Rebecca’s Cove

Chapter 3

“Okay,” her assistant began as she closed the door to Hobie’s private office, “tell me everything and don’t skip over the juicy bits.”

Hobie laughed. Laura had made it her personal mission in life to see Hobie involved with someone...anyone. When Hobie had confided that she had a romantic experience in Chicago, Laura was ecstatic.

She and Hobie had been friends for years. The wisecracking young woman hadn’t been born on the island, but when her parents retired, they had moved to Ana Lia. As soon as Laura finished college, she made the island her permanent home, too. When Hobie had started her practice, Laura showed up at the door waiting to be hired. They had been best friends since.

“Trust me. It’s not that juicy,” Hobie said before relating the story.

“I can’t believe you were just gonna throw her out. Tall, dark, and gorgeous just doesn’t come along every day. What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know.” Hobie removed the wire-rimmed glasses that were always slipping down her nose. “All those years of Catholic school, I guess. The words ‘Whore of Babylon’ kept running through my mind.”

Laura laughed so hard she almost lost her seat. Eventually, she wiped the tears from her eyes and looked at her friend. “Hobie Lynn, you have got to loosen up, girl.”

“I know. I’m hopeless, aren’t I?”

“Nah. Hopeless would have been never kissing her in the first place,” Laura said with a wink. “Did you sleep in the same bed with her?”

“Well, at $250 a night, I wasn’t about to sleep in the bathtub. When I checked out, she was still snoring away. Besides, I think she was lying about who she was.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I looked her name up in every online book database I know. There isn’t one listing for a BJ Warren.”

“Figures. The cuties are usually jerks.”

Hobie smiled and looked at the ball of fur snuggled into a wicker basket on the corner of her desk. The only contrast to the snow-white fur was a coal black nose and two equally dark eyes. Hobie scratched under the dog’s chin. “Not all the cuties are bad, are they?”

A knock on the main door to the office caused both women to look at their watches. “Is Cheryl coming in to work today?” Hobie asked.

“Yeah, but not till eleven. Must be a patient. They’re starting early today.”

They both rose and walked into the large waiting room. Laura lifted the shade covering the glass door to reveal an elderly woman, her arms loaded with fliers.

“Good morning, dears.” The woman dabbed at her watery eyes with a dainty handkerchief.

“Are you feeling ill, Mrs. Emberly?” Hobie asked. “Only sick of heart, my dear. I lost my dear Petey.”

Laura and Hobie exchanged a look. Petey was the old woman’s toy poodle and her only companion since her husband had passed away. Petey, however, had lived long past his prime. He was nineteen years old, blind and deaf, had lost one leg to cancer, and was missing most of his tail due to a neighborhood Doberman that thought the poodle would make a good snack.

Petey wasn’t much in the frisky department, but he was a first-rate companion to the elderly woman. His sole job in life was to lie on a pillow next to her and wag his nearly nonexistent tail when petted. Since he had never appeared in any obvious pain or distress, no one had ever mentioned that perhaps Mrs. Emberly might want to consider sending Petey to that big doghouse in the sky. It was no surprise to either of the younger women that Petey had finally died.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Emberly. You should have called me,” Hobie said.

“Well, dear, I did have some of the neighbors helping already. Besides, I’m confident he’ll return.”

Mrs. Emberly fancied herself something of an amateur medium. She swore that she could communicate with the dead. On occasion, she came up with the oddest statements, which she said she received directly from those who existed on “the other side.” Once, she told Hobie that Winston Churchill was madder than a wet hen because FDR died owing him ten pounds. Those were the days when Hobie nodded and prayed that her own death would take her before senility did. There were times, however, when Mrs. Emberly knew things that would have been nearly impossible to know unless she had communicated with someone who had passed.

Hobie, who had lived on the island long enough to know better, never discounted anyone’s beliefs. She was an islander, and islanders had seen the strange and the impossible occur on Ana Lia. If Mrs. Emberly said she talked to the dead, then by gosh, that’s what her neighbors believed. Everything had its limits, of course, and that included Hobie’s gullibility.

Laura and Hobie chanced another glance at each other. They silently negotiated who would ask the inevitable question. Hobie could see that she had lost the coin toss.

“Return?” is all Hobie risked asking.

“Of course. You do think there’s a chance, don’t you?” The old woman looked so pitiful that Hobie and Laura instantly felt guilty over their desire to call the welcome wagon driven by the men in white coats.

