“Well then, don’t say you came close to dying,” Sage told her. “You know it would destroy me.”
“Okay, dear. I’m afraid I can’t visit too long—I’m just not feeling all that well, but I’m sure it’s nothing serious,” Bethel said in a quavering voice. “Besides, I don’t want to bother you . . .”
“You know you’re never a bother, Grandma. Please talk to me. I’m starting to really worry.”
“Well . . . The doctor did say he’s worried about my blood pressure. I just can’t seem to get around as well these days . . .” Bethel trailed off as if too weak to continue speaking.
“You should have called me right away! I didn’t know anything was wrong. How long have you been feeling ill?” Sage had begun to scold her grandma, but she immediately backed down, her voice lowering as quickly as it had risen.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. I’m going to have to get off the phone, though. I’m really tired now. Just keep me updated on your choice for your residency.” Before Sage could say anything more, Bethel hung up, then grinned at her friend.
“You know, we are horrible, horrible people,” Eileen said with a wicked grin, enhancing the slight wrinkles on her face.
“How else was I supposed to get her home?” Bethel asked. “She’s so dang stubborn and thinks she can make it all on her own in some big city. It’s time for her to come home and settle down. Besides, I am a frail old woman.” The twinkle in her eye and the weekly dancing lessons she took belied her words. She did a mean cha-cha.
“Frail, my foot,” Eileen scoffed. The two women had been friends for over fifty years, and neither of them could get anything past the other. “Still, I don’t know about all of this. If Sage finds out—gets even an inkling of what we have planned . . .”
“It’s worth the risk, my dearest friend,” Bethel said. She called Martin and Maggie so the foursome could put Joseph Anderson on speakerphone and they could all go over the plans again. If Sage had known what was brewing, she wouldn’t be happy with any of them.
But a bit of matchmaking is what kept the five friends young at heart. They suppressed their feelings of guilt as best they could. It was painful, but what else could they do? They had a new mission—and it was a doozy.
The Montana road was familiar, but Sage Banks was tense as she drove for endless miles without passing a single vehicle. In the spring, summer, and fall, the area was usually spectacular and welcoming, with the wheat blowing in the wind, birds singing their magical melodies, and farmers smiling with a polite nod as you passed by.
It was night, however, and she was caught in the middle of a summer storm, making visibility basically zilch. The rain slashed across her window and the wind pushed her car around like a toy.
The blacktop looked treacherous. Thick puddles of water from the unexpected June storm formed small lakes on the asphalt. Sage kept her foot light on the gas pedal and her fingers clutched the steering wheel like a vise.
“Perfect. Just perfect,” she muttered as the car hydroplaned for a heart-stopping second before straightening out again.
She hated driving in this kind of weather, hated that it reminded her every single time of the loss of her parents and her grandfather, who had lost their lives too soon when their vehicle had slid off the road into the river.
She couldn’t think about that right now, couldn’t focus on something that would make her tear up, make her visibility even worse than it was. No. It was better to think about the fact that she was driving here in the first place.
She hadn’t wanted to accept what in her book counted as failure—to come back to the place she’d worked hard to move away from. She’d won a big scholarship, worked her tail off, and made it through medical school. Residency was her time to shine, but it was really hard to shine at a place where everyone had known you since you were a little girl.
Her boss, Dr. Thompson, was going to be the man who’d bandaged her knee when she took a tumble down Rice Hill, stitched her up when she fell off her bike, bruising her ego far more than her body, and seen her when, embarrassment