Erin
–three months later
“What are we doing in Miami?” I ask as David drives our rental car along the road. He said it was a surprise trip, but I don’t understand why we’re driving further away from the beach. Aren’t we staying at some beachfront resort? Isn’t that what people do in Florida?
&nbs
p; Then again, if we’re going to do a beach resort, we could’ve just stayed in California…
“Clarifying something that should’ve been clarified years ago,” David says.
“Like what?”
“You’ll see.”
He drives into a huge…retirement community? The sign boasts of a sprawling golf course.
“Uh… David?”
“Yeah?”
“We aren’t here to check out retirement options for Alexandra, are we?” I’ve never heard her mention wanting to take it easy or retire.
He chokes. “Don’t even think that, much less say it! She’ll kill me if she hears you. Besides, she’ll work forever. I guarantee my dad’s going to retire before she does.” Then he quickly adds, “And my parents plan to stay in Virginia.”
Okay. So this isn’t about anybody’s retirement. So what is it?
David drives along, slowing in front of each blindingly white building.
“What are we looking for?” I ask.
“Number six.” Then he grins. “Right there.”
He parks the car in front of the unit, and we climb out. Weirder and weirder.
“Come on,” he says.
He takes my hand and leads me around the building. I tag along, feeling like ice cream on hot asphalt. People say hot air rises. They lied. Or else the laws of physics don’t work in Florida, because the heat here isn’t just oppressive, it’s actually heavy. I feel like my shoulders are being weighed down by anvils or something.
Hot anvils, straight from some oven in hell.
An old man is watering herbs. He’s tall, his hands large. Tufts of white hair make a half-ring around his otherwise hairless head.
I study him. Something is vaguely familiar, but I don’t know anybody in Miami. I’ve never even been to Florida until now.
“Dr. Shear?” David says.
I gape. “Dr. Shear…?” That’s my mother’s old doctor. How did David find him? And why?
The man straightens and looks at David. “Yes?” The doctor’s voice is kind but authoritative. His eyes reflect an intellectual sharpness that would make most college students weep with envy. Then he squints at me.
“I’m Erin Clare. Amelia Clare’s daughter. She was your patient in Saintsville.”
“Ah. Yes, you look a lot like your mother.” Compassion softens his gaze.
I steal a glance at David. What are we doing here? It doesn’t look like Dr. Shear is practicing medicine anymore.
“Dr. Shear, I’m David Darling. I’m here about the matter we discussed over the phone.”