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“What’s that on your face?” Lindsey asked, touching her own unblemished cheek.
The purplish mark on Annie’s left cheek was about the size of a silver dollar but irregularly shaped. Because of the stares of strangers, Annie never quite managed to forget its existence. Most people she was meeting for the first time didn’t mention it, though. She fought against taking offense.
“A port-wine stain,” Annie said. “I was born with it.”
“Why do you still have it?” Lindsey’s stare grew more intense. “Can’t you get rid of it?”
Enough, Annie decided, was enough.
“Let’s see about getting you on a return train,” she said. “Don’t worry about being short on cash. I’ll pay for the ticket.”
“But I don’t want to go back to Pittsburgh.” In a flash of her mascara-coated eyelashes, Lindsey went from a girl who seemed on the verge of womanhood to a whining teen. “I want to go to Indigo Springs.”
That answered one of Annie’s questions. Lindsey Thompson was from Pittsburgh. Annie steeled herself against the girl’s pout.
“Sorry, but I’m not set up for visitors.” Running her father’s business was a full-time job. Besides, Annie didn’t know anything about taking care of a kid. At nearly thirty, she’d never even babysat.
“I didn’t come to visit you, ” Lindsey retorted, her lower lip still thrust forward. “I came to visit Uncle Frank. When he gets back, he’ll let me stay. You’ll see.”
“My father’s not coming back until next month. He’s in Poland.”
Lindsey’s pretty mouth, with its pink-tinted lips, dropped open. Her expression crumbled. “He never said anything about visiting Poland.”
Frank Sublinski, it seemed, had been closemouthed about a lot of things. Annie had left her father a voice mail on his cell phone during the drive to Paoli and was still waiting to hear why he’d never told her the late Helene Nowak Thompson had a daughter who called him Uncle Frank.
“Wait here while I check the train schedule.” Annie didn’t give Lindsey a chance to object. She headed for a ticket window, keeping guilt at bay by assuring herself the girl would be better off back home in Pittsburgh where she belonged.
She returned in minutes to find Lindsey once again sitting on the bench, but this time her book remained in her trendy bag. Her slender arms were crossed over her chest, her mouth a flat line.
“There isn’t a train to Pittsburgh today,” Annie said.
Lindsey’s lovely face lit up, her lips curling into a smile. “Then I guess I have to come to Indigo Springs with you, don’t I?”
Annie tried to look as though the prospect didn’t disconcert her. “I need to call your parents first and tell them you’re spending the night with me.”
“They were already okay with me staying with Uncle Frank. They’ll be okay with me staying with you.”
Lindsey avoided Annie’s eyes, which put Annie on alert. Her father hadn’t known Lindsey was coming for a visit; Lindsey’s parents probably weren’t aware of the fact, either.
“I still need to call them,” Annie said.
“It’d be pretty hard to call them without the phone number.” Lindsey slung her bag over her shoulder and started moving toward the exit, pulling a piece of designer luggage on wheels behind her.
Now what? If one of her father’s employees openly defied her, Annie could threaten to dock their wages or to fire them. Neither tactic would work on Lindsey Thompson.
She blew out a breath, as annoyed with herself as she was with Lindsey. She easily caught up to the teenager, then moved slightly ahead of her to give the illusion that she was in control.
“We’re calling your parents when we get to Indigo Springs,” Annie told her once they were outside the station. “We’ll tell them you’re coming home tomorrow.”
Lindsey acted as though she hadn’t heard her, her silence more oppressive than the midafternoon heat of the August day. Taking short steps, probably because her jeans were so tight, she trudged along, the wheels of her suitcase wobbling over the cracks in the sidewalk that led to the parking lot.
She was having so much trouble toting the thing Annie itched to pick it up and be done with it.
“I can carry your bag for you,” Annie offered.
“I’ll manage.” Lindsey continued to struggle stubbornly with the suitcase so it seemed to take forever until they reached Annie’s pickup, an eight-year-old Dodge Ram. The vehicle had held up well considering the odometer showed more than one hundred thousand miles.
“ That’s your ride?” Lindsey hung back as though afraid the vehicle would roar to life as if they were in a Stephen King novel.
“That’s my ride,” Annie said. “The suitcase goes in the truck bed.”
She expected Lindsey to leave the task to her but the girl surprised her, retracting the handle and then picking up the suitcase. With the muscles in her thin arms straining, she managed to lift the piece of luggage up and over the side of the truck.
Annie got into the driver’s seat, reaching across the cab to unlock the passenger door. After a prolonged pause, Lindsey stepped gingerly onto the flat step before settling into the seat.
“It’s easier to get in and out when you’re not wearing tight pants,” Annie said.
“Skinny jeans are in.” Lindsey gave her the once-over. “You must not follow fashion.”
