded.