Chapter 2
Chapter Two
W hen Ava woke up again, the late September sun streamed through the hospital room’s window, and the salty, savory scent of gravy or something similar turned her stomach.
“Well, Ms. St. John,” a nurse in scrubs said as she wheeled a cart with a covered plate toward her. “You’re awake!”
Ava groaned. Her muscles felt as if they’d been through a meat grinder.
“I’ve got some ice chips, and if you can handle those, we can drop a little soup on your tongue if you’re up for it.”
She grunted, her throat aching, and shook her head.
“No worries. I bring it in and wheel it out if you don’t need it. But it’s here if you want it.” The nurse maneuvered the cart near the bed. “I’ll get Dr. Watkins.”
Ava inwardly cringed, remembering the Coleman Media meeting.
The last time she was awake she’d been told it was Thursday.
She’d missed it. Her head pounded with the thought of Scott Strobel’s proud hello as he walked into the room to present her work.
What a disaster. Nevertheless, the meeting was only yesterday.
And it did still seem bright outside, so it couldn’t be too late in the day.
She might have enough time to salvage things.
Maybe they’d postponed it, given the situation.
She could get on the phone, tell them what had happened, and take a meeting from there.
She’d struggle to get the words out, but she could muster up the energy and make it happen—she was certain.
When the doctor came in, her lips parted to ask for her phone, but something else came to mind instead, distracting her. This balding man with a slight hunch to his shoulders wasn’t the strong doctor with the familiar name who had seen her last. Would he be back?
“Hello, Ms. St. John. I’m Dr. Watkins.”
She forced herself to focus.
“Hi. Could I make a call?” she asked, an awful rasp in her voice; half her words came out in a whisper.
Dr. Watkins gave her a placating smile. “We might want to wait on phone calls. I can contact your mother, if you’d like. She’s been here to see you this week.”
Ava’s eyelids were impossible to keep open, so she allowed them to close, but then what the doctor had said registered.
“This week ?” she croaked.
It hadn’t been a week. That was ridiculous.
She tried to sit up, but fell back against the pillows in response to the shooting pain in her torso.
Everything from the void came flooding back—the strange feeling of someone watching her.
The voice slammed into her mind: Find Lucas Phillips and live out the rest of your life.
But this time the voice wasn’t gentle; it was strong and steady.
What was the consequence if she didn’t? She was afraid to find out, since, apparently, her life depended on it.
“How long have I been out, exactly ?” she asked the doctor.
“About six days.”
Her breath caught. She didn’t even take off six days at Christmas .
Her work schedule had been packed with client meetings. Who’d taken care of her accounts while she’d been lying there all week ? Scott? No, please, no. He had no doubt been parading himself in front of all her clients, looking like the hero. If he got partner over her using her work…
“Try not to make any sudden movements,” Dr. Watkins said, laying a hand on her arm. “You’ve been through quite an ordeal.”
The doctor’s voice faded away as she slipped further into dread.
I’ve lost a whole week. Her notes were right on her desk, labeled as if she’d meant for Scott to use them.
She’d meticulously prepared all her accounts because her work over these next two weeks was for all the marbles—and she’d lost one entire six-day period!
She was standing behind the fifty-yard line, forced to make a game-winning punt.
If she wanted to win the title of partner against Scott Strobel, she’d have to scramble.
She tried to lift her head to examine the room. Where was her laptop? What about her phone?
“I’ll let your mother know you’re awake.”
Find Lucas Phillips… The voice pulsated in her mind.
Yes, she already knew she had to find Lucas.
But it was a little difficult right now.
Why was she being reminded that she needed to find him while she lay strapped down with IVs in a hospital bed?
Maybe God could somehow save her job if she found Lucas?
The voice had said, “ live out the rest of your life ,” and she was hoping that meant happily.
The only way she’d be happy was if she was promoted to partner.
Lucas might have something to do with saving her future.
It was a long shot and completely out of a sci-fi movie, but nothing since the car wreck had been normal.
“Wait,” she said, stopping the physician as he was leaving the room.
He spun around .
“That other doctor—that I saw last week, who filled in when you had an emergency—was his name Dr. Phillips?”
“Yes, that’s his name.”
“Is his first name Lucas?”
“Yes.”
Her heart dropped into her stomach. Nooo .
This couldn’t be. Was she dreaming? There was no way both she and Lucas Phillips had moved to New York City and happened to be in the same exact hospital at the same time.
Ridiculous. But as she tried to make meaning of the situation, it occurred to her that maybe the voice wasn’t talking about her old friend but a different Lucas Phillips.
“Find Lucas Phillips and live out the rest of your life” could mean that was the name of the doctor who was supposed to make her better.
And then she could get back to her life. Yes. That had to be it.
Dr. Watkins cocked his head to the side. “I’m glad your memory is strong. We’ll get you set up for some tests to double-check your cognitive function, but it sounds like you’re remembering recent events well.”
