Her Sister's Child
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He gave her an earnest look. “Okay, no hand-holding. But I’d appreciate it if you’d come along. At least until they know what they’re going to do with me. I’ve been gone so long from the mountain, I don’t know anybody else to call.”
Before she could decline again, Bobby Cutter appeared at the back of the ambulance. “Everybody okay in here?”
Cameron answered for all of them. “I’m trying to get Julia to come to the hospital with me. She needs to be examined, too.”
Bobby shook his finger at her. “You’re going, MoonPie. No arguments. I don’t want you doing something stupid and girlie like staying here and fainting on me.”
Outnumbered, she sat against the ambulance wall and fastened the seat belt. “Fine. I’ll go. But ask my mother to come to the hospital to pick me up in an hour or so. And tell her to bring some clean clothes.”
Bobby slapped the door of the vehicle before closing it. “Will do. My job here is done.”
Cameron raised his good arm. “Just one more thing.”
Bobby paused. “Yeah?”
“How’d she get the name MoonPie?”
Bobby laughed. “You can blame me for that. Julia loved those damn cakes. Had ’em in her lunch box every day so I just started calling her that. I think Cora must have bought them by the caseful. And then, one day, she just decided to stop eating them.” He stared at Julia. “Why was that, Julia?”
She rolled her eyes. “For heaven’s sake, Bobby, that’s ancient history. Nobody cares anymore.”
“I care,” Cameron said.
Bobby gave her a what’d-I-tell-you look. “Anyway, I guess Julia didn’t want to hurt Cora’s feelings by telling her not to put any more pies in her lunch, so she started secretly swapping them for things like carrots and grapes and celery. But by then the name ‘MoonPie’ had stuck.”
Julia shook her head. “Exciting story, isn’t it?”
Bobby chuckled. “Julia’s the only person I’ve ever known who’d give up a MoonPie for a bag of carrot sticks. The first woman on Earth content to trade down.”
“Not anymore, Bobby,” Julia said. “I learned my lesson.”
Bobby laughed again and shut the ambulance door.
When Julia glanced at Cameron, she noticed his expression had changed, become more reflective than amused. “What?” she said.
“You’ve just given me my first Blue Ridge Mountain story,” he said. “A Girl Called MoonPie.” The ambulance lurched forward. Cameron sucked in a deep breath and looked at his arm. “Too bad I can’t hold a pen to write it down.”
CHAPTER FOUR
ONCE SHE’D LET the hospital staff coat her hands with antiseptic ointment and cover them with gauze, Julia was able to convince the emergency room nurse that she’d suffered no more ill effects from her trek into the ravine than minor cuts and bruises. The minute the doctor signed her release papers, Julia hurried to the admitting area, sounding as though she were walking on squeegees instead of shoes and leaving an embarrassing trail of mud flecks. She was going to make some maintenance people very unhappy tonight.
The receptionist at the admitting desk was the same middle-aged woman who’d assigned Julia to an examination room earlier. When she looked up from paperwork and saw her again, she wrinkled her nose. “Oh. They didn’t give you a hospital gown?”
“They tried, but I’ve got clean clothes coming…” she glanced at her wristwatch, which was still smeared with mud, and wiped the face “…any minute now.” She started to lean on the counter but thought better of leaving a residue for this woman to contend with. “Can you tell me where Cameron Birch is, please?”
The woman pointed to a set of double doors. “In there. Exam room eight if he’s not down for tests. I’ll have to buzz you in.” Julia squished her way along the row of curtained-off areas until she found Cameron’s and peeked around the drape.
He roused, slowly lifting his eyelids. “Hey. Come in.”
She moved to the side of his bed and stood looking down at him. Trying not to reveal her shock, she glossed over the dark purple bruise that had formed on his forehead and the scratches on his face and arms. Plus, he had a cumbersome half cast secured to his wrist. “So, when are they springing you?” she said.
“Not until tomorrow, maybe early afternoon.”
“And what have they poked and prodded tonight?”
“I’ve had an EKG, a chest X-ray, a CAT scan. All I’ve heard about is my wrist X-rays, and the paramedic was right. The orthopedic surgeon thinks about two hours of surgery in the morning ought to do the trick. And then I’ll have a network of miniature antennae sticking out of my arm for six weeks.”
“Well, look at the bright side. You might not have to invest in a satellite dish to keep up with Grey’s Anatomy.”
He smiled. “And there’s one more silver lining to this cloud. My handwriting’s never been any good, and now I have an excuse.”
His offhand comment took her back ten years. She remembered her surprise at discovering this minor flaw in the otherwise seemingly perfect professor. His comments on her assignments had been practically illegible, and when each paper was returned, she’d spend several minutes trying to decipher his scratch marks.
“…for the bandages on your hands?”
His voice returned her to the present. “Sorry. What did you say?”
“Your hands? Why are they bandaged?”
“A couple of giant-sized splinters mostly, from some inhospitable oak trees in the ravine.” When she saw the concern on his face, she added, “Nothing I haven’t experienced many times in the past.”
He released a long breath and shook his head. “Geez, Julia, when I think about what you did, what almost happened down there…”
She held up her hand. “Don’t go in that gully again, Cameron. It’s over, happy ending and all.”
“But there has to be a way I can thank you.”