Reunion in October (The Calendar Girls Book 2) (23 page)

“You would do that?”

“Yes.” I was pretty certain I was dancing a very thin line between professional courtesy and personal conflict, but I convinced myself I’d do the same for any teen who showed up in my E.R. in similar circumstances. “But I really want you to consider finding a responsible adult to confide in. A sibling, an aunt, a neighbor. You’re at a tenuous time in your life and making the wrong decisions could have far-reaching effects.”

“I’ll think about it,” she replied.

I supposed that was the best I could hope for.

A sudden rap of knuckles preceded Ana’s arrival in the exam room. “Got your results,” she announced, a slight smile on her lips.

My nerves stretched taut. “And?”

“Negative.”

Chapter 16

Francesca

The E.R. stayed quiet and slow, with only a feverish newborn and a food poisoning case in the wee hours, allowing me to keep Desiree resting in the exam room until my shift ended. Early Saturday morning, I crept in and found her curled up on the padded exam bench, a pillow folded under her head and a blanket wrapped around her hips. The swollen bruise above her eye still ruled supreme on her brow, the cold pack clutched in her hand, useless, at her side.

“Desi?” I shook her gently until her eyelids fluttered open. “Sorry to wake you, but it’s time to go.”

She sat up slowly, stretching her arms wide. “What time is it?”

“About eight-thirty.” One hand on her arm, I helped her off the table.

“I can’t go home yet,” she said, panicked. “It’s too early.”

“I figured. I’ll take you to my place for a few hours. You can clean up, take a shower.” I indicated the torn strap of her dress. “I might even have something you can change into that won’t get your parents questioning you the minute you walk in the door.”

Her cheeks filled with rosy color as she glanced down at the torn and stained hem of her party dress. “You’ll do that for me?”

“Yes.” Her smile beamed, and I held up a hand. “But I’m going to say it again. You really need to come clean about this. Tell someone in your family the truth.”

“I can’t.” She stamped her foot, an action I would have sworn most teenagers reserved for their most dramatic tantrums. “You know my parents. How do you think they’d react if they found out where I was and what I was doing last night?”

“How do you think they’d feel if they received a phone call from me or the cops last night because someone found your raped and beaten body in the woods somewhere?”

She shook her head. “Garrett would never do that. He’s a jerk, but he’s not a criminal.”

“Uh-huh.” I bit my tongue and stayed silent for the ride to my house. She wouldn’t listen. What teenager did? They all thought they were immortal. Until they showed up on a gurney in my emergency room. Unfortunately, sometimes at that stage, they didn’t get a second chance.

Once we reached my home, I led her to the guest room with its private bath. “There are some jeans, leggings, and t-shirts in the closet,” I told her. “They won’t be a perfect fit, but you’ll definitely be more comfortable than you are now. Do you want to sleep for a while first?”

“No, I’m good.” She reached into the tub area to turn on the water, and I stepped out of the bathroom. “Frannie?”

Her voice stopped me in the doorway to the hall. “Hmmm?”

She dipped her head, her dark brown hair shielding her face. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” I replied and headed down to my kitchen to grant her some privacy. I put on the kettle for tea, poured myself a glass of orange juice and took my vitamins. Seated at my kitchen table, I wondered. What would a teenager want for breakfast? Especially after a hard night of booze, pot, and a trip to the E.R.

“Pancakes,” I said aloud as I stood and aimed for my pantry. The carbs would help soak up any excess alcohol still in her body. If I threw in some bananas, walnuts, and honey, it would almost pass as healthy, too.

While my tea steeped, I gathered the ingredients, whipped up the batter, and ladled circles onto the hot griddle. From upstairs, I heard the water turn off and footsteps overhead. Good. Perfect timing.

“Knock, knock!”

Crap. Josh. With the worst timing ever. I raced toward the front door, my mind scheming for some way to get him out of here fast. “Josh!” I wrapped my arms around his neck and turned him back toward the door. “What are you doing here?”

He brushed his lips on mine, a sweet hello kiss. “Working on the McNeils’ place today. Saw your car in the drive, thought I’d say good morning.” His chiseled face tilted upward, and he inhaled with a loud, long sniff. “Wow, something smells good.” Releasing me, he strode into the kitchen.

