Chapter 1

Chapter 45

Riley Mae Hart?” A pretty, but tired-looking nurse stepped through the double automatic doors. She stood with her hand on her hip and held a folder in her hand as she scanned the beat-up crowd in the ER.

“Um . . . here,” I said. I tried to raise my hand, but it hurt, so I just stood up. When I did, Diane grabbed the damp towels off of me and replaced them with the blanket. She put her arm around me and led me toward the nurse with the folder. “I’ve got this one, Kelli.”

Kelli looked disappointed. “Are you sure? I’d really like to work on a nice little girl. I’ve been with grouchy patients all morning.”

Diane smiled and winked. “If you go give Elizabeth her break, you can take her patient. A real handsome hunk with a knee that needs stitching up.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Kelli said. She turned around and skipped back through the automatic doors.

So Matt was already checked in. Where was Mom?

Diane led me to an empty half room, sat me down on a bed, and drew a curtain around me. She handed me a little piece of cloth and told me to change out of my wet clothes, and she’d be back in a minute with Mom.

She disappeared too quickly for me to ask what I was supposed to wear after I took my clothes off. I guessed that the cloth was for drying myself, so after I managed to peel my clothes off with one hand, I opened up the cloth and started to wipe my legs. That was when I noticed that it wasn’t just a little cloth. It was a dress, or . . . something. It did have a couple of arm holes, but it only had one side. And strings hung off the back. Or maybe that was the front. Yes, it was half a dress. WHAT was I supposed to do with that?

People kept walking by and brushing the thin curtains that separated them from naked me. I had to cover up — and quick. I decided that if I had to expose a side of myself to the world, it would have to be the backside. So, I put my arms through the sleeves with the half dress covering my front. I guessed the strings were for tying it on, but I couldn’t do it with my blown-up hand. I grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around my backside, and I tried to hop up on the bed. Unfortunately, with just one good hand to hold the blanket up, I only got a part of it under my legs. The rest of it hung down to the floor.

Diane and a young man walked in, and I felt my face heat up. I raised my shoulders, hoping the dress would stay on.

“Hi Riley, I’m Doctor Harris. I hear you had a little collision with a rock.”

Diane walked behind me and tied my strings. “There,” she said. “Is that better?”

“Sure, except for the missing back.”

The doctor laughed. “Yeah, the hospital really needs to put more into the clothing budget.” He opened a drawer and handed another folded-up cloth to Diane. “I think we can afford to give her the other half.”

Diane draped the new gown around my back and helped me put my arms through the sleeves.

Okay, now I could relax . . . a little.

Doctor Harris examined my hand by poking and twisting my wrist all around. The twisting didn’t hurt, but the poking sure did.

“I’m pretty sure you broke some bones here.” He pointed to the top of my hand. “But it doesn’t look bad enough to need surgery. We’ll do some X-rays to confirm, but my prediction is that you’ll be leaving here today in a cast. The good news is you can pick the color.”

“Orange,” I said.

The doctor raised his eyebrows. “Orange, huh? Most girls pick pink or purple.”

Diane smiled at me. “Orange is perfect.”

“Okay.” Doctor Harris scribbled something on a file.

“I’ll see you back here in a little while and I’ll try to dig up some orange bandages.”

Mom finally arrived from somewhere. “Sorry, Honey. I had to get all your paperwork filled out, and then I had some phone calls to make. Your dad and Brady send their love. Rusty says hi. She’s thrilled that her dad came to visit.” She patted me on the knee and lifted my hand to look at it, then turned to Diane.

“How’s our patient, nurse?”

Diane seemed a little distracted reading my file.

“Diane? What did the doctor say?”

“Oh, were you talking to me? I’m sorry. The doc says it needs a cast. But first, X-rays.”

“Oh my. I guess you really crunched it.” Mom reached over and gave me a hug. She was still in her wet river clothes.

“How’s Matt?” I asked.

“He’s getting stitches,” Diane said. “But he’s in good hands with Nurse Kelli.”

“Fawn won’t like that.”

Diane took a little brown bottle out of a drawer.

“Uh-oh,” I pulled the front of my dress over my skinned-up knees. “I’ve seen that before.”

“Yes, I’m sorry, but you’ve got some scrapes here on your legs and arms that I need to disinfect.”

I yelped a little while Diane scrubbed me up.

“You must think I don’t take very good care of my kids,” Mom said. “We don’t usually go to the ER this much.”

Diane shrugged. “No worries. Things happen, especially in the great outdoors. Kids are not easy to keep track of all the time.”

“Do you have kids?” I asked Diane.

Mom glared at me, like I had burped out loud or something.

Diane was quiet for a moment as she wiped one of my scrapes with the cotton ball. “Yes, actually. I have a daughter.” She popped the trash can lid with her foot and tossed the cotton ball in. “But she doesn’t live with me right now.”

“Has she ever broken a bone?” I cringed as Diane soaked another cotton ball with disinfectant and rubbed it on my elbow.

“I don’t know. I sure hope not.”

“Why don’t you know?” This time, Mom gave me her famous “zip-your-lip” stare.

Before Diane could answer my question, a man with a squeaky rolling table barged through the curtain. “I’m looking for a Riley Mae Hart.” He flipped through a file. “Let’s see . . . broken hand.” He looked at mine, and his eyes got big. “Must be you! Ready to go for a ride?”

“On that? Can’t I walk? My foot’s not broken.”

He shook his head. “Afraid not. The ride’s part of the deal. But the squeaks will cost you extra.” He reached over and lifted me from the soft bed to the table. “Oh, I see they upgraded you to the superdeluxe gown. I wouldn’t want to pay your bill.”

So off I went with the jokester table driver. I ended up in the X-ray room — all by myself again. Mom had mentioned something about making another phone call as I squeaked off.

Mom and her phone calls.