Laughing, looking younger by a decade, Harper took a long pull on her beer. “So, how do you really feel about Abby?”

Flann tensed. Had Harper read something in her face earlier? Because Abby Remy kept intruding on her thoughts. A lot more than a new professional colleague, even one who’d effortlessly moved in on her territory, should have. She kept remembering the quick sure movements of her hands as she examined the patient, the steady certain tone in her voice, the focus in her eyes. She was a strong woman, attractive just for that. And then there was the elegant curve of her cheekbones and the sensuous lift of her lips, on the rare occasions when she smiled, and the dynamite shape in a tight, curvy-in-all-the right-places body. Thinking about Abby’s body was a really bad idea, since heading down that path would only lead to disaster. She only had to spend five minutes with Abby to know she wasn’t the kind of woman to cut loose for a night and then walk away with a smile and a wave. And those were the only kind of women Flann wanted to think about—fun-loving, field-playing women just like her. “Presley made a good call. Having someone competent in the ER so we don’t have to worry when we can’t get there right away will take a load off us all.”

“I’m glad you’re okay with it,” Harper said. “Presley really likes her. They were pretty tight in college and then—well, you know how it is when you get to med school. You have a tough time keeping any kind of relationship going with anyone most of the time, and they haven’t really seen each other for a while. But the connection is still there.”

“Yeah, I got that when I talked to Presley earlier. She told me a little about when she and Abby were in college—pretty impressive,” Flann said, “that Abby made it through college and med school and residency while raising a kid.”

That was another really good reason to keep her distance. Single women with kids were like mama bears—protective and reluctant to let anyone close. Rightly so, but not for her.

“Dad did it,” Harper said, “but he had Mama. I don’t see how he could’ve done it and set up his practice without her.”

Flann glanced toward the back porch where her parents were spending a rare few minutes alone together. Even now a lot of the people in the area wanted her father when they had a medical emergency, and he was often called out at night or came home after dinner was long over. Always, her mother had been there for all of them. Her father was Harper’s hero, but her mother was hers. Harper would be the best of both of them, but Flann had always known she wasn’t cut out to be a family woman. She hadn’t even been able to hang in there when Katie was dying. The loss cut her heart out and she’d barely managed to say good-bye, let alone stand strong. She swallowed down the familiar guilt. “I’m sure things will work out fine. Abby has handled a lot tougher situations than relocating, it seems to me.”

Harper set the empty bottle on the drain board. “It’s going to be a challenging transition for her and her son. Moving from the city up here is just part of it.”

“Well, Abby’s got Presley, and that will help a lot.”

“I don’t know…”

“What?” Flann had never known Harper to be reluctant to discuss anything. “What’s going on?”

Harper blew out a breath. “Abby told Presley a big part of the reason that she moved up here was to give her son a new environment, a new place to finish high school.”

“Teenager troubles? Drugs or something?”

“No, nothing like that. Apparently, Blake identifies as trans. He had some trouble with the transition at his old school and Abby thinks a fresh start with new kids will help.”

“Whoa,” Flann said. “That’s got to be a challenge for both of them. Is this the kid Margie met today?”

“Yeah.”

“She didn’t say anything.”

“Maybe she didn’t think anything of it—or doesn’t think it’s her place to say. A lot of kids their age are cool with different gender identities, even up here where being out about differences isn’t as common as in the city. I haven’t had a single kid in my practice talk about gender issues, and I’m sure some have questions.”

“Neither have I,” Flann said, and suddenly, she wanted to know a whole lot more. “You know, it’s about time we did a few repairs to that barn at the Whites’ place, don’t you think?”

“There’s a lot of things that need repairing,” Harper said, seeming not to notice the change in topic.

“How about Saturday afternoon?”

Harper gave her a long look. “I’ll tell Lila to make sure she leaves plenty of extra food for supper.”

CHAPTER SIX

Abby pulled into the drive at sunset. Her commute had taken less than ten minutes. Amazingly, she’d saved an entire hour of travel that she’d usually spent on the subway in a haze of fatigue. Now she actually had a few hours to spend with Blake when she wasn’t so tired all she wanted was to stretch out and not think about work or finances or what might lie ahead for her child. She left her bag by the front door and walked through the big living room, scanning the loft at the top of the staircase that was Blake’s new bedroom. No lights up there, and a silent house. “Blake?”

“Out here,” Blake called from the back porch.

Abby stopped to pour a glass of iced tea she’d made in the morning, carried it outside, and sat down next to him on the top step. From here any sound from the street was muffled and the only thing to see was pastureland. The stillness was unnerving and suspiciously restful. She wondered if she’d ever get used to the absence of the barely controlled energy that defined city life. “What are you doing?”

He held up his cell phone with a futile expression. “Trying to get a signal.”

“Huh. Dead zone?”

He gave her a look. “I think the whole town might be a dead zone.”

She tried to hide her horror. She wasn’t that much into a calmer lifestyle that she could do without the Internet. Or her phone. “Really? That can’t be right. There must be a cell tower around here somewhere.”

“I walked just about everywhere, and most of the time I couldn’t connect.”

“What about in the house?” She imagined her son rambling through town with his phone held up in front of him, like a displaced time traveler. He was, in a way, and not of his own choice. God, having a child was hard. Wonderful, but so damn hard. “Can we text inside?”

“It’s sketchy.”

