Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 15998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 80(@200wpm)___ 64(@250wpm)___ 53(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 80(@200wpm)___ 64(@250wpm)___ 53(@300wpm)
“Sorry to say you’re likely in for a wait.” Madeline gestured at the full waiting room.
“That’s okay.” I prided myself on being accommodating, especially when a situation was out of my control, so I modulated my voice to be as soothing as possible. “I understand.”
“Do you have your insurance card with you?” Madeline’s tone was somewhat kinder.
“I just started a new job.” I stifled a groan because I hated making Madeline’s job more complicated. “The insurance company hasn’t mailed the card yet.”
“Let’s see if I can find you in the system.” Madeline clicked around on her desktop. “Name?”
“Tennessee Church Stayton.”
“Tennessee?” The man I’d noticed earlier was seated near the registrar. As soon as I said my name, he stood and walked closer. He wore a ski jacket opened to reveal a T-shirt supporting a cancer charity run. He was also holding his right arm, but it was his startled expression I noticed more. “Tennessee Church?”
“Um. Yeah. It’s Stayton now, but yeah.” I peered closer at the man, mind drifting back fifteen years to a much younger face I’d never forgotten. “Tate?”
“Yes!” The guy—Tate—beamed at my guess. “I’m Tate Johnson. And how the heck are you, man? Long, long time no see.”
“Tate.” I breathed his name, tasting A&W Root Beer, Jolly Rancher candy, and a whole host of other memories from my tween years and the best friend I’d never forgotten. “I…I thought you looked familiar.”
“Uh? Boys?” Madeline gave a little cough. Oh yeah. We were in an ER, not a class reunion. I gave a sheepish smile as she pointed at Tate. “Much as I hate to interrupt this little reunion, Johnson, I need you to sit your hot EMT ass back down.”
An EMT? I had a hard time reconciling this buff healthcare professional with the skinny kid I’d once known and shared a love of trouble and daredevil escapades with. TNT people had jokingly called us.
“Sorry, Madge.” Tate obviously knew her well enough to tease. “I’ll be good.” Turning that infectious grin on me, he added, “And I’m sure I’ll still be here waiting when you’re done, Tennessee. Save you a seat?”
“Sure.” I turned my attention back to Madeline, who’d successfully located my health insurance information. Not continuing to glance at Tate took a lot of willpower, especially when I relayed my address and phone number for Madeline to enter into the computer. The Tate I’d known would have totally kept on listening in, but perhaps this adult version had better impulse control.
After I finished the check-in process, I rewarded myself by scanning the room for Tate. Sure enough, he’d saved me a seat next to him—one of the few open chairs. Not taking advantage of it would be rude, but my stomach fluttered the whole ten steps or so it took to stand in front of him.
“Um. Hi.” Slick. I was so slick. It was no wonder my blind date ditched me at the ER.
“Hi.” Tate was as friendly as I remembered and patted the chair beside him. He’d always been the extrovert to my introvert, my ticket to a larger friend group. “You’re back in town? For good?”
“Yeah, finished my move last week.” Cautious of my injuries, I gingerly sat next to him. “I’ll be working with the local CASA office as an attorney for child welfare cases. I always liked it here, so when I saw the job opening…” I trailed off because having fond but distant memories of a place sounded like a wacky reason to move half a state away. However, perhaps Tate didn’t agree because he kept right on smiling.
“That’s awesome, man.” He narrowed his eyes as he peered closer at me. “But why not tell anyone you’re back in the area?”
“Who would I tell?” I wasn’t playing stupid. My phone truly did lack a single Mount Hope contact, and I knew down to the minute the last time I’d spoken to anyone from here.
“Dude. We were best friends. Practically brothers. TNT. Remember?” Smile fading, Tate made a face like he’d gotten raisins in a cookie instead of chocolate chips. “And then you up and moved. Didn’t tell anyone. Not even the teachers could say where you went.”
Three-fifteen on October eleventh of our sixth-grade year, I’d stepped off the school bus and shouted goodbye to Tate. A big black car had been waiting beside our old white trailer outside Mount Hope’s city limits, and that was it: the last time I’d seen Tate Johnson and Mount Hope both.
“I was taken into state custody.” I was an adult now, pushing thirty, well over fifteen years past that day, and still, my voice shook. “The DHS worker decided the best placement was the family of a second cousin I’d never met down near Eugene.”
“Oh, Tennessee.” Tate croaked like words were fuzzy, oversized things. I sympathized. Tate shifted in his chair as if he might be about to touch me, then winced and rubbed his right arm. “I knew things were never great at home. But that bad? Why didn’t you say anything?”