“Well...” Hobie drew out the word, praying that some words of comfort and wisdom would come to her.

“Oh, I know what you doctors are trained to say, Hobie Lynn. Never give false hope. I understand, dear. That’s why I thought I’d ask if you would mind if I put one of these fliers in your office window. In case anyone sees the poor dear just wandering around.”

“Fliers?” Laura took the piece of paper. Hobie could see that her friend was going to burst into laughter at any moment. “In case Petey...comes back?” Laura asked in disbelief.

“Why, yes, dear. This is how it’s done, isn’t it?”

Suddenly, Hobie had a strange feeling. As if something was right in front of her, but she had been missing it the whole time. It hit her between the eyes just as Laura opened her mouth.

“Actually, Mrs. Emberly—” Laura began.

“Mrs. Emberly, when you say you lost Petey, do you mean that he wandered away?”

“Of course, dear. Whatever did you think I meant?” “Well, we thought—” Laura started.

“Exactly the same thing!” Hobie interjected. “We’d be happy to put this out front, and I’ll keep my eyes open when I go out on house calls.”

The old woman closed the door seconds before Hobie and Laura burst into laughter. “Oh, my God,” Laura spoke through her laughter. “I thought she meant—”

“Me too!” Hobie laughed. “I got a flash of Petey returning from the dead like something in a bad horror flick.”

The old-fashioned bell above the door jingled as the first patients of the day entered the office. “Enough fun for one morning, let’s get to it,” Hobie said.

“You got it, boss. Hey, remember, it’s your turn to go get lunch at the Cove today.”

Hobie winked at her friend and the two started their workday.

BJ placed the paper sack of groceries in the backseat of the open convertible. She felt like she was in a time warp. The narrow main street, along with the rest of downtown Ana Lia, was a nearly exact replica of the fictional town of Mayberry. The one and only stoplight threw her, though. She looked down the street and saw two or three cars quite a distance away, slowly making their way down the crisscrossing and complicated pattern of streets.

“The founding fathers obviously didn’t know what a right angle was,” BJ grumbled to herself.

Amoment later, she lifted her head to a tantalizing odor in the air. She spied the bakery across the street.

Preparing to cross the street, BJ looked up at the sign that glared accusingly down at her. She was fifteen feet or so from the intersection and the sign reminded her that there was no jaywalking or crossing against the light. “Are they kidding?” She looked down the deserted street. “I haven’t seen a sign like that since I was in the third grade.”

BJ shook her head as she stepped off the curb. “Yeah, right,” she said to the sign.

Hobie pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose one more time as she steered the old pickup with her other hand. She downshifted as she approached the turn onto Main Street. Her mind roamed and she wondered if she had told JoJo at the diner to double her order of fries.

After a quick glance at the green right-turn arrow, Hobie turned the wheel. Once more, she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. The sunlight blinded her for a split second and she blinked. At the sight of someone in the middle of the street, she brought both feet down hard on the brake.

Hobie felt that all action suddenly shifted into an odd mix of real time and slow motion, like a moviemaker’s special effect. She heard the squeal of her brakes as the truck’s tires worked hard to grab at the dry pavement. Thinking about it later, she decided that what she saw in the middle of that street was the product of a libido too long denied. In one instant, Hobie knew that whatever happened after that moment would set the tone for the rest of her life. She had no idea how or why she knew, only that it was a certainty.

A dark head snapped around and flashed startled gray eyes toward the oncoming truck. The glare of the sunlight reflected neatly off Hobie’s glasses, nearly blinding BJ.

The battered white pickup screeched to a halt scant inches before making contact with BJ, which wouldn’t have been a bad thing if Hobie had her foot on the clutch. However, she still had both feet on the brake, and when the truck stalled, it jerked forward, hitting BJ in the hip.

“Oh, my God!” Hobie cried out as she set the brake and jumped from the vehicle. “Oh, my God!” she repeated when she looked down at BJ Warren’s unconscious body.

George and Maggie, the owners of the local grocery, were the first to hear the commotion. They stood on the sidewalk outside their store, unsure of what to do.

“Call Mack!” Hobie shouted to the couple. George disappeared inside the store at once.

“God, please,” Hobie begged. “Please do not let me have killed her.” She kneeled beside BJ and located a strong pulse in her carotid artery. BJ’s right leg lay folded underneath her body. Hobie immediately diagnosed the break by glancing at the odd angle of the ankle.

