“Any dizziness?”
“No, Jake.”
“Any nausea or vomiting?”
“No, Jake.”
“This shit is serious, Newman. It’s only been four weeks, and you had a serious shiner. You can have delayed symptoms.”
“I know, you already told me, Jake.”
“Double vision or flashes?”
“No, Mom.”
“Good, but if that changes you let me know.”
“Sure to. I’m watching your sis and her lover head out on their boat for an illicit rendezvous.”
“I just threw up a bit in my mouth, man. Don’t talk about Katie and the word lover in the same sentence.”
Newman had known mention of his sister would draw Jake off topic.
“Seriously? Her and Cubby will be married next year, and they’ll probably make babies, man. You need to get your head around that shit. You being a doctor and all.”
Newman stretched his legs out in front of him, and ignored the thought that had popped into his head while he wasn’t concentrating. Where was Hope? It had been a constant and persistent question since leaving her in Brook. He’d even struck up a conversation with her mother to see if she’d heard anything. He’d kept it casual, well, as casual as a conversation could be with that woman. She hadn’t heard from Hope in weeks, which she wasn’t happy about.
“Oh God, please don’t mention Katie and babies. She was a nightmare when she scratched herself. The thought of her in labor makes me break out in a rash.”
“Put your head between your knees,” Newman said, watching a bird glide by. “So if you’re not ringing about poker night, what do you want help with now?”
“Actually, I don’t want anything. I’m in the Hoot, and the bus from Brook just pulled up outside.”
“You eating a chicken and cheesy crust?” Buster, another friend, owned the Hoot café, and made the best pies he’d ever tasted—and he’d made it a mission to taste many.
“I am, and coffee. Just about to start on my chocolate and caramel muffin.”
“Damn,” Newman cursed. “I had granola.”
Jake laughed. “Anyway, your girl just got off.”
“I don’t have a girl, as you very well know, McBride.”
“Hope Lawrence.”
And just like that the lovely calm feeling he’d had upon waking in his own bed was gone. He was suddenly tense. His feet hit the ground, and he was striding back to the house seconds later.
“You sure?”
“I know who Hope Lawrence is, bud. Bad dress sense, black hair, and a serious attitude.”
“That’s the one. I’m on my way.” He pocketed his cell before Jake could say anything further, and was in his car minutes later, heading down the driveway.
Newman didn’t usually do anything at pace when he was home. He walked most places or occasionally jogged, but when he was here he tried not to stress out too much. He did that enough when he left for work. In fact, if anyone from Howling saw him out of here, they’d probably not recognize him. Everyone believed he was like this all the time, which was definitely not the case. He just hid stuff well.
He drove along the ridge, passing Katie Mc Bride and Cubby Hawker’s house, then down the road. Turning right at the bottom, he saw the turnoff to Branna, Rose, and Jake McBride’s house, then Ethan aka Tex and Annabelle Gelderman’s driveway. He liked that. Liked that if he needed the company of people he loved and respected, he’d have it in minutes, but if he didn’t, then they respected his privacy as he did theirs.
The glittering blue waters of Lake Howling sat to his left. A few boats were cruising around, and he caught sight of someone on water skis. To his right were the Redwoods that had stood sentry over Lake Howling and its residents for years.
