Free Return by Karen Kingsbury Page A

was living with, if he’d gotten the girl pregnant and agreed to the abortion, then he’d be in there, sitting by her side, holding vigil, desperate for her to turn the corner.
    “No, Doctor, the young woman’s had no visitors.” She opened the file and flipped hack a few pages. “Apparently she drove herself to the emergency room earlier today. The notes say she didn’t want anyone contacted.”
    “Very well.” John hacked away from the counter. “Thank you. I’ll take a look at her before I go.”
    The nurse’s eyes reflected curiosity, and for a moment John thought she might ask why he was interested in Lori Callahan, why reading the girl’s file had caused him such concern. But nurses worked under a clear-cut code of respect for doctors, and the woman only nodded and returned to her work.
    John headed down a hallway, his mind and body in a trance. Why had he come to the hospital tonight, anyway? He squinted, determined to escape the avalanche of fear coming down on top of him. His friend from church-that was it. He moved his legs in the direction of the man’s room and found him sleeping. John checked his chart, inspected the incision down the center of the man’s chest, then prayed over him.
    The moment he finished, he couldn’t remember a word he’d said.
    Back out in the hall he went to the nearest rest room, darted inside, shut the door, and locked it. He fell against the wall and squeezed his eyes shut. The girl’s diagnosis flashed in his mind again and again, like some twisted, evil taunting designed to make him crazy. Potent emotions swirled in his mind-grief and guilt and regret. Remorse and anger and desperation.
    Lori had had an abortion?
    What in the world was Luke thinking? How could he allow this, and then stay home while Lori struggled in the intensive care unit? Was that all the character his son had? All the faith and goodness he’d been able to muster after a lifetime under the
    57 i n g s b u r y s m a I l e y
    Baxter roof? Yes, things were much more serious than John had thought.
    He’d assumed Luke’s absence from his family, his decision to move in with Lori, had been a phase, some kind of extreme reac tion to September 11. But he never figured it would lead to this.
    John opened his eyes, took a few steps toward the sink, and gripped the ceramic basin. Father, I never thought I’d be here. Never thought I’d be dealing with this, and, well … I don’t know how to do it. Give me the right words when I talk to Luke. Make him hear me somehow. Please, God … please.
    The girl was hardly out of the woods. John wanted to check on her before he took the next step. And he would take it, no question about that. Maybe he’d lain too low for the past few months, letting Luke stumble along a path that ran straight to his own destruction. But the least his son could do now was be here with the girl. John would insist on that much, even if Luke resented him for interfering.
     
    Steadying himself, John left the rest room and went to Lori’s room. Hers was the bed nearest the door. John had never met the girl, because Luke wouldn’t hear of it.
    “Is she afraid of us, Son?” John had asked Luke the last time they were together-sometime back in January. “You’ve always brought your friends home for us to meet.”
    “Not this time, Dad.” Luke’s jaded laugh raked John’s nerves. “You’ll have her listening to your God talk in five minutes flat.” “That’s not fair, Son. At least give us a chance.”
    But Luke was adamant. “I won’t have you meet Lori until you accept both of us for who we are.”
    John took quiet steps closer to the bed and studied the girl. A friend of the Baxter family was a professor at Indiana University, and last semester he’d had Lori in his class.
    “She’s a fighter, John. An always-angry, cause-bearing cam pus activist.” The man raised an eyebrow. “She’s the last person on earth I’d picture Luke dating.
    And vice versa.”
    John