The Shape of Night(34)

“Last week. After I fainted.”

“Did he, now?” is all she says before she discreetly looks down again at the appointment book. In this age of electronic medical charts, it’s quaint to see patients’ names handwritten in ink. “Please have a seat, Ms. Collette.”

I settle into a chair to fill out the patient information sheet. Name, address, health history. When I come to the blank for Emergency Contact, I hesitate. For a moment I stare at the blank where I have always before written Lucy’s name. Instead I write Simon’s name and phone number. He’s not a blood relation, but at least he’s still my friend. That’s one bridge I haven’t burned. Yet.

“Ava?” Ben Gordon stands in the doorway, smiling at me. “Let’s go back and take a look at that arm, shall we?”

I leave the clipboard with the receptionist and follow him down the hallway to the exam room, where all the equipment looks reassuringly modern, unlike the ancient Miss Hutchins. As I climb up onto the exam table, he goes to the sink and washes his hands, like any good medical professional.

“How’s the fever?” he asks.

“It’s gone.”

“Finished the antibiotics?”

“Every pill. Just as you instructed.”

“Appetite? Energy?”

“I’m feeling pretty good, actually.”

“Ah, a medical miracle! Every so often, I do get it right.”

“And I really want to thank you.”

“For doing what I’m trained to do?”

“For going out of your way to help me. I got the feeling, talking to your receptionist, that house calls aren’t something you usually do.”

“Well, it’s what my grandfather and my dad did all the time. Brodie’s Watch isn’t that far out of town, so it was easy enough for me to pop by. I wanted to save you a very expensive trip to the ER.” He dries his hands and turns to face me. “Now let’s take a look at the arm.”

    I unbutton my shirtsleeve cuff. “It looks a lot better, I think.”

“No more scratches from that ferocious cat?”

“He’s really not as vicious as he seems. The day he scratched me, he was just startled.” Startled by something I will not tell Dr. Gordon about, because it might make him question my sanity. I roll the sleeve above my elbow. “You can hardly see the scratches anymore.”

He examines the healed claw marks. “The papules are definitely clearing up. No fatigue, no headache?”

“No.”

He extends my arm and probes my elbow. “Let’s see if those lymph nodes have gotten any smaller.” He pauses, frowning at the bruise encircling my wrist. Although it has faded, it is still apparent.

I tug my arm away from him and yank down the sleeve. “I’m fine. Really.”

“How did you get that bruise?”

“I probably bumped into something. I don’t even remember.”

“Is there anything you want to talk about? Anything at all?”

His question is asked quietly, gently. What safer place to confess the truth than here, to this man whose job it is to hear his patients’ most embarrassing secrets? But I don’t say a word as I button the cuff of my shirt.

“Is someone hurting you, Ava?”

“No.” I force myself to meet his gaze and answer calmly: “It really is nothing.”

After a moment he nods. “It’s my job to protect the well-being of my patients. I know you live all alone up there, and I want to make sure you feel safe. That you are safe.”

“I am. I mean, aside from having an attack cat.”

At that he laughs, and the sound defuses the tension between us. He must sense that I haven’t told him everything, but for now he’s not pressing me for the truth. And what would he say if I did tell him about what happened to me in the turret? Would he be shocked to hear that I’d actually enjoyed it? That ever since that night, I’ve waited eagerly for my phantom lover to return?

    “I don’t see any need for a follow-up visit, unless your fever returns,” he says and closes the chart. “How much longer will you be staying in Tucker Cove?”

“I’ve arranged to rent the house through the end of October, but I’m starting to think I may stay even longer. It’s turned out to be the perfect place for me to write.”

“Ah yes,” he says, as he walks me back to the reception area. “I’ve heard all about your book. Billy Conway told me you served him a beef stew that was to die for.”

“Is there anyone you don’t know in this town?”

“That’s the charm of living in Tucker Cove. We know everything about everyone and yet we still talk to each other. Most of the time, anyway.”

“What else have you heard about me?”

“Besides the fact you’re a great cook? You’re also very interested in our town’s history.”

“You heard that from Mrs. Dickens, right?”

He gives a sheepish laugh and nods. “Mrs. Dickens.”

“It’s unfair. You know all about me, but I don’t know a thing about you.”

“You could always learn more.” He opens the door to reception and we both walk out into the waiting room. “Are you interested in art?”