least this nameless man had set a few boundaries.
“The other rule is that I don’t talk to or go with a stranger, no matter where I am.”
“I’m a stranger,” Sierra pointed out, deciding she would hunt down this irresponsible uncle and give him a piece of her mind, colleague or not! The risk was too great to leave this little girl unattended. The garden saw a lot of foot traffic and anyone who weighed more than a hundred pounds could haul this youngster off without breaking a sweat, even if she was kicking and screaming.
“No, you’re not,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ve seen you lots of times.” She scurried in front of Sierra and peered at her identification badge. “You’re Dr. McAllaster. Your name tag says so.”
“Yes, but—”
“I’m Hannah,” she answered. “Now we aren’t strangers anymore.”
Hannah’s logic was definitely lacking. “Actually, we still are strangers,” Sierra corrected her gently. “I could be a not-very-nice person.”
Hannah’s ponytail bounced with each shake of her head. “Nope, you’re not. I’ve been watching you ‘cause you come here almost as much as I do. If you were a rotten person, you wouldn’t feed the birds your leftover crackers.”
Goodness! Had she been so self-absorbed that she hadn’t noticed an unattended child before today? Or maybe she’d seen her and thought she’d been under the watchful eye of one of the many visitors who came to the garden for fresh air and sunshine. Regardless, it was still eerie to realize that someone had observed her so carefully without her knowledge. She would definitely have to pay closer attention to her surroundings in the future.
“Plus, you’re a doctor. Doctors aren’t mean people. Oh, they can do nasty things like give us a shot, but it’s for our own good,” she said confidently.
While Sierra agreed that most physicians were caring individuals, she personally knew of several who should have chosen a different profession. Even so, she wouldn’t destroy the girl’s illusions. Life would take care of those soon enough.
“A lot of people come here to walk, don’t they?” Hannah asked.
“They do.”
“My uncle says they built this because the lab-y-rinth,” she stumbled over the word, “is supposed to make people feel better. The Native Americans call it a medicine wheel.”
“Really?”
“Uh-huh. They’ve gotten really popular, he says, especially at hospitals. Walking the path helps people who have stuff like high blood pressure or who can’t relax. He says that the twists and turns are s’posed to represent the twists and turns in life.”
The child sounded like a brochure that detailed the hospital’s services. “He’s right. The labyrinth helps people put the bad things in perspective.”
“Is that why you’re here? So you can put the bad stuff in pers…pers…pective?”
Hannah’s insight surprised her. Sierra began visiting the garden during her lunch hour as part of her mental-health regimen when she’d first joined the medical staff. Walking the circular concrete pathways, which were lined with colorful petunias, helped her deal with stress, especially after she lost a patient. She also knew of several surgeons who walked the labyrinth in order to clear their heads before performing surgery.
“Yes, I do,” Sierra said. “Why do you come here? To be outdoors instead of being cooped up inside?”
Hannah shrugged. “I like this place. My mom died of cancer when I was little, and whenever I get sad, I walk until I feel better. Do you think she might have lived if there’d been a lab-y-rinth at her hospital?”
Hannah’s matter-of-fact tone didn’t minimize the compassion Sierra felt for her. Oddly enough, she almost wanted to give her nameless uncle a break. Being a single parent or, in this case, an uncle wasn’t easy, especially when one dealt with an obviously precocious child like Hannah.
“Sometimes cancer wins, no matter how hard people try to fight it.”
Hannah’s brown eyebrows drew together as she nodded. “That’s what my uncle says, too. He says she didn’t want to die, but it wasn’t her fault she couldn’t stay and watch me grow up.”
“No, it wasn’t,” Sierra agreed.
Oddly enough, her uncle seemed to have imparted good insight to his niece. Sierra added one mental point in his favor.
Suddenly, the sound of dogs barking broke the quiet. Hannah immediately pulled a hot-pink cell phone out of the matching pouch hanging around her neck and the barking stopped. Sierra chuckled at herself as she realized the noise was a ringtone instead of a pack of canines on the loose.
The youngster glanced at the display and winced. “Gotta go. ‘Bye!”
“Wait! “ Sierra called as Hannah began hurdling the flowers with an easy-limbed grace in her haste to head toward the north door. “What’s your uncle’s name?”
Hannah simply smiled and waved before she disappeared through the north door.
So much for discovering the child’s identity, Sierra thought as she watched Hannah somewhat benevolently. Knowing Hannah had a cell phone made her feel somewhat better about the situation.
To Sierra’s disappointment, her wristwatch showed her allotted break time was over, too, even though she hadn’t reached the center of the labyrinth. After taking one last look in Hannah’s direction and seeing her disappear through the glass entrance doors, Sierra carefully stepped over the petunias as she strode in the opposite direction and disposed of her apple core in the trash.
Inside the main emergency hallway, ringing telephones, whispering gurney wheels and excited voices contrasted sharply with the tranquility she’d left behind. Directly ahead, she saw two different paramedics from the ones she’d met earlier, another ED physician and a nurse escorting another gurney into a trauma room. Meanwhile, Trey was heading toward an exam room as he reviewed the form on his clipboard. As soon as he saw her, his smile widened.
“How was lunch?” he asked.
She thought of the precocious Hannah. “Interesting. Why don’t I take over for you so you can take your break?”
“Thanks, but this case shouldn’t take too long. It’s also too early to meet my lunch date in the cafeteria, so I might as well earn my pay.”
She should have known. The man probably arranged his personal schedule months ahead. “Then I won’t keep you.”
Before she turned away, he stopped her. “Save tomorrow for me, though.”
She paused. “Excuse me?”
“Lunch. Tomorrow. My treat. It’ll be my official ‘welcome to the department’ gesture.”
“Do you take every new person to lunch?” she asked.
“Everyone,” he reassured her. “Even the housekeeping staff. So don’t pack your apple.”
She stared at him in surprise. “How did you know—?”
“I’m an observant kind of guy.”
Of course he was, she thought wryly. “Okay, fine. We’ll do lunch.” Then, to make certain there would be no misunderstandings, she added, “Strictly between colleagues.”
His smile seemed as broad as his shoulders. “Fair enough.”
She turned away, but he stopped her. “Out of curiosity, are you seeing anyone?”
This time she smiled. “What does the grapevine say?”
“You’re not.”
“Correct, as usual,” she agreed lightly.
“Is