“Make sure to tell him we’re praying for him and his family.”
“Already done.” A breathy intake of air and long exhale followed the clipped words. “We have to figure out what to do. There’s no way we can function short another counselor.”
“You have any ideas?” Ryan asked.
“One, but I’m not sure you’ll like it.”
Ryan tucked the phone under his chin and used his free hand to massage a tight muscle in his neck. “Doesn’t matter if I don’t like it. Tell me anyway.”
“Okay, but hear me out before you shoot me down.” Ian paused as if he believed Ryan might object.
Ryan would consider anything if it helped the kids. “Go on.”
“The other day when we were talking about that Mia chick taking over Evergreen for Wally, you said she was a counselor. I know there’s some sort of history between the two of you, but you could ask her to fill in until Paul gets here.”
Ryan let his free hand fall to the bench with a thud. His stomach sank along with it. He looked at Mia. He was all for trying to work things out between them to ease the tension, but how could he handle her daily presence at work? Living with the constant reminder of what could’ve been if she hadn’t bailed?
Easy answer—he couldn’t. “I don’t think—”
“I knew you wouldn’t like it,” Ian said. “But you have to admit it’s a good idea. Sure, she doesn’t have the wilderness counseling experience, but she does work with teens. You can at least think about it, right?”
Could he? “What about training? Our program is unique, and she hasn’t participated in anything like it.”
“We’ve got enough time before the students get here to bring her up to speed. Even without experience, she’d be better for the students than no one.”
Ian was right. Ryan had to consider what was best for the kids. “I’ll think about it.”
“Don’t take too long. Our campers get here in two days.”
Ryan said goodbye and ended the call. He didn’t need a reminder of the looming deadline and the need to decide quickly.
He stowed his cell. He had to make things right with Mia—and the best way to get her to listen to him was to spend time with her. As a bonus, it gave him an excuse to keep her in his sight and keep her from stepping recklessly into whatever danger loomed ahead.
4
In the minuscule hospital bathroom, Mia moved her portable IV pole to the side and stepped up to the sink. She needed a shower. She absolutely did. Nothing would work as well to fix her appearance. Too bad the shower was out of the question. Doctor’s orders to protect her wounds for twenty-four hours.
Not what she had hoped for. She’d wanted a quick trip to the ER. But her continued low oxygen levels made him opt to keep her overnight as a precaution. Still, she couldn’t spend the night without doing something to clean up.
She rubbed a rough washcloth over her face, scrubbing at the pore-clogging soot, making sure to avoid the big gash high on her cheekbone. No matter the amount of cleaning, the steaming hot cloth wouldn’t wipe away emotional trauma.
Even if it could, what would she wipe away first? She had too many layers to deal with.
She leaned closer to the mirror and gently dabbed around the sutured laceration.
Had her father really done this to her? He blamed her for her mother’s death and avoided her at all costs growing up, but this? Could he have done this?
He hadn’t started the fire. Jessie’s description of the man she’d seen proved that. But was he so cruel that he could hire a man to commit arson in an attempt to scare Mia away? And if he did, how was she going to prove it? No one in town would think the good doctor Thomas Blackburn moonlighted as a criminal.
“Mia, you in there?” a male voice, deep and vaguely familiar, called from her room. “I need to talk to you.”
She hated anyone to see her in this condition, but his urgent tone moved her to respond. “Be right out.”
She draped the cloth on the sink and finger-combed her hair. Yuck. Caked-in ashes clung to her fingers. It would take several shampoos to eliminate them along with the stench. She replaced the oxygen cannula back in her nose and freed the plastic tube stuck under the IV pump to exit the room.
Standing by the door, a tall, muscular guy with short blond hair kneaded his shoulder as he looked down at his feet. He wore black tactical pants and a polo shirt. He had a gun at his hip and badge on his belt. Not a patrol officer or he would be wearing a uniform. He looked up.
Mia checked his eyes. Oh, yeah. He was a Maddox. He’d changed a lot in the past ten years since she’d seen him, but now that she looked carefully, she knew this man was Ryan’s brother Russ.
