“You raised three kids. How in the world did you manage?” Hannah rolled her eyes. “I felt like a field commander. Getting them fed, dressed and loaded into the car was quite a feat, because neither of them wanted to go to school.”
“Your niece is in sixth grade, right? Tough age for a new school—especially midyear.”
“I know. She was so nervous about walking into school—but adamant about me not going in with her. I’m praying that she’ll find some friendly faces in her classes.”
Connie offered a sympathetic smile. “Middle school years are the worst. And Cole?”
“First grade. Parents and guardians need to walk in with the younger kids, so I’m glad about that. I got to introduce him to his new teacher, and I saw a few boys I know from church, so I introduced him to them, too.”
Connie tapped the tip of a pencil against her lips. “You know, I think my neighbor has a first-grader. Maybe we can get them together for a playdate sometime.”
“That would be wonderful.” Hannah glanced at her watch. “I need to make a few phone calls, so I’ll be in my office.”
“Oh...and, Hannah?” Connie’s voice wafted down the hall. “So sorry to hear about your fire. I heard about it on the scanner.”
Hannah walked past the first four exam rooms to her office and stepped inside, feeling, as always, a little rush of pleasure at having this private space to call her own. At her first job, in the next town over, she’d shared a cramped office with the director of nursing. No windows, no extra space, and the dreary mustard walls had made each day depressing. But here she’d been allowed to decorate just as she wished.
The walls were now a bright ivory that made the most of the sunshine streaming through the two large windows facing the west. She’d found the L-shaped oak desk and matching wall of bookshelves at an estate sale.
She sank into the leather swivel chair behind her desk and flipped through the pile of message slips, copies of new doctor’s orders, today’s hospital admission list and assorted mail left in a pile on her desk, then listened to her phone messages.
It looked like a busy day, so far.
Eight scheduled clinic appointments, afternoon rounds in the small, ten-bed hospital wing, with four patients to see there, and two quarterly assessments for residents in the twenty-bed, long-term-care unit.
At the sound of footsteps coming down the hall, she looked up and smiled. “Connie, could you check with—”
But it wasn’t Connie who stood glowering at her from the open doorway.
“Gladys.” Hannah cleared her throat. “Is there something I can do for you?”
“Certainly not.” The woman breezed into the office and planted her hands on the back of one of the barrel chairs, her long, red-lacquered nail digging deep into the upholstery. “I’m no longer a patient at this clinic, to my relief.”
In her seventies, with the austere, patrician elegance of someone wealthy and powerful, Gladys never hesitated to make a scene, and never seemed to care who saw it.
At least there weren’t any patients waiting in the nearby exam rooms.
Hannah waited as the woman glanced around the office and sniffed her displeasure.
“I just wanted you to know that I’ve heard about your little debacle yesterday, and how you’ve risked the lives of those poor animals in your care.”
“Debacle?” Hannah blinked. “A shed on my property caught fire. No animals were even in it. Not one animal was harmed.”
As usual, the woman ignored her. “I’m appalled at your so-called rescue operation. Amateurs have no business placing homeless animals at risk. I’ve called the state inspectors—again—and expect they will be visiting you very soon. You will see, missy, that you aren’t so powerful as you think.”
She was back to harping on their unfortunate, shared past history. Again.
Dr. Martin, long since retired, had apparently caved to her every whim regarding her prescriptions—probably to ensure her hefty donations to the hospital continued. The hospital had profited well—case in point, the new hospital wing named in her family’s honor.
But Dr. Martin hadn’t done her any favors.
Powerful sleeping pills, antianxiety meds, pain meds—she’d been insistent on them all, and livid when Hannah had refused to provide refill prescriptions. That Hannah had alerted Dr. Martin’s replacements about the situation had been the last straw as far as Gladys was concerned.
When Gladys could no longer use her wealth to get whatever she wanted, she’d started going somewhere else for her health care. Hannah prayed it was someplace good.
“If you did call the state, that’s fine.” Hannah sighed. “As you know already, I have my nonprofit animal shelter license, as do the other two women in town who volunteer to help with rescues. We’ve each been properly inspected and approved, after meeting the required standards of care. We pay our annual fees.”
Gladys drew herself up, reminding Hannah of a huffy bantam hen. “We shall see about that. I know that—”
Connie appeared in the doorway, tentatively waving a slip of paper. “Excuse me—so sorry to interrupt. I have an emergency message from the doctor. Can you pick up line three? It’s urgent. And private.”
Gladys glowered at Hannah, then pivoted and strode out of the office, her high heels clicking down the hallway.
“Is that really a message?” Hannah asked dryly.
Connie swept imaginary perspiration from her forehead. “No. But I could hear that woman clear down at the reception desk and figured you’d want her gone before patients started arriving. What’s with her, anyway? Just because she’s on the city council doesn’t mean she can run roughshod over people.”
“She’s unhappy about a lot of things, I guess—but not about anything I can change. I just keep praying that she will mellow...or finally see the errors of her ways. But I’m beginning to doubt it will ever happen.”
