Luc stepped back, cut out from this exchange.
“That man outside,” Abby said. “Who is he?”
“He’s my boyf—my fiancé.”
“You were in a police car.”
“He’s the sheriff.”
“What’s he going to do? When you tell him what you saw?”
“I won’t tell him. There’s this thing called doctor-patient privilege. I can’t talk about your condition to anyone. Not my fiancé, not Luc here, unless I have your permission.”
“You can talk to Luc.”
“Okay, Abby. Can I look?”
Abby nodded. With one last stroke, the doctor stood straight, legs or back cracking in the quiet room. She walked around Abby and carefully peeled back the layers.
Luc watched the woman’s face, waiting for some reaction, some crack in her professional veneer. And there it was. O-shaped mouth, hand raised to cover it. No sound—nothing so obvious as that—but the expression… Good thing Abby couldn’t see her.
“You were branded multiple times.” The woman’s voice came out flat. There was anger there, but it was well hidden. “Overlapping burns.”
Over and over again, Luc thought. He’d seen the marks, and he wished he could forget.
No response from Abby, other than a look that begged him to answer in her place. How did he know that? How could he read her so well?
“Yes,” he said, eyes on Abby’s.
“These older ones are—”
“They’ve done it before,” Luc said, saving Abby the trouble.
“Are you allergic to any medications?”
That pushed a dry chuckle from his lungs and dragged his attention away from Abby. “They don’t do medication. I’ve given her ibuprofen for the fever.”
The way the doctor looked at him, full of empathy, made Luc’s knees nearly give out with relief.
“Would you mind taking a seat out there?” She nodded toward the door, and though he ached to stay, he gave them privacy.
* * *
The calendar on the waiting room wall was stuck on December. He wanted to flip it to January. But there wouldn’t be a January, would there? They’d need a new calendar for that. Next year.Thisyear.
Luc hated December. He hated the inactivity in the vineyard, how the vines appeared dead. It was a time of death all around.
The doctor walked in. She had one of those faces that looked eternally concerned. Caring. Was that something they taught you in med school?
“Luc?”
“Yes. How is she?”
“We’ll take care of the infection, and I’ll do what I can for the scarring. You did well bringing her in. Thank you.”
He nodded.
“She wants to talk to you.”