Great. I sped past him to the stove. Maybe I could push him out the back door before Desi came down. “Banana pancakes,” I said as I flipped them over. “But you can’t stay.”

“Why not?”

Of course, Desi chose that exact moment to appear in the doorway. “That smells great, Frannie. What are you—?” She stopped short and came face-to-face with her brother. “Josh? What are you doing here?” She whirled to me, her cheeks flushed with anger. “You called him, didn’t you?”

Josh stalked forward and pulled his little sister into the light near the kitchen window. “Desi? What the hell happened to your face?”

She ignored him, her fury focused on me. “You promised!”

I held up my hands, the pancake turner my flag of surrender. “I swear. I didn’t call him.”

“Why not?” Josh demanded of me. “What’s going on?”

“Why don’t we all sit down?” I suggested and pulled out a chair. Around me, battlelines were drawn, and the volley had begun.

“Who hit you, Desi?”

“No one.”

“Bull.”

“No bull. I hit my head against a rock.”

“Where?”

“None of your business.”

I removed the pancakes from the griddle, piled them on a plate, and placed them on the table. “May as well sit and eat, guys, while everything’s hot.” They ignored me, totally engrossed in their heated debate.

“Do Mom and Dad know you’re here?”

“That’s none of your business, either.”

“Umm...” I tried again. “Guys? Pancakes? Orange juice? Dueling pistols?”

“In other words, no.”

“What do you care? You’re not my father.”

“And I’m betting Dad doesn’t know squat about what you’re doing. Get your stuff. I’ll take you home.”

“I’m an adult now. You can’t tell me what to do.”

“You’re nineteen, Desi! You’re not even legally old enough to drink yet, but I’m betting you did anyway.”

Desi folded her arms over her chest. “So what? It’s not like you were a saint when you were nineteen, Josh. Or eighteen. Or sixteen, for that matter. You had plenty of nights when you stumbled home drunk before you turned twenty-one.”

I assume he didn’t have a valid argument for that because he switched tacks. “Whose clothes are those?”

I took in the red SUNY Stony Brook Seawolves sweatshirt and black leggings she’d borrowed. “Those are mine,” I volunteered.

At last, Josh turned to me and jabbed his index finger in Desiree’s direction. “What’s she doing here?”

“She came home with me. It was too early for her to go to your parents’ house so I invited her to take a shower and change before I took her home.” I rose and stepped toward him, my hands outstretched. “Josh, she’s fine. It’s okay.”

His lips compressed in a tight frown. “No, it’s not. You’re not answering me any more than she is. How did my little sister wind up in your house at nine o’clock on a Saturday morning? Where was she that you brought her to your house? Was she in the hospital? Where are her clothes? And how did she get that huge knot on her forehead?”

“This is asinine,” Desi retorted. “I’m outta here. Thanks for everything, Frannie. I’ll just walk home from here.”

“No, Desi, wait.” I raced to stop her. “Please. Don’t go. Look, I swear to you, I didn’t call your brother, but maybe it’s a good thing that he showed up. You promised to tell someone—”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.” Wonderful. I’d just entered the Candolero family war. But on nobody’s side.

“No. I said I’d
think
about it.”

“Forget her,” Josh remarked. “Frannie, just tell me what’s going on.”

I turned to him, my tongue tied up in a promise knot. “I...er...I...can’t.”

“Why not?”

I shrugged. “She’s my patient.”

He planted his fists on his hips. “She’s my
sister
.”

“Yes, I know, but, by law, I can’t divulge anything about her condition or how she wound up in my care without her permission.” I shot a questioning glance at the teen, but she folded her arms over her chest and shook her head with slow deliberation.
Okay, then
.

“She’s my sister,” Josh repeated through gritted teeth.

“She’s my patient,” I replied with an apologetic wince. “I’m sorry. I can’t tell you unless she gives me permission to do so.”

He thumped his chest. “
I’m
giving you permission.”

“That’s not good enough.”

Fumbling at his belt, he pulled out his cell. “Fine. I’ll do it my way.” He punched in a number.

“Who are you calling?” Desiree asked.

“Hi, Mom?” he said into the phone. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

Desiree went into mute hysterics. Waving her arms, she scrunched up her eyes in a pleading expression and mouthed, “Don’t. Pleeeeeeease.”

