Kirkpatrick’s letter. He wants his file sent to another clinic. He wants to switch therapists.”
Shannyn took the file. “Thank you, Melanie. I’ll take care of it.”
Her even tone betrayed nothing of what she felt. Truthfully, she wasn’t sure of it herself. Part of her was disappointed he wanted to go somewhere else, but mostly she felt relief that she wouldn’t have to see him on a regular basis. The more she saw him, the more likely she was to be reminded of how she’d cared about him. Cutting down the risk of bumping into him could only be a good thing, right?
Then why did she suddenly feel so disappointed?
Shannyn unfolded the paper and stared at the writing. When she reached the end she looked over at him in the waiting area. He turned, meeting her eyes, his face unreadable. She wondered if they taught them how to perfect that look in the Army. In his letter, he hadn’t offered any explanation for the switch. But then he didn’t need to, did he. She got the message loud and clear. He didn’t want to be anywhere near her.
The question she did have, however, was the one that she couldn’t seem to get out of her mind. What had happened that made him only a whisper of the man he’d been six years ago? Where had that gung-ho, save-the-world optimist gone? Where had Jonas left him behind?
His file was already pulled for his appointment, and she went to retrieve it. It might be her only chance to discover what had really happened to him, and more than anything, before their brief contact was cut off, she wanted to know.
She opened the beige cover, staring at the documentation. So little information, just facts and figures and terminology that said very little about what had happened to the man.
He’d sustained his injury eleven months ago, but his file didn’t say where or under what circumstances. The absence of data only made her more curious. He’d been stabilized, but the location had been blacked out. She’d had no idea there’d be such secrecy, and she looked up again at him sitting in the waiting room.
Where have you been, and what have you been doing that’s so dangerous it has to be classified?
She continued reading. The file only stated that he’d been airlifted to Germany where he’d had surgery for a broken femur. Spent time there before being sent home to Canada for recuperation and rehab.
She read further, absorbing notations about the complicated operation to repair the bone and also about an infection that had delayed recovery.
He hadn’t had an easy go of it.
It was probably enough to change a man. If combat hadn’t changed him first. She couldn’t shake that nagging thought from her mind.
“Sgt. Kirkpatrick?” Even now the name seemed that of a stranger. She took a deep breath. “May I see you for a moment?”
His uneven gait carried him back to the counter. “Yes?”
Shannyn forced her voice to remain professional, even as she looked up into his face. He looked the same as he had last week. That inherent neatness and military bearing, despite his disability. She had the irrational longing to reach out and lay her hands on his lapels, straightening an imaginary crease. She shook off the silly urge. It would serve no purpose. If she were sure of one thing, it was that Jonas wouldn’t stay around. She’d been burned by him before. There was no way she’d let him do it to her again.
She gripped the papers in her hand. “There are a few things I need you to authorize before I can sign off on your file and send it to the office you’ve specified.”
She handed over the proper papers and a pen. “You should be fine there, although I think Ms. Malloy is the best physiotherapist in the city. Still, once this is taken care of, all you’ll have to do is call and set up your first appointment at the new clinic.”
Jonas’s hand paused over the papers.
“Why you? I thought you were the receptionist.”
She smiled thinly. When he’d been sent to Edmonton, she’d just enrolled in business school. “I started out that way. Now I’m the office manager. Any paperwork needs to be signed off by your therapist and by me.”
“Sgt. Kirkpatrick? I’m ready for you now.” Geneva Malloy called him in.
His eyes darted up to Shannyn’s but she didn’t let her gaze waver. She wanted him to sign the papers and be free to go on his way. On the other hand, they were running behind schedule and she didn’t want to keep Geneva waiting. “I’ll hold on to these,” she said brusquely. “You can sign them after your session.”
He handed her back the pen. She tapped the papers into an orderly stack and laid them on top of his file.
“Thank you,” he replied politely. For a flash, his eyes betrayed him and she felt he wanted to say something more. Why, after all this time, did her heart still leap every time her gaze met his?
Then the look was gone and he limped his way to the facilities in the back.
She left his paperwork on the desk behind the counter and turned her attention back to her computer. This was her job, and had been for a long time. She’d done just fine, going to school, making a new life. She’d told him the truth—she’d started by answering phones and had gone on to manage the entire office. It was a good life. It was real and it was permanent and those were two things that Shannyn rated highly.
She turned her attention to her work while he was with Geneva. Checking her watch, she realized he’d been in there nearly an hour and her spreadsheet was complete. She sat back in her chair and sighed. Shortly he’d come back out, walk out the door and unless fate was unkind, she probably wouldn’t meet him again. Being near him at all stirred up too many feelings she’d tried hard to bury.
Switching physiotherapists was a godsend. She could get on with her life, and he’d never know the difference. Even as she thought it, a slick line of guilt crawled through her. Most of the time she was successful in not thinking about what she’d done. But deep down she felt some remorse at keeping her secret.
The door to the back opened and she heard Jonas’s voice talking to Geneva, thanking her politely. Shannyn turned her head toward the sound, only to snap it back abruptly as the front office door swung open carrying laughter with it.
“Mommy!”
A charged bundle in jeans and a red T-shirt barreled across the floor towards Shannyn’s desk, bouncing to a halt and grinning up precociously. “Surprise! I came from kindergarten!”
Jonas released Geneva’s hand as he turned, his heart stopping for a brief moment as the girl wrapped her chubby arms around Shannyn’s neck.
I have a daughter. The thought struck him like the sure aim of a bullet.
As if she sensed something was off, the girl turned her head and their eyes met, green to green. Every muscle in his body tightened with the impact of the truth. This is Shannyn’s daughter. She’s in school. I left six years ago. She has my eyes.
Shannyn’s cheeks colored; the blatant guilt on her face and the way she shifted in her chair seemed to confirm his suspicion. This was his daughter, one Shannyn had kept hidden from him all this time. A tiny poppet who looked
