Finally Free by Lynne Gentry

Author:Lynne Gentry
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Travel Light Press
Published: 2018-11-22T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

CHARLOTTE

I take a deep breath despite the pressure on my chest and open the door to Benjamin’s clinic. Across the lobby, Corina Miller is talking on the phone. If Itty was willing to give me his personal number, maybe he’d be okay with me slipping in and out of his office without having to face my sister’s old nemesis?

Corina hangs up the phone. “Danged insurance companies.”

I take a pen from the can and sign the log-in chart. “Hi, Corina.”

She sizes me up for a second, then says, “Ember loves choir.” It wasn’t a compliment.

“Your daughter has a great voice.”

Corina gives a half-shrug. “It’s her brother who can really sing.”

Then why doesn’t he? “So, I’ve heard.”

“He givin’ you trouble?” Her interest feels more like she’s picking a fight than offering to step in and help me encourage her son to reach his full potential.

I drop the pen in the can. “Not a lick.”

She leans forward. “You never have had a believable poker face.” She falls back in her chair, a pleased smile on her face. “Ben said to send you on back. I put your chart on the door of exam room one.”

Shaking inside, I waver between the lesser of two evils: forgetting about asking Itty for help or going back to school. Corina Miller already has an inside scoop into my classroom, I don’t want to give her access to health concerns that are probably nothing more than my overactive imagination.

I’m in the process of quietly skipping out on my appointment when Benjamin appears in the lobby. “Hey, Charlotte,” he calls. “Come on back.”

“Hi, Doc.” I force a smile and slip through the lobby door that leads to all three exam rooms.

Benjamin waves me toward an open door. He ushers me in with a smile, indicates I should take a seat on the exam table and says, “Tell me what’s going on with your mother.”

I close the door, then hoist myself upon the table’s crackly paper. “If she was speaking to me, I might be better able to answer that question.”

He sits on a rolling stool and wheels to within a couple of feet of my dangling legs. “How long has she been uncommunicative?”

“Since LaVera died.”

“I can adjust her meds.” His understanding smile makes my chest hurt worse. He notices my sneaky attempt to press my palm against the pain. “Something tells me this isn’t about your mom.”

“I think I’m having a heart attack, Itty.”

He leaps to his feet. “Maybe you should have led with that.” He whips the stethoscope from around his neck.

“It’s probably nothing.”

“Describe what’s going on.” He rubs his palm against the stethoscope’s bell then nods at the buttons on my shirt.

Unable to make eye contact with him I undo the first two buttons. “Feels like an elephant is sitting on my chest.”

He slides the bell over my heart. “When did the pain start?”

“When I moved home.”

He fights a smile then moves the bell around and directs me to breathe. After several careful placements and what

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