* * *
By three o’clock Hannah was finished for the day and more than eager to pick up Cole and Molly at school.
She’d worried about them all day, hoping they liked their teachers and had found it easy to find some new friends and gain acceptance, so important at their ages.
She’d just said farewell to Connie and started out the door when she heard the phone ring behind her and the loudspeakers crackle.
“Code Orange—ER. Code Blue—ER. Code Orange—ER.”
A mass casualty, with at least one critical patient heading for the ER.
She turned around to find Connie gripping the phone receiver, her face white as chalk. “A van with a family of six kids. T-boned by a dually pickup at an icy intersection. One ambulance and three EMT units on the way. ETA fifteen minutes.”
Hannah hesitated.
Ethan was the only other adult the kids had met in this town, besides their teachers or, briefly, Keeley and Sophie, who would still be at work.
He was only one they would recognize and trust to pick them up at school.
But the risk was clear.
Would he recall this day, and use it to prove to the caseworkers that Hannah’s job made it too difficult for her to provide care for them in an emergency? Would he twist this to his benefit?
But there was no one else she could ask, and she’d have to deal with that later.
She whipped out her cell phone, checked the directory and scrawled a cell number for Connie. “Ethan Williams is the children’s uncle from Dallas, and he’s in town. Please call him. Ask him to pick up the kids at school, and give him the directions. Tell him I don’t know when I’ll be done here, but I’ll try to text.”
“But the schools—will they let a stranger do that?”
“Please call the school to explain. They’ll see the hospital number on their caller ID. But text me if I need to call them pers
onally.”
And then Hannah began to run.
* * *
His mission had been a success, despite wary assessments by the principals at both schools and their demand that he show his driver’s license.
Ethan looked at the two kids in his rearview mirror. “How was your first day at school?”
Total silence.
“Okay, what was the best part? There must have been something good.”
Not one peep.
“Something bad?” It was probably wrong to ask, but now he was curious.
“I hated it,” Molly ground out.
“Why?”
“It was just like when we moved back to Dallas last spring. Everyone looks at you like you’re weird or have a disease. They whisper to each other about it and stare at you. And I just want to die.” She shrugged. “You asked.”
“That bad, huh.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “I’m not going back there again. If you make me, I’m gonna run away, and then everyone will be sorry.”
“I see.” He kept a solemn face as he mulled over her words, sorry about her unhappiness but also amused at her childish logic. “So where would you go? It’s mighty cold and snowy outside.”
She glared at him.
“Well, then, how about you, Cole? What was the best part of today at school?”
“Chicken nuggets.”
“Anything else?”
“We couldn’t have recess outside, but we played dodgeball in the gym.”
“Sounds like a good first day to me.” He turned to look over his shoulder at the two of them. “Okay, then, now that you’re buckled in, where would you like to go? Are you hungry?”
Molly dropped her chin down to the backpack she held on her lap, face glum. Cole darted a glance at him then looked away.
“The thing is, I don’t have a key to Hannah’s house, though she might have one hidden somewhere outside. But she isn’t answering her phone so I can’t take you out there just yet.”
The backseat remained silent.
“So what do you think of this? Hannah said the pony’s feed was lost in the fire, and I don’t think she’s had time to buy more. So, we could go to the feed store outside of town and buy some sacks of whatever it is that Penelope eats. Then we could go to the malt shop and get whatever you want.”
“Could we play a game there?” Cole’s voice was barely audible, but the hope in his eyes touched Ethan’s heart.
“Of course. And after that we could go back to that hardware store and see if we can find us all some ice skates. I saw the rink in the town square on my way to pick you two up, and it looked pretty nice. What do you say?”
Molly fidgeted. “I don’t know how to skate.”
“I don’t, either,” Cole piped up.
“Neither do I, but I’ll bet we can learn.”
“What if kids from school are skating?” Molly pleaded, clearly thinking it would be a social disaster. “They’ll think I look really dumb.”
After he finally coaxed an agreement from both of them, he drove to the feed store, where the clerk knew Hannah well and looked up her account to figure out which feed Ethan needed to buy.
At the malt shop, the kids each ordered hot-fudge sundaes with extra whipped cream, then only ate half before going back to play the pinball machines.
From the sounds of the chimes, they weren’t scoring, but at least they seemed enthralled by the colorful lights.
Keeping one eye on the kids, Ethan opened the new paperback he’d bought today, but his thoughts kept straying to the call from the hospital receptionist.
A horrific accident.
Victims being stabilized, four leaving the local hospital by helicopter. Several surgeries being dealt with here...and Hannah was in the thick of it.
He hadn’t realized what a range of services PAs could provide, much less that she was qualified to assist the doctor performing the emergency surgeries. But the receptionist had certainly filled him in, leaving him with the uncomfortable feeling that he’d been underestimating Hannah from the first time they’d met. Irresponsible? Flighty and immature?
