The Journal: Crimson Skies: (The Journal Book 3) by Deborah D. Moore

the elevator up to the sixth floor of
the quiet hospital in strained silence. There were few visitors and
fewer patients, since all elective surgery was cancelled and only
the direst of illnesses or injuries were admitted, a necessity with
the lack of doctors and nurses.
    Stepping out of the tiny elevator, I breathed
the relieved sigh of a claustrophobic. Then the smells assaulted
me: disinfectants couldn’t hide the odors of urine and feces and
blood that wafted through the halls.
    “This way to the surgical lounge,” Col.
Andrews said, leading the way. When we approached the double doors,
they opened and Dr. Streiner stepped out. Her face froze when she
saw me.
    “I will leave you here, Ms. Smeth, while I
make arrangements for you to see Kathy,” Col. Andrews said, and he
left.
    “Dr. Streiner, how is Kathy doing?” I asked
when she emerged from a set of nondescript double doors.
    “I removed her uterus. It was damaged beyond
repair, but I know Kathy had no interest in having children. There
were other injuries as well, though none life threatening.” She
looked solemnly at me. “She’s lucky you found her so quickly or she
would have bled to death within an hour. For all of that, she’s
doing well, but I’d still like to keep her a few days for
observation.”
    “Where is Mark?” I asked, glancing behind
her.
    “He did amazingly well for not having much
OB/GYN training.” She avoided my question.
    “Where is he?” I asked again.
    “You should really consider encouraging him
to stay here, where he would be more useful.”
    There was something about her stance, her
tone, and a look in her eye. There was a smug hostility I didn’t
like. She was more of Mark’s professional equal than I was and I
felt jealousy rising within me. I tamped it down and took another
approach.
    “Denise, I know Mark is an amazing man, and I
know he’s handsome, and charming and kind. He’s a really good
person. But he’s my husband.” I could have said more, lots
more, but I didn’t.
    She looked away. “Am I that obvious?”
    I smiled in understanding. “He has the same
effect on me.”
    “He must love you a great deal, Allexa.
You’re all he would talk about,” she admitted. “But I will take him away from you. You’re just a mousey little farmer and he’s
a brilliant doctor. You don’t deserve him.” Denise lifted her chin.
“He’ll be out in a minute,” and she stepped toward the double
doors, sneering at me. I was shocked by her verbal attack and I was
trying very hard to ignore the insults she just lashed at me.
    The swinging doors opened and Mark stepped
out. His somber expression faded when he saw me and he took me in
his arms for a long, embarrassing kiss.
    “Ahem,” Denise cleared her throat. “Excuse
me. Let’s look in on our patient.” She turned away from our blatant
display of affection.
    We walked down the hall to the elevators and
rode in silence to the floor Kathy’s room was on, which was
marginally cleaner and by far less noxious in odor. She lay against
the crisp white pillow, her freshly washed red hair fanned out like
a flaming halo. She opened her eyes and smiled.
    “Hi, Allexa,” she said sleepily. I sat down
next to her on the bed and took her hand, tears threatening behind
my lids.
    “Hi to you too,” I said softly. “You look
better than the last time I saw you.”
    “Well, that wouldn’t be hard to do,” came the
retort I expected from my gal-pal of many years. “I was a mess.”
Now the tears formed in her eyes. “I owe you one, my friend.
I understand I owe you many. If you hadn’t come by when you
did…”
    “If she hadn’t, we wouldn’t have caught the
men responsible,” Colonel Andrews said from across the room. None
of us had seen him waiting there in the shadows when we walked in.
“Do you feel up to making a visual confirmation on these
scumbags?”
    “The sooner the better, Captain.” Kathy
saluted the Colonel from her bed and he laughed.
    Mark and I