The Secret Sin

“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?”