then indicated me with a jerk of her thumb. “This is my Nan’s asshole handyman. He fell off a ladder and I owe him. I’m gonna need Todd if he’s available. Room number one open?”
“It’s all yours. I’ll let Todd know.”
Patients munching on snacks filled the waiting room. A large man with quivering jowls chomped into an apple, then lifted a hand. “Looking good, Doc Monroe!”
“Tony. Hi. Did we have an appointment today?” She paused. “You’re not having more problems, are you?”
He brandished the apple with glee. “Just taking advantage of your buffet. If I have to eat food that kills my soul, I might as well do it on your dime instead of mine.” The man loosed a cackle that had those jowls wobbling and his eyes lighting.
“As long as we get that bloodwork looking better, I’ll fill that table twice a day.”
Kennedy turned to Dorothy. “I have more food in the car, by the way. Feel like helping me put it out once I’m done with this guy?” She indicated me with a jerk of her chin.
Dorothy nodded. Tony offered to help. As did three other patients. What freaking universe had I fallen into? Not only was Kennedy a doctor, but she volunteered at a free clinic where everyone worshipped her as a saint? How was she the same woman who’d been plotting to force her grandmother out of her beloved home?
I followed her down a poorly lit hallway. Linoleum floor instead of tile. Flicker to the florescent lights. Crumbling drywall. All of it medical quality clean. The sway of Kennedy’s hips caught my attention. As I followed the hypnotizing rhythm, the scene from the waiting room replayed in my head. Tony’s welcoming smile. The admiration in Dorothy’s eyes…
“You’re staring.”
“Am not.”
“I can feel your eyes burning holes in my back.” We came to the end of the hallway and she pushed open a door, gesturing for me to enter.
I leaned in the doorway, awash in the scent of lilacs. “Be patient with me. I just had my worldview blown to bits and I think I have a concussion. I’m trying to adjust to a timeline where you might not be universally hated.”
She licked her lips and laughed, her eyes taking in every feature of my face, drinking me in like I was the last drop of her new favorite wine. “Come on.” She nodded toward the room. “Let’s get you fixed up. You’re gonna like me even less than you already do in a few minutes.”
“I don’t think that’s possible.” Though the fire that usually lit those words had dimmed. How hard did I hit the ground?
“You’re gonna need me to do a closed reduction on that shoulder, which means I need to put the ball of your upper arm back in the socket—”
Raising my hand, I cut her off. “Pardon me while I tell you your business, but don’t we need an X-ray first?”
A large man tattooed from head to toe in freckles appeared at my side. He and Kennedy shared a smirk. “Joe?” She arched an eyebrow. “I’d like you to meet Todd. The X-ray tech here at Community Health Center.”
The man gave her an obvious mental high five, then turned to me with a saccharine smile. “Follow me and let’s find out what we’re dealing with,” he said, then muttered something that sound a hell of a lot like, “other than asshole-itis.”
The X-ray proved Kennedy’s diagnosis on point, as did the closed reduction. As she fixed my shoulder, I cursed her name. Many times. And in four languages. (I only spoke one.) Then thanked her when the pain subsided almost instantly.
She feigned surprise. “A thank you from Joe Channing. Maybe you’re right about the concussion. Or the change in timeline.”
We shared a laugh and an awkward stretch of silence before she slapped her thighs and stood.
“I’m gonna fit you with a sling. It’s important that you actually wear it because we need to keep your shoulder immobilized and rested. Ice will help with the swelling and aid the healing process in general. I have some mobility exercises printed up for you. You should start with those as soon as you can move without pain.”
Her eyes were everywhere but on me and the mask of professionalism hid the real her from view. It should have made me more comfortable, her slipping out of warmth and back into frigidity.
It didn’t.
I’d caught a glimpse of something I didn’t expect, and I wanted more of it.