“Neil? What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I’ll order the test, Vanni, if you think it’s important. It’s just . . .”
“What?” Vanni demanded, his skin prickling with wariness.
“I don’t know that it’s a good sign one way or another, for you to be so anxious about this girl’s health.”
A prolonged silence fell. Vanni dropped his hand and stared blankly out the window.
“You think I’m being paranoid about Emma? Because she’s the first woman I’ve shown any real interest in since Meredith?” Vanni asked, knowing precisely what Neil was hinting at.
“The thought did cross my mind, yes. It’s not every day you bring a lovely young woman like that to my office.”
Vanni closed his eyes and waited for the upsurge of emotion that usually occurred when the topic of his dead wife arose—when the topic of death in general came up. Neil was one of the few people on the planet who knew how death seemed to have singled out Vanni to plague him, always taking and taking those he loved, always leaving him to suffer the barren landscape of life alone.
But no stabbing pain came this time as he thought of the short time he’d shared with Meredith. He inhaled a full breath of air. The only thing he experienced was a genuine wish to find out if Emma was well.
“This situation has nothing to do with Meredith or the reason I brought Meredith to you. This has to do with Emma, and Emma alone. She’ll be the first to admit she’s an eternal optimist. She believes wholeheartedly that she had this disease and was cured of it miraculously. I just want to check on the facts, that’s all. I want to make sure she’s well.”
“And if she’s not?” Neil asked. Vanni heard the worry in his tone.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. I’d rather she know than not know, wouldn’t you?”
“Are you sure it’s not your knowledge of whether or not she has a life-threatening condition that you’re concerned about, Vanni?” Neil asked.
“I just want to know. Period,” Vanni replied flatly.
He heard the physician exhale. “Then you will. I’ll let you know as soon as I get the results.”
After he’d hung up with Neil, he stood from his seat and looked up another number on his phone.
“New Horizon Hospice, how may I help you?” a friendly female asked.
“I’d like to speak with the nurse supervisor, Mrs. Ring?” Vanni said, lifting his briefcase. A moment later, Mrs. Ring came on the line and greeted him warmly.
“I’m calling about one of your nurses, Emma Shore,” he said, nodding at Marco as he passed him on the way out of the plane. “I’ve been very impressed by her work ethic and was wondering if I might be able to borrow her from you for a few weeks in the near future?”
* * *
That Saturday, Emma left the premises of the electronic repair shop situated in the charming downtown of Cedar Bluff. Ever since Vanni had given her that last toe-curling kiss in his car on Tuesday morning before he’d dropped her off and left for France, she’d been obsessed with checking things off her to-do list. She’d told herself it was just time to get her life in order, but privately, she knew her recent obsession with organization was a coping skill. She was filling the days of Vanni’s absence, marking time until she could see him again next week. He’d said he’d call her Monday evening when he arrived in Chicago. That promise was like a huge red exclamation mark on her mental calendar.
Ever since he’d left her, she’d managed to drop off all her dry cleaning, pay all the bills, finish her grocery shopping for two weeks, drop off three large bags of old clothes she’d been planning to take to the Salvation Army, and now take her long-broken stereo in to have it fixed.
All of that, and she still missed him so much it was like a hard knot had been tied off in her chest.
To make matters worse, he clearly didn’t miss her at all. He hadn’t called once since he’d dropped her off after their extremely passionate, emotion-ridden time together. Or at least it’d been emotion-ridden for her.
He hadn’t said he would call until he returned.
Still . . . she’d hoped he would. Stupidly. Now that the week of his absence was drawing to a close, she no longer hoped.
But she still ached.
She could have called him as well, she acknowledged fairly as she walked down the street, fingering the angel at her throat. She had his number. Somehow, however, the idea of speaking to him on the phone while he was so many thousands of miles away only made her ache even more.
“Emma!” a woman called.
Emma spun around, peering down the block. She broke into a grin at the sight of a familiar face. She gave the young woman who rushed toward her an enthusiastic hug.