Eye of the Storm

Lynley nodded. “You sleep with the door closed, not to mention the lights out.”

Kirstie sighed. “Sorry again, sweetie. You’re not old enough to be part of the sandwich generation. You don’t even have kids. And I’m not an old moldy piece of bread.”

“No, you’re not, so stop expecting me to throw you away like one.”

“That isn’t what I’m doing.”

Carmen Delaney, clinic director and a stalwart member of Kirstie’s shrinking band of trusted friends, opened the inner door and held it for them, keys still jingling in her hands. She had her silvery-blond hair pulled straight back from her face in a severe ponytail.

Carmen was the only forty-eight-year-old Kirstie knew who had a face pretty enough—and taut enough—to support such severity. Kirstie knew, however, that Carmen kept that rubber band tight to smooth out the lines that had begun to form. Soon she’d be bald, what with the bleaching and the tugging. Then what would she use to keep those wrinkles stretched?

Oh, that’s right, menopause time. Soon the fat will fill those wrinkled places quite nicely. Poor Carmen was in for the shock of her life anytime now, if she hadn’t already learned something from Kirstie’s and Nora’s shared experiences.

“Kirstie, honey, you gave us all a scare and a half!” Carmen said. “Lynley, how’s she doing?”

“I can answer that question for myself, thank you very much.” Kirstie limped, barefoot and still dripping leaves and mud, onto the smooth wooden floor of the waiting room. “I’m not elderly yet. I can swim, apparently, even when I’m out of my mind.”

“You mean you found a place along Capps Creek deep enough for swimming in this drought?” Carmen asked.

“I found her at the edge of the mill pond,” Lynley said.

Kirstie held her arms out and looked at the mud. “Don’t ask me how it happened. I came to myself up on a cliff somewhere just before the ground gave way.”

“Did you get hurt?” Carmen asked.

“No. I’m fine. It’s just a little blood.”

“We’ll find out as soon as we get her into the exam room,” Lynley said. “I expect Megan’ll come racing up any moment.”

“Why bother Megan for a few cuts and bruises?” Kirstie said the words, feeling like a fraud. She wanted Megan here more than Lynley did, though at the same time, she hesitated to consider dragging Megan into this mess more deeply than she already was. Something was going on with her, and she didn’t seem able to talk about it to her closest friends. Although Megan was one of the strongest and most resilient young women Kirstie had ever known, this kind of pressure might overwhelm even her.

“I could just wander back to an exam room and take a look at these feet myself,” Kirstie said. “Then I can walk home if someone will loan me some shoes.” She knew that would never go over, even if it was only a few blocks away. “Then you can all get to work on the real patients.”

“No real patients for an hour,” Carmen said. “Megan won’t want you walking home. She may even decide to keep you here for observation.”

Kirstie grunted. Not if her plan panned out. Of course, in order for that to happen, one had to remain in one’s right mind.

“She’ll need to see if you inhaled any of that creek water,” Carmen said.

“More likely silt.” Lynley’s voice continued to tremble.

“Oh, sweetie,” Carmen said, wrapping an arm around Lynley—something Kirstie should’ve done. “She’s going to be just fine. This may be just what we need to convince Megan to run some tests of her own.”

“She turned us down, remember?”

Kirstie hated that tremor in her daughter’s voice. “She had her reasons, sweetie.”

“What reason could she possibly have had to turn down—”

“None of our business what the reason is.” Kirstie met Carmen’s gaze of understanding, then patted Lynley’s cold, moist cheek. “But I expect it has something to do with wanting me in more experienced hands. You want someone placing their whole life, their future, all their hopes in your hands when you aren’t a specialist in the field? You want to be responsible for that kind of burden?”

“But you’re not going to either of the other specialists.” Lynley’s voice no longer trembled, but there was a hint of rancor in place of the agitation.

It seemed that ever since Lynley arrived back in Jolly Mill, her emotions had swung from fear to anger to grief. She didn’t know how obvious it was to everyone that she had begun the grieving process. Kirstie wished she could swallow all that pain for her precious daughter, but her own emotions kept getting in the way.

“Don’t tell me you’re blaming Megan for that,” Carmen said. “Honey, if you ask me, our Megan’s barely hanging on as it is. Did you see her face when she caught sight of Forrest the other day?”

“Who?”

“You know, as in Gump. The man with the wild gray hair who walks all over the place.”

“You’re talking about Kendall Ross,” Lynley said. “He looks like a homeless man, but he has a house and three kids and a wife.”

“I know, plus he has three cats and two dogs, but he looks homeless. Smells it too, sometimes, and he talks to himself.”

“So do I,” Kirstie muttered.

“Recovering addict, you know,” Carmen said. “Last I heard he was under house arrest.”

Kirstie fingered her mud-stiff hair.

“Anyway, Megan’s face went white as my refrigerator when he walked past the clinic a couple of days ago,” Carmen continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted. “That long, bushy, gray hair of his was flying every which way. Megan’s eyes teared up and she had to get to the bathroom quick. If you ask me, our poor Megan worked with the homeless a little too long and her heart just broke. She’s burned out at the age of thirty-two.”

“Wish she wasn’t living alone,” Kirstie said.

“I told her she could stay in my guest room,” Carmen said. “And Nora has that whole huge house to herself and begged Megan to move in with her and keep her company. Nothing doing. The best she could do was give Megan that isolated cabin in the woods.”

“Megan always did love that place,” Lynley said. “She has what she wants.”

Kirstie glanced out the window and saw a bright yellow car flashing through the shadows of trees overhanging the road. Hmm. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad situation, after all. Quite a way behind the yellow Neo came another car, bright red, and Kirstie suppressed a smile. If she wasn’t mistaken, the cavalry had arrived. Thank you, Jesus!

“She’ll have to at least weigh in on your case now, won’t she?” Carmen asked, voicing Kirstie’s thoughts as she stepped up beside her at the window.

“Nope. Let’s lie low for a bit, okay? She doesn’t need that right now.” Such a hypocrite, Kirstie.

Carmen gave Kirstie a once-over. “Wouldn’t hurt you to get some street clothes on.”

“She’s not walking home, anyway,” Lynley said. “I’ll drive her.”

Kirstie looked down at her mud-caked nightgown. “I’ve decided to make a new fashion statement. I call it ‘Blackout Chic.’ I might as well capitalize on all the attention my loving daughter keeps sending my way.”

“Mom,” Lynley warned. “You want me to just let you wander out in the forest like a wild animal?”

“Wild animals should be caged to protect themselves.” Kirstie sucked on her tongue to corral further hurtful words.

“I can’t believe you said that.” Tears once more filled Lynley’s eyes.

“Girls,” Carmen said, “you could both use a little color, a little foundation, some eye-popping makeup. Want to borrow mine for the day?”