Page 34 of Distant Shores (Stapled Magnolias #2)

I bet Jillie would fix any damage he did first thing Monday morning. Something also told me that Jillie was the type to keep every variety of marker and pen at her desk, and I hoped I was right.

“Thank you,” I said with a smile when my suspicions were confirmed and he held up all three things I asked for. “I’ll bring the Sharpies back soon.”

He gave me the sadder version of the “implied greeting smile” and went back to his work without a word.

Fair.

The lobby was still brimming with people behind me, the couches and armchairs all taken, so I made my way down the hallway until I found a quiet bench and got to work.

The Beck duck already had glasses and “held” a paint palette on one wing and a brush on the other, so I got to work giving him shoulder length—wing length?—wavy hair with the Sharpies.

I held up the completed duck, inspecting my work.

It looked insane. I thought Beck would love it.

And hopefully Ireland would too.

Then I uncapped the black Sharpie again, propped my good ankle on my knee, and wrote my note to Ireland, bearing down on my thigh.

Coffee, Tea, or…?

It bothered me that I’d made pancakes without coffee to go with them this morning. Coffee was the one thing not included in our welcome baskets, and this was important information to have on my roommate.

And my future… friend. Or whatever.

Then I remembered her bringing her longboard into the Locc with her. What if she went back to the house without waiting for a ride? She shouldn’t be locked out of her own home, so I added:

P.S. Code is your bday

I pushed away my doubts and added one more quick “P.P.S” to that message.

After returning the Sharpies to the front desk, I followed the music again. Class should be over soon, and I was actually feeling kind of left out.

Pressing my hand on the dance room door, I felt its soft vibrations transfer to my palm as I listened to the muffled strains of a cover of Elvis’s “Are You Lonesome Tonight?”

Turning away from the door, I made it three steps toward the lobby before the door flew open behind me.

Delly barreled out of the room, her eyes wide as they landed on me.

“Addy, we need you in here. Someone’s hurt.”

I pushed the duck and note into Delly’s hands as a sense of calm fell over me, my thoughts tunneling to a singular purpose as I entered the room.

I took in the scene with one sweeping look.

Scene is safe.

“Go ahead and get the medic on call,” I told Delly, who was hovering behind me in the doorway. She nodded and disappeared, and I made my way to the front of the room, encouraging the other students to step back.

An older woman sat on the floor with her back against the mirror, a stone-faced Ireland kneeling beside her, murmuring to her quietly.

“Hello, ma’am,” I said loud enough to be heard over the music. “My name is Adair, and I’m a paramedic. May I have your name?”

The older woman moaned in pain. “Trish Beauregard. Patricia.”

Red-faced, diaphoretic, but no obvious signs of trauma. No blood.

“Okay, Miss Beauregard, could you tell me what happened?”

I felt Ireland’s gaze on me, and I met it briefly, offering her a small, reassuring smile.

She almost returned it, but then Patricia Beauregard spoke.

“ She happened,” she said, glaring bullets at Ireland.

I didn’t react in any kind of way. I’d been doing this job for years, and the biggest thing I’d learned? Embarrassment made people lie, placing blame on the closest, easiest target.

“Are you experiencing any pain now?”

“Oh yes, here,” she said, gesturing to bare calves.

I nodded. “Did you fall?”

“A bit of a tumble,” she admitted. “But I recovered! I’ll be forty-eight this year, can you believe it?”

No, I could not.

“I was just trying to get my steps right,” she continued, “but there was a foul energy in the room, making me lose count.”

She glared pointedly at Ireland again.

I deployed my professional smile, masking my annoyance. “Did you hit your head at all? Are you experiencing any dizziness?”

“No, none of that. It’s just the pain in my leg,” she said with a dramatic sniff. “I’m afraid to look.”

Using my crutch, I eased down to my knees.

“In your calf?” I asked, keeping a subtle, closer eye on her breaths.

A little fast, but normal and even.

“Yes, it was terribly sudden. Like my muscles were taken by the devil.”

“Lord almighty, Trish,” another old woman said, clopping forward on her dance heels. “You got a cramp. You’re not dying .”

“And bless your heart, Patricia Beauregard, but if you’re in your forties, then I’m a belly dancer,” another woman added.

I glanced at the mirror and spotted the naysayers easily, the only two left in the room.

Miss Lenny’s friends.

Lordy.

Delly returned with a young EMT wearing the Live Oak polo and tactical pants and carrying a medical bag hot on her heels.

“What’s the situation?” The girl—she couldn’t have been older than Delly—asked as she made it to us.

“Here,” a toneless voice said.

I looked at the mirror and saw Ireland’s reflection. She stood beside me, her hand stretched out in offering and her face carefully blank. I turned my head and met her blue gaze for a long moment, then took her hand.

She pulled, but I grabbed my crutch and braced it so it could take some of my weight. Ireland was strong, the muscles in her arms and legs obvious, but I was still pretty sure that if I gave her my weight, I’d just pull her down with me.

“Thank you, Indigo Girl,” I murmured, staying close beside her.

She didn’t respond, but she didn’t drop my hand immediately either.

At some point, the song had restarted, and with the room cleared, the crooning from the stereo sounded louder.

“Do you gaze at your doorstep and picture me there?”

“Sir?” The EMT asked, and Ireland jerked before she dropped my hand and stepped away.

I tracked her movements as she went to the stereo and turned off the music.

“This is Patricia Beauregard,” I said, my voice loud in the quiet room.

“A small fall during class only a few minutes ago. Stable and responsive. Alert and oriented. No relevant medical history. I didn’t get more beyond that without any supplies, so I suggest that you start from the beginning to be thorough. ”

The EMT stared at me blankly. She must be brand -new.

“Would you like me to stay with you?” I asked her, keeping my reluctance out of my voice as I subtly glanced at the mirror for Ireland, but she wasn’t in the room anymore.

It was only the three of us now.

Me, the deer-in-the-headlights EMT, and the woman in her seventies who blamed the devil for a leg cramp.

Lordy.