I must have walked the hallways of the Torrey Junction Hospital for forty-five minutes before I finally bumped into Dr. Chortle.
And she was with DadJoke.
“I’ve got a medical question for you.”
“Make an appointment.” Chortle laughed at her own lame joke, for once. “I’ve got something available in November, I think.”
“Don’t you hate it when people ask you for free medical advice?” DadJoke said. “It makes me wish I’d get a patient who claimed he was invisible so I could tell him I couldn’t see him right now.” He snort-laughed, and so did Chortle, of course, but that stopped when I spoke sternly.
“This is your chance to make amends.”
“What amends?” DadJoke guffawed.
“Shall I hit the rewind button and take the two of you back a few weeks to the parking garage where you laughed at my head wound?”
They cleared their throats and looked at their shoes. DadJoke left, which was fine by me. Chortle was who I needed right now.
“Hey, I’m really sorry about that,” Chortle said. “I thought it was a prank. Daddington was joking about it, saying it was super convincing, and asking if you’d gotten real blood from the supply bank, and I laughed along.”
Right. These dimwits. How had they made it through medical school? “Want the chance to make it up to me?”
“You wouldn’t report us to the medical board!”
“Not if you make things right.” I wouldn’t have anyway. But still, I wanted their help. Chortle’s, that was.
“You can have all the free medical advice you want. For you, your family, your loved ones. You name it.” Chortle looked sick. “I haven’t finished paying off my med school loans. I can’t get fired or have my license revoked.” All signs of her sarcastic laughing were gone. “I’m really sorry, Luke.”
Good. She should be. “I’ll need more than free medical advice. But I need that, too.”
For the next hour, I extracted exactly what I needed from Chortle, and then I frankly forgave her. She looked touched by the forgiveness.
“Thanks, Luke. You’re a good guy. Sheridan Chandler is really lucky.” She must have seen my alarm at being so transparent. “Come on, who else in this town is known for having a crushed pelvis? And who else have you been caught making out with in the linen closet?”
“I didn’t make out with anyone in the linen closet.” It was the records office.
She half-smiled. “Lucky girl.”
***
Just as I got in my car, Lola texted me. At first, when it chimed, I grabbed at my phone, hoping the text was from Sheridan. My shoulders fell when I saw Lola’s name instead. (Sorry, Lola.)
How close are you to Sheridan’s parents?
Close, why? That might be an exaggeration. But not too big of one. They loved me.
Then, she explained her advice. Instead of driving back to The Citadel and going upstairs to think, I took Lola’s suggestion and drove straight to 5656 Stony Brook Lane.
“Why, Luke! What a surprise!” Mrs. Allen gathered me into a hug. It was a good hug, a maternal hug, like one I hadn’t received in far too long. I sank into it. Man, it seemed like I must have needed one. “Come in and sit down. We’re just having dessert. I hope you like pumpkin pie.”
“This time of year? I thought it was only legal to make pumpkin pie between Halloween and New Year’s.” We sat in their front room around the coffee table, the first place I’d stepped into their lives on that weird, headache-laced day. “Thanks.” I accepted a chilled dish, which sported a pile of whipped cream about six inches high.
“I hope you like whipped cream. King believes in a three-to-one whipped-cream-to-pie ratio.”
“King and I are the uni-mind.” I took a bite. They were already eating theirs. “This is very good.” But the truth was, I couldn’t really stomach more than a bite. Not with what I had to say. “Have you seen Sheridan?”
“Not for days. We figured she was with you.” Mrs. Allen looked concerned suddenly. “She’s been so happy since the two of you started dating, I have hardly let a worry for her enter my thoughts. I’ve wanted to thank you for that—but is something wrong?”
King set down his empty plate. “She’s not missing or anything?”