curious about what Will had done to make Max Galloway call him a lunatic. She would be the first person to admit that her partner was far from conventional. He certainly had his own way of doing things, but Will Trent was the best cop Faith had ever worked with — even if he had the social skills of an awkward toddler. For instance, Faith would’ve liked to have found out from her own partner that they were assigned to this case rather than hear it from an inbred Weimaraner from Rockdale County.
Maybe it was for the best that she had some time before she talked to Will. She had no idea how she was going to explain why she had passed out in the parking deck at the courthouse without actually having to tell him the truth.
She rifled through the plastic bag filled with diabetic supplies and pulled out the pamphlet the nurse had given her, hoping that this time she would be able to concentrate on it. Faith didn’t get much further than
“So, you have diabetes”
before she was telling herself once again that there had been some kind of mistake. The insulin shot had made her feel better, but maybe just lying down for a few minutes had done the trick. Did she even have a history of this in her family? She should call her mother, but she hadn’t even told Evelyn that she was pregnant. Besides, the woman was on vacation in Mexico, her first holiday in years. Faith wanted to make sure her mother was close to good medical care when she told her the news.
The person she should really call was her brother. Captain Zeke Mitchell was an Air Force surgeon stationed in Landstuhl, Germany. As a doctor, he would know everything about her condition, which was probably why she cringed at the thought of reaching out to him. When fourteen-year-old Faith announced that she was pregnant, Zeke was just hitting his senior year in high school. His mortification and humiliation had lasted twenty-four hours, seven days a week. At home, he had to watch his slut of a teenage sister swell up like a blimp, and at school, he had to listen to the crude jokes his friends made about her. It was no wonder he’d joined the military straight out of high school.
Then there was Jeremy. Faith had no idea how she would tell her son that she was pregnant. He was eighteen, the same age Zeke had been when she’d ruined his life. If boys did not want to know their sisters were having sex, they sure as hell didn’t want to hear the news about their mothers.
Faith had done most of her growing up with Jeremy, and now that he was in college, their relationship was settling into a comfortable place where they could talk to each other as adults. Sure, she sometimes had flashes of her son as a child — the blanket he used to drag around with him everywhere, the way he constantly used to ask her when he was going to get too heavy for her to carry him — but she’d finally come to terms with the fact that her little boy was now a grown man. How could she pull the rug out from under her son now that he’d finally gotten settled? And it wasn’t just that she was pregnant anymore. She had a
disease
. She had something that could be carried in families. Jeremy could be susceptible. He had a serious girlfriend now. Faith knew that they were having sex. Jeremy’s children could become diabetic because of Faith.
“God,” she mumbled. It wasn’t the diabetes, but the idea that she could end up being a grandmother before she hit thirty-four.
“How are you feeling?”
Faith looked up to find Sara Linton standing across from her with a tray of food.
“Old.”
“Just from the pamphlet?”
Faith had forgotten it was in her hand. She indicated that Sara should sit. “Actually, I was questioning your medical abilities.”
“You wouldn’t be the first.” She said it ruefully, and not for the first time, Faith wondered what Sara’s story was. “My bedside manner could have been better with you.”
Faith did not disagree. Back in the ER, she had wanted to hate
Patricia Haley and Gracie Hill