Chapter Five #2
“Don’t be. You were thrown into the deep end.” Blair leaned over and helped her sort the morning’s sign-in sheets into some kind of order. “Wednesdays are our busiest day. We’ll all help you as much as we can.” She waited until Sara looked at her. “You’re doing fine.”
Sara let out a small breath. “I appreciate it.”
Blair squeezed her shoulder, picked up a chart and called the next patient back.
The morning found its rhythm after that.
Not a comfortable one, but a rhythm all the same.
They moved patients through as quickly as they could without making anyone feel rushed.
Blair had just settled into an exam room with Mr. Talbot when she heard it from the front.
A voice, loud and sharp, the particular tone of someone who had decided that volume was a substitute for patience.
“I’ll be right back,” she told him and stepped out.
Sara was backed against the desk, clipboard pressed to her chest, while a heavyset woman in a floral jacket leaned over the counter at her.
Blair moved in beside Sara without breaking stride. “Mrs. Carpenter. There’s no need for that.”
“I have been waiting for over an hour.”
“As you can see, so have a number of other people.” Blair kept her voice even and gestured toward the waiting room, where a dozen faces had turned to watch.
“None of them are causing a scene. We’re short staffed today and doing the best we can.
Patients with appointments are seen first. You walked in. ”
The woman’s jaw tightened. “Where’s the pregnant girl? She’s always on the ball.”
“She’s in the hospital.” Blair held her gaze. “She had her baby this morning.”
That landed. Mrs. Carpenter blinked.
“If you can sit down and wait your turn we’ll get to you as soon as we’re able. But if you can’t do that, I’d ask you to come back another day after making an appointment.” Blair paused. “Your choice.”
The woman held the stare a moment longer, then turned without a word and went back to her seat.
Blair glanced at Sara, who was wide-eyed.
“You okay?”
Sara nodded. “How do you do that?”
“Years of practice.” Blair picked up the next chart. “Call me if it happens again. Maya will be back in a few minutes and she’ll help you.”
“Thank you,” Sara whispered.
“You’re welcome.” Blair was already heading back down the hall to Mr. Talbot.
By the end of the day her shoulders felt like they’d been carved from granite. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as the last of her colleagues gathered their things and filtered out to the parking lot. Blair stayed at her desk, hunched over her keyboard, working through the day’s entries.
What a day.
She glanced toward the front desk. Poor Sara.
By noon the girl’s ponytail had been coming loose, mascara smudged beneath eyes that had gone from anxious to simply worn out.
Blair doubted she’d be back Friday and couldn’t blame her.
Charlene, their reliable fill-in with ten years of front desk experience, was already committed to the dental office across town.
Of all the days for Sara to get thrown in, she’d landed on a walk-in Wednesday with a packed waiting room and a phone that hadn’t stopped until four thirty.
Blair massaged her temples. If Sara didn’t come back they’d be starting over with someone new. Training, explaining the system, all of it, while Meridith was home with her newborn and six weeks of leave stretching ahead of her.
“Wonderful,” she muttered, squeezing every drop of sarcasm she had left into the word.
She pushed back from the desk, tugged her sweater on against the chill coming through the vents and made her way down the darkened hallway, checking doors and turning off lights as she went. The glass front door clicked shut behind her and she turned the key.
She crossed the parking lot slowly. No hurry now. She sank into the driver’s seat and sat for a moment with her eyes closed, indulging a brief vision of a hot bath, lavender, the particular silence of a house with nothing left to ask of her.
Her phone chimed through the speakers the moment she pulled out of the lot.
“Did you call Hud?” Celine’s voice filled the car, warm and straight to the point.
“I didn’t have time to breathe today, let alone think about calling him.”
“He’s in Whitefish on a case anyway. Might be worth waiting until he’s back.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Blair.” Celine’s tone shifted just slightly. “You are the most stubborn woman I know.”
“Runs in the family.” Blair exhaled. “I just need to get past being angry first. That’s all.”
“Okay. Fair enough. I actually called to see if you want to have lunch tomorrow.”
“Maybe. Depends on how it goes. Meridith had her baby this morning, so we’ve got a new temp, and she looked like she was drowning by noon.”