“I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it! Is there someone out to get me in life?” Hobie cried out. She could already hear Mack’s siren.

In the meantime, Maggie came over and reassuringly stroked Hobie’s back. “It’s okay, Hobie Lynn. It wasn’t your fault. She was crossing against the light. Mainlanders...they never learn.”

Hobie nodded at the compassionate words. Maggie had no way of knowing that Hobie already knew the stranger. Neither did the grocer have any idea what was going through Hobie’s mind at that moment.

This figures. The only woman I’ve been attracted to in the last ten years and I go and run her over. God, I have a feeling this is going to be a very long day.

Hobie meticulously scrubbed her hands. She lost herself to her thoughts as she squeezed more Betadine soap into her palm. She added items to the to-do list in her head. She didn’t want to call her insurance agent...again. Her auto insurance premiums had increased three times in two years, and adding this incident certainly wouldn’t help.

She knew that she had the right of way, but considering that she and the woman lying in the next room had sort of a past, she would offer to pay for any expenses. Hobie hated dipping into the trust fund her father had set up for her, but she hadn’t touched it since paying off her student loans, so she figured she was entitled.

“We’re ready for you, Doctor,” Cheryl said.

Hobie jumped at the sound. She really had to calm down. “I’ll be right in.” Doc Elston wouldn’t have asked her to step in and set BJ’s leg if it hadn’t been a clean break and easily reduced. Hobie smiled, thinking that the doc didn’t want to cut short his vacation. It was a textbook procedure and there was a part of her that always enjoyed this aspect of medicine, stepping in to help someone.

Her brow furrowed as she wondered how she would explain to BJ exactly what happened. Her stomach twisted into an even tighter knot as she thought of who BJ was. How could she be Evelyn’s granddaughter? God, how could you do this to me?

The butterflies started another aerial attack in her stomach as Hobie entered the small surgery area of her office and saw BJ’s unconscious form lying on a table. She had given her an injection, and BJ had fallen asleep almost immediately.

Hobie’s hands uncharacteristically shook. She thought again of what had gone on in Chicago and how she would introduce herself to BJ when she awoke. She shook her head to dispel the negative energy. That was all it took to bring her focus back to the situation before her. She took a deep breath and began.

“I’m all finished here...Is she coming out of it yet?...Okay, don’t rush her...Lor, let me see that x-ray one more time...be careful of that hip...no, but she has a pretty nasty bruise there...”

BJ heard the soft voice of the woman from the hotel. Who is she talking to, and why are there other people in the hotel room with us? I remember that spicy, subtle scent of her perfume... God, how good she felt in my arms.

The perfume disappeared as a harsh antiseptic odor took its place. Where in the hell am I? An older, feminine-sounding voice replaced the gentle one in BJ’s mind.

“Baylor? Baylor? Wake up for us now.”

“Don’t call me Baylor,” BJ rasped, then coughed.

“Here, hon. Take a sip.” BJ felt a straw placed between her lips and she drank the cool liquid greedily.

“Not too much, Cheryl. Let’s make sure she’s back from Never Never Land first,” Hobie whispered over Cheryl’s shoulder. “Try calling her BJ.”

“BJ, open your eyes,” Cheryl instructed.

BJ did as she was told, mainly to find out what kind of dream she was having. As soon as she did, she was sorry. It was as if light and her ability to feel pain were connected. The day’s events came rushing into her conscious mind as quickly as the pain registered with her brain.

“Oh, God!” she groaned.

“Shouldn’t she have something more for pain, Doctor?” Cheryl turned to ask.

“Not yet. The shot is going to have to hold her for a bit. Lor, call Mack and tell him she’s awake.” Hobie turned back to Cheryl. “I don’t want to drug her up any more until we know exactly what we’re going to do with her.”

“Where in the hell am I?” BJ called out.

Cheryl was the first to answer. “You had an accident and broke your ankle. The doctor set and cast it for you. You’ll still be a little groggy from the anesthetic. We didn’t give you any more than you’d have for a tooth extraction, but the doctor figured you’d be more comfortable that way. Everything is just fine now.”

“I consider that a matter of opinion.” BJ leaned up on one elbow and looked down at the white plaster monstrosity attached to her leg up to mid-thigh. “So who is this Dr. Kildare who set my leg?”