“Let’s see what happens when we get cable.” She blew out a breath. “We need to have some kind of phone service in an emergency.”

“Or if the hospital needs you,” Blake said glumly.

“That’s not going to happen as often as when I was a fellow. My hours will be a lot more regular.”

“You’re the boss, right?”

“Yes.” The reality of that had sunk in by midday when she’d had to meet with the ER staff to review schedules, evaluate treatment protocols, confirm state-required documentation procedures, and a dozen other things she hadn’t had to worry about a week before—in between seeing patients and supervising the PAs who made up the rest of the non-nursing staff. Most of the staff had been friendly and helpful. A few, as she’d expected, had been reserved, as if waiting to see what changes she intended to make. She hadn’t seen Flannery after their morning conference with the neurosurgeon regarding Nicole Fisher’s status. As busy as she’d been, she’d still had time to second-guess her initial meeting with the surgical chief. Flann was the single most important medical contact for her in the hospital, with Harper being a close second. Between them, they’d be consulted on almost every critical patient in the ER. Once she had the residency program in place and pushed Presley to apply for a primary care residency as well, she’d have a buffer zone where she’d be able to direct patient care much more actively. If the ER was to stand alone within the SunView system, she needed to sever the dependency on Rivers physicians. Flann would fight it.

Tomorrow would be time enough to worry about her battle with the Rivers MDs. Tonight was family time.

Blake regarded her suspiciously. “You called them, right?”

“Hmm? Sorry—called who?”

“The Internet people.” Blake looked pained.

Abby crossed her heart. “I swear I did. They said they’d be here tomorrow. You can live until then without Facebook.”

He made an exasperated sound and pushed his phone into the pocket of his khaki shorts. “Like I have a choice. About anything.”

“What did you do today?” Abby wasn’t going to try to convince him everything would be easy. It might not be. But they weren’t turning back.

He hunched his shoulders. “Not much. Walked around.”

“Did you eat?”

“Yeah.”

“Define eating.”

“Come on.”

“Seriously.”

“Cereal.”

“For breakfast?”

“And lunch,” he said reluctantly.

“Why didn’t you go shopping and get something for sandwiches or something like that?”

He shifted on the stairs and gave her his what-planet-are-you-from look. “Mom. Have you looked around this place? There’s no supermarket. Where am I supposed to get sandwich stuff?”

“Well, there must be somewhere to get food in town. Maybe one of the restaurants has a deli section or something.”

“I didn’t feel like going into every one, okay?”

He’d at least ventured out and explored. She’d count that as a win for the day. “What do you say we go find a pizza place. I’m starving.”

“You think they have one?”

“I don’t think any town could survive without a pizza place. Of course, if you don’t want pizza—”

Blake jumped up. “Hell, yeah.”

Smiling, she rose. “Give me five minutes to change into something more comfortable.”

“Okay. I’ll wait out front.”

She wanted to give him a hug, but she knew it wouldn’t be welcome. She squeezed his shoulder. “It’s going to be okay. Food first, then we’ll explore.”

“Yeah, right,” he muttered, but his expression had lightened.

Abby would do anything to keep him safe and help him be happy. She just hoped she’d know what needed doing when the time came. Step-by-step, they’d chart the waters together. After changing into jeans, a mint-green T-shirt, and flip-flops, she joined Blake where he sat on a board swing hanging by thick ropes from a big oak on the front lawn. Impulsively, she gave him a push and he swung forward.

“Jeez, Mom,” he yelled, jumping down and landing in a small puff of dust. His big grin belied his outrage.

Abby’s heart caught as it often did when she looked at the almost-adult and remembered the child. His hair had been lighter then, sun-kissed and curling around an oval face so unblemished and innocent, she’d believed somewhere angels truly flew. From the time he could talk he’d insisted on he, not she, choosing to be called by his middle name, not his more feminine first; and then for a time, a long frightening time, he’d gone quiet, and the beautiful child had grown joyless and solitary. Until he’d come to her at last, insistent and sure despite the plea in his eyes. And here he was, so different now, and yet at the heart, always the same. Hers to nurture and protect.

“Fine—you push, then.” Abby plunked down on the seat and wrapped her arms around the ropes, the scratch of the frayed fibers and the sultry heat rising from the ground drawing her back to a childhood she rarely paused long enough to remember. Blake gave her a push and she extended her legs, leaning back and letting her hair fly out behind her. The freedom was exhilarating and she reveled for a few more swoops before slowing herself with a foot and jumping off.

“Okay.” She threaded her arm through Blake’s. “Lead on, my man.”

Blake pressed against her for a brief, beautiful moment before letting go. The main street through the village was mostly quiet, a few cars and trucks passing now and then and the occasional dog walker, strolling couple, or clutch of teens passing by. Most of the businesses were closed, and the air, heavy with heat and dusk, felt more like mid-August than barely summer. The parking lot in front of Clark’s pizzeria was full, however. Most of the vehicles were pickups. A bike rack along one side was nearly filled.

“This must be about the only place to eat at night,” Abby said.

“Except for the bars.”

“Well, that lets you out for a couple more years.”

He snorted and paused on the sidewalk in front of the pizza place, a one-story cement-block building painted Day-Glo orange that looked like a converted garage. Two big plate-glass windows framed a red door. An old-fashioned white glass sign, lit by flickering bulbs, hung over it, with Clark’s in red script. Teens and a few older patrons were visible through the windows.