Annie glanced down at what for her was normal attire for a day on the river: a sleeveless tank top, waterproof sandals, quick-dry shorts and her Indigo River Rafters cap.
“I was getting ready to guide a group down the Lehigh River when you called,” Annie said, then could have kicked herself. She sounded like she was offering up an excuse for her appearance. She touched the port-wine stain on her left cheek.
“What kind of group?” Lindsey asked.
“White-water rafting.” Annie dropped her hand and put the truck in gear. She noticed that Lindsey was gripping the door handle. “You ever done any?”
Lindsey shuddered. “I’m not the outdoorsy type.”
Great, Annie thought, wondering what they’d talk about during the drive to Indigo Springs. She needn’t have worried. Lindsey leaned her head against the headrest and closed her eyes as though exhaustion had struck her.
Annie started to switch the radio channel to her favorite country-and-western station, then thought better of it, afraid to wake up Lindsey. She considered phoning Jason but rationalized he wouldn’t be shy about calling her if he had an emergency. The long, boring drive seemed to take forever until she finally exited the interstate highway and got on the twisting back roads that cut through the mountains to Indigo Springs. The summer-thick leaves on the tall trees hugging both sides of the pavement let through just a sprinkling of the sun’s rays, casting most of the road in shadows. Lindsey stirred, alerting Annie that the girl was awake.
“We’ll be there in a few minutes,” Annie said. “Base camp is a couple of miles from town, down by the river.”
Lindsey groaned. Now what did that mean? Lindsey had already stated she wasn’t “the outdoorsy type,” but did she not appreciate nature’s beauty?
“It’s really quite a pretty setting,” Annie said.
Lindsey groaned again. Annie might be inexperienced in dealing with teenagers, but she wouldn’t stand for rudeness. She turned to Lindsey, intending to set her straight. The teenager’s head lolled to the side. Her eyes were open but her skin was deathly pale.
Annie’s irritation instantly vanished. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t feel so good.” The girl’s voice was low and sluggish, and her eyelids fluttered as though she might pass out.
The pickup was approaching the fork in the road that led either downhill to Indigo River Rafters or uphill to town. Annie’s adrenaline kicked in. She took the turn as fast as she dared and headed uphill.
A short time later, she drove into the picturesque heart of Indigo Springs, where century-old stone buildings shared space with restaurants, businesses and retail shops catering primarily to tourists. She pulled the pickup to the curb in front of a pediatrician’s office that sported a sign with blue block lettering and set the parking brake.
“I don’t need to see a doctor.” Lindsey had been repeating the statement since she’d found out their destination. “I already feel better.”
She looked only slightly improved, her coloring verging on frighteningly pale instead of ghostly white.
“Humor me.” Annie got out of the truck and slammed the door. She opened the passenger door and helped Lindsey down from the high bench seat, careful the girl didn’t wobble when she navigated the step. She let go of Lindsey’s elbow once they were on level ground, but stayed alert just in case the girl actually fainted.
“A pediatrician!” Lindsey exclaimed when she saw where Annie was leading her. “Can’t I at least go to a regular doctor?”
“Pediatricians see children up to age eighteen.”
“Pediatricians are for babies.” Lindsey pointed half a block up the street to a row house with a stone facade that housed another doctor’s office. “Why can’t we go there?”
If a serious illness struck Annie on the spot, she’d still avoid Whitmore Family Practice, even if it meant driving to the next town while feverish and delusional.
It hadn’t always been that way. She’d been a patient of Dr. Whitmore’s until he’d died a few years back, leaving his daughter to run the practice. Although Indigo Springs was no longer a sleepy, small town but a tourist destination, most locals knew by now that Sierra Whitmore had broken her leg in a car accident, then called the most logical person to help her out.
Her brother Ryan Whitmore.
“Dr. Whitmore’s office closes early on Friday afternoons,” Annie said, relatively sure that was still the case. “So no more arguing. Let’s go see the pediatrician.”
Looking too weak to offer up another protest, Lindsey walked with Annie into a cheerful office that featured bright-blue carpeting and wallpaper decorated with clowns and balloons.
Annie blew out a soft breath, silently congratulating herself for avoiding Ryan Whitmore yet again, something she’d done successfully since she was sixteen years old.
T HE GRANDMOTHERLY receptionist listened patiently as Annie explained why she couldn’t fill out the information and insurance papers that were required of every patient.
“Just do your best, honey,” the receptionist said, “and I’ll squeeze in Lindsey as soon as I can.”
“Don’t you need to check with the doctor?” Annie blurted out before she thought better of it. She’d half expected to be directed to the nearest emergency room, but her goal was to get Dr. Goldstein to evaluate Lindsey’s condition, not pass her off to another doctor.
“Believe me, he’ll see her,” the receptionist said with a good-natured smile.
Annie nodded and took a seat beside Lindsey, who had her head down, her sleek brown hair falling like a fashionable curtain over her face.
