Page 18

Why couldn’t she understand the value in her work? Why had she quit as an EMT if she truly believed nothing mattered as much as healing the body? It didn’t make sense.Shedidn’t make sense, and no matter how he turned it over, like a jeweler holding a gem to the light, he couldn’t understand why the façade refracted strangely. She reminded him of a confused defensive line; trying to make meaning out of meaninglessness and everyone ended up out of step.
The low rush of the creek filled the echoing space around them, the leaves rustling in the slight breeze, and a chickadee chirped in a tree. She crossed her arms, tucking her hands close to her body until she stood stiff and still. The silence spooled out between them. Her eyes flitted to the trees, the glittering stones in the pavers beneath their feet, past his ear, then darted away again.
“Who’s Will?” The words were out before he could call them back and she jerked.
Her jaw tightened as her teeth ground together, and Scott shivered at the sound, like nails on a chalkboard. Her eyes turned hard, boring into his with fire and fury as she hissed, “Where did you hear that name?”
He lurched an involuntary step back. “Dr. Hastings mentioned it. We were talking about why I switched Dylan to his office, and he said you’d never liked Dr. Cunningham. Not since... Something about an internship?”
“Tom’s always been an ass.” Her face twisted with her bitter tone. “He’s only ever been in it for the money, the prestige. He’s never cared about helping people. He wants to be the most important person in the room, and if anyone doesn’t think he is... Well, he’s small-minded and petty enough to make sure they regret it. The Board saw through him, though. And he never got over it.”
Scott nodded. Paused. “And Will?”
She froze, not breathing for a long second, then two, then three, until her chest heaved wildly on a ragged inhale. She closed her eyes, her lips moving with silent words.
Scott saw the exact moment she got herself back under control; her breathing steadied, her lips stilled, her eyes opened again, flat and remote. “He was my husband.”
A bare whisper of sound, little more than the susurrating breeze, and he wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly, at first. Then, she continued in a louder voice, but one devoid of emotion, reciting facts, clinical. “He died. Three years ago. He was a pediatric oncologist—a cancer doctor for children.”
“Here?”
She nodded.
The missing piece slotted into place. It explained her deep ties to this hospital, to these kids. It explained why she believed only the doctors—the researchers—mattered in the long run.
“I’m so sorry, Abby.”
“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.” She said this in the same, dead voice. Rote. Memorized.
“What happened? Or do you not want to talk about it?” Scott cringed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be insensitive. You don’t have to answer.”
She wandered away a few steps. Her hands clenched and unclenched, turning over each other.
“He’d been working late, trying to finish up a paper before the publishing deadline. A drunk driver ran a stop sign and clipped his bumper, spinning him over the edge of a ditch and into a tree. He was thrown...” Her breath stuttered again, but she swallowed and continued, voice steadying as she spoke, the distant, clinical tone returning. “He went through the driver’s window. When we got there, the police were already on scene, directing us toward the victim. We could barely see anything through the pouring rain, but his head... There was blood everywhere, and there had been significant cranial trauma, as well as multiple limb fractures.”
“Wait,we? Oh, my God. You were there?”
Abby nodded, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper and tears flooded her eyes. “I didn’t see the car. I didn’t... I didn’t recognize... him. I thought it even then:I’ve never seen an accident this bad. He’s not going to make it.And he didn’t. He died a few hours later.”
“But you were with him, right?” Scott found himself wishing it. For her sake, he couldn’t imagine she might not have been.
“I was, yeah. They called me, once they ID’ed him. It took a while, but I made it at the end.” She coughed, a short, bitter sound. “First to treat him, first to say goodbye.”
“I don’t even know what to say. That’s why you quit being an EMT. That’s why you don’t drink.” They weren’t questions.
“Yeah. I couldn’t go back to work. I could barely leave the house.”
She stood, fingers plucking at the seams of her shirt, looking lost and forlorn. He wanted to hug her, pull her into him and hide her from the world, from her grief and pain. Would she let him? She’d been so careful. Kept some distance between them. But had that changed? Sharing such a deep part of her soul, would she let him comfort her?
“I’d like to hug you.” The words were awkward. They seemed silly out in the open, now. But she huffed a short breath through her nose.
“I could probably use a hug.”
He moved toward her, slowly, and opened his arms. She stepped into them, forehead falling against his chest, her breaths shuddering through her frame. After a few moments, the whipcord tension of her body softened.
Scott had no words. What could you say to such a story? It explained so much about Abby, and yet, at the same time, it left so many questions unanswered. Where had Gen come from? Was she even interested in dating at all, never mind dating him? Did she think him some kind of jerk for pursuing her?
He cleared his throat. “Listen, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I shouldn’t have pushed before. When we had coffee.”