.
Читать онлайн книгу.
was little more than an angular shape.
“I take it you know my grandmother.” Small surprise, that. Katherine Unger’s roots went deep in Lancaster County, back to the German immigrants who’d swarmed to Penn’s Woods in the 1700s.
He nodded, and then seemed to feel something more was called for. “Cal Burke. And you’re Rachel’s older sister, Andrea. I’ve heard about you.” His clipped tone suggested he hadn’t been particularly impressed by whatever that was.
Still, she couldn’t imagine that her sister had said anything bad about her. She and Rachel had always been close, even if they hadn’t seen each other often enough in the past few years, especially since their mother’s death. Even if she completely disapproved of this latest scheme Rachel and Grams had hatched.
She glanced at him. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she was able to see a little more, noticing his worn jeans, scuffed leather boots and a stubble of beard. She’d thought, in that first hazy glimpse as he pulled her out of the car, that he might be Amish—something about the hair, the pale shirt and dark pants. But obviously he wasn’t.
“I should try the hospital again.” She flipped the cell phone open.
Please. The unaccustomed prayer formed in her mind again. Please let Rachel be all right.
“I doubt they’ll tell you any more than they already have.” He frowned at the road ahead. “Have you tried your grandmother’s number?”
“She never remembers to turn her cell phone on.” She punched in the number anyway, only to be sent straight to voice mail. “Grams, if you get this before I see you, call me on my cell.” Her throat tightened. “I hope Rachel is all right.”
“Ironic,” he said as she clicked off. “You have an accident while rushing to your sister’s bedside. Ever occur to you that these roads aren’t meant for racing?”
She stiffened at the criticism. “I was not racing. And if you were behind me, you must have seen me brake as I approached the curve. If I hadn’t…” She stopped, not wanting to imagine that.
His hands moved restlessly on the wheel, as if he wanted to push the rattletrap truck along faster but knew he couldn’t. “We’re coming up on Route 30. We’ll make better time there.”
He didn’t sound conciliatory, but at least he hadn’t pushed his criticism of her driving. Somehow she still wanted to defend herself.
“I’m well aware that I have to watch for buggies on this road. I just didn’t expect to see anyone out this late.”
And she was distracted with fear for Rachel, but she wouldn’t say that to him. It would sound like a plea for sympathy.
“It’s spring,” he said, as if that was an explanation. “Rumspringa, to those kids. That means—”
“I know what rumspringa means,” she snapped. “The time when Amish teenagers get to experience freedom and figure out what kind of life they want. You don’t need to give me the Pennsylvania Dutch tour. I lived in my grandparents’ house until I was ten.”
“Well, I guess that makes you an expert, then.”
No doubt about it, the man was annoying, but she hadn’t exactly been all sweetness and light in the past half hour, either. And he was taking her to the hospital.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. I guess I’m a little shaken.”
He glanced at her. “Maybe you should have them check you out at the hospital. You had a rough landing.”
She shook her head. “I’ll probably be black-and-blue tomorrow, but that’s it.” She touched her neck gingerly. Either the air bag or the seat belt had left what felt like brush burns there. The bruises on her confidence from the fear she’d felt wouldn’t show, but they might take longer to go away.
Apparently taking her word for it, he merged onto Route 30. The lights and activity were reassuring, and in a few minutes they pulled up at the emergency entrance to the hospital.
“Thank you.” She slid out, reaching for her things. “I really appreciate this.”
He spoke when she would have pulled her bag out. “I’m going in, too. May as well leave your things here until you know what you’re doing.”
She hesitated, and then she shrugged and let go of the case. “Fine. Thank you,” she added.
He came around the truck and set off toward the entrance, his long strides making her hurry to keep up. Inside, the bright lights had her blinking. Burke caught her arm and navigated her past the check-in desk and on into the emergency room, not stopping until he reached the nurses’ station.
“Evening, Ruth. This is Rachel Hampton’s sister. Tell her how Rachel is without the hospital jargon, all right?”
She half expected the woman—middle-aged, gray-haired and looking as if her feet hurt—to call security. Instead she gave him a slightly flirtatious smile.
“Calvin Burke, just because you’ve been in here three or four times to get stitched up, don’t think you own the place.” She consulted a clipboard, lips pursing.
Andrea stole a look at him. It wasn’t her taste, but she supposed some women went for the rugged, disreputable-looking type.
Ruth Schmidt, according to her name badge—another good old Pennsylvania Dutch name, like Unger—picked up the telephone and had a cryptic, low-voiced conversation with someone. She hung up and gave Andrea a professional smile.
“Your sister has come through surgery fine, and she’s been taken to a private room.”
“What were her injuries?” She hated digging for information, as if her sister’s condition were a matter of national security. “Where is my grandmother? Isn’t she here?”
The woman stiffened. “I really don’t know anything further about the patient’s condition. I understand Mrs. Unger was persuaded to go home, as there was nothing she could do here. I’d suggest you do the same, and—”
“No.” She cut the woman off. “I’m not going anywhere until I’ve seen my sister. And if you don’t know anything about her injuries, I’ll talk to someone who does.”
She prepared for an argument. It didn’t matter what they said to her, she wasn’t leaving until she’d seen Rachel, if she had to stay here all night.
Maybe the woman recognized that. She pointed to a bank of elevators. “Third floor. Room 301. But she’ll be asleep—”
She didn’t wait to hear any more. She made it to the elevator in seconds and pressed the button, the fear that had driven her since she left Philadelphia a sharp blade against her heart. Rachel would be all right. Grams wouldn’t have gone home unless she was convinced of that. Still, she had to see for herself.
A quick ride in the elevator, a short walk across the hall, and she was in the room. Rachel lay motionless in the high, white hospital bed. Both legs were in casts, and hospital paraphernalia surrounded her.
Light brown hair spread out over a white pillow, dark lashes forming crescents against her cheek. Rachel looked about sixteen, instead of nearly thirty. Her little sister, whom she loved, fought with, bossed, protected. Her throat choked, and the tears she’d been holding back spilled over.
Cal picked up a five-month-old newsmagazine and slumped into a molded plastic chair. The dragons guarding the third floor wouldn’t have let him in, obviously, so he’d just wait until the sister came back down again. Maybe tonight wasn’t the time, but he had a few things he’d like to say to Andrea.
He frowned, uninterested, at the magazine, seeing instead the face of the woman who’d just gone upstairs. On the surface, she’d been much like he’d expected from the things her sister and grandmother had said and from the photo on Katherine’s mantel.
Glossy,