“How are you holding up?” Annie asked.
“Okay,” she said tremulously.
Annie squeezed her thin shoulder and filled out the few blanks she could on the forms. She tried to hand the paperwork to Lindsey, hoping the girl might be caught off guard into providing her phone number. Lindsey shook her head. Figuring now was not the time to hassle her, Annie returned the forms to the reception desk and settled back to wait.
Noisy twin boys who were probably still in preschool banged around the waiting room, traveling from toy to toy, their attention spans not much longer than a gnat’s. Two seats away, a surprisingly calm woman who looked vaguely familiar leaned over. Her thin legs poked out beneath baggy madras shorts, and she wore her frizzy blond hair in a ponytail.
“One of my boys has a little cold, but they’re mainly here for a checkup,” she said. “I already told the receptionist your Lindsey could go ahead of us.”
“Thanks,” Annie said.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” She placed a bony hand on her chest. “I’m Edie Clark now, but my maiden name is Cristello. We went to high school together.”
Now that the other woman had identified herself, Annie wondered how she could have failed to recognize her. Edie had been one of the popular girls who whispered and giggled whenever Annie passed them in the hall.
“We just moved from Virginia after the school year ended. That’s where my husband’s from. I convinced him Indigo Springs was a great place to raise a family.” Edie looked pointedly at Annie. “Do you have kids?”
The door to the inner office opened. A fortyish nurse with a kind face appeared, clipboard in hand, calling out, “Lindsey Thompson.”
“Go ahead, Lindsey.” Annie nodded to the girl, who got unsteadily to her feet and moved gingerly through the office.
The nurse stood back, letting Lindsey precede her through the inner door, but didn’t immediately follow. Her gaze zeroed in on Annie. “Wouldn’t you like to come with her?”
Annie couldn’t imagine her presence would help put Lindsey at ease. The opposite might be true. “Won’t you be there when the doctor examines her?”
“Well, yes,” the nurse said.
“Then I’ll wait here.”
“Very well.” The nurse’s slow acceptance of her decision made Annie wonder if she’d made the wrong choice. “I’ll come get you when the doctor’s done. You’ll want to hear what he has to say.”
Edie gazed at her curiously as the nurse took her leave, no doubt wondering why she hadn’t gone with Lindsey. Annie remembered that Edie and her high-school friends had been nicknamed the Gossip Girls long before the TV show became popular.
“Lindsey and I aren’t related.” Annie decided it would be better to tell Edie the truth than have her spread rumors. “She’s a friend of the family.”
“I thought she might be a stepdaughter, but I was pretty sure you weren’t married,” Edie said. “Didn’t I hear something about you taking over your father’s rafting business?”
“Not true,” Annie said, although the misconception was a common one. Some people in town already had her as the new owner. “I’m still a magazine writer. My boss let me take the summer off so I can run the business for my father while he’s out of the country.”
“He’s in Poland, right?” Edie asked.
“Right,” Annie said.
One of the twin boys barreled over to Edie, stopped dead in front of her and pointed to his face. Edie dug a tissue out of her purse and wordlessly swiped at the little boy’s runny nose.
Annie picked up a magazine on fly fishing and flipped it open. Edie’s son rejoined his brother, plopping down on the floor in front of a fort they were constructing from plastic building blocks.
Edie ignored the hint that Annie wasn’t up for any more conversation. “You do know Ryan Whitmore’s back in town, right?”
Annie hid a grimace, afraid that Edie and her friends had guessed how Annie felt about him in high school. Why else would Edie bring him up? She composed herself and looked up from the magazine. “Why do you ask?”
Bonnie Raitt started to sing suddenly, her powerful voice cutting off whatever response Edie had been about to give. Annie fished her cell phone from the deep pocket of her shorts, muted the ring tone and checked the display. Her father’s number displayed on the small screen.
“Excuse me.” She stood up, grateful for an excuse to get away from Edie. She headed for the exit and privacy, waiting until she was outside on the sidewalk to press the receive button. The door of a gift shop next door was slowly swinging shut behind a customer, and she caught the sweet smell of scented candles.
“Hello, Dad.” She headed up the hill from the pediatrician’s office, away from a group of window-shopping tourists. As the hour neared five o’clock, the traffic on the street had thickened, the number of cars seemingly out of place on the too narrow quaint street. “I’ve been trying to reach you.”
“I didn’t have my phone with me.” Her father’s voice was scratchy and hard to make out, but it was still wonderful to hear from him. After her mother deserted them when Annie was four years old, they’d grown exceptionally close. “Is something wrong?”
“Not really.” She got straight to the point. “I called to ask you about Lindsey Thompson.”
Interference in the connection combined with the incidental street noise made it difficult to tell whether her father had responded.
“Dad?” Annie prompted. “Are you still there?”
