Lancaster County Target. Kit Wilkinson

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      TWO

      Streams of blinding white light seeped under Abigail’s heavy eyelids. Beeps and buzzes echoed in her ears. Everything around her whirled in a blurred circle. Fatigue. Nausea. Pain. Everywhere pain. Especially her head.

      “Ugh.” She lifted a sore arm only to touch a nice hard knot on the front of her head. Ouch. What in the world? Where am I?

      She glanced around the small space. Heart monitor. Oxygen supply. Blood-pressure gauge. Blue hospital curtain wrapped around the small bed she lay in. I’m in the Emergency Room!

      “Hello.” A tall, sandy-haired man peered around the curtain at her, then stepped inside. He wore a white lab coat over a pressed blue oxford. His stethoscope and Fairview ID badge hung loosely around his opened collar.

      “How are you feeling, Abigail?”

      “I’m feeling a little confused.” She looked down at her limp body in the hospital bed. “I don’t remember how I got here.... I don’t know you, Doctor, do I?”

      “Nope. I’m new. Jamison. Blake Jamison.”

      “Nice to meet you, Dr. Jamison.” Her mouth was dry and it hurt to try to sit up.

      “Call me Blake. Please.” He smiled. “And take it easy. You’ve had a pretty rough day. Don’t worry if you aren’t remembering everything just yet. You will.”

      Her head was foggy and thick, but she tried to focus. An IV drip fed into her left hand. The doctor—Blake—sat on a stool to her right. She was suddenly very aware of the fact that he was a handsome man, with a nice build and a kind face.

      “So, why am I here?”

      “I was sort of hoping you could tell me that. Maybe once your head clears up.” He took her wrist in his hand. He studied her face as he counted her pulse. A strange and awkward sensation passed over Abby as his fingertips pressed her skin. She was unaccustomed to the touch of a man and especially that of a fancy Englischer.

      “I didn’t know Fairview was getting a new E.R. doctor. When did you start?”

      “Well...I’m just here temporarily. I’m filling in for Dr. Finley.”

      “Oh, right. I remember now reading something about him teaching a course in one of the hospital newsletters. I didn’t realize he would be away from the hospital for that. Do you often fill in for doctors on leave?”

      “This is my first time. I have a private practice in New York. I’m just here for a change of scenery. Eight weeks. Then I’ll go back.” He released her arm. His lips pursed, as if he was thinking about something far away. “Seventy-two. Much better. You had me pretty scared there. Never a dull moment at this place.”

      He used his stethoscope and listened to her breathing and her heart. Then he whipped the instrument out from his ears and again rested it like an adornment around his neck. The light scent of musky cologne wafted over her.

      “Did you say never a dull moment?” She tilted her head and glanced at him sideways. “I am still at Fairview Hospital, right?”

      He chuckled and started to respond when an electronic device at his waist began to vibrate. “See what I mean?”

      He took the phone into his hands, silenced it, read the message and returned it to his waist. “Not important. So, how’s the head?”

      “It’s a little tender.”

      “I’ll have Janice bring you some Tylenol. Drink lots of fluids. Get some more rest. I’ll check back in another hour.”

      “Wait. I have questions. You can’t leave yet.” She wanted more information than that. “How did I get here? Where did this bruising come from? Why am I hooked up to a heart monitor? How long was I unconscious? And why?”

      His phone began to buzz again. He clenched his jaw as he looked at the screen and silenced it. “Sorry. Friends back in New York who think I’m available 24/7. Not important. Again. And that’s a lot of questions. I thought the doctor always asked the questions.”

      “You can’t expect me to just lie here and not know what happened.” She met his steady gaze.

      “I might if I think that’s what’s best for you.”

      What? Who did this doctor think he was? Was he really not going to tell her anything? “At least tell me what day it is.”

      “It’s Thursday,” he said, following it up with the date.

      “Thursday,” she repeated. She leaned back into her pillow with a frown. It seemed that her memory was only missing most of one day. The damage could have been much worse...and yet it was troubling to think of those lost hours, especially given the injuries she’d sustained.

      “You look upset.” He stepped back inside the curtained area. “Worrying about your memory may only block it longer. Try to relax. Think about the things you did early this morning.”

      Abby shook her head. “Nothing. I don’t remember a thing. Please, isn’t there anything you can tell me about СКАЧАТЬ