Uncle Sarge. Bonnie Gardner

was terrible, just terrible,” the lady said, wringing her hands. “They had gone out to celebrate their anniversary. Five years, I think it was. They didn’t go out much. They were just starting out and their budget was stretched to the limit. I used to sit with the little ones so they could take in a bargain matinee from time to time.”

      “Please, Ma’am. My sister?” Rich didn’t like the way she kept referring to the past.

      “It was a terrible accident. It was raining really hard and they skidded right into oncoming traffic. Mike was killed. Sherry’s in the hospital. Broke her neck. They tell me it’s going to be a long road before she’s back on her feet.”

      Jennifer squeezed his hand, then released it. “Thank you, Mrs…. Can you tell us which hospital?”

      “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m June Benton. She’s in Baptist Hospital. I think she’s supposed to be transferred to a rehab facility soon.” She wiped her hands on the dishtowel she was still holding. “Sherry often spoke of her big brother. I’m sure she’ll be glad to have you visit. It’ll help having family around at a time like this.”

      Rich had heard everything, but he wasn’t sure he’d absorbed the content of what Mrs. Benton had said. He had still been thinking of the fifteen-year-old he’d last seen, and in one afternoon he’d learned she’d married, borne children and been widowed. Not to mention the injury from the accident. This was not the happy reunion he’d hoped for.

      “Thank you, Mrs. Benton. We’re sorry to have bothered you.” Jennifer turned to Rich. “Come on, we’ll go to the hospital. At least, you can see her.”

      “Yeah, sure.”

      They started for the door, then Jennifer turned back. “Do you know what’s happened to the children?”

      Kids. He hadn’t even thought about that. Sherry had kids. Who was taking care of them?

      “Sherry’s friend, Rebecca, took them home with her.” Mrs. Benton looked inside. “I have a phone number for her somewhere.”

      “That’s all right, Mrs. Benton. We have to hurry to reach the hospital before visiting hours are over. I can get that number later.” Jennifer was certain Rich would want to know once the shock wore off, but right now, it was better to let him see Sherry than find the location of the children he didn’t know. She took a business card from her purse and handed it to Mrs. Benton. “When you find it, call me. You can leave a message on my voice mail if I’m not there.”

      Mrs. Benton took the card and studied it, then nodded.

      “Thank you, again, for being so helpful.”

      Rich had begun to show the classic signs of shock, so Jennifer took him by the arm and urged him through the door.

      She steered him toward the passenger side of the truck and waited for him to protest, but Rich barely murmured a word as she climbed into the driver’s seat and adjusted it to accommodate her smaller frame. “I need the key.”

      Rich dug it out of his pocket and handed it to her.

      “There’s some cola left in the cup holder. I think if you drink some, you’ll feel better.” She wasn’t sure it would help, but Rich needed to do something, or when they did reach the hospital, they’d be visiting the emergency room and not his sister.

      He did as she suggested. Jennifer checked the map for the location of the hospital, then turned the key.

      Rich just stared out the window.

      He’d probably been assuming that Sherry was living a fairy-tale life, and that presumption had just been tossed into the garbage. He might be in shock tonight, but when he had time to assimilate everything, he’d have questions, doubts. But for now, she knew he just needed to see his sister.

      THE LARGE, suburban hospital came into view. Rich’s heart began to race, and his breath rushed to catch up with it. It might not have been the same hospital, but it was the same feeling all over again.

      Rich tried to push away the memory of his mother’s last days, tried to forget those tumultuous, confusing weeks when he and Sherry had had nowhere to go, no one to turn to before the state put them into foster care. His father had died in the veterans’ hospital several years before from the aftereffects of his tour in Vietnam and alcoholism. The ten years Rich had spent in the air force might as well not have happened the way one look at that large hospital brought it all back.

      Hospitals scared the bejesus out of him.

      His parents had gone into hospitals and not come out. That Rick Larsen had not come home was a good thing in the long run, but Rich still missed his mother every day of his life. Please, he prayed silently, let this not be history repeating itself. He clutched the edges of the passenger seat and held on for dear life. Please, he prayed again, let Sherry leave this place. Let her go home to her kids.

      Jennifer turned into the parking lot and followed the signs that directed them to the main entrance. “Do you want me to drop you at the door, or can you wait till we park?”

      That was the $64,000 question. Yes, he wanted to see Sherry so bad he could taste it, but to do it, he’d have to go inside the hospital. He drew in a long, shuddering breath. He could wait a long time for that. He gripped the seat tighter. “I’ll wait,” he said finally. If he had to do this, he’d rather do it with Jennifer.

      He didn’t need her to hold his hand, but he had no objection to it.

      She found a parking space close to the front doors, and pulled in. “It’s close to the end of visiting hours, I’d expect,” she said as she turned off the engine. “We probably don’t have much time.”

      The possibility that he might not get to see Sherry at all gave him the strength to release his death grip on the seat. “Okay,” he said, his throat tight, his voice husky. He pushed open his door.

      And couldn’t move an inch.

      Damn, had his apprehension affected him so much that he was paralyzed with fear? Then he looked down.

      He hadn’t unfastened his seat belt.

      Hoping that Jennifer hadn’t noticed, but certain she had, he released the mechanism and stepped to the ground.

      The air was still and thick enough to slice. Clouds piled up in the distance, obscuring the sinking sun, and flickers of lightning occasionally brightened the dark gray sky. The storm must be far out over the Gulf because there was no sound of thunder, but its proximity added a feeling of foreboding to the sultry atmosphere.

      Rich felt a hand on his arm, and looked away from the gathering clouds to Jennifer. “I guess we’d best go see what we can see.”

      Jennifer slid her fingers down his arm to squeeze his hand. “It’ll be all right. Didn’t Mrs. Benton say your sister was going to rehab soon? They don’t send them there unless they’re ready for physical therapy. And they don’t give them therapy if…” She didn’t finish, but Rich knew what she meant.

      If they were at death’s door, she hadn’t said.

      “Yeah.” He scanned the aisle for cars. “Let’s do it,” he said as if he were readying himself to jump out of the rear of a C-130 over a hostile drop zone. He set off with Jennifer in tow.

      The front doors swooshed open at the touch of their feet to the door pad, and chilled air blasted them as they stepped inside.

      Rich steeled himself for the medicinal odor that he associated with hospitals and death and still smelled in his nightmares, but it wasn’t there. Relieved, he hurried to the information desk, then peered through the glass partition. “I’m looking for my sister, Sherry Connolly. I just found out she’s a patient here.”

      The receptionist typed the name into a computer and after an eternity, or so it seemed to Rich, the information came up on a screen. She jotted the floor, ward and room number onto a sheet of paper and pointed Rich in the general direction. “Just