“Oh.” She pushed her handful into the pocket stitched on one side of the canvas bag. Then she peered at Adam. “When did I tell you that?”
He twitched the window curtains and looked out the window again. “We ran into each other last year. Spent a little time catching up.”
There were still things he wasn’t telling her. She could see that so clearly on his face. She squinted, her artist’s eye imagining him ten years younger. “Strange, isn’t it? You ending up in Rambling Rose. Being a match for—”
“It’s a small world,” he said, cutting her off.
“I was thinking more along the lines of fate.”
His lips twisted. “I don’t believe in fate. People make their own choices in life.”
Her chest tightened. “My choices seem to be about heading away from the ones who should matter most.”
He looked ready to say something, then gestured at the stuffed bag. “You’re not going to fit anything else in there.”
“I don’t have anything else except my sketch pad and pencils. They’re in the common room.”
He’d frowned, looking pained all over again. “Go on and get them. I need to speak with Dr. Granger. She’s going to want to check you out before letting you leave with me.”
“I’m an adult. More or less competent if you don’t count the absence of all memories BA. If I want to leave, I can leave.”
“Then humor me,” he said flatly. “Let her be the doctor.”
“Fine, but I’m still getting on a plane with you.”
Kane succeeded in getting another ticket on Adam’s original flight back to Houston.
The problem, though, was that Laurel had no form of identification. So even though she had a ticket, she wouldn’t be able to board the plane.
Adam felt like a dunce when Dr. Granger pointed that out to him after he went down to her office on the main floor and informed her of the change in plans.
“It’s not an insurmountable problem,” she said in the face of his consternation. “If you know where she was born, you’ll be able to get a copy of her birth certificate. From there, it’s a matter of obtaining copies of the rest of her identification. Driver’s license. Maybe even a passport. It’ll just take some time.”
Exactly, Adam thought. Time.
Ashley had been understanding about the time he’d taken off work lately. First to get through the rest of the donor screening after he’d been chosen as the most viable possibility. The times he’d had to drive to Houston for more tests. And then for the bone marrow harvest itself. And now this trip to Seattle.
Regardless of the mess between him and Laurel, and Laurel and Eric, and Eric and the baby, Adam needed to get back to work.
And Laurel needed to see her son.
Their son.
Flying was the quickest. He briefly considered contacting Eric to see if he had any copies of Lauren’s identification conveniently lying around.
Adam wasn’t proud of it, but he tossed out the idea just as fast. Knew he would have done so even if Laurel hadn’t wondered if she’d been running from Johnson.
“If we drove, we could be in Boise tonight,” he said.
“Drive to Texas?” Dr. Granger looked alarmed. “It has to be close to two thousand miles!”
Slightly more than twenty-two hundred. He wisely kept that to himself.
“It’ll take you days,” the director emphasized, as if he didn’t grasp the point.
“Then it’ll take us days,” Laurel said from the doorway behind Adam. She was holding her sketch pad against her chest with a fistful of pencils clutched in her hand.
Dr. Granger half rose from her seat. “Lisa—”
“It’s Laurel.” She lifted her chin. “And I know you’re concerned, Dr. Granger. But this is something that I have to do.”
Dr. Granger slowly sat back down. She watched Laurel closely. “Sit in a car for hours on end?” She shook her head. “I really have to advise against it. What’s behind this sudden rush? You still need physical therapy and—”
“Nothing’s behind it,” Laurel said a little defensively. “I’ll find a way to get PT in Texas. One way or another I’m going to get back everything that’s trapped in here.” She tapped her forehead. “I’m going to get back my life. Once I’m settled, you can forward my records.”
“Settled where?”
“I don’t know,” Laurel said. “But I’ll figure it out. I was going to have to move to a shelter when I left here anyway until I got a job, and I imagine there are—”
“I’ll see to it,” Adam interrupted abruptly. He ignored the looks from both women. “She’s not going to be homeless.”
“There you go,” Laurel said as if the matter was settled, even though nothing really was settled at all beyond that moment.
The doctor opened her mouth, looking ready to protest, but then she leaned back in her chair. “Well.” She looked from Laurel’s face to Adam’s. “Of course I have no authority to stop you.” She plucked a pen from her plastic cup and pointed it at Adam. “This isn’t the best of plans for you either, young man.” She shook her head—whether at them or at herself he couldn’t tell—and scribbled something on a small pad. She tore off the sheet and handed it across to Adam.
It was a prescription pad with the doctor’s information preprinted on it. Yet it wasn’t a prescription she’d written out, but a phone number.
“That’s my personal cell phone,” she said, her gaze pinning Adam’s. “If you need me for anything, and I mean anything, you can reach me twenty-four seven at that number.”
He nodded and stuffed the paper in his pocket. “Thank you.”
“I’ll make sure the charges are refunded on your credit card.” As if she’d decided to embrace their departure, she planted her hands on her desktop and stood. Adam shoved to his feet, too. “Stop by the kitchen before you leave,” she ordered as she rounded her desk and paused in front of Laurel. “Lunch is nearly over but you might still be in time to get a plate from
