losing him, she blames you.”
“I guess,” Misty said with a shrug. “I sure don’t get it, though. I’d have kicked him to the curb the second I found out he was hitting on another girl.”
“Because you’re smart and have it together,” Katie said loyally.
Misty sighed heavily. “If only that were true.”
The truth was that every single day she felt more and more as if her life were falling completely apart and Annabelle Litchfield was at the controls.
* * *
After fending off his nurse’s latest attempt to fix him up, pediatrician J. C. Fullerton was pondering the tendency of Serenity residents to meddle in other people’s lives when the door to his office opened a crack.
“Is it okay if I come in?” Misty Dawson asked hesitantly. “Everyone’s gone out front, but the lights were still on and the door was open. I thought you might still be here.”
“Sure. Come on in,” he said, regarding the teen worriedly. This kind of after-hours visit usually spelled trouble. With a sixteen-year-old girl, an unplanned pregnancy came immediately to mind.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
Misty sat gingerly on the edge of the chair across from him, her schoolbooks in her lap. “Not really.” She sucked in a deep breath, then blurted, “Could you write me some kind of note to get out of school?”
Over the years, J.C. had worked hard not to react visibly to anything patients said to him. Teens, especially, had tender feelings and could easily be scared into silence if their physician said the wrong thing. It usually worked best to listen and ask questions very, very carefully.
He studied Misty closely. Other than looking nervous and maybe a little pale, she appeared to be as healthy as she had been when she’d had her annual physical before the school year started. Her straight blond hair was shiny, her bright blue eyes clear. Looks, though, could be deceiving.
“Aren’t you feeling well?” he asked, treading carefully.
“Not really.”
He took the response at face value. “What seems to be the problem? Is something going on at school?”
“I just can’t go anymore, okay?” she said, instantly defensive. “And I know they’ll need some kind of an excuse if I stop showing up. I figured a note from you would work. You could tell ’em I have something really, really contagious, right?”
He held her gaze. “Do you have something really, really contagious?”
“No, but—”
“Then you know I can’t do it,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “Talk to me, Misty. What’s really going on?”
“I’m not going back, that’s all,” she said stubbornly.
J.C.’s antennae went on full alert. He had seen this kind of thing before, kids who were good students who suddenly didn’t want to go to school. He’d seen it in a way that was up close and way too personal. He was instantly determined to get to the bottom of whatever was on this young girl’s mind.
“Is there a specific reason you don’t want to be in school, Misty?” he prodded gently. “The way I heard it from your mom, you’re an outstanding student, taking all sorts of advanced placement classes.”
She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t want to be there anymore.”
“What will you do if you don’t go?” he asked reasonably. “I thought when we did your physical you mentioned something about wanting to be a broadcast journalist someday. You’ll need a high school diploma and college for that. You were all excited about the possibility of a scholarship.”
“Like you said, I’m smart. I’ll take the GED and ace it, then get into college someplace far away from Serenity. It might not be a fancy Ivy League school like I was hoping, but that’s okay. It’s a trade-off, but it’ll be worth it. I can do it,” she said earnestly. “Please, Dr. Fullerton. You’ve got to help me out.”
He leveled a look into her troubled eyes. “You know I can’t do that, Misty. Now, why don’t you tell me what’s really going on? Maybe I can help with that.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks, but she stood up, squared her shoulders and headed for the door, her disappointment unmistakable. “Sorry I bothered you.”
“Misty, wait. Let’s talk about this,” he pleaded, not wanting to be one more adult who let her down. She might not be physically ill, but she was clearly deeply disturbed about something. The fact that she’d come to him gave him a responsibility to help in any way he could.
“It’s okay. I knew it was a long shot.” She held his gaze, her expression pleading. “You won’t tell my mom about this, will you? I mean you didn’t really treat me, so it’s not like you’d have to tell her, right?”
J.C. was torn. It was true that there’d been no medical issues discussed, but he wasn’t sure he should promise to keep silent when she was obviously in some kind of distress.
“How about we make a deal?” he said eventually.
Her gaze narrowed suspiciously. “What kind of deal?”
“You pick an adult—preferably your mom or dad, but any adult you trust will do—talk to them about what’s going on, and I won’t say anything about this visit.”
She immediately shook her head. “It’s not something I can talk about,” she insisted.
He shrugged off the excuse. “That’s the deal. Take it or leave it,” he replied, his gaze unrelenting. “And I want this person to let me know you’ve talked. I don’t need to know what you said. That can be totally confidential, but I want to know you’ve confided in someone who can help.”
To his surprise, the corners of her mouth lifted ever so slightly.
“What ever made me think you were going to be easy?” she asked ruefully.
“It’s all the lollipops and teddy bears around here,” he said. “A lot of people mistake me for a softie.”
“Boy, do you have them fooled,” she said, though there was a note of admiration in her tone. “How long do I have before you rat me out?”
He thought it over, weighing the risks of waiting against the value of allowing her to get the help she needed on her own. “Twenty-four hours seems reasonable to me. This time tomorrow.”
“And if you don’t hear from someone by then? What happens? Will alarms go off all over town? Is Chief Rollins going to hunt me down and drag me off to jail?”
He smiled at her. “Nothing that dramatic. Just expect me to drop by your house around dinnertime to have that talk with your folks.” He held her gaze. “So, do we have a deal?”
“I’d rather have that note for school,” she said regretfully, “but, yeah, I guess we have a deal.”
J.C.
