Internal Fixation - Tawdra Kandle Page 0,40

in Deacon’s absence. Noah was comfort and peace and reassurance.

And if I was beginning to wonder if he could also be my future . . . well, maybe it was high time for me to consider that possibility.

I didn’t sleep well at all that night. I tossed and turned, dreamed and woke up often. When I opened my bleary eyes again at a little after five, I decided to give up and go into the hospital.

I was too tired and cranky to bother with dressing up as much as I usually did when I went to work. Ignoring my pretty sundresses, skirts and other doctor-appropriate attire, I tugged a pair of comfy jeans off a shelf. As I pulled them on, I decided a season-appropriate shirt would redeem my dress-down Sunday and went with a long-sleeved green cotton shirt and a cute little Santa Claus pin. There. Now I was not a slob . . . I was Christmas adorable.

Twenty minutes later, thanks to non-existent traffic this early on a Sunday, I was walking down the hallway of St. Agnes’ oncology wing, feeling a little more awake thanks to the coffee I’d sipped on my drive in. I heard my name coming from an open door and froze.

The light was on in Deacon’s office for the first time in over a year. And even as I stood there staring at it, he appeared in the doorway.

“I thought I heard you out there.”

I frowned. “How did you know it was me? All I did was walk.” I extended my foot, displaying my sweet little red Keds. “And I don’t even have on heels.”

“Guess I just picked up your vibes.” Deacon sounded mild and—dare I say it?—almost conciliatory. “Do you have a minute to talk before you get started for the day?”

I hesitated. “I was hoping to get a jump on things before everyone gets here. Before rounds, I mean.”

“I won’t keep you long.” Without waiting for me to respond, Deacon turned and went back to his desk, leaving me to trail after him.

“I didn’t think you’d be at the hospital today.” He slid out the chair behind his desk and sat down.

I leaned against the back of the seat across the desk from him. “I could say the same. According to Anna, you were down for the count yesterday.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I fully intended to go back downstairs and join the party. I only planned to rest for a second, and then the next thing I knew, it was nine-thirty at night. I stumbled down the steps, and Gram told me I’d missed everything.”

“Yeah, you must have been tired.” I allowed myself a quick perusal of his face. He looked a little more rested today than he had at the farm, but he’d left the light scruff on his cheeks. It was a new look for him. I wasn’t sure if I liked it or not . . . and then I reminded myself that it didn’t matter anymore.

“I guess I was.” He rubbed his jaw and grimaced as though he’d remembered he hadn’t shaved. “Sorry. I ended up staying at the farm last night—Gram, Pop and I talked for a long time, and then I crashed again. I came directly to the hospital this morning.”

“Ah.” I was uncomfortable with this easy intimacy Deacon seemed to think we should still have. It was time to change the subject and bring us back to something safer. “So . . . you’re back at work? I wasn’t sure if you would start again before the holidays or wait until the new year.”

“No sense in waiting. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Emma, but cancer doesn’t take a break for jingle bells and silent nights.” He offered a brief, tight smile. “Besides, I’m ready to be back. There’s a lot I need to catch up on. And apparently a lot of amends to make, too.”

“If you’re talking about me, don’t sweat it.” I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. “Whatever you needed to do, I hope you did. I hope you found yourself or your space or your inner light or whatever. But it doesn’t matter to me. We handled what needed to be handled while you were gone, and now that you’re back, you can take over your work again.” I paused. “If you don’t mind, I’d like you to talk to the board and ask them to allow Alison to stay for another month or so. She didn’t