The Secret Sin

He tapped the girl’s file against his palm. “Her blood sugar was low. The last time she ate was this morning, and all she had was yogurt.”

“That’s all that was wrong with her?”

“Like a lot of teenage girls, she has some skewed ideas about how much she should weigh,” he said. “We gave her some juice and a granola bar one of the nurses had left over from lunch, but she could use a good meal.”

“I should have asked if she’d eaten.” Annie seemed to be talking to herself as much as him. “At the train station, I should have asked her.”

“The train station?” he repeated.

She nodded. “In Paoli. I picked her up an hour or so ago.”

“Who is she?”

Her eyes shifted, which they’d been doing a lot. “A friend of the family.”

That didn’t compute. Whoever had filled out the forms, and he had to assume that was Annie, hadn’t even known the names of Lindsey’s parents.

“I don’t know much about her,” she answered as though she’d read his mind. “I didn’t even know she was coming. She’s here to visit my father. Her grandfather’s a friend of his.”

That didn’t make sense, either. “Didn’t I hear that your father is in Poland?”

“Lindsey didn’t know that.”

“Shouldn’t her parents have known?”

Annie looked away again, heightening his sense that she was hiding something. “I don’t think they know she’s here.”

“Have you called them?”

She seemed to be clenching her teeth. “Kind of tough to do without a phone number.”

So that’s what Annie was concealing. Now that she’d admitted she didn’t have a home phone number for Lindsey, it was easy to piece together what had happened today.

Lindsey had gotten on a train without telling her parents she was leaving, which just might qualify as running away from home. He thought about the little girl who’d waved at him from the room down the hall. She was going to have to wait a little longer for the doctor to arrive.

“Let’s go see Lindsey.” He hopped down from the desk, yanked open the door, then let Annie precede him. There wasn’t much space between him and the door, but she managed to squeeze through without touching him. He caught a whiff of her clean, outdoorsy scent, and he was transported back years, to the single night they’d spent together.

“Second door on the right,” he told her, his mind thick with memories. How could that night, which had been so special, have had such shattering repercussions?

She hung back, wordlessly indicating he should enter the room ahead of her. He wasn’t as careful to avoid contact as she had been, inadvertently brushing her arm as he passed. She jerked sideways as though pricked by a porcupine.

Damn. He’d found it charming that she’d been flustered around him when they were in high school, but this was a new reaction altogether. She was nervous—and not in a good way.

The hell of it was that he couldn’t talk to her about it. Not now. As a doctor, his primary responsibility was to his patient. He had a more pressing matter to deal with than his regrets over the past.

His priorities back in order, he strode through the door to find that Lindsey had moved from the exam table to a chair in the corner of the room. Her color was better, but he read apprehension on her face when she saw Annie following him. What was that about? he wondered.

He smiled at her, an easy task. Lindsey was trying her hardest to act grown-up, but underneath her brave front was a rather charming child. “How’s that orange juice going down?”

“I’d rather have a Diet Coke.” Her quick comeback and smile reminded him of somebody he couldn’t quite place.

“Juice is a better choice,” Annie said.

Lindsey’s smile faded, her hand tightening on the half-full glass. “I like Diet Coke.”

“Annie has a point, Lindsey,” Ryan interjected. “You need nutrients to build up your blood sugar, and diet soda won’t cut it.”

He didn’t give Lindsey an opening to respond, pulling a piece of paper from her file and extending it to her. “I need some information for our records before I can release you.”

With obvious reluctance, she took the form and the pen he handed her along with it.

“I realize you don’t know your insurance information,” he added, “but it would help if you filled out what you can.”

Lindsey nodded before turning her attention to the form, her brow knitting in concentration as she wrote. Annie stood like a statue just inside the door, keeping as far away from him as possible.

Her low opinion of him smarted, although he didn’t blame her. He should have made his peace with her years before now. He could use the excuse that getting through med school and his residency had required total concentration and dedication, but that’s all it was: an excuse.

Within moments, Lindsey handed the pen and paper back to him. A quick glance at the form confirmed he’d achieved his objective: The girl had written down her phone number.

“So, can we go?” Lindsey asked.

“As long as you promise to eat something,” Ryan said.

Lindsey stood up, although her jeans were so tight he questioned how she could move. She held up the granola bar, from which she’d taken maybe two bites. “I’m already eating something.”

“Something more than a granola bar,” Ryan clarified.

“I’ll see to it that she has a meal,” Annie said.

Lindsey slanted her a dubious look. He wondered if Annie had any experience dealing with teenagers, but then he speculated about a lot where Annie was concerned.

Like whether she’d ever forgive him for that night.

“Bye, Dr. Whitmore,” Lindsey said.

“Bye, Lindsey.”

The girl strolled out of the examination room. Before Annie could follow, Ryan caught her arm in a gentle grip. She inhaled sharply.

“Let me go.” Her voice was an urgent whisper.

Stung, he did as she asked. “I was just going to give you Lindsey’s home phone number.”

She pursed her lips, mumbling, “Sorry.” She fumbled in the pocket of her shorts, withdrawing her cell phone. “What is it?”

He read off the ten digits, which she entered, never once glancing up at him. “Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome.”