Hobie knew it was now or never. She stepped forward into BJ’s line of sight. “Um, that would be me.”

BJ furrowed her brow. The woman looked familiar. “And you are?”

Hobie wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that. The question took her by surprise. In one hurried epiphany, Hobie understood she’d been granted her reprieve. BJ no more recalled Hobie than she remembered how many vodka gimlets she drank that night in Chicago. That realization didn’t exactly make Hobie happy. It should have, but at the same time, she was a little miffed, vacillating between profound thankfulness for her continued anonymity and righteous indignation for being so forgettable to BJ Warren.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Hobie said once she realized that BJ was staring at her unamused. “HobieAllen. Look, I’m so sorry for—”

“So, Doc, besides being in complete agony, what’s the damage here?” BJ groaned, not having grasped what Hobie was trying to say.

“Well, you broke your ankle. I set and cast it.”

“Gee, can you try not to throw so much technical jargon at me all at once?”

Hobie arched an eyebrow. “All right. Technically, you suffered an oblique fracture of your fibula with the dislocation of the foot. It’s commonly called a Pott’s fracture. It’s a common injury. As a matter of fact, it’s one of the most frequently injured areas of the ankle joint. It was rather textbook. About three inches from the ankle, you had a fracture to the fibula. In addition, the medial malleolus was broken off, but luckily the end of the tibia was not displaced from the corresponding surface of the talus. At the same time, the foot was everted and the muscles in the calf drew up the heel. I repositioned the foot by flexing the leg at right angles with the thigh, which relaxes all the opposing muscles, and by making extension from the ankle and counter-extension at the knee.”

BJ leaned on one elbow and stared in silence for a few seconds. “You know, nobody likes a show-off.”

“Sorry.” Hobie tried not to smile. She attempted to come up with a plausible explanation for what had happened and how she had been involved. She was growing sick to her stomach from the worry and decided to tell BJ the truth. Unfortunately, before she could come up with a sparkling and witty way to put it, the matter was pushed into the light by her patient.

“You look familiar. Where did you graduate from, anyway?” BJ grumbled.

“Where did I what?” The question took Hobie by surprise. She’d been so focused on explaining the circumstances of the accident that she wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly.

“You’re not going to say you didn’t graduate, are you?” BJ managed a smirk, even though the pain in her ankle had most of her attention.

“Of course not. I happen to be a fully licensed physician. But—”

“No, don’t say but. See, whenever there’s a but, there’s bad news afterward.”

“Well, it’s not like that, but—” “See, there’s that word again.”

“Okay, let me take another route with this.” Hobie rubbed her sweaty palms along her rough cotton scrub pants. She knew exactly why she was so nervous. Breaking the news to this woman was going to cause fireworks. Hobie knew it. She would tell BJ that she had been responsible for hitting her, then BJ would tell her grandmother, then Hobie’s medical license wouldn’t be worth a nickel.

“You are a doctor, right?”

“Yes, I’m a very good doctor.” Hobie wondered if she sounded as defensive to everyone else as she did to herself.

Cheryl and Laura exchanged glances with Hobie. Laura shrugged as if to say she couldn’t understand why their patient was so obsessed with Hobie’s credentials.

“You see, in a way, I’m actually two doctors.” Hobie smiled and was about to make the jest she used with all her patients.

“In a way? Like in the ‘I went to medical school and graduated’ way? Or the ‘I got my degree out of a box of cereal’ way?”

At that moment, an ear-splitting squeal pierced the air. It was evident that the howl wasn’t human. The sound came from the outer waiting room and left all four women in the surgery area in silence.

“What the fuck was that?” BJ shook her head as if the anesthesia still held her in its grasp. The squeal had sounded like a pig.

“Don’t worry, that’s just our next patient,” Cheryl said.

It wasn’t until that moment that Hobie realized BJ had no idea what kind of a doctor she was. Hobie took it for granted that everyone knew. When she looked up, BJ Warren was staring daggers at her. Hobie cringed. She could see her life falling apart in front of her.

BJ took in her surroundings as if for the first time. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on here?”

“I know this is going to sound a little strange. I am a doctor. Actually, I’m an MD and—”

“Where is your diploma?” BJ asked in a cold, flat voice. Hobie was proud of that diploma, but at that moment, words

failed her. She could only raise one finger to point to the wall behind the prone woman.

