She flinched.
Abby waved to her through the uncurtained window.
“I didn’t hear you pull up,” Zoe said as she let Abby in.
“Sorry. I should’ve called first.”
“Don’t be silly.” Zoe didn’t mention she was grateful to no longer be alone with her mother. “Can I get you something? We have lots of leftovers from yesterday.”
Abby held up a clear plastic takeout cup containing what looked like iced tea. “No thanks. I had lunch at the new Brunswick Burger in Phillipsburg. They’re having a big grand opening celebration. I swear everyone within a fifty-mile radius was there.” She looked around. “Is the Chief home?”
“He’s back at the house in Dillard packing up his tools.”
“Oh. I’ll talk to him later then.” Abby lowered her gaze and took a long draw on the straw in her beverage. “I want to apologize to both of you for bugging out yesterday.”
“I—we—appreciated whatever time you could spare.”
“I could help out today if you need a hand.” A thud from the other room drew Abby’s attention. She lowered her voice. “Seth isn’t here, is he?”
“No. That’s my mother. And I’d love to have your help.”
“Good.” Abby placed the cup on the kitchen table they’d brought from Pete’s house last evening and took off her winter jacket, slinging it over one of the matching chairs. “Where do I start?”
Zoe gestured at the boxes. “Pick one that’s marked ‘kitchen’ and start unpacking.”
Kimberly appeared in the doorway, a powder horn with a woven strap in one hand and a mounted pair of deer antlers in the other. “What exactly do you expect me to do with these?”
“Those are Pete’s.”
“I assumed as much.” She studied the items with a disgusted sneer. “Where are the trash bags?”
“You can’t throw out Pete’s things.”
“Of course I can. This might be suitable for a bachelor pad or a man cave, but this is your home.”
Zoe wasn’t about to admit she wasn’t crazy about the antlers either. “It’s our home. Mine and Pete’s.”
“I refuse to decorate this house to look like a hunting lodge,” Kimberly said with a dark scowl. “He isn’t going to show up at the wedding dressed in camo, is he?”
“Just leave his stuff in the boxes. He can decide where to put it when he gets home.”
Still glowering, Kimberly returned to the living room while muttering, “I’ll put it in a box marked trash.”
“I heard that,” Zoe called after her. She glanced at Abby, expecting to see the young woman containing a laugh or rolling her eyes. What she didn’t expect was to find Abby quietly sobbing. “What’s wrong?”
Abby shook her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. It’s just…seeing you and Pete getting ready for your wedding…I realized it’s never gonna happen for me.”
Zoe set down the glass baking dish she’d been holding and crossed to Abby, taking her by the shoulders. “What do you mean? Of course it will.”
Abby shook her head again. “Not with Seth,” she said, her words thick. “I hate to admit it, but I was really in love with him.”
Zoe felt her sway and tightened her grasp. “You better sit down.” She guided Abby into one of the chairs. “You’re shaking.”
Abby held both trembling hands in front of her. “I guess I am.” She met Zoe’s gaze. “It’s cold in here.”
The thermostat was set at seventy-five to accommodate Kimberly’s thin Floridian blood. Zoe was roasting. She touched Abby’s forehead. Clammy. “Do you feel all right?”
“Not really.” She took another long sip of her iced tea. “I think I might be coming down with something. I should go home.”
“I could take you. I’m not sure you should drive right now.”
“I’m okay. Just really tired.” Abby’s voice sounded slurred. “And hungry. Do you have anything to eat?”
“I told you—” Zoe cut herself off from reminding Abby about the leftovers. Something wasn’t right. And something else deeper and darker pounded at the door of Zoe’s subconscious. Before she could pin it down, Zoe watched Abby’s eyes roll back in her head. She went slack and pitched forward, knocking over the plastic glass.
Zoe caught her before she hit the floor and eased her the rest of the way down.
“Mom!” she shouted.
Kimberly returned to the doorway and gasped. “Good lord.”
“Mom,” Zoe repeated as she fingered Abby’s throat, thankful that she felt a pulse. “Call 911 and get an ambulance out here.”
Kimberly darted back into the living room.
Zoe patted Abby’s cheek, calling her name. No response. She reached for Abby’s jacket and folded it into a makeshift pillow for under her head before checking her pulse again, this time keeping an eye on her watch’s sweep second hand. Too fast. Too weak.
Too reminiscent of another patient less than a week ago. And that hadn’t ended well.
Kimberly returned, her phone pressed to her ear. “What’s the address here?”
Zoe gave the number and road name to her, and Kimberly relayed the information to the EOC operator.
Abby twitched once. Twice. Then started flailing.
“Dear God,” Kimberly said. “What’s going on?”
Zoe shoved the table away, clear of Abby’s thrashing. “Tell them she’s having a seizure.” Zoe looked at her mother, who appeared frozen, her mouth agape. “Tell them.”
Kimberly gave a quick nod and turned away, obeying for once.
Zoe checked the time. Waiting out a seizure was the hardest part. One of the reasons she loved being a paramedic was jumping into the fray. Acting rather than standing by feeling helpless.
Which was all she could do right now. Wait. Watch. And do nothing until the seizure passed. Seconds ticked by, feeling like minutes. Like hours.
Kimberly loomed over her. “Shouldn’t you put something in her mouth? So she doesn’t swallow her tongue?”
“No, Mom. Swallowing your own tongue is physically impossible.”
Kimberly lowered to her knees. “What can I do to help?”
“My first aid bag is out in my truck, behind the seat. Could you bring it in to me?”
“Of course, dear.”
Dear?
Kimberly stood, grabbed her winter-white fur coat, and
