He laughed harshly. “Not hardly. Haven’t been off the farm to speak of all spring and with money tight…”

“Jimmy’s school friends? Any of them sick that you know of?”

“We didn’t ask him.” Don Reynolds’s voice held a hopeful note, as if Jimmy sharing an illness with other kids must mean it couldn’t be very serious.

“Well, we’ll take a look at him and see,” Harper said.

The foyer was more a hall barely big enough for a coatrack on the wall and a small table where a pile of mail sat unopened. Rooms on either side looked well lived in, with big sofas and end tables holding empty drink glasses and a scatter of magazines. A wooden staircase, not as wide or elaborate as that in the White place, led to the second floor.

They trooped upstairs and down the narrow hall to a room where an open door emitted a slanting square of pale yellow light onto the bare wood floor. Presley hung back a little, letting Harper enter first with Don Reynolds. She stopped just inside the door. The room was small with a single window and a dresser connected to a desk piled with the things boys played with: a baseball glove, a motorized truck of some kind, a stack of books. The wall held a few posters from movies Presley didn’t recognize.

A woman in a white T-shirt, blue jeans, and purple rubber flip-flops sat on a straight-backed chair by the side of the single bed. Her dark wavy hair was caught back in a yellow scrunchie. She looked eighteen, but Presley knew if she’d gone to school with Harper she was at least ten years older. A gold wedding band glinted on her left hand, the same hand that was currently stroking the hair of a pale-looking boy with frightened eyes. Harper had said he was eleven, but his thin body and wan expression made him look eight.

“Hi, Emmy.” Harper introduced Presley as she had before, and the boy’s mother nodded, though Presley didn’t think she actually paid any attention to anything other than her son.

“Glad you’re here, Harper,” Emmy said in a monotone.

Presley remembered the eerie wail of the mother in the ER, and sweat broke out on her arms. Such misery. Was this Harper’s life?

“Can I sit where you are, Emmy?” Harper said. “You can sit on the bed on the other side with him if you like.”

Wordlessly, Emmy Reynolds went around the end of the narrow bed and gently sat next to her son, her hand going back to his hair. Don Reynolds leaned against a spot next to the window, his hands back in his pockets again as if he didn’t know what to do with them.

Harper turned the chair until it faced the bed and sat, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. She’d put her bag on the floor next to her but hadn’t moved to open it yet. “I’m Dr. Rivers. How you doing, Jimmy?”

“Okay.” The boy’s voice was weak and whispery. He glanced at his mother anxiously.

“It’s okay, baby, the doctor is here to make you better.”

Harper’s calm expression never changed. “Your dad tells me you haven’t been eating much the last few days. Not hungry?”

“I don’t know. I guess not.”

“Does your stomach hurt?”

The boy shook his head.

“What about the rest of you? Does anything else hurt?”

“My head a little bit,” he said shyly. “It just feels funny.”

“Funny like dizzy?”

The boy shrugged. “I guess.”

“Okay, then. I’ll just take a look at you and listen to your heart and your lungs and your belly.”

The boy’s brows drew down. “Why are you gonna listen to my belly?”

Harper smiled and reached down with one hand to unclasp her bag, the motion automatic and practiced. Still gazing at Jimmy, she came up with a stethoscope that she put in her ears. “You know the sound it makes when you’re hungry, right? Well, I’m going to listen to see if maybe you’re hungry and didn’t notice.”

He grinned. “Okay.”

Harper pulled down the sheets to just below his navel and moved her stethoscope over his chest and abdomen, right side, left side, all the way down to the top of his Spider-Man pj’s. When she was done, she swung the stethoscope around her neck and put her hand on his belly. “I’m going to press and you tell me if it hurts. If it does, I’ll stop right away, okay?”

He nodded. Her touch appeared sure and gentle as she examined his upper abdomen and then lower down. At one point he told her it felt funny.

“Funny, like hurt?” Harper asked.

He shook his head. “Just funny. Like…sore, a little.”

“Okay.” She shone a light in his eyes and his throat and felt his neck. When done, she put her stethoscope back in the bag and smiled at him. “You were terrific. I’m going to talk to your mom and dad outside for a few minutes, okay?”

“Sure,” he said and closed his eyes.

Presley stepped aside until Don and Emmy Reynolds filed out into the hall with Harper behind them. She slipped out, and Harper slowly closed the door. Presley’s heart kicked in her chest and she realized her palms were damp. She couldn’t even imagine how the boy’s parents must feel. Harper hadn’t given any indication that anything was wrong, but in that moment, when everything hinged on what Harper was about to say, the hall felt suffocating. Harper had become the center of these people’s world. Presley tried to imagine what that responsibility must feel like, the burden it must be to carry, and the cost it must extract in emotional coin.

“Jimmy has some enlargement of his spleen,” Harper said immediately, her tone calm and matter-of-fact. “That’s an organ in his belly like the glands we have in our neck that get swollen when we have a cold. I’m not finding anything else that might be causing his problems. There are a lot of things that could cause his symptoms, and I think we need to put him in the hospital to do some tests.”

“Hospital?” Emmy grabbed her husband’s arm with one hand and reached for Harper with the other. “God, Harper. Is it bad?”

Harper took her hand. Don Reynolds slid his arm around his wife’s shoulders almost as if he needed to lean on her to keep standing as much as to comfort her.

“I can’t tell, Emmy,” Harper said. “It might be something as simple as a virus or it could be something else. Whatever it is, I want to find out quickly so we can start to take care of things. Can you get someone to come stay with Darla so you can take him over to the hospital?”

“Tonight?” Don Reynolds’s voice cracked. “You want to take him to the hospital tonight?”

