“You little minx.” Emma clicked the button to reconnect, but the signal wouldn’t go through. Closing the laptop, Emma rubbed one hand over the warm surface of the still humming machine. An ache of homesickness tugged deep in her chest andthreatened to manifest into stinging tears. Biting the sad smile pulling at her lips, Emma stared at the silver-topped computer and sniffed. Some things never changed. Laynie always had to have the last word.
Chapter
Seven
“Iknow you don’t mind giving me a lift, but I can’t take advantage of your hospitality for my entire stay on the island.”Not if I want to keep my teeth from rattling out of my head.Emma clutched her overstuffed backpack against her chest as Alfred floored the truck through another gauntlet of potholes.
Waving away Emma’s words, Moira smiled with a dismissive clucking sound until the truck lurched and went slightly airborne as Alfred gunned it out of a hole. “Alfred! Mind the road, ye old fool. Dr. Emma’s surely not accustomed to such careless drivin’.” Moira leaned forward, scowling around Emma’s bag while slapping both pudgy hands atop the dashboard.
“It’s the damn road, woman. We’ve come this way a thousand times. Ye know this route is rough as the ridges of a dragon’s back.” Alfred scowled straight ahead. His gnarled hands sawed the steering wheel back and forth as though trying to keep pace with the popping static farting from the broken speakers.
“Besides−” Emma grabbed for the edge of the seat as the truck veered to the left, then jerked back to the right. “You neverknow when I might be called out for an emergency.”If I survive this ride to the clinic.She groped for the seatbelt, tightened it for a second time then searched inside the collar of her shirt for her lucky necklace. Forget about waiting until this afternoon to get a rental. She’d get one as soon as she could sneak away from the clinic this morning.
“Ye know we don’t mind taking ye wherever ye need to go?” Moira patted Emma’s arm. Her plump fingers clutched Emma’s sleeve as Alfred swerved the truck into the parking lot of a short sturdy building with gleaming whitewashed walls.
“I know. And I appreciate your generosity.” Emma gave Moira her best reassuring smile as she scooted across the seat and hopped out of the truck.Thank goodness. Solid ground. Smooth asphalt beneath her feet never felt so good.
Catching her lip between her teeth, she scanned the building with a quick up and down glance. Emma pulled in a deep, cleansing breath. A familiar mix of uneasiness and excitement surged through her. So, this was it. Her project for the next year. “So, this is our new children’s clinic.”
“Aye.” Moira nodded. “It was once used as a barracks for the naval reservists during World War I. She’s a bit old but she’s been kept up, and she’s weathered the test of time.”
The low-slung building ran the length of the street; a patched metal roof with a defined sag toward the middle gave testament to the aging rafters. Every narrow window marching across the front wall shone a brilliant sparkling clean in the morning light. The concrete stoop with the handicap ramp stood roped off with bright yellow tape. Emma noted the dark gray coloring of the still damp concrete. Workers must’ve finished smoothing the cement just a short time ago.
“I think it’s going to be perfect.” Emma smiled and tamped down the oldnew-project nerveswith the warmth emanating from the building. A feeling of community involvement exudedfrom every angle of the structure. She didn’t know if it was the starched white curtains fluttering at the partially opened windows or the elderly gentleman in oversized coveralls sweeping the sidewalk by the door. All she knew was that the area emitted a relaxing air from its yet-to-be-painted, obviously new double doors.
With a happy chuckle, Moira pulled her bag from behind the seat of the truck. “Oh, this is going to be just grand, Dr. Emma, just grand indeed. Come, let’s get ye inside and introduce ye around. Everyone is going to be so pleased to meet ye.”
Looping her purse handles over the crook of her arm, Moira scurried up the inclining sidewalk with short clipping steps. “This is Harris.” Moira fluttered a hand toward the whistling gentleman ambling along the path beside the clinic. As they drew near, he slowed to a complete halt and leaned against the tattered push broom, tucking his knobby, arthritic hands snugly against his shoulder.
“Good morning, Harris.” Emma nodded and beamed her friendliest smile. She loved it when local folks cared enough about a project to lend a helping hand. Sweeping was definitely the perfect chore for Harris. He probably needed the support of the broom to remain upright. From the look of his weathered skin and stooped back, he might be as old as the land on which they stood.