BJ craned her neck and read the framed document aloud. “Yadda, yadda...certifies that Hobie Lynn Allen...Veterinary Medicine...University of Flor—”

Hobie froze. She wished for an earthquake, a tidal wave, or any other natural disaster. She wanted nothing more than for the earth to swallow her whole and spit out the bad parts. When BJ turned back to face Hobie, Hobie swore she was looking into the face of a stranger. This woman’s angry gaze looked nothing like the sparkling gray bedroom eyes Hobie had been lost in only a day and a half earlier.

“Veterinary medicine?” BJ’s voice sounded strained, yet controlled as she spoke the words.

Hobie finally propelled herself into action. Actually, it was a lot more like backpedaling and groveling. “Okay, see, that’s what—”

“You’re a vet?”

The women in the office could hear the restrained voice beginning to shred at the edges.

“Technically, yes. But not just a vet. I—”

“Adoctor for animals?” BJ’s voice rose in volume and pitch. It was apparent the control was showing minute ruptures.

“Well, I wouldn’t—”

“A vet!” BJ shouted as any semblance of self-control ripped wide open and disappeared completely.

Hobie had been trying to get a word in edgewise, but BJ wouldn’t give her a chance to explain. Most people were impressed once she told them that she’d gone to medical school, then years later, studied veterinary medicine. Somehow Hobie didn’t picture BJ being impressed at all.

“Would you quit saying that like it’s some sort of crime?” Hobie finally shouted back.

“Crime? You people wouldn’t know a crime if it came up and bit you on the ass! A fucking vet just set my leg! That’s got to be breaking at least a dozen laws!”

“Let me explain—”

“You can explain to my lawyer!” BJ raved. Her leg slipped off the sandbags that held it in place and she groaned in pain.

Hobie rushed forward to assist. “Here, let me—” “Don’t touch me! Don’t you dare touch me!”

It was about this time that Mack, the local sheriff, walked into the room. “What the hell is going on back here?” He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with light brown hair that was speckled with silver and blue eyes. His physique strained against the tailored uniform he wore. He sported a large, well-trimmed mustache. For all his good looks, he was perhaps the last to know. His gentle smile and never-ending supply of wisdom suited him well for a job in law enforcement. His patience and sense of humor, however, made him the perfect sheriff for Ana Lia Island.

“Officer, arrest them.” BJ pointed to Hobie and her assistants.

“All of them?” Mack asked in confusion.

“Every last one of them. They’re all in on it, but especially her!” BJ looked menacingly at Hobie.

“Her, eh?” Mack’s mustache covered up most of his amused smile. “Hobie Lynn?” He looked down at the much shorter woman.

“Mack,” Hobie said dejectedly. Her day had started out so well. She wondered how it had gone so wrong so fast. She didn’t know whether to worry over her soon-to-skyrocket insurance rates, cry over the fact that BJ had found her thoroughly forgettable, or scream at the woman’s infuriating superior attitude.

“Well, are you going to arrest her?”

“What would you have me arrest her for, Ms. Warren?” “What for?” BJ shouted. “Look, Gomer, she performed a medical procedure without my consent, and to top it off, she’s not even a doctor! What the hell do I have to do—draw you a map?”

Mack took a deep breath. He had already spoken with Evelyn, and he knew all about Baylor’s infamous temper and outspoken attitude. Evelyn called her granddaughter “high strung.” Mack thought the old woman was being kind. He remembered BJ as a spoiled, self-centered young girl.

“First off, Ms. Warren, you were not treated without consent. I personally talked with your grandmother. Evelyn signed a consent form and Hobie even got a verbal consent from a...” He flipped open a small black notebook. “…a Juliana Ross.”

“How did you find Jules?”

“Her card was in your wallet.” Hobie stepped up to the gurney and held out the irate woman’s billfold.

“You went through my wallet?” BJ asked coldly.

Hobie realized that this probably wasn’t the best time to mention that fact. “I, um...I guess...”

Mack stepped over and placed a hand on Hobie’s arms. He gently pushed her back a step to stand with the others. “Don’t help any more, okay?”

“She’s not a real doctor!” BJ blurted out.

“On the contrary, Ms. Warren. Hobie is a licensed physician in the state of Florida.” Mack’s low gravelly voice had a way of making everything he said sound as though he was talking someone off a ledge.

“But she…I saw…” BJ pointed to the University of Florida diploma hanging on the wall.

