One Night in Texas. Linda Warren

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      His question, “Why?” blasted through her control with the force of a bullet, and it pierced through regions of her heart she’d kept safe. Safe from any emotions she might have had for him. Safe from admitting she was just as gullible as she’d ever been.

      * * *

      TWO DOCTORS IN scrubs and surgical caps walked into the room, preventing Angie from answering. Not that she had an answer she could share with him. She immediately went to the doctors.

      One looked down at the chart in his hand. “Ms. Wiznowski?”

      “Yes.”

      “I’m Dr. Lawson, and this is Dr. Robbins, a pediatric orthopedist.”

      They shook hands. “How’s my daughter?”

      Dr. Lawson looked over her shoulder, and Angie cringed. She knew what the doctor would ask next.

      “Are you the father?” he asked Hardy.

      Hardy stepped forward. “No. I hit her with my truck. She came out of nowhere.”

      The doctor nodded. “It’s commendable you’re taking responsibility.”

      “How is my daughter?” Angie didn’t know why the doctor was talking to Hardy. Erin was no concern of his. That wasn’t quite true, but she couldn’t admit that now.

      Dr. Lawson turned his attention to her. “Your daughter has taken quite a beating, but she’s young and has no life-threatening wounds.”

      Angie sagged with relief. “Thank God.”

      “But we do have some concerns. She has a bad cut on her head from hitting the pavement. We’ve used surgical tape to close it. She has two fractured ribs, but no internal bleeding. Our main concern is her leg. Dr. Robbins will discuss that with you. I just wanted to let you know she’s resting comfortably.”

      “Thank you. Can I see her?”

      “My surgical team is prepping her for surgery,” Dr. Robbins answered. “We need your permission to continue. The nurse will bring some papers in for you to sign.”

      “Okay. Her femur is broken?” she asked.

      “Yes. Severely, but I can operate and repair it. I’ll insert a lightweight titanium rod to stabilize the fracture.” He opened the file and drew as he talked. “It’s a new technique. I’ll make an incision on the top of her hip. Right about here.” He made a mark on the stick figure he’d drawn. “After I realign the bone, I’ll insert the rod through the center of the bone, which will then serve as an internal splint.”

      “Will she need a cast?”

      “No. We might put an immobilizer on her knee at first to prevent movement. These fractures take about six weeks to heal. In the meantime she’ll be on crutches so she can keep her weight off that leg. In a year, we’ll remove the rod.”

      “So the prognosis is good?”

      Dr. Robbins nodded. “Yes. I deal with a lot of femur fractures, and they heal beautifully, especially in young children. It just takes time.”

      Angie thought of the wonderful vacation they’d planned and how excited Erin was to see Disney World. Now they would be spending the summer at home, healing and trying to come to grips with what had happened.

      “Can I see her, please?”

      “She’s in a sterile area. You won’t be able to see her until after surgery.”

      “If she wakes up and I’m not there, she’ll be so afraid.”

      Dr. Robbins touched her shoulder in a reassuring gesture. “I promise you, you’ll be there when she wakes up.”

      “Thank you. How long will this take?”

      “Maybe an hour or so, depends how everything goes. I’ll come back and talk to you when it’s over.”

      The doctors walked out, and she felt more alone than ever. But Erin was going to be okay.

      She took a deep breath and turned to deal with Hardy. “Erin is going to be okay. You don’t need to feel guilty anymore.”

      “I know your ex-husband isn’t part of your life anymore, but shouldn’t he be notified?” he asked as if it was his right to do so.

      “That’s none of your business.”

      “No matter what your relationship is, he has a right to know his child has been injured.”

      She hated it when he took on his lawyer persona and kept probing until he got the answers he wanted. But he would be the last person she would tell about Dennis Green, her married-in-haste ex-husband.

      “I’ll take care of it.”

      “I’d like to try to explain. I need to explain.”

      She also hated that honorable streak in him. Before he’d left for Europe, she’d seen him in town and they’d sat on a bench at the courthouse and talked for a few minutes. He had apologized once again for what had happened and wanted her to know how much he liked her and he wished her all the best in the future. Being young and incredibly naive, she’d wanted words of love and marriage.

      When she’d found out she was pregnant, her first thought had been she had to tell him. But Hardy had been in Europe, and she’d had no way to get in touch with him. She’d kept praying Rachel would call and then she could talk to Hardy, but the call never came.

      She had agonized over how to tell her mother—her very strict, religious mother. Patsy and Peggy, her twin sisters, were in Temple going to beauty school. She’d joined them there to attend Temple Junior College and take accounting courses. It had been her way to escape a confrontation with her mother and to escape the gossip, if only temporarily. Still, she couldn’t sleep or eat. She’d been a mess. Then she’d met sweet and kind Dennis, and her world had righted itself.

      A nurse entered the room with some papers and a clipboard in her hand. She looked at Hardy. “Mr. Wiznowski?”

      Angie wanted to scream with frustration. Why did they think Hardy had anything to do with Erin? Because he does. He is her father. He just didn’t know it.

      The truth of that opened the blinds she’d firmly kept shut against such observations. Eighteen-year-old Angie had thought she could save her pride and spare her feelings from being shattered by walking away and raising her child alone. That had been foolish. Twenty-eight-year-old Angie could clearly see that. The blinds were wide-open and the outside world was creeping in slowly but surely. Her day of reckoning had arrived.

      She had been six weeks pregnant when she’d heard that Judge Hollister, Hardy’s father, was back from Europe. He had been a judge in the small town for almost forty years. The thought of Hardy not knowing had bothered her, so she’d gone home early one Friday to talk to the judge in hopes that she could get Hardy’s number. Instead, he’d thought she wanted to talk to Rachel and made the call so they could visit. Looking back, she should’ve asked Rachel for the number. But Rachel had gone СКАЧАТЬ