the same way.
Patsy got into his face. “I think you’re sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong.”
“We can discuss this all day and all night, but my position is not changing.”
Angie stepped into the hall, interrupting the heated conversation. “What are y’all doing here? I could hear you in the room.”
Patsy approached her sister. “Don’t go all mama bear on us. You didn’t really think we’d leave, did you?” She held up a bag. “We went to get you something to eat.”
“Thanks, but I’m not hungry.”
Peggy hugged Angie. “How’s Erin?”
“She woke up for a second and said her head hurt. I called a nurse, and they’re bringing her something. She’s really confused right now, I think—the fewer people she sees, the better it is for her.”
“Come on, Angie. We’re her aunties,” Patsy said. “Let us just see her for a second so we can sleep tonight.”
Angie held up one finger. “One minute. Visiting hours are over. You have to make it quick, and please do not wake her.”
Patsy and Peggy hurried inside the room. That left him and Angie staring at each other. The same old message flashed in her eyes, and it didn’t take her long to say it. “Why are you still here?”
Her voice was tired and a little sad. He felt guilty for upsetting her more than he already had.
Patsy and Peggy came out, wiping tears from their eyes.
“She’s so pale.” Peggy grabbed a tissue out of her huge purse.
Angie visibly swallowed. “Yes. She’s had a horrific afternoon and...”
Angie stopped speaking as AnaMarie came toward them with a small suitcase in her hand.
“Well, if it isn’t Ms. Old Fart,” Patsy quipped. “I thought we were supposed to respect Angie’s wishes.”
“I should have known you two wouldn’t listen.”
AnaMarie and Hardy were the same age and in the same class in school. He liked her. She always had a lot of common sense, but she was very quiet and shy. Angie was like that, too.
AnaMarie and her mother, along with the grandmother, ran a bakery. Hardy used to go in there a lot, as did everyone in Horseshoe. When Angie had come back from Temple, he’d heard, she’d taken over the business end. She had an office inside the shop, so he didn’t go in as much to avoid seeing her. Their encounters were stilted and awkward, and he never knew what to say to her. He just had an enormous guilt that he couldn’t shake.
The bakery was the busiest place in town, and people came from all over to sample the kolaches, pies, cakes, cookies and every other imaginable sweet. The shop had been in the same family for as long as Hardy could remember. The Wiznowskis were well-known in Horseshoe. Bubba owed a gas station and wrecker service. Willard had a blacksmith shop and the twins operated a beauty shop that was called Talk of the Town. It was aptly named, as most rumors were started there. Angie also took care of their books and did taxes for just about everyone in Horseshoe.
“I brought you a change of clothes, toiletries and something to sleep in,” AnaMarie said. “I’m prepared to stay, too. You need someone here.”
“Thanks.” Angie took the suitcase from her. “But no. You have to open the bakery in the morning and I’m fine because Erin’s going to be okay.”
“Tomorrow is Sunday, and we’re not open on Sunday,” AnaMarie reminded her.
“I’m sorry.” Angie touched her forehead. “I’m a little rattled.”
“That’s understandable. How’s Erin?”
“She’s a little restless, but the surgery went well.”
Footfalls sounded again on the tiled floor, and they looked up to see Willard and Doris walking toward them.
“I had to come back,” Doris said as she reached Angie. She gave Hardy a sharp glance but didn’t say anything. “I can’t rest until I know my granddaughter’s okay.”
“I tried, Angie,” her father said. “But I was worried, too.”
Angie hugged her parents. “Erin’s going to be fine. You can see her for a minute.”
No one said a word until they came out of the room. Doris dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “My poor baby. Angie, I’ll stay the night so someone is here with you.”
“No, Mama. Everyone needs to go home. I can take care of Erin.”
“I called Dale and Dorothy and told them what happened, and they send their love and prayers.”
“Thank you, Mama.”
A nurse came down the hall with a syringe in her hand. She glared at everyone. “Visiting hours are over. Y’all will have to leave.”
“They’re going,” Angie replied. She followed the nurse into the room.
The family walked off without a backward glance, and Hardy thought that was just as well. Enough had been said today. He stretched his tired shoulders and moved down the hall so the nurse wouldn’t see him. When the nurse came out of Erin’s room, Hardy slipped in.
“Hardy.” Angie sighed. “You have to leave.”
He stared at the girl in the bed. Her skin was as white as the sheet. He wondered if she was really okay. Maybe that was why he couldn’t leave. His shoulders drooped with fatigue.
He glanced at Angie’s worried face. “You have to call her father. He needs to know his child is hurt, no matter what your relationship is with him.”
“I told you, it’s none of your business.” The smile in her voice was gone, replaced by the same fatigue he was feeling.
“Patsy said he left you, but...”
Angie leaned down and kissed her daughter, then walked into the hall, making sure the door was slightly opened. She sat in one of the chairs. “Okay. If you want to have this conversation now, let’s have it.”
He sat beside her, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together. “I’m not upsetting you on purpose.”
“It feels like it.”
The hall was dimly lit, and the only sounds were the beeps of a machine and murmurs coming from the nurse’s station. He wished he could articulate what he was feeling, but he was having a hard time explaining it to himself.
“I’m really sorry about today, Angie. I’d give my life for it not to have happened. I should have been more careful. I should have—”
“Do you believe that things happen for a reason?”
He was taken aback for a moment. “I suppose. I’ve never really thought about it.”
Angie wore shorts and she rubbed her hands down her bare thighs. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the nervous action, trying not to remember the touch of her silky skin against his.
“What does this have to do with your ex-husband?”
“Nothing. It has everything to do with you.”
“I get I’m being a little pushy, but I injured the man’s child and I’d like to apologize. I’d like to do something.”
“Dennis is not part of our lives and he wouldn’t appreciate your apology or your gesture.”
“I don’t get that. He has a daughter.”
She moved restlessly. “I could say again that it doesn’t concern you, but I’m tired and weary of carrying a load so heavy it has finally brought me to my knees.”
Hardy