“That’s right. She’s also a doctor of veterinary medicine. She doesn’t regularly treat patients, except for her animal practice. In an emergency, though, she steps up and gives us a hand. Doc Elston, the regular town physician, is on vacation. It was on his recommendation that Hobie set your leg. He said something about healing time and pain. So you probably should be thankin’ these people and not screamin’ at them.”

Everyone had been lulled into silence by Mack’s soothing voice. Hobie had known him all her life and she couldn’t ever remember him stringing that many words together at one time.

BJ, on the other hand, looked as though the top of her head was going to explode. Hobie could hear the words “thar she blows” in the back of her mind.

“You—” BJ raised a finger to the sheriff and met his frank gaze. “She—” BJ pointed to Hobie. “They—” BJ didn’t know where to begin with her accusations.

Hobie retrieved her wire-frame glasses from her scrub shirt pocket and put them on. As soon as she looked up, the sun, which was shining through a west-facing window, reflected off the lenses and into BJ’s eyes.

BJ remembered that she’d seen the same image right before the truck had hit her at the intersection. Hobie’s eyes met BJ’s and BJ froze.

“Y-you! It was you. I remember you now!”

Hobie realized that the game was up. BJ had finally remembered that she was the woman from the hotel room. “Yes, it was me,” she admitted in defeat.

“Arrest her!” BJ cried out again.

“I don’t think they can arrest people for that,” Hobie said in a soft, confused voice.

“Do your job, arrest her.”

“What for this time?” Mack looked as confused as everyone else.

“She’s the one who ran me over!”

Hobie didn’t know whether she should be relieved or frightened. BJ appeared so full of righteous anger that she looked like she was having a breakdown.

“Yes, Ms. Warren, she did hit you with her truck, but there’s not anything I can arrest her for.”

“Nothing? What kind of town is this? A fine. She should at least pay a fine.”

“What kind of fine?” Mack chuckled and Hobie glared at him for egging BJ on. BJ was so intent on Hobie’s punishment that she hadn’t noticed Mack was patronizing her.

“Hundreds...thousands of dollars!” Everyone in the room could see that BJ was losing it.

“Now wait just a minute here…” Hobie stepped forward to defend herself. Her understanding and compassion for her patient had come to an abrupt halt.

“Let’s take a look at this, Ms. Warren. First, you want me to arrest the woman who, on her own time, fixed your leg up so it would heal properly. The woman who is paying for all your medical bills. You want me to fine her?”

BJ looked around the room and knew she was getting out of hand. She could see herself as if she were standing in a corner of watching the whole scenario. She could see herself acting like a complete ass but was powerless to stop her actions. How could so many bad things happen to one person in so short a time?

“Surely, the police force knows how to write out a ticket here in Mayberry.” BJ sneered. In her defense, her ankle was really beginning to hurt and she just wanted to go home and sleep. “You do give tickets here, don’t you?”

Hobie winced at the biting remarks and wondered how she could have possibly been attracted to this arrogant woman. She found it almost impossible to believe this was Evelyn’s granddaughter. She watched Mack to see how he would handle this attack on his reputation. As always, he was unflappable.

“Well now, Ms. Warren, that’s the first sensible thing you’ve said today. I think a ticket is definitely in order. Since I didn’t witness the incident, I’m going to go on the evidence I have.” Mack reached around to the small of his back and pulled a short thick binder from where he kept it tucked into his duty belt. He walked over to Hobie, flipped open the book, and extracted a ticket that he had written earlier.

“Hobie Lynn.” He handed her the citation. Hobie opened her mouth to disagree, but Mack stopped her. “And don’t try to argue. You had the right of way and couldn’t have stopped the accident, but she’s a pedestrian and you, above everyone else, know the law.”

Hobie closed her mouth. She hated it when Mack was right, especially since he so often was. She stuffed the ticket in her pocket and folded her arms across her chest. BJ Warren looked like the proverbial cat after the untimely demise of the canary. Hobie had an intense desire to go over and smack the self-satisfied expression off her face. She had no idea where that feeling came from. She was such a passive, nonviolent person. Hobie was about to have the last laugh, however.

Mack returned to BJ’s gurney and pulled out another ticket. “This one is for you, Ms. Warren.”

“Wha—” BJ stared in dumb silence at the slip of paper in her hand. Everyone in the room knew it was the calm before the storm.

“I think I better go reschedule some of those patients,” Laura said as she slipped out the door.

