“You’re a romantic, Harper. You read too many books as a kid. Most of the time what you see is what you get. Be grateful when you find a woman who won’t ask more than that. And for God’s sake, don’t choose someone who’s already a sure bet to break your heart.”

“Is that what you want? To just make do?”

“Don’t make this about me. It’s not about me.”

“Maybe not, but I still want to know.”

Flann looked away, a sure sign she was going to avoid the whole truth. She wouldn’t lie, but she would keep her secrets. “I’d be happy with a woman who was into good sex and occasional company and wouldn’t want me to be someone I’m not.”

“Like a friend with benefits?”

Flann lifted a shoulder, still staring out the tree house window toward the river. “I suppose that’s a good enough name for it. Just so I don’t have to constantly be worried about someone wanting more.”

“It’s the wanting more that makes it special.”

Flann glared at her. “What exactly happened this morning?”

“Presley reminded me that sex was just sex, sort of like what you’ve been saying. She probably should’ve gone to bed with you and not me.”

Flann barked out a short, sarcastic laugh. “Oh yeah, right, then you and I would’ve been pistols at dawn. Why can’t you just be happy you got her into bed?”

“It’s not enough, and you’d know it, if you weren’t too afraid—”

Flann jumped up and paced to the opposite side of the room, putting as much distance between herself and Harper as possible. She kept her back to Harper as she looked out the window. “I’m not afraid.”

“Fuck, you’re not. I just don’t know why. Look at Mama and Dad—”

“Yeah, look at them.” Flann swung around. “Sure, they’ve got a great relationship. How many women do you think there are like Mama? Willing to raise a family practically by herself while Dad does what he wants.”

“Not just for himself,” Harper said. “You think he’s sacrificed all these years taking care of other people just for himself?”

“What has he given up? He’s got a home, a woman who waits for him, kids who are crazy about him, while he’s out taking care of other people who think he’s God. Tell me, what’s he given up?”

Harper sprang to her feet. “You’ve got to be kidding me. That’s what you think? That it’s all been easy for him?”

“You can’t see it because you’re just like him. Maybe you should look for a woman just like Mama—and good luck with that.”

“Where is this coming from?” Harper said quietly.

Flann’s fury seemed to abate as quickly as it had come and she sank back against the rough-hewn plank wall. She pushed her hands into the pocket of her jeans and stared at the floor. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve been mad at him for a while.”

“For a while? Like ten years or something? Why?”

Flann raised her head. “He wasn’t here when Katie died.”

“He didn’t know she was going to go so quickly. It was septic shock. You know that.”

“He wasn’t here then. He wasn’t at the hospital the night Davey was born. He wasn’t here for more things than I can count.”

“And you think that didn’t hurt him? Come on, Flann. What is it you’re really afraid of?”

“That I’ll be just like him,” Flann said flatly. “And I won’t be able to be there when it matters.”

“So you’ve decided you just won’t try.”

“I’ve decided that I want a different life.”

“You’ll change your mind when you meet her.”

Flann’s eyes darkened. “There is no her.”

“You can believe that all you want, but you’re wrong.”

“Well, if you’re any example, I prefer to be wrong for the rest of my life.”

“It’s worth it.”

“What is?”

“The pain—the amazing sense of being filled with everything that’s right is worth the pain. What I felt with her—”

“Oh come on. Give me a break. Get your head out of the clouds. You had a great roll in the hay. All that says is she’s good in bed, and all that means is she’s had enough practice—”

Harper tackled her around the waist, and they went down in a pile of arms and legs. The tree shook and leaves fell like rain as they rolled and tumbled and fought to be on top.

Flann was quick and wiry and they’d had a lot of practice wrestling as kids. It took Flann five minutes to flip Harper onto her back and straddle her middle, but eventually she pinned Harper’s arms to the floor.

Harper was panting and sweating, but so was Flann. Flann’s face was inches above hers.

“Say it,” Flann said.

“No.”

“Say it.” Flann bounced on Harper’s middle until Harper thought she was going to puke. “Say it.”

“Uncle,” Harper gasped.

“I can’t believe you went for me like that.”

“Get off,” Harper grunted.

Flannery bounced one more time. “Man, she has got you by the gonads.”

Harper grinned, but the sadness still filled her. “Yeah, I guess I’m well and truly fucked.”

Flann sat back on her haunches, taking her weight off Harper’s torso so she could breathe again. “I’m sorry.”

“For which part?” Harper sucked in air. She needed to run more.

“I’m sorry things with Presley didn’t work out. I’m sorry for talking bullshit about Dad. I’m not sorry for whipping your ass.”

“You’re wrong, you know,” Harper said. “You’ll be there when it matters, Flann. You always are.”

*

Presley grabbed the items she’d bought the day before out of Harper’s truck, drove home as fast as she dared, and went directly to her room to take off Harper’s clothes. The intimacy of Harper’s touch, even imagined, was too sharp when what she needed was distance. She folded them carefully and set them on the dresser. She’d have to find a delicate way of returning them, but that quandary could wait. After pulling on a pair of capri workout pants, a lightweight V-neck tee, and running shoes, she went downstairs to sweat out some of her self-recrimination. She actually loathed running, so the activity would serve a dual purpose—with every aching step she’d be reminded of the cost of impetuosity and would wear off the lingering pulse of desire that still beat deep inside. As she passed through the foyer to the front door, Carrie called out a good morning from the living room.

