Free Return by Karen Kingsbury

that, please?” John reached for the file. The girl probably had a bad case of food poisoning or pneumonia, maybe a bacterial infection gone haywire. College coeds didn’t wind up in the ICU every day. He scanned the admit sheet, past her name and address—the address she shared with Luke—past her date of birth. Then, in less time than it took to blink, he found it—and his heart dropped to his knees.
    It was impossible.
    Lori Callahan was suffering from an infected uterus due to postabortion difficulties.
    Postabortion?
    The information had to be wrong, or maybe the girl wasn’t Luke’s live-in friend, because no matter how much he’d changed, Luke would never agree to something like this. John closed the file. His forehead was damp and his knees trembled. It had to be some kind of mistake.
    The nurse was watching him, waiting for the folder. “Doctor, is everything okay?”
    John handed over the file and steadied himself against the nurses’ station. “Is anyone in with the girl?” If Luke had been a part of this, if the girl in the room was the same one he 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 back 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 backed 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 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 reaction 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