Internal Fixation - Tawdra Kandle Page 0,29

up the walk, all of her advice swirled in my head, mixing with the stress of the evening, making me wonder how my life had gotten so complicated.

5

Deacon

There was nothing like coming home at Christmas.

When I got off the airplane in Orlando and walked into the main lobby of the airport, I felt as though I’d stepped into the middle of a holiday frenzy. The huge tree in the center of the terminal was covered with red bows and shiny balls, and all around me, people were buzzing, eager to get to their gate or to the baggage claim. Entire families were greeting loved ones at the end of the secured exit, squealing with excitement, while other groups were clearly theme park-bound.

There was no one to greet me when I pulled my wheeled duffle bag past the other passengers. No grandparents waved wildly and then pulled me into a warm hug . . . and no beautiful auburn-haired woman leaped into my arms. I wasn’t surprised by the lack of a welcoming committee, because I hadn’t told a damn soul that I was coming home.

Still, I found my heart was a little lighter as I glanced around at all the happy people. My family and the woman who had haunted my thoughts and dreams for the past year or so might not have been here at the airport, but at least now I was in the same state as they were—hell, even just being in the same country was a change. Although I’d been a little trepidatious about the kind of reception I’d get in Harper Springs, now that I was here, I couldn’t wait to surprise them.

I didn’t need to hang out at baggage claim, since everything I’d brought back with me was in this ragged duffle. Instead, I made my way out of the main building, dodged cars in the passenger pick-up lanes, and strode to the rental car counter. Since I’d made the reservation while I was on a layover in Amsterdam, I didn’t have to wait in line; I just grabbed the keys at the kiosk and headed for my economy compact, which would take me to Harper Springs.

Once I was clear of Orlando proper and what locals referred to as the attractions corridor, traffic virtually disappeared. I-4 was wide open, and I made that little four-cylinder car go as fast as it could until I reached the exit that would lead me south into the heart of the Florida peninsula.

Driving down the back roads through the country centered me, reminding me of what life was like back home. Over the past months, I’d pushed memories of Florida as far from the front of my mind as possible. I’d ignored the twinges of guilt over being away from my grandparents for so long, missing the planting and harvesting seasons on the farm. I’d forced myself not to think about the hospital or wonder how Mira and the rest of the staff were doing, juggling all of the work by themselves. And Emma Carson, the naturopathic doctor I’d hired last year, who had somehow become incredibly important to me despite the fact that we were total opposites in so many ways? Yeah, I definitely never allowed myself to entertain fantasies about her.

Not while I was awake, anyway.

I wasn’t proud of the way I’d left things with Emma. Hell, I wasn’t proud of the way I’d left town, period. I hadn’t given Gram and Pop any warning—I just called them from the Orlando airport and announced that I was going to be in Slovenia for several months. Maybe longer. I’d dropped the news on Mira at the worst time imaginable, on the morning after we’d lost Angela Spencer, the patient whom everyone on the oncology wing had come to love.

But Emma . . . I really couldn’t blame her if she was still furious with me. What had gone down between the two of us during my last twenty-four hours at St. Agnes wasn’t exactly my proudest moment. I’d accused her of coming on to our patient’s husband. I’d snarled the worst kind of insults at the woman who’d been my lover until then. And then, in the midst of a heated argument, I’d initiated angry, nearly violent sex. It had been consensual—of that I was certain—but it had been an asshole move on my part nonetheless.

After our patient had died, I’d sent Emma home by herself, even while I’d known she had wanted and expected my comfort.