“I’m afraid not,” the medic said gently, glancing at Erin.
“We’ll take you,” she said. “We don’t want to hold them up.”
Half an hour later, the three of them perched on the edges of their seats in the ER waiting room. Getting here hadn’t been speedy. Erin had to race back into the house to grab Mrs. Zatloka’s walker while Cole fetched the car. She was incredibly grateful that he’d been willing to come along. He had been astonishingly kind, teasing the frail woman as he picked her up and set her in the front seat of the Cherokee. He’d lifted her out, too, once Erin braked in front of the ER. While she went to find a parking spot, he had hovered at Mrs. Zatloka’s side as she tottered in using her walker. When Erin made it back, it was a relief to see that he’d persuaded the poor woman to sit in a wheelchair.
Time dragged. Erin found herself staring at the wall clock, frustrated at how slowly the numbers moved. Wishing she could reach for Cole’s big hand, instead she clasped Mrs. Zatloka’s small, knobby one. She was glad she had when she felt the elderly woman latch on to her. Mrs. Z had to be terrified.
It seemed an eternity before they were summoned into the back. When Erin rose, Cole hesitated, but then did the same. The nurse chattered on the way back, giving them a piece of good news. Mr. Zatloka had regained consciousness.
They arrived to find a young doctor leaving the cubicle. He turned and came back in.
“Your husband has had an MRI,” he told Mrs. Zatloka. “We think he’s fine, but we’re going to admit him for the night, to be on the safe side. Our best guess is he either tripped and hit his head, or had an episode of low blood pressure.”
“Just clumsy,” he growled from the bed. “Bunch of nonsense.”
Cole’s mouth twitched as Erin hid her smile. She saw the doctor doing the same.
“I assume you don’t drive?” he asked Mrs. Zatloka, who shook her head.
“Roy does all the driving.”
Erin had seen them in their great boat of a car that had to date to the eighties. It moved almost as slowly as Mrs. Zatloka walked.
“We’re neighbors. We’ll be glad to pick him up when he’s released,” Erin volunteered.
They all accompanied him to his assigned room. Cole and Erin remained in the hall to allow husband and wife a few minutes of privacy.
“I told him I’d mow,” Cole muttered. “Why the hell didn’t he call?”
“Pride.” She was careful not to look at him. “It’s apparently a big deal with men.”
Silence.
Finally, he said, “That a shot aimed at me?”
“Maybe.”
After another pause, he said, “I guess you’re entitled.”
She forced herself to look at him. “Is it so bad that I felt sorry for you that day at the hardware store?”
“No.” He moved his shoulders in a way that betrayed an uneasiness unusual for him. “I wish I’d met you some other way, that’s all.”
Was he saying he would have approached her if he’d already had a job when they met? The possibility made her pulse speed. They stared at each other, Erin finding it hard to draw a full breath.
“I shouldn’t have said what I did,” he added, his voice rough. “About payback. I do owe you, but leaning on you like that…” Either to avoid her eyes, or because of his constant vigilance, his gaze followed an orderly passing with a trolley that rattled. “I don’t like seeing you hurting yourself. Didn’t seem like you have anyone else to call you on it, so…” Another jerk of his powerful shoulders.
Erin swallowed the lump in her throat. “You gave me stuff to think about. So…thank you.”
His surprise was evident, but they were interrupted by Mrs. Zatloka calling them.
* * *
COLE MOWED THE Zatlokas’ lawn as soon as they got the old lady in the house. She had admitted to often napping, but decided to watch her soaps instead.
Erin returned to her gardening, promising to bring dinner to Mrs. Zatloka. Fortunately, she had homemade spaghetti sauce in the freezer, and had bought French bread the last time she was at the store. To feed Cole, she realized now. Wishful thinking.