“Oh, say no more. Call me when you know. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
The call dropped and the silence came back, filling the car as Blair made the familiar turns toward home.
The neighborhood was quiet when she turned onto her street, the easy quiet of early evening when supper was wrapping up and kids were being called inside. The sky was still bright with that particular end of day light that made it seem like more remained than actually did.
She pulled into her spot, cut the engine and sat for a moment.
The trees lining the street had leafed out in the tentative way of early Montana spring.
The flower beds along the neighboring walkway showed color only in the leaves, the blooms still weeks away.
A robin was going at it from somewhere overhead, loud and self-important, unbothered by the chill still hanging in the air.
Blair grabbed her bag and climbed out. The breeze had a bite to it despite the sunshine, the kind of cold that reminded you May in Montana was still just a promise. Damp earth and wood smoke drifted thin and pale from somewhere down the block.
She found her key and let herself in.
She climbed the steps with one hand trailing the rail, already pulling her scrubs top over her head before she’d cleared the landing.
She left a trail down the hallway, top dropped outside the bathroom door, pants stepped out of just inside, socks abandoned somewhere between the threshold and the tub.
By the time she’d turned the faucets on she was down to nothing, and she stood at the mirror a moment while the water ran, studying the tension still held in her jaw, her shoulders, the set of her eyes.
Long day, she told her reflection. Her reflection agreed.
She added a generous pour of bubble bath, the lavender rising immediately with the steam, and watched the foam build while she unpinned her hair and shook it loose.
She twisted it back up and pinned it on top of her head to keep it dry.
The bathroom warmed quickly, the mirror beginning to fog at the edges.
When the tub was full she turned off the faucets and stepped in slowly, letting the heat climb up her legs, her hips, the small of her back, then lowered herself the rest of the way with a long exhale that felt like it had been waiting inside her since approximately eight that morning.
The bubbles rose around her shoulders. The heat worked into her muscles with quiet persistence, unknotting what the day had pulled tight. She leaned her head back against the folded towel she kept on the rim for exactly this purpose and closed her eyes.
The robin outside had finally gone quiet. The house had no sounds in it worth noting. The water shifted softly when she moved and was still again.
She stayed that way for a long time. Not thinking about Sara or Mrs. Carpenter or the stack of entries she’d triple checked before leaving. Not thinking about Celine saying stubborn with that particular affection that made it land like a gentle accusation.
Not thinking about Hud.
Or trying not to, anyway.
The water was beginning to cool by the time she finally reached for the towel.
****
Thursday morning, Hud drove up a tree-lined street where spring buds were just beginning to unfurl, the mid-May air still carrying winter’s chill. He squinted against the pale light, checking house numbers as they passed.
“Nice area,” Creed said.
“Should be right up here.” Hud pointed toward the cross street. “Blue one with the white shutters.”
Creed leaned forward. “That’s it.”
Hud pulled to the curb and cut the engine. The small house sat tidy and still, hedges neatly trimmed, flower beds waiting on warmer days.
“Give me wide open spaces over this any day,” Creed muttered.
“Some people love it just as much as we love those.”
“True enough.”
They checked their weapons and climbed out, boots hitting pavement still damp from the morning frost. They crossed the porch past its empty hanging baskets and Hud knocked. The sound carried in the quiet street.
The door opened. A man stood in the frame, eyes dropping to their Kevlar vests before rising to their faces. Mid-fifties, heavyset, the kind of man who looked like he’d never done a hard day’s physical work in his life.
“Something I can help you with, agents?”
“Mr. Whittingham?” The man nodded, shoulders going tight. “Agent Hudson Anderson. This is Agent Creed McBride, Montana Department of Livestock. We’re here to speak with Carla Whittingham.”
“Please, come in.”
They removed their hats and wiped their feet before stepping inside. The house smelled of coffee and cinnamon. Family photos lined the walls, a blanket draped over an armchair, the inside as carefully kept as the outside.
“I’ll get her for you. Living room’s just there.” Mr. Whittingham gestured to a softly lit room on their right, then moved down the hallway, his footsteps heavy on the hardwood.
Hud and Creed settled onto the sofa, which sank beneath their combined weight. When the woman appeared in the doorway a few minutes later, both men rose.