He turned his back to her. “Is Desiree home?” A brief pause and then, “Oh, she spent the night at
Casey’s
? Oh, okay.” He whirled to give his sister—and me—a scathing glare that parched my throat and pitched my stomach into freefall. “No, it’s not important. I wanted to ask her about...”

Once again, Desiree attempted to stop him with silent gestures, racing around my table to face him with clasped hands and a quick kneel on the floor.

“Never mind, Mom. I’ll catch up with her on my own. Thanks.” He hung up, shoved the phone back into his pocket and glared at both of us. “Now, Desiree, sit down and tell me everything, or I’ll call Mom back and you can explain it all to her. Obviously you’re not at a slumber party at Casey’s house. So, where did you spend the night?”

She looked up at me, tears of defeat shimmering in her eyes as she sank into a chair.

Standing behind her, I placed my hands on her shoulders and offered her an encouraging nod. “Tell him, Desi. Please. It’s going to be okay.”

“You stay out of this, Frannie.” Josh jabbed an accusatory finger in my direction. “This is a family thing.”

I shook my head. “It’s more than that. And I promised your sister—”

“Stay. Out. Of. This.”

“No.”

He blinked. “No?”

“No.” I didn’t want to argue with him, but I had promised Desi I’d stick with her, and I would. I gave her an encouraging squeeze. “Tell him.”

She sniffed and focused her gaze on the quickly cooling pile of pancakes. “I went to a party at a frat house.”

“You did what?!” His fist pounded the table, and the dishes clinked together.

I hoped the impact hadn’t chipped them. “Josh, please,” I said. “Let her finish.”

Sinking into a chair across from her, he leaned forward and gave her his undivided attention. “Okay. Tell me.”

“Casey and I went to a frat party.”

I had to hand it to Josh. Though his eyes bulged a few times, and his fists tightened more than a few times, he managed to keep his cool and let her tell the story in her halting and emotion-filled way. She left out the pregnancy test, and I didn’t feel the need to embellish. Since the results had been negative, unless the blood test came back with a different result, there was no need for Josh to know how much deeper into the trouble pool his sister might have fallen. When she finished, he looked up at me for confirmation, and I nodded.

“Where’s this Garrett character now?” Josh asked.

“I don’t know,” she murmured with a careless shrug. “Back at the frat house, I guess.”

“So, where’s this frat house?”

“No,” I interjected. “It’s over, Josh. Let it go. Your sister’s okay, she’s learned her lesson, she’s not going to see Garrett again.”

“The hell it’s over. I can’t believe you kept this from me, Frannie. You should have called me the minute she showed up in the emergency room.”

My throat constricted, and my tongue grew thick in my mouth. I understood his disappointment, but he had no idea about the legal repercussions I faced. “Contacting you wasn’t an option for me.”

“It should have been.” He rose, his anger hot enough to reheat the cooling pancakes. “I have to get to work. Can I trust you to take her straight home after this?”

The dig pierced my sensitive feelings. “Of course,” I retorted. To hide my hurt, I bent and pushed the plate of pancakes in front of Desiree. “Eat, sweetheart. I’ll be right back.”

I followed Josh, who’d stormed to my front door, his heavy work boots thumping across my hardwood floors. “Jeez, Frannie, how could you not call someone? If not me, my parents or one of my sisters?”

“Josh, I couldn’t,” I repeated for the hundredth time. “If she’d just appeared on my doorstep, I would have picked up the phone right away. But she came to me as a
patient
in the hospital. And it’s against the law for me to divulge any details regarding a patient’s condition without permission. Believe me, I was just as surprised to see her in the E.R. as you were to find her here. If I’d have called anyone without her knowledge or consent...” I shook my head. “I could lose my medical license.”

“Who would have complained?” he demanded. “You think I would have told the medical board? Or my parents would have?”

“It doesn’t matter. I can’t cross that line. Even for you.”

“Let me get this straight. Suppose, next time she shows up in the E.R., she’s in a lot worse shape. Maybe even beaten nearly to death. You wouldn’t call her family to be with her?”

“Not if she were conscious, lucid, and insisting that I not tell anyone. No.”

His eyes narrowed to feral slits. “So, if it came down to telling me about something that might affect my sister’s life or your job, you’d choose your job. Right?”