“G’mornin’ to ye, Doctor.” Harris tapped the brim of his tweed cap with a shaking crooked finger. “Welcome to our lovely island.”
“Ye missed a spot, Harris.” Alfred pointed a bent finger to a bit of gravel on the edge of the walkway as he wheezed his way up beside Emma.
“Then bring your lazy arse down here and get it,” Harris challenged with a jerk of his grizzled chin. He hitched a stepforward, brandishing the broom, fire flashing from his watery gray eyes.
“I’ll show ye lazy, ye old bas—”
“Now that’s enough.” Emma pulled on Alfred’s sleeve. “I’m sure Harris was just about to sweep that spot when we interrupted him.” Keeping a firm hold on Alfred’s arm, Emma turned to Harris. “And Harris, Alfred has been quite busy chauffeuring me all over the island since I arrived. So, let’s everyone treat each other with some respect, shall we? Everyone’s duties are equally important.” Emma expected the children to behave this way. She hadn’t counted on having to referee a couple of dueling old codgers.
“Well said, Dr. Emma. I’m ashamed o’ ye both.” Moira pushed between Alfred and Harris, her low heels stomping sharp clicks of disapproval. “Is this any way to greet someone who’s come such a long way to set up a clinic to help our wee bairns? Shame on the both of ye. Ye are behaving worse than the children do when there’s a new toy donated to the nursery.” Moira puffed up with disapproval. Her impeccably powdered face reddened into a stormy scowl as she wagged a finger at them. “Forgive them, Dr. Emma. They’ve known each other since the cradle and these two will spar and spit till they’re lowered into their graves.”
Both men ducked their heads under Moira’s terse scolding, but Emma didn’t miss the glares they continued to shoot at each other from beneath their scraggly brows. Emma drummed her fingers atop the shining black handrail running along the path. As long as Harris stayed on his side of the railing with his push broom, surely a full-blown clan war could be avoided. “Alfred, I’m going to need you inside to help me go through the supplies. Harris, it was a pleasure meeting you. I’ll be out later to get to know you better.” No way was she going to leave Alfred outside with Harris. Those two old goats needed a chaperone.
Harris smiled with a polite doff of his hat, then returned to whistling his slightly off-pitch tune as he nudged the broom across the sidewalk.
Alfred grunted with a shake of his head and yanked open the door to the clinic. His mouth puckered into a frowning pout as he held the door for the women to enter.
Emma stepped through the double doors and immediately had the eerie sensation that she had stepped back through a tear in time. Her heels clicked on ancient hardwood floors that shone with a velvety finish. The hall was bleached a warm honey color by years of traffic. A lighter yellow path marked the center of the corridor leading to a wider waiting area. Wire-caged incandescent light fixtures dotted the low, whitewashed ceiling. The scattered bulbs cast golden halos across the walls.
Emma frowned at the dated lighting. Thank goodness they had repainted the walls with the glossiest white they could find. At least the shining finish of each spotless wall reflected what little light existed. The end of the building closest to the entrance housed a brightly painted waist-high counter that had to be the admitting desk. A waiting area filled with a rainbow assortment of woven rugs, mismatched chairs, and colorful baskets overflowing with toys covered the farthest corner.
“Now, we know it’s nothing fancy, but it’s quite clean and will remain so. Ye have our word on that.” Moira edged closer. While wringing her hands, she peered a worried glance over the rims of her pearl-rimmed spectacles perched on the end of her twitching nose.
Emma swallowed a giggle. Dear sweet Moira resembled a great bespectacled hen worried about her newly feathered nest.
Emma turned at a slow spin, sized up the surroundings, and ticked off what needed tackling first. She had seen much worse. She’d volunteered in squalid conditions after earthquakes and other natural or man-made disasters. Easing in an exploratorysniff, clean antiseptic air laced with the fragrance of fresh paint transmitted the clinic’s pristine status to her discerning nose. Moira spoke the truth. They had scoured the building from stem to stern. Emma exhaled a satisfied sigh. “I think it’s going to be fine, Moira. I would’ve liked a little stronger lighting, but that’s something easily remedied. I think you have all done an excellent job here. You should be very proud of yourselves.”
