doctor began inputting notes on her tablet at the counter. “Is your car drivable?”
Shrugging, Sophie discovered her muscles were as tender as if she’d thrown herself into a blender. “I don’t even know what happened to it. An EMT told me the tow truck driver would be in touch with a bill.”
Dr. Everly smiled ruefully. “My brother-in-law owns a body shop. I’ll see if they towed it to him. They might have impounded it, but impound at the police station consists of the two farthest spaces in their lot.” She made a note on the palm of her hand with her pen, but then looked up. “I’ll ask him to let you know if he has the car.”
After a quick grasp of Sophie’s hand, she went to the door. “I’ll call Esther’s to check in with you later tonight. Unless you’d rather stay in one of our fine rooms?”
“Not a chance.” Forcing a smile, when she was still fighting the urge to cry, Sophie swallowed hard. Naturally, she was emotional. Her baby had survived that crash. Sophie was a walking cesspool of hormones, and the man she’d been driving for hours to see had just looked at her as if they’d never met.
A fatherless daughter herself, she’d believed her child had a right to know her dad. Maybe she’d been mistaken.
“Why don’t you get dressed?” Dr. Everly suggested. “Esther’s car will be here by the time we discharge you.”
“Thank you, Dr. Everly.”
“Georgette. And that young lady in surgery should be thanking you. Word around the landing pad is you saved her life.”
Jack’s sharp features swam in front of Sophie’s eyes. Thank goodness the ultrasound only measured the baby’s heartbeat.
She pulled herself together. Coming here might have been an impulse she’d live to regret, but she could leave at any time. “My shirt got torn.” She plucked at the neck of her borrowed scrub top. “Do you think I can wear this out of here? I’ll wash it and return it after I get home.”
“No problem. I’m sure you can keep it.” The other woman opened the door, but then turned back. “Sophie, do you have anything else on your mind?”
She pressed her palms to her stomach, ignoring the slight tenderness in her wrists as she took consolation from the rapid heartbeat echoing in the small room. “No.”
“Call me if you have any problems. I’ll have your nurse put my cell number on your discharge instructions.”
* * *
TESSIE’S SURGERY WAS a success. No problems. Nothing unexpected.
Jack explained to her parents that their daughter would live to celebrate many more Christmases if they confiscated her phone. They went to see her, and he was left alone. Taking a deep breath, he tried to figure out what to do about Sophie.
Coming out of that ambulance wrapped in a blanket, she’d been pale with terror. The physician who’d taken oaths to help the sick and injured wanted to go to her.
The man, who knew what he had to do, didn’t want to get near her. She was the last person Jack had expected. Proud and strong and self-contained, Sophie would never chase a man who’d rejected her.
So what was she doing here?
He went back to the E.R. and checked the board to see if she was listed as a patient. Oddly, in the computer age, Christmas Town’s hospital still used a whiteboard. It was large, easy to read, easy to update.
He found the palest outline of “Sop” where someone hadn’t completely erased her name after she was discharged. The pregnancy meant that Georgette Everly would have been her attending...unless Sophie had come to Maine to tell him she’d lost the baby.
She could have lost the baby in the accident.
Georgette opened the door of a treatment room almost directly across from where he stood at the nurses’ station. With her eyes on her tablet, she was already moving on to the next room.
Jack headed for the doctors’ lounge.
He showered and dressed in jeans and a blue button-down shirt, then grabbed his coat from his locker before heading for the E.R. exit.
Georgette was leaning on one elbow at the nurses’ station, making notes. She looked up with a smile. “I heard your surgery went well.”
In no small part because Sophie had treated the girl while she was still lying on the road.
“Tessie Blaylock’s fine.” Jack should walk on. He should make sure he knew nothing about Sophie or the child. He didn’t want to ask, but the words came out of his mouth. “How’s your patient?”
“She’s good. Eighteen weeks pregnant, and the baby has a strong heartbeat. Lots of movement. Lucky for Tessie, she hit an E.R. nurse with trauma experience.”
“Are you keeping her overnight?”
“She’s staying at Esther’s House. I called to have someone look in on her before bedtime, but I’ll phone her, too.”
Esther Underbrook was like Mrs. Claus, opening her home to tourists seeking a potent shot of holiday spirit. Sophie had made fun of his hometown, with its blatantly commercial name.
“No use confusing anyone about Christmas for sale,” she’d teased him.
He’d been so busy keeping his life with her in Boston apart from his real life that he’d never explained Christmas Town wasn’t like that. She’d had no need to know that he wasn’t the man he’d been in Christmas Town. He’d avoided mixing his two worlds and the people in them.
She had no need to be here at all.
Nothing would change between them. Nothing. He didn’t care what plan nurturing, dreamy-eyed, yet practical Sophie Palmer had made.
Jack drove through the softly falling snow. Already, the sun was heading downward and the blue-gray sky darkening. He parked at the square and walked a block north to the Federal-style family home Esther had managed to refurbish by taking in customers.
She’d started her business by turning her dining room and parlor into a restaurant frequented by foodies from all over the world, but a house built when George Washington might reasonably have been expected to stop for hay and victuals required a formidable amount of upkeep. Naturally, she’d turned the restaurant into an inn.
Esther was carrying linens between her two busy dining rooms when he opened the door, stomping snow off his boots. “Hello, Jack,” she said. “You should be at work or asleep.”
Usually, he teased back. She’d been a fixture of kindness since his childhood. Tonight, he had to finish the last conversation he and Sophie would ever have.
“Actually, I’m working. I thought I’d drop in to check on an accident victim who came to the E.R. today.”
“Isn’t that nice of you?” Esther was so pleased his conscience quivered, but he instantly shut it down. “Sophie’s in room eight. Let me give you a pitcher of cider for her.”
He waited.
