At the closed front door, he stopped again, as if he didn’t want to go in, and then he opened the door and went into his house, back to his wife and child.
Frankie moved slowly back to an upright position, put the Mustang in gear, and drove forward. As she passed the house, she slowed, staring at the front door, feeling a toxic combination of longing and shame.
Rye opened the front door, stepped out onto the porch, and saw her.
She hit the gas and sped past him.
Idiot.
What had she been thinking? She was still in turmoil when she got home. A gin on the rocks did nothing to lessen her anxiety. She kept looking at the phone, thinking he’d call, wanting him to, not wanting him to. Knowing all he had to do was call information to get her number. After all these years, she was still Frances McGrath on Coronado Island.
But the phone didn’t ring.
Before the world even started to darken, she took two sleeping pills and climbed into bed.
What time did the phone ring? She wasn’t sure. Bleary-eyed, lethargic, she climbed out of bed and stumbled into the kitchen and picked up the phone. “Hello?”
It was still daylight outside. The next day or the same day?
“Frankie? It’s Geneva Stone.”
Her boss. Shit. “Hi,” she said. Was her voice slurry, were her words coming too slowly?
“You were supposed to cover Marlene Foley’s shift tonight.”
“Oh. Right,” Frankie said. “Shorry. I don’t feel well. I should have called in sick.”
There was a long pause; in it, Frankie heard both displeasure and alarm. “Okay, Frankie. I will find someone else. Get better.”
Frankie hung up, unsure the moment she heard the click of the line if she’d said goodbye.
She stumbled onto the sofa, fell sideways onto the cushions, pulled her legs up, and lay down.
Tomorrow she would get her act together. No more pills. And definitely no more stalking. She wouldn’t even think of Rye Walsh.
No more.
* * *
Frankie sat in the director of nursing’s office, stiffly upright, her hands clasped in her lap.
“So,” Mrs. Stone said, her gaze steady on Frankie’s face. “You froze in the OR. During surgery. And you missed a shift.” She waited a beat. “Were sick.”
“Yes, ma’am. But…” She stopped. What could she say?
“I know the trouble you’re having,” Mrs. Stone said gently. “I lost a child myself. As a woman, a mother, I understand, but…” She paused. “This isn’t your first incident in the OR, Frankie. Last month—”
“I know.”
“Perhaps you came back to work too quickly.”
“I need to work,” she said quietly.
Mrs. Stone nodded. “And I need to be able to count on my nurses.”
Frankie drew in a shaky breath. Her life was falling apart. No, it was exploding. Without nursing, what would she have to hang on to? “I can’t lose this.”
“It’s not lost, Frankie. You just need to take a break.”
“I’ll be more careful. I’ll be better.”
“It’s not a conversation we’re having,” Mrs. Stone said. “You are on leave, Frankie. Starting now.”
Frankie got to her feet, feeling shaky. “I’m sorry to have disappointed you.”
“Oh, honey, I’m not disappointed. I’m worried about you.”
“Yeah.” Frankie was tired of hearing that. She meant to say more, maybe apologize again, but the sad and sorry truth was that she should be sidelined. She was unreliable.
How was she supposed to put the pieces of her life back together when she kept breaking apart?
* * *
Frankie slept fitfully, unable to get Rye off her mind. A terrible, dangerous obsession had taken hold of her. Every time she closed her eyes, she thought of him, remembered him, loved him. Over and over again, she saw him standing on his porch, staring at her. The more she imagined that moment, the more she thought he’d looked sad at her driving away. Or was she lying to herself? Manufacturing a dream from the shards of a nightmare?
At just after six P.M., the phone rang and she went down to the kitchen to answer it. “Hello,” she said, picking the Princess phone off the counter, dragging the long cord over the counter so she could open the fridge.
“Hey, Frankie,” Barb said. “You said you’d call on my birthday.”
Shit. “Happy birthday, Barb. I’m sorry. Busy shift last night.” She thought about pouring herself a glass of wine, and then closed the fridge instead.