“I think that would be best. He hasn’t been eating, and he’s probably dehydrated. He’ll feel better when we give him some intravenous fluid, and I can get the tests I want started right away.”

Don looked at Emmy, his expression stunned. “I…I can call my mother. She’ll come over.”

“Good,” Harper said.

“Don, honey,” Emmy said soothingly, “why don’t you go call your mom. I’ll talk to Jimmy.”

“Okay, sure. I can do that. Sure.”

Emmy watched her husband trudge away before asking Harper, “Can I stay with him in the hospital?”

“Absolutely. Once we get him settled, we’ll have the nurses bring a cot into his room for you.”

Tears glistened on Emmy’s lashes, and she brushed at them impatiently. She stared down the hall as if checking to see they were still alone. “Harper, I want the truth.”

Harper brushed Emmy’s shoulder. “I’m telling you the truth, Emmy. I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“But you suspect something, don’t you.”

Harper smiled, still calm and unruffled. “It’s my job to be suspicious. That’s why I want him in the hospital. My guessing right now is not going to help him or you.”

“We don’t have insurance. Last year’s crops were so bad, we had to let it go.”

“There are ways to handle that. And now is not the time to worry about it. What matters is Jimmy.”

“I want you to tell me first, soon as you know. Don…” Her voice shook. “Don is the best husband I could ever want, but he’s not strong about some things. He won’t…if it’s bad, he won’t do good.”

“You first, I promise.”

“All right, I’ll go talk to Jimmy alone if you don’t mind. If I need you, I’ll call.”

“Sure. You go ahead. Pack enough clothes for a few days.”

Emmy stopped and gave Harper a hard look, but finally disappeared.

When the door closed, Harper sighed tiredly and rubbed her face. Presley wished she could help her—help all of them somehow—and had never felt quite so useless in her life.

“We’ll be ready to go in just a few minutes,” Emmy said when she came out. “As soon as Don’s mother gets here.”

“All right, I’ll meet you at the hospital,” Harper said.

Emmy Reynolds nodded distractedly. “I’m going to get Darla ready to go to Sally’s.”

Harper and Presley let themselves out. When they reached the truck, Harper said, “I’ll take you home.”

“No,” Presley said. “I’m in the opposite direction from the hospital. The family will need you to be there when they get there, and I’m sure you have things that you need to do before they arrive.”

“I could be there a while.”

Presley opened her door and climbed into the truck. “Then we should get going.”

Harper got behind the wheel, grateful that Presley understood without her needing to tell her what was happening. Cases like this were some of the hardest she ever had to deal with. Emmy was scared, Don was terrified, and she feared she wouldn’t have good news for them. She started the truck and headed for the Rivers.

“Can you tell me what you suspect?” Presley asked.

Harper sighed. “Both his spleen and liver are enlarged. A boy his age, with his symptoms, we have to worry that he’s got leukemia or lymphoma. Either one is dangerous. It might be something simpler, but…”

“But you don’t think so.”

“No,” Harper said, “I don’t think so.”

“Are these things treatable?”

“Yes, and a lot more successfully than ten or twenty years ago, depending on exactly what he has. No matter what the type, though, if he has leukemia, he’s in for a rough ride. So are his parents.”

“God, that’s horrible.”

“Yes, it is.” Harper glanced over at Presley. “I’m sorry, this is going to take a few hours. Your night will be shot.”

“Don’t be silly. Just do what you have to do. I’ll be fine.” Presley clasped Harper’s wrist. “If I were home, I’d probably be working. I can do that while I wait just as well at the hospital.”

“You work too much.”

“Says the doctor who makes house calls on Saturday night.”

“I can see why my father liked company. It helps.” Harper turned her hand over to grasp Presley’s. Presley’s fingers on her forearm were comforting, a connection she welcomed as she thought about the night ahead and the pain she was likely to bring to Don and Emmy. Pain not of her doing, but pain she would have to deliver all the same. And she worried about Jimmy, a boy who shouldn’t have to deal with anything more serious than improving his baseball swing and what he would do on summer vacation. She held Presley’s hand a moment longer and let go.

“I’m glad it helps,” Presley said softly. “And I’m glad I’m here.”

Chapter Nineteen

“I’ll be in my office,” Presley told Harper as they stopped in front of the ER entrance. “I’m sure you’ll be tied up awhile, so don’t worry about calling.”

“I will when I’ve finished,” Harper said. “But if you want to leave—”

“I won’t, but if I do, my car is here. So don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

The big red-and-white sign overhead painted Harper’s face in stark relief. Gone was the quiet, careful woman who favored a secluded hideaway up among the branches of a great oak. Her jaw was set in granite and a hard light burned in her eyes. The warrior had emerged, and seeing her this way was enough to make Presley believe she was undefeatable. The family would believe that too, she had no doubt. “If I can do anything—”

“You have.” Harper stared up at the blazing sign and the building looming beyond. “I love this place, but there’s a lot of pain inside these walls.” She glanced at Presley. “Sometimes it’s lonely.”

Presley’s throat tightened. Had she ever been this brave? Had she ever admitted, even to herself, all the things she longed for? “Not tonight.”

Harper touched her hand. “No. Not tonight.”

“Go, do what you need to do. I’ll be here.”

“Thanks,” Harper said.

They parted company just inside. In her office, Presley settled behind her desk and pulled up the projections Preston’s team had provided along with the hospital financials she’d collected earlier. She keyed in data and ran various scenarios, looking for loss points and duplications, wide margins between billables and receivables, searching for the places where the cash flow might be converted from negative to positive. Unfortunately, one of those areas was the number of staff—an overabundance or poor allocation of staff was a drain on resources.