Maybe back then, but she’d also been bright. She’d charted her course, buckled down and now carried a lot of responsibility on her delicate shoulders.
He could no longer discount her out of hand as someone who couldn’t handle the responsibility of taking on Molly and Cole.
Not that he planned to give up.
A group of kids came into the malt shop, laughing and jostling each other as they headed for the pinball machines. Molly and Cole promptly returned to Ethan’s side.
“You don’t want to play anymore? I could go over there with you, if you want.”
“No.” Molly shook her head. “Can we leave? Please?”
“Okay. Next up, skates at the hardware store.”
Which turned out to be more complicated than he’d thought, and a lot more expensive.
Still, the young clerk seemed knowledgeable and took his time fitting Molly and Cole with lightly used skates offering good ankle support, and found a well-used and abused pair of adult hockey skates for Ethan, as well.
A mother and her son were shopping at the same time. “If you’re going to skate at the town square, you should know that helmets are mandatory,” she said with a kindly smile. She showed him the red, white and blue helmet in her shopping basket.
He returned her smile. “Thanks.”
“I’m Margaret. And this is my son Trevor. I’d guess he’s about the same age as your daughter—sixth grade?”
The kid looked like one of the overly cute boy-band singers Ethan had once glimpsed on television. Apparently even Molly thought he was cute because she blushed a furious shade of red and looked away, clearly mortified.
“She’s my niece. And, yes, she’s in sixth,” Ethan confirmed. “Molly and her brother are from Dallas and just started school today.”
From the anguished sound Molly made, it seemed as if she wished Ethan would drop dead and the boy would disappear before she imploded from embarrassment.
“Well, that’s real nice,” the woman said, apparently oblivious to Molly’s groan. “I love your familiar accents. We moved up from Oklahoma two years ago, so your kids and mine have your Southern roots in common. Maybe y’all will have some classes together.”
The boy tipped his head and looked Molly over. “I saw you in Stone’s math class, and maybe English. I can’t believe I got Stone—I was really hoping I would.”
Molly lifted her chin a few millimeters, but didn’t quite meet his gaze. “I heard she’s really awful.”
He grinned. “Only if you don’t try. She’s actually way cool. She skydives and stuff like that. Sometimes she tells us about it in class.”
His mom touched his shoulder and tipped her head toward the cash register. “Trevor’s dad is waiting in the car, so we need to get going. Nice to meet you.”
Molly surreptitiously watched them leave, her eyes filled with awe. She let out a deep breath.
“So, looks like you made a friend,” Ethan murmured. “Maybe you’ll see him again at the ice rink or in school.”
“Uncle Ethan!” But her mortified tone certainly didn’t jibe with the glow in her starstruck eyes.
Chapter Ten
Hannah texted Ethan at five o’clock. When he didn’t answer, she tried again at five thirty and at a quarter of six.
Then she began to worry.
The past three hours had been hectic and tense. Frantic family members poured into the hospital and milled around the waiting room and hallway, desperately waiting for news about the three accident victims still in the Aspen Creek ER and those who had been airlifted.
Now that it was all over, Hannah zipped h
er coat and hurried to her SUV. After turning the key she waited a few minutes for it to warm up.
It had been almost three hours since the kids had gotten out of school, but there’d been no word from Ethan beyond a brief text telling her he’d successfully picked them up. Had he taken them to her house?
The other possibility made her stomach clench.
What if he’d taken off with them for Texas, and planned to petition the court with his urgent need to take over their custody?
She could call the sheriff, report them missing, but were they, really? With the SUV’s ubiquitous Minnesota plates and not knowing the license plate number, finding that vehicle in the Wisconsin-Minnesota area would be like finding the proverbial needle in a haystack.
Her pulse pounding, she pressed her gloved fingertips against her temples, willing away the beginnings of a headache. Please, Lord, let them all be here in town. Please.
She shifted into Drive and headed slowly toward Main Street, searching the parked cars on either side of the street near the cafés and restaurants. Nothing. Not even near the malt shop, or the busy town square, where she could see a colorful crowd gliding on the ice rink or...
She blinked. Circled the square again. Then began checking the dimly lit side-street parking surrounding the square while trying to call Ethan’s phone.
Her breath caught. There it was. A silver SUV, Minnesota plates. She veered to the side of the street, double parked and hurried to the vehicle. Sure enough, Molly and Cole’s backpacks were inside.
Relief made her knees weaken, followed by a surge of anger at Ethan’s thoughtlessness. He should have responded to her texts. She was the children’s guardian and he had no right to...
Be thankful, a still, small voice whispered. They’re here, and they are safe.
She took a steadying breath. Parked her SUV in the first empty spot she found and then strode toward the ice rink.
Safe or not, Ethan had definitely illustrated that he was still careless and irresponsible, no better than he’d been thirteen years ago. And once again she would learn her lesson well.
* * *
An Aspen Creek Christmas (Aspen Creek Crossroads Book 4) Page 10
