Rachel Goddard 01 - The Heat of the Moon

“She’ll be back just as soon as she finishes talking to the doctor about Maude.” 
    Her face screwed up. Her blue eyes, wide and frightened, brimmed with tears. “I want Mommy now!” She drew in a gasping breath and began to wail. “Mommy…Mommy…”
    Poor kid, terrified by seeing her dog broken and bloody, then the rush, and her mother’s panic. “Everything’s going to be okay,” I told her. “Your mommy’s coming back in just a minute.”
    “Mommy!” she screamed.
    Her cries cut through me. A stab of distress made me reach out and clasp her in an embrace. She stiffened for a second, then wrapped her thin arms around my neck. Her hair smelled of baby shampoo and rain. She was so tiny and delicate. So much like my sister Michelle as a child. How many times had I hugged Michelle this way to chase away her fears?
    As I knelt with Kristin, a door swung wide in my memory and through it I glimpsed an old, half-forgotten image of my little sister standing in the rain, crying. I stared inward, caught fast by the familiar strangeness of the vision. My surroundings receded, the ringing of the phone and the faces behind the desk faded away.
    Michelle stood in a great open space, menacing in its bleak emptiness. Long golden hair clung wetly to her scalp, cheeks, neck. Her hands were balled into fists at her sides. Her plea was high and thin and tremulous. “Mommy! I want to go home!”
    I was no longer in the clinic, I was out in the streaming rain, and I was a child again too with nothing to hold onto but my sister. “Please don’t cry!” As if from outside myself I heard my voice rising, shrill and frantic. “She’ll come back, she will, please don’t cry!”
    Someone was trying to pull us apart. A hand tightened on my shoulder, shook me hard. Dazed, I looked up at a tall sandy-haired man with a boyish face, and struggled to recognize him.
    “Dr. Goddard? Rachel?” Narrowed eyes, creased brow. “Are you all right?”
    Lucas Campbell. My boss.
    Suddenly I was conscious of my crushing hold on the girl and her squirming and squeals of protest.
    When I released her, she stumbled backward, her eyes swimmy with tears and huge with fearful wonderment. A bloodstain blotched the shoulder of her sweatshirt.
    Mrs. Coleman reappeared and lifted the girl. Still on my knees, I reached up, seized by an urge to snatch the child back from the woman. Then I dropped my arms, baffled by my own impulse.
    Dr. Campbell slid a hand under my elbow and helped me to my feet.
    “I told Dr. Bonelli to do whatever’s necessary,” Mrs. Coleman said. “I’m going to take Kristin home now.” She bounced the child gently and rubbed her back.
    The sight of the little girl being comforted in her mother’s arms brought a bewildering wave of sorrow and longing. All I could do was nod in response to what she’d said.
    Mrs. Coleman sniffled and managed a brave smile. “Maude means so much to us. We always call her our first-born.” She tried to laugh, but the sound strangled in her throat.
    “We’ll do our best for her,” Dr. Campbell said.
    Mrs. Coleman walked out into the rain with her daughter, who fussed and begged, wanting to know where Maudie was, why she wasn’t coming home with them.
    Dr. Campbell’s hand still cupped my elbow. I met his solemn gaze briefly as I pulled my arm free. Now that the fog was clearing from my head, I realized with a jolt that I was the center of attention. People in the waiting area, a woman paying her bill at the desk, all were staring at me. I caught the eye of Alison, the young desk supervisor, and she quickly turned away, long brown curls swinging around her neck. At the same instant the other three clerks unfroze and resumed their work.
    I shoved my wet bangs off my forehead and tugged at my drenched, dirty, bloody lab coat, trying to straighten it. God only knew what was going through Dr. Campbell’s mind. What could I say to redeem myself?
    He spoke first, his voice so quiet I was sure only I could hear it. “Are you okay? You’re white as a ghost. What happened?”
    “I’m fine.” I tried for briskness and almost succeeded. “I’d better go clean up.”
    “Look, if you’ve still got patients, somebody else can take them—”
    “No, I’m finished for the day, I was about to leave. I’m fine, Dr. Campbell, really.” I spun on my heel and retreated.
    He let me go, but when I reached the door to the rear corridor and glanced back, he hadn’t moved or taken his eyes