She didn’t care about any of that. She needed the doctor who was supposed to save her so she could get back to work and straighten everything out at McGregor Creative. She and Allison were going to have a dinner party to celebrate when her friend got back from Breckenridge.
“Where is Dr. Phillips? Can I see him?”
The doctor frowned. “He doesn’t work here anymore.”
“What? He was just here a week ago.”
“I had an emergency surgery, and he took over your care on his last day.”
You’ve got to be kidding me .
“Where did he go?” Ava asked.
“He moved states. I believe he took a new job with his fiancée.”
“Which state did he move to?” she pressed. Her entire life, most likely, and not just her career success were hanging in the balance.
Dr. Watkins grimaced. “I’m sorry, I’m not at liberty to give away personal information.”
She didn’t have time for this. She had real work to get done.
And Lucas Phillips might have a hand in making it happen.
Not to mention she had no idea of the outcome if she didn’t find him.
The voice had said, “ Find Lucas Phillips and live out the rest of your life .” Did that mean that if she didn’t find him, she wouldn’t live out the rest of her life?
How long did she have to fulfill this promise she’d made?
Was there a heavenly hourglass slowly draining of its sand?
“I need to know where he is,” she said, flustered. She yanked the pulse oximeter off her finger and began picking at the tape on her IVs to take them out.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. You haven’t been cleared for that. You need to keep those in.”
“Nope. What I need is to get out of here right now. I’m fine.” She sat up, still fiddling with her IVs through a wave of dizziness that overtook her as pain speared across her torso. “Let me out of here.”
She didn’t care that her legs might not hold her when she stood up.
She had to try. There were bigger things at work here, and she must find Dr. Phillips.
What if she had some injury that no one but him could diagnose?
Some source of internal bleeding, and if she didn’t locate him she’d keel over on the spot?
She yanked on the plastic binding, her skin stinging.
Dr. Watkins jogged toward her while he radioed on his walkie talkie. “Code Green.”
Ava got the tape off, winced, and pulled the needles from the crease in her arm.
A nurse rushed into the room and ran to the counter, filling a syringe.
She approached the bed, and Ava tried to bat her away, but another two nurses had arrived and locked her arm in their grip. The needle went under her skin, and she was out again.
When Ava came to, a new set of IVs was in, and the lunch cart was gone. Her mother, Martha Barnes, was sitting in a chair in the corner, by the window.
“They called me when you woke up agitated,” her mother said, putting her fingers over her lips, tears in her eyes.
Her gray hair was styled a little shorter than when Ava had seen her last, but she was wearing a pair of jeans and a casual button-up like she always did. She put her novel into the most adorable quilted tote made of varying shades of silver and white satin.
“I love your bag,” Ava croaked.
It was good to see her. Ava attempted to count the months since they’d been together, but it hurt her head too badly to get anywhere with the math.
Martha smiled. “Thanks. I made it myself.”
Ava swallowed against a dry, sore throat. “Did you get a haircut?”
Her mom patted her bob and tucked one side behind her ear. “Yes, Tuesday before last. I thought it might be a good look. What do you think?”
Ava nodded, tension in her neck. “I like it.”
Martha grabbed the arms of the chair and pushed herself to a standing position. Then she walked to Ava’s bedside. “How are you feeling?”
“Like crap.”
Her mother chuckled fondly. “Honesty, your strong suit.” She sat on the edge of Ava’s bed. “You’re lucky. It was touch and go, but they stabilized you quickly, and by some miracle you didn’t suffer any internal injuries. No one can figure out why. It was unbelievable, given the state of your car.”
Goose bumps spread over Ava’s skin. …live out the rest of your life. It was almost certain they’d missed something. How long did she have to find Dr. Phillips before she succumbed to her hidden wounds?
“How’s the driver of the other car?” she asked her mom.
“A lot worse off than you. He’s in ICU.”
She let that sink in. Where had he been going so quickly that he’d needed to put them through this? If it weren’t for him, she’d be partner already.
How life could change in a second…
She took stock of her limbs, wriggled her toes, inhaled deeply—her lungs were working. Was it all in her mind? Had she really somehow actually managed to escape injury?
“So you think I’m okay?”
“Yeah.” Martha shook her head, disbelief on her face.
“It’s incredible. You have a fracture in your skull and some pretty deep lacerations on your torso that caused you to lose a lot of blood.
And you’ve got a couple of broken ribs, which they say will heal on their own.
Other than that, you’re badly bruised and swollen, but everything else is fine. ”
They had to be missing something. Why else would she need to find Lucas Phillips? Wasn’t he supposed to have some hand in saving her life? Unless his purpose was solely to save her job, which would make total sense since that was her whole life.
Or there was the more feasible idea that she’d been hallucinating, and she really didn’t need to find him at all.
Maybe everything had been in her head and the crash scrambled her brain more than they realized.
But a tiny ping in her gut told her otherwise.
She’d always found success by following her gut. Why should she stop now?