Hideaway. Hannah Alexander

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      Cheyenne wrote discharge orders for two patients, washed her hands and replaced her mask. When she entered Susan’s exam room again, no other medical personnel were there.

      Cheyenne closed the door behind her and went to her sister’s bed. “How are you feeling?”

      Susan nodded. “Better. It doesn’t hurt as much. By the way, what’s with the mask?”

      “Flu.” Cheyenne slumped onto the stool beside the bed. “I don’t want to risk passing it on to a patient.” She tapped the mask with her fingers. “This is just a precaution. I don’t feel too bad.” Liar. You feel wretched. “Your lab reports all look good, but let’s get a repeat EKG before I discharge you. Now that your heart rate is slower and you aren’t shaking so badly, we’ll get a better reading.”

      Susan nodded.

      “Speaking of shaking,” Cheyenne said, “what could have set this off? I’ve never known you to have a panic attack before.”

      “So you think that is what happened?”

      A question instead of an answer. “I don’t know for sure, but that could have been what disturbed your mitral valve. I’ve already scheduled an outpatient echo for you for next Monday.”

      “Oh, Sis, do we have to do that? I don’t really want Kirk to know about—”

      “We have to make sure that valve isn’t going to cause any major problems.” Cheyenne touched Susan’s left hand. “I’m not taking any chances with you. If you’re worried about Kirk knowing, I’ll have the hospital send me the bill.” But why shouldn’t Susan’s husband know?

      “No, don’t do that. It’s…it isn’t that bad.”

      Cheyenne leaned forward. If it wasn’t that bad, why was Susan suddenly avoiding eye contact? “I know you don’t like to take medication, but I’ve ordered something to calm you down.”

      “A tranquilizer?”

      “Yes. You won’t have to worry about any more needles, since you already have the IV. It won’t fix the problem, but it might help make everything more bearable until we can find the real culprit.” But of course the real culprit was Kirk Warden—Cheyenne had known that for some time.

      Susan swallowed, then nodded. “Could you give me something…to take with me?”

      “I’ll write you a script.” Cheyenne hesitated. “You’ll need a ride home. I’d let you take my car, but you can’t drive under the influence of this medication. If you can’t call Kirk—”

      “I’ll get a taxi. Can I work? I have an appointment with a client whose house I’m decorating this afternoon. She’s a neighbor who lives just three houses west of us, so I won’t have to drive there.”

      “Sure, you can work…if your client doesn’t mind a little drug-induced creativity.” Cheyenne got up, battling a wave of nausea. “Since you’re getting a taxi, I’ll dispense some tablets for you here so you won’t have to stop at a pharmacy.”

      “Thanks.” Still no eye contact.

      Cheyenne leaned closer. “Honey, what’s going on with you?”

      Susan dabbed at her face with a tissue. “It’s no big deal, Sis, okay?”

      “Wrong answer. I’m your doctor right now, not your sister. You don’t have panic attacks for ‘no big deal.’ What happened with Kirk today?” Please talk to me, Susan. The sound of another ambulance siren barely reached them from the highway.

      “We had a little disagreement over the telephone,” Susan glanced toward the closed door. “Are you sure no one can hear us?”

      “Positive.”

      “I decided to file my taxes separately from his this year. When I told him, he went ballistic. I wouldn’t have done it, except I’ve been comparing notes with his secretary, and we don’t jibe. If he’s cheating on taxes, I don’t want any part of it.”

      Cheyenne closed her eyes, glad the mask over the lower portion of her face would conceal some of her dismay.

      “If he finds out she talked to me, he’ll fire her,” Susan said.

      Anger intensified Cheyenne’s nausea. For her sister’s sake, she had put up with Kirk’s borderline antagonism since he and Susan had become engaged eight years ago. Cheyenne had sat through countless uncomfortably silent dinners, had timed her visits to the house when Kirk would be at work, had run interference when Mom and Dad flew up from Florida to visit. Occasionally, Susan spent the night with Cheyenne, when Kirk was out of town on business—he had his own computer networking firm.

      “The stress with Kirk could be a trigger for your chest pain,” Cheyenne said.

      “I’m not sure what I can do about it.”

      Cheyenne decided not to mention the obvious solution. “What else is going on with you?”

      Susan looked down at her hands, picking at her cuticles. “Kirk isn’t…always happy with me.”

      “Happy in what way?”

      “The problem is, he thinks I’ve become too independent with my business, and he’s decided to tighten the reins.”

      Those weren’t reins, they were more like screws. “In what way?” Cheyenne asked gently.

      Susan closed her eyes and raised a hand to her face—a shaking hand. “He’s taken all the money out of our joint account and placed them in a different bank, using his name alone.”

      Cheyenne willed away her own outrage. Susan couldn’t handle that right now. “Do you think he’s planning to divorce you?”

      “We don’t believe in divorce.”

      We? Was Kirk cheating on his taxes but still pretending to be some upstanding, good “Christian” man? What a laugh.

      “I just don’t know what to do next,” Susan said. “It’s so…so hard to realize that the man I married isn’t the man I’m married to. You know what I mean?”

      Cheyenne nodded, though she didn’t really know. Her whole life had been caught up in her career, with only one serious relationship. That had ended in pain when the man she loved couldn’t endure her hours—or her success. “You could move in with me, Susan. You’ll never have to put up with that kind of treatment while I’m alive.”

      “I’m the one who got myself into this mess,” Susan murmured. “I’ll stick it СКАЧАТЬ