Page 93 of Distant Shores
“Okay, Miss Beauregard, could you tell me what happened?”
I felt Ireland’s gaze on me, and I met it briefly, offering her a small, reassuring smile.
She almost returned it, but then Patricia Beauregard spoke.
“Shehappened,” she said, glaring bullets at Ireland.
I didn’t react in any kind of way. I’d been doing this job for years, and the biggest thing I’d learned?Embarrassment made people lie, placing blame on the closest, easiest target.
“Are you experiencing any pain now?”
“Oh yes, here,” she said, gesturing to bare calves.
I nodded. “Did you fall?”
“A bit of a tumble,” she admitted. “But I recovered! I’ll be forty-eight this year, can you believe it?”
No, I could not.
“I was just trying to get my steps right,” she continued, “but there was a foul energy in the room, making me lose count.”
She glared pointedly at Ireland again.
I deployed my professional smile, masking my annoyance. “Did you hit your head at all? Are you experiencing any dizziness?”
“No, none of that. It’s just the pain in my leg,” she said with a dramatic sniff. “I’m afraid to look.”
Using my crutch, I eased down to my knees.
“In your calf?” I asked, keeping a subtle, closer eye on her breaths.
A little fast, but normal and even.
“Yes, it was terribly sudden. Like my muscles were taken by the devil.”
“Lord almighty, Trish,” another old woman said, clopping forward on her dance heels. “You got a cramp. You’re notdying.”
“Andbless your heart,Patricia Beauregard, but if you’re in your forties, then I’m a belly dancer,” another woman added.
I glanced at the mirror and spotted the naysayers easily, the only two left in the room.
Miss Lenny’s friends.
Lordy.
Delly returned with a young EMT wearing the LiveOak polo and tactical pants and carrying a medical bag hot on her heels.
“What’s the situation?” The girl—she couldn’t have been older than Delly—asked as she made it to us.
“Here,” a toneless voice said.
I looked at the mirror and saw Ireland’s reflection. She stood beside me, her hand stretched out in offering and her face carefully blank. I turned my head and met her blue gaze for a long moment, then took her hand.
She pulled, but I grabbed my crutch and braced it so it could take some of my weight. Ireland was strong, the muscles in her arms and legs obvious, but I was still pretty sure that if I gave her my weight, I’d just pull her down with me.
“Thank you, Indigo Girl,” I murmured, staying close beside her.
She didn’t respond, but she didn’t drop my hand immediately either.
