Chapter Twelve

Kate had finished all the women’s magazines she could find and was halfway through an article on marine ecology in the Caribbean when Dr. McLaughlin came out to talk to her. Kate rose and walked over to meet him.

“It’s a fracture, all right.” The lanky ER doctor pushed a thatch of dark hair back from his forehead. “The good news is that it won’t require surgery. We’re going to get him fixed up and send him home.”

“How much longer?” The question slipped out before she could stop herself.

She could have bitten her tongue when she saw the exhaustion on the doctor’s face. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be impatient. It’s just that...”

Dr. McLaughlin managed a smile despite his obvious weariness. “I know it’s hard to sit out here and not be able to do anything but wait. Have you perused our fascinating reading material?” he joked. Kate laughed and gestured at the pile of magazines by her chair.

“We need to set the bone and get it stabilized. Barring any other emergencies, I should be finished with him in an hour or so.” The doctor patted her arm and left to tend to Paul.

Kate took her seat again and glanced at her watch. If all went well, they might be getting into bed by ten thirty or so. She picked up the magazine she’d been reading and prepared to learn more about the fragile ecosystem of the coral reefs.

The scream of a siren split the night, and an ambulance backed up to the emergency entrance. The secretary called for an orderly, who hurried out into the cold night and helped a pair of EMTs bring in a man on a gurney.

A woman about Renee’s age followed, weeping. She started to follow the procession into the back, but the secretary put a hand on her shoulder.

“Why don’t you wait out here? Someone will be out to talk to you as soon as we know something.”

The woman stared around the room as if unsure of what she was supposed to do. She let out a sob, then crumpled into the nearest chair and buried her face in her hands.

The woman’s despair tore at Kate’s heart. Laying her magazine aside, Kate crossed the room and knelt beside the sobbing woman.

“My name is Kate Hanlon, and my husband is a pastor in Copper Mill. Is there anything I can do to help?”

The woman’s shoulders heaved several times before she raised her head. “I’m Eppie Barlow. They just brought my husband here in an ambulance.”

Kate nodded. “I saw.”

“We were playing canasta when Alvin turned pale and grabbed his left arm.” Mrs. Barlow shuddered. “They think he may be having a heart attack.”

“I’m so sorry.” Kate took the other woman’s hands in hers. “Would you like me to pray with you?”

Mrs. Barlow nodded. But before they could bow their heads, the double doors to the exam rooms burst open, and both women sprang to their feet.

A nurse scanned the room and beckoned to the older woman. “You can come back now. The doctor would like to speak with you.”

Mrs. Barlow hurried to join the nurse. Just before she reached the door, she turned back to Kate. “I need to be with Alvin now, but would you please pray anyway?”

“Of course.” Kate sat down again and lifted the Barlows up to her heavenly Father, adding a prayer of thanks for her own situation while she was at it.

There were far worse things to deal with than a broken ankle.

AN HOUR LATER, Kate felt like she must have read the print off all the magazines in the waiting room.

How much longer?

Since Mr. Barlow had been brought in, two other emergency patients had arrived, each taking precedence over Paul’s injury. She drummed her fingers on the arm of the padded chair. Maybe she could start counting the acoustic tiles in the ceiling.

She stretched her arms over her head and rolled her neck from side to side. Who would have thought just sitting could be so exhausting? Even Renee’s company would be welcome now.

Maybe.

Did Kate really want to listen to more veiled comments about the identity of the Mustang’s driver? She thumbed through a worn copy of a gardening magazine, wondering if she could find anything else of interest.

One of Renee’s comments teased at the back of her mind, vying for her attention as she skimmed through an article on building worm beds.

Kate closed the magazine, her interest in friendly earthworms forgotten. What was it Renee said? She shut her eyes, the better to concentrate.

There had been the questions about Paul’s heart and the pointed remarks about his age. Then the shift to Kate’s least favorite subject of the moment, the diner-destroying Mustang. After that...

Kate pressed her fingers against her eyelids. What happened then?

After that, Kisses made his presence known, followed by Renee’s grand exit. But there had been something else, she just knew it. Something about the Mustang...No, not the Mustang, but its driver.

Kate’s eyelids flew open. Of course! Renee’s oh-so-casual comment about the driver being able to walk away from the accident.

More than one person had expressed surprise that the driver had escaped the scene without injury. But had he really been unhurt?

Kate crossed the tile floor and stood at the desk. The new secretary—there had been a shift change at 10:00 PM—looked up inquiringly.

“I was wondering, could you tell me whether someone came in here last week on Wednesday night?”

The woman’s face registered disbelief. “This is an emergency room. People come in here all the time.”

Kate pressed her lips together. That hadn’t come out right at all. “It would have been quite late.”

The secretary thawed a bit. “I’m on the late shift most Wednesdays, but there are always a lot of patients.”

“Or it might have been very early Thursday morning. In the middle of the night, anyway. Not with an illness but an injury. Something that might have come from an auto accident.” Kate held her breath and hoped for the best.

“That’s interesting.” The other woman leaned on her elbows and looked directly at Kate. “The sheriff came in here last week and asked the same question.”

“Oh?” She should have known this was a bad idea. “What a coincidence.”

The secretary drew herself up. “You realize, of course, that the Patient Privacy Act prohibits me from divulging information of that kind.”

Kate felt her face flame. “Of course. I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

“Except...”—the secretary leaned toward Kate and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper—“that only applies if there was a patient. I guess it’s okay to tell you there wasn’t anyone who fit that description.”

She grinned and settled herself back in her chair. “As a matter of fact, that shift was unusually slow. We only had a couple of patients all night.”

“Oh well, thank you. I guess that answers my question.”

“Happy to help.” The phone rang, and the woman turned to answer it.

Kate slunk back to her seat, hoping news of her attempt to extract information didn’t get back to Sheriff Roberts. So much for her bright idea of looking for a person with a mysterious limp.

After what seemed like an eternity, the doors to the exam rooms swung open again, and Paul appeared, seated in a wheelchair pushed by a husky male nurse.

Kate hurried over to him, taking in his drawn appearance and the large black contraption on his right leg. A pair of crutches lay across the arms of the wheelchair.

“It’s called a moon boot,” he told her. “Quite the fashion accessory, isn’t it? They gave me a choice between black and gray. I thought black would look more dignified for Sundays.” He attempted a smile in spite of the strain that showed on his face.

Following his lead, Kate swallowed back a sympathetic comment and kept her tone light. “So you’re ready to leave?”

“He’s all set,” the nurse said. “If you’ll pull your car up to the door, I’ll wheel him out.”

Bringing the car around was one thing; loading Paul into it was quite another. First, the crutches went into the backseat, then Kate had to push the passenger seat back as far as it would go to accommodate his outstretched leg.

The muscular nurse helped Paul stand, pivot, and finally maneuver himself inside the car.

“Nice job,” the nurse said, pulling the wheelchair away from the car. He handed a small bottle and a slip of paper to Kate. “These are his pain pills. The directions are on the label. It’s just a sample, though. You’ll have to have the prescription filled at your local pharmacy if he needs more.”

Kate thanked the nurse, tucked the pills and the prescription inside her purse, and went around to the driver’s side. “That was quite a performance.”

Paul let his head rest against the back of the seat and closed his eyes. “Wait until you see my next number. That’s the real showstopper.”

Kate turned the key in the ignition, doing her best to keep up a cheerful front, all the while wondering how on earth she was going to get him inside the house on her own once they got home.