Presley stopped and poked her head through the doorway. Carrie looked cheery and relaxed curled up in the corner of the couch in threadbare red plaid pj pants and a pale blue Henley, her laptop open and balanced on her knees. Presley mustered up a smile. “Hi. How was your night?”

“All things considered, amazingly good. The absence of noise—well, at least the noise I’m used to—still weirds me out a little bit. But now I’m starting to hear other things—croaking and chirping and some sort of groaning that I think might be cows.”

“Hopefully it’s cows. I don’t want to think about it being anything else.” Presley couldn’t help but laugh. “I know what you mean about the sounds, though, and not just the noises. It’s like a different version of everything we know here. Sometimes I feel like I’ve tumbled into an alternate universe.”

“Or just a very old version of our own.” Carrie stretched her bare feet out onto the big steamer trunk repurposed as a coffee table. Her toenails, Presley noted absently, were bright pink. “I kind of like it. That old-time feeling.”

“Yes, I suppose it has its charms.” Presley could easily see Harper in a horse and buggy, her big leather satchel by her feet, a horsehair blanket over her lap, riding through a cold fall morning on her way to a call, the trees a sunburst of colors surrounding her, the crystal-blue sky icing gray at the edges with the promise of winter to come. She could see, too, Harper returning after a long night of tending to families spread far and wide over the countryside, stomping her boots on the porch, getting rid of the snow before she trudged inside to where a fire burned in the hearth. To where Presley waited, curled up in a chair with a book. Presley shook her head, dispelling the whimsical hallucination. “Something about this place does things to you. Dangerous things. I wouldn’t get too used to it.”

Carrie gave Presley a curious, concerned look. “Is there something wrong?”

“Is there anything right?”

“Maybe you should sit down.” Carrie patted the sofa. “There’s fresh coffee. And Lila baked bread.”

Presley caught herself just before she took Carrie up on her invitation. Carrie worked for her, and it wouldn’t do for her to know how conflicted she was about what they were doing here. Conflicted wasn’t exactly the right word. Ambivalent? No, not that either. She knew well enough what needed to be done. She was angry, furious, that the job had been foisted onto her for no other reason than Preston’s ploy for political advantage. Now she was going to disrupt the lives of a lot of good people so Preston could have room to maneuver while she was gone. How venal was that? How meaningless and petty compared to what Harper and Flannery and Edward Rivers did every day. She thought of Jimmy Reynolds, probably struggling right this moment to survive while his parents agonized. And what was her goal? To beat her brother at a game they’d been playing since birth in a hopeless attempt to win their parents’ approval? She didn’t have to play Preston’s game, but she did need to do her job. She had a responsibility to the shareholders, no matter what she might feel personally about the outcome for the people here.

“Tomorrow morning I want you to set up appointments with the three top-rated construction firms in the county. I want to see them this week to discuss bids, and I’ll need blueprints of the physical plant and the surveys when I meet with them.”

“All right,” Carrie said slowly. “I’ll have some other figures for you—”

“Fine. Bring me what you have after lunch tomorrow. I want to get the endgame in place. I don’t want to spend any more time here than I need to.”

“Of course,” Carrie said.

From her tone, Presley knew Carrie was bothered by something, but she didn’t have the emotional strength or patience to find out what it was. The best thing for both of them was to get the job done and get home.

“I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

“Have a good run,” Carrie said uncertainly.

“I intend to.” Presley banged through the front door and clambered down the steps to the drive. She jogged toward the road, surrounded by green waving stalks of corn that seemed taller overnight. She damned the beauty even as her heart leapt. Everything about the place drew her in, until she couldn’t escape the sweetness or the sorrow. She picked up her pace, determined not to be touched by either.

Chapter Twenty-four

Presley arrived at the hospital early every day for two weeks, well before anyone else arrived, and left after everyone else had gone home. She saw Carrie and no one else, carefully avoiding the clinical areas of the hospital. Harper hadn’t contacted her to accompany her on rounds or house calls, not that she’d expected her to. All well and good, and a reminder, one she shouldn’t have needed, that mixing personal and professional business was a very bad idea. Besides, she appreciated having more time to work and less time to be distracted by Harper and her patients, things she should’ve known better than to involve herself with to begin with.

The long hours paid off, and by mid-month, she’d digested most of the significant data, all of which had confirmed what she’d originally suspected. The patient base at the Rivers—she winced and caught herself—at ACH was poor and underinsured. Although the hospital census had remained relatively high throughout the last decade, revenues had declined, costs had risen, and no new sources of income had appeared to bridge the gap. Numbers never lied, no matter how much she wished they did.

“Carrie,” she said from the doorway of her office, “would you contact Dr. Rivers and ask him to meet with me before the end of the day.”

“Of course,” Carrie said.

Carrie had been keeping the same hours as Presley, although Presley hadn’t asked her to. She’d left early a few days for softball games, extending an invitation for Presley to join her. After the first few times Presley refused, Carrie stopped asking. Presley was grateful for Carrie’s perceptiveness.

“Oh,” Carrie said, “I’ve set up a second appointment for you on Monday with the contractor you liked. All the necessary schematics are on your computer already.”

“Thanks.”

“Just Edward Rivers?” Carrie asked.

“Yes. I don’t need to see anyone else.”

Carrie’s expression was neutral, but her eyes spoke volumes. She wasn’t happy, and ordinarily Presley would’ve asked her for her opinion, but right now, the last thing she needed was someone else distracting her from doing what had to be done.