Burying Water (Burying Water #1)(20)

When I’m dressed again, I emerge from the bathroom. Amber is gone.

“When was the last time you went outside?” Ginny asks, her tone not as harsh as it was earlier. The drugs must have kicked in.

“Amber took me out last week, but it was too cold to stay long.” I drop my things in the drawer by my bed and then make my way over to the window. Round shrubs stand in a solitary row outside. Beyond them is a blanket of manicured green grass and, beyond that, a parking lot filled with cars. It’s not much to look at and yet each time I venture over to the glass, both my impatience and my fear swell. I’ve been confined to these dreary walls for months now and I’m ready to see the world beyond that parking lot. Yet, that will mean I’ve been released into the world. Released to go . . .

Where?

I have nowhere to go.

Here, within these walls, I have people. Paid staff, mind you, but people.

Out there . . .

I have no one.

“Tell Meredith to take you out today. It was mild this morning, on my way here. Finally. What a long winter it’s been! They’re calling for a cool summer with more rain than normal. We don’t get much of that in the interior, so that’ll be nice. I’m sure the folks in Portland will be complaining even more than usual, though.”

I finally venture, “It sounds like you know Dr. Alwood well.”

“I’ve lived next door to the Welles family all my life. I used to babysit Gabe, back when he was making mud pies and throwing frogs at girls. Why some idiot gave him a gun and let him run the town is beyond me.”

I glance over my shoulder at her, still focused on her needlework. She’s definitely older than Sheriff Welles but by how much, I’m not sure. Maybe the gray in her hair is deceiving me. It looks like she cut it herself. With hedge clippers. Though I shouldn’t judge, given my own hair right now.

And what she lacks in her hairstyle, she makes up for in her complexion. Her face is relatively wrinkle-free. Maybe never smiling is the trick to smooth skin.

“Does amnesia make you forget basic manners? Don’t stare at me, girl!”

My mouth drops open. Dr. Alwood told her about me? Why?

Noise at the door distracts us before I have a chance to speak. A tall male nurse pushes a gurney into the room. “Good morning, Miss Fitzgerald . . .” He lifts the chart from Ginny’s bed. “I see we’re taking your gallbladder from you today.”

“You most certainly are not!” she retorts, her eyes flashing as they size him up.

His brow spikes with surprise, but then he chuckles as he approaches the side of the bed. “Don’t worry. It’s just a routine—”

“Where are Amber and Meredith? Find them, now!” she barks.

The guy reaches for her, saying, “They’re waiting for you in the OR. We’ll see them in—”

She slaps his hand away and then wraps her arms around her chest, hugging herself tightly. “Don’t you dare touch me!”

I’m definitely staring now, and rather rudely. Is this all an act or is Ginny Fitzgerald crazy? But then I see the quilt square bunched tightly in her shaking fist. Crazy isn’t the right word. The woman is terrified.

The nurse appears wary now, but he has a job to do. He holds his hands up in a sign of surrender. “Okay, Miss Fitzgerald. I won’t help you get up on this gurney. But I’ll need you to climb up on—”

“I’m not going anywhere with you!” she manages to get out, her entire body trembling now.

I may not know a lot, but I know that this is not normal, nor is it good. Did Amber expect this reception when she gave her those drugs? Whatever they were, they don’t seem to be helping. “Excuse me. I think you should go find Nurse Welles and Dr. Alwood.”

The male nurse seems to notice me for the first time. His eyes automatically settle on the side of my face, on my scar. Heat flushes my cheeks and I instinctively turn my head so I’m not directly facing him. I imagine I’ll be doing that for the rest of my life.

Shoes pound against the tile floor somewhere in the hall and then a moment later, both Amber and Dr. Alwood round the corner, panting. “We’ll take it from here,” Dr. Alwood says, practically pushing the male nurse away to wedge herself in next to a shaking Ginny.

The confused nurse seems only too happy to spin on his heels and dart out.

“You . . . you promised me!” Ginny stutters, her pointed finger stabbing the air in front of Dr. Alwood.

“I know, Ginny. I’m sorry. We had to switch ORs and things got scrambled.” A pause. “Do you think you can still handle this surgery today?”

Ginny’s chest puffs out and deflates with several deep breaths as her eyes shift between the door and her doctor, and back again. And then she tosses the crumpled quilt material onto her side table and mutters, “I’m not coming back again, so let’s get this over with.”

Amber rolls the gurney next to Ginny’s bed. Before they can help their neighbor out of her bed and onto it, Ginny’s finger comes up again. “But if I see that man in there . . . ”

“It’s an all-female staff, just like I promised, Ginny.” Dr. Alwood’s eyes drift to mine. “Hi, Jane. How are you feeling today?”

I glance over at their patient, who’s scowling as Amber adjusts the bedsheet draped over her body and begins pushing her gurney toward the door. “Curious.”