Hobie noticed that Cheryl was quick to sneak out, as well. Cowards! she thought.

“Are you insane?” BJ’s voice carried all the way out to Main Street. “She tries to kill me...vehicular manslaughter…and you give me a ticket for reckless endangerment? I was crossing the street, for God’s sake, and she came barreling—”

“She had the right of way,” Mack interrupted. “Ms. Warren, there’s a reason there’s no jaywalking, which you were guilty of and why there is a stoplight at that intersection. It’s a blind corner. The light turns red for cars in the left lane, but cars in the right lane have a green turn arrow. If you’d been in the crosswalk, crossing with the light instead of against it, you wouldn’t be lying here right now. Let me tell you something else. You may not remember me, Baylor, but I remember you. Afew words of advice. Lose the attitude and try to get along with folks while you’re on the island. If not, I’ll personally escort you off Ana Lia.”

After a short moment of silence, BJ squinted at Mack. “Should I know you?”

“Not necessarily. I knocked you down when you were eight years old. You made my sister cry.”

They eyed each other for a few seconds more before BJ backed down from Mack’s unnerving gaze. “We all do goofy things when we’re kids,” she muttered. It was apparent that BJ had run out of steam.

“Why don’t we see about getting you home? Hobie Lynn, is that safe?” Mack asked.

“Sure. I’ll get her some pain pills and write out some instructions.”

“Where are my clothes?” Baylor lifted the blanket to reveal her attire—a hospital gown.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, but we had to cut those jeans off you,” Hobie said.

Before BJ could start another rant, Mack stepped in. “I’ve got a pair of sweatpants in the trunk. You can cut off one of the legs if you want. Don’t worry, they were just washed,” he added before BJ could respond.

“Lor,” Hobie called out to her assistant. A head peeked into the room. “Run over to the gift shop and get Ms. Warren a clean shirt she can wear home, okay? Tell Allison to charge it to me.” Hobie turned back to BJ. “That’s okay, isn’t it?”

BJ arched an eyebrow. “You buy me a T-shirt and that’s supposed to make it better?”

Hobie sighed. “Let’s get you fixed up with some crutches.” Twenty minutes and fifty milligrams of Demerol later, BJ

was dressed in Ana Lia Sheriff’s Department sweatpants and a hospital gown. She had finally quit fighting Hobie and allowed her to instruct her in the art of walking with crutches. At first, BJ didn’t get the idea that just because she had a cast on her leg didn’t mean she could put any weight on her foot.

Hobie bit her lip and took a few deep breaths to keep from lashing out at BJ’s outspoken and often cutting remarks. She had learned a great deal about her patient within those twenty minutes, concluding that Baylor Joan Warren had no idea that her remarks were anything other than the truth. She didn’t see them as hurtful or cruel. It was as if, somewhere along the line, BJ had become convinced that she was morally or intellectually superior to those around her. Hobie wondered if BJ had been a spoiled child or if this arrogance had been gradual in the making. She couldn’t understand how one woman could feel her needs were so far above everyone else’s.

Laura appeared at the door, but Hobie noticed that she hesitated to come much closer. “Um...the gift shop was closed, but the bakery was open.” She fiddled with the paper sack in her hands.

BJ fixed one of her patented cold stares on Laura. “I think wearing éclairs home may cause talk.”

“Well, they had this deal. If you bought this,” Laura pulled some fudge from the paper package, and BJ’s mouth watered at the sight, “then you got this!” She produced a hot pink muscle tee from the sack.

No words were necessary when BJ held the garment up to her chest. Blazoned across the front in big black letters was the bakery’s touristy slogan, “I was FU...dged on Ana Lia Island.”

“How appropriate,” BJ deadpanned in Hobie’s direction. Mack agreed to take BJ home in his squad car. Hobie dispensed

enough medication to carry her through until the next day, then gave the pills to Mack and whispered a few words into his ear.

“I’ll come by and check on you tomorrow, Ms. Warren. That is, if you can stand the sight of me for a few more days till the doc gets back,” Hobie said.

“I’ll be counting the hours.” BJ winked at Hobie as Mack helped her to the car. Hobie knew that the Demerol had worked its way into her patient’s system; BJ Warren’s charm was back in full force.

“Boy, you sure know how to pick ’em,” Laura said. “You were right about that night. She must have been pretty smashed not to remember you. Good thing you found out what she’s really like.”

