The Apple Orchard

“In that case, you’ll want to find one to monitor your condition and help you treat the disorder with lifestyle changes.”

“My lifestyle is fine,” she said, and despite the extra oxygen, the monitor beeped faster. “I have no desire to change it.”

“There are risks—particularly to your heart.”

“My heart?” She swallowed, trying not to freak out again.

“Left untreated, your symptoms could result in heart damage due to cardiovascular stress. There are further tests for cardiovascular disease. Again, I would urge you to take this up with a physician.”

“What are you?” she demanded. “Chopped liver?”

The man had an intractable poker face. “It could be situational. What’s going on in your life?”

It was the first personal question he’d asked her. “Everything,” she said. “I’m missing what’s probably the most important meeting of my career. Some stranger showed up this morning with a crazy story about my... It doesn’t matter. I just need to pull myself together and get out of here.”

“You won’t get far if you don’t deal with this,” he stated. “I have a list of referrals for you. And here’s a pamphlet with some information on panic disorders. There are things you need to start doing right away in order to avoid lasting health effects....”

Wonderful, thought Tess. This was just too good to be true. In the space of a single day, she had found her grandfather, only to be told she was probably on the verge of losing him; she’d been informed that she had a sister she’d never met, and now this.

A Condition.

Five

In the bleak light of the emergency room, Tess put herself back together as best she could. A nurse came into the curtain area with some forms and more literature. His gaze took in her scattered belongings, the now-quiet monitors. She didn’t bother trying to find a mirror; she knew without looking what she’d see—a wrung-out woman with donut powder on her clothes, bed-head and no makeup. Who wanted to see that?

“Is someone coming for you?” asked the nurse.

“What, for me?” Tess frowned. “Nope, don’t think so.” Jude had come along with that guy, with...Dominic. She hadn’t seen either of them since she’d been wheeled into the curtain area next to a guy with matted hair, raving about the apocalypse.

“Maybe you could call someone,” the nurse suggested.

“A taxi,” she said. “That’s all I need.”

He regarded her for a second, then drew the curtain aside. “Good luck. Call if you need anything.”

“Thanks.” She felt slightly dazed, or maybe disoriented. In the waiting area, anxious people sat in molded plastic chairs or paced the tiled floor, clearly anxious for news of their loved ones. A quick scan confirmed that neither Jude nor Dominic had stuck around.

On the one hand, it was a relief to get out of this place. Yet on the other hand, she couldn’t deny the fact that it was kind of depressing, having no one to bring her home from the ER.

Shouldering her heavy bag, she looked for the exit, feeling resolute. She didn’t need anyone. She needed a cigarette in the worst way.

No more smoking. That was in bold type on the doctor’s list.

The hell with him. She was going to find a convenience store. She was going to buy a pack of the nastiest cigarettes she could find and—

“Everything all right?” Dominic Rossi appeared before her. His coat was unbuttoned, his hair mussed, as though he’d run his hands through it repeatedly.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Waiting for you.”

“Why would you wait for me?”

He regarded her with complete incomprehension. “I brought you here. I’m not about to ditch you.”

She was startled to hear this from a complete stranger. Even Jude had taken off when it was clear she wasn’t knocking on heaven’s door.

“Oh. Well, okay, then. I’m supposed to pick up something from the hospital pharmacy.”

“It’s this way.” He gestured down a gleaming corridor. “I’ll wait here.”

“You don’t—”

“But I will,” he stated simply.

Surrender, Tess, she told herself. For once in your life, let somebody help you. “Be right back,” she mumbled, and went to the pharmacy counter. A few minutes later, laden with more literature and pamphlets, she rejoined Dominic in the hospital lobby. It was hard to believe that only a short time ago, her heart was beating out of her chest. Seeing only concern in his eyes, she felt obligated to explain herself to him. “So it turns out I wasn’t on the verge of dying. I don’t know what came over me. Or rather, I suppose now I do. The doctor says I had a panic attack. I just thought it was an adrenaline rush. But it turns out it’s some kind of...disorder. How embarrassing.”

“That’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“I totally overreacted. I feel like a hypochondriac.”

“Those symptoms looked pretty real to me.”

“Yes, but—”

“Is beating up on yourself part of your therapy?”

“No, but—”

“Then go easy on yourself.”

It was odd—and a little depressing—to find compassion from a virtual stranger. Odder still that she found his words comforting. “That’s what the doctor said. He said a lot of things, like I’m supposed to learn what my triggers are, like what caused the symptoms, and try to avoid them.”

“And this was triggered by...?”

“By you, in case you hadn’t noticed. Therefore, you are to be avoided,” she concluded. Yes, that felt right. Wildly attractive guys tended to cause trouble—in her experience, anyway. “It’s not every day someone tells me the grandfather I’ve never known is in a coma, and on top of that, there’s a sister I had no idea existed.”

“Sorry. I thought you knew about Isabel.”

Isabel. She tried to get her mind around the idea of this whole hidden family, people she might have known in her life, if she’d been let in. Questions came in waves—how much of this did her mother know? Did these people know about Tess? “So I’ve just got the one sister?”

“That’s right.”

Isabel. What kind of name was that? The name of the favored child, raised in the sun-warmed luxury of a California estate, basking in her family’s adoration. Tess felt a quiver of anxiety. Apparently she and the sister shared the same father. Erik Johansen had been a busy dude before he died.

“And she knows about me.”

“Yes. She’s eager to meet you.”