“I guess that voice of mine was right this time. Dear God, she’s like Jekyll and Hyde.” Hobie massaged her temples to combat the slight dizziness she felt. The stress of the situation hadn’t helped her physical condition. “How about running to the Cove and picking up some dinner? I can’t go on till I get some food in me.”

“Sure thing, I’ll be back in a snap.”

Hobie started to clean up the surgery area. She couldn’t keep from thinking about Laura’s words. It was true, Hobie should have been glad that BJ didn’t remember her. She should have also felt good about seeing BJ’s true colors. She didn’t feel good at all, though. She hadn’t expected to see BJ Warren ever again. Of course, now she had no desire to spend any more time than she absolutely had to with the self-involved woman. Hobie didn’t know why, but that thought made her sad.

“I’m not sure I feel too comfortable about leaving you to fend for yourself,” Mack said. He had pulled the car into the driveway and as close to the front porch as possible. He and BJ sat in silence for a moment. “You know, if I asked her, Hobie might come out and stay—”

“Not if I were bleeding buckets,” BJ said. “Look,” she ran her fingers through her short dark hair and felt it sticking up at odd angles, “I know I’m being a little wacked, but if you piled up every bad day I’ve ever had, one on top of the other, they still couldn’t equal what I’ve been through today.”

“Yeah, I get it. Okay, come on. Let’s get you inside.”

Mack helped BJ into the house and was surprised when she didn’t give him grief about making her comfortable. He figured it was the pain medicine causing her to be so agreeable. He made up the couch with a sheet and blanket and even fixed a sandwich and a hot cup of tea for her. Before he left, he placed the envelope containing her pills on the fireplace mantel.

“I was told to let you know you could take one of these after ten, but they’re not to be left near where you’re sleeping.”

“What do they do...explode?”

“No.” Mack smiled. “Hobie says when patients keep their pain meds near the bed, they wake up in the middle of the night and forget if they took one or not, so they take another. You know the rest of the story.”

“Pumping out my stomach would just round this day off nicely, though. I get the picture. The cute redhead doesn’t want me to take a dive, right?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Mack caught the reference to Hobie but let it go.

“Hey, Mack,” BJ called out as he turned to leave. “What did I say to your sister to make her cry?”

“You told her she was ugly.”

“Shit. Kids are so fucking stupid sometimes.”

Mack nodded and turned to go. “You get some sleep—”

Before he finished, he noticed BJ was already sprawled along the couch and snoring lightly.

“Do you ever slow down?” Mack asked Hobie, who was running a mop along the surgery floor.

“I can’t believe you gave me a ticket!” she said without looking up.

“Hey, it’s good to be king.”

Hobie reached out and steadied herself with a hand against the tile wall. Her body swayed and she felt the mop handle slip through her fingers. Before she could say anything, strong arms lifted her up and carried her into the other room.

Mack gently laid her on a worn leather couch in the office. “Hobie, when’s the last time you ate?”

“Um...” She struggled to remember. “Laura’s gone to get something. I’ll be okay, just give me a sec.” She slowly sat up, then moved into her desk chair, reached into the desk drawer, and pulled out a candy bar.

“Hey!” she cried out when Mack plucked the candy from her fingers as she was ready to take a bite. He tossed it into the garbage can before pulling a plastic bottle of milk from the small refrigerator that sat in one corner of the office.

“Mom told you a thousand times not to eat chocolate when your blood sugar bottoms out. Geez, Hob, you’d think a doctor would know better. Drink this.”

Hobie chugged the entire bottle. Five minutes later, she was feeling more like her old self. “Thanks,” she finally said. “Did you get Miss High and Mighty home all right?”

“Yep. She thinks you’re cute.” “Oh, stop that.”

“I’m not kidding. Those were her exact words.”

“She was high on Demerol,” Hobie said. “What?” she added in response to Mack’s amused stare.

“Are you gonna tell me the whole story with you two or what?”

“First, there is no story. Second, there most definitely is no ‘us two’!”

Mack nodded and stretched his legs, crossing them and resting his boots on the corner of Hobie’s desk.

“You’re not going to leave until I tell you about it, are you?” “Nope.” Mack grinned evilly.

“Why have you spent my entire life torturing me?”

“Because you’re my kid sister and that’s just what us big brothers do.” Mack laughed as Hobie lowered her head until her forehead rested against her desk.

“This has been the longest day of my life.” She groaned.