Page 27 of Leave a Mark
At that, even in the pit of her humiliation, Wren felt a spark of anger.
I have to get out of here.
Summoning what remained of her dignity, she thrust the greasy bag of pies into Lee’s hands. “This is just a thank you. I’m sorry to disturb your evening.”
And she turned and bolted out the screen door.
CHAPTER TEN
LEE STARED ATthe warm bag in his hands. The scent that rose from it was unmistakable. Fried peach pies.
Oh my God.
“Wren! Wait!”
She didn’t turn. Instead, she ran straight for a turquoise 1968 Mustang coupe parked on Calder Street. He was out the screen door and running barefoot across the yard when Marcelle yelled after him.
“Leland, what the hell?!”
“I’ll be right back,” he called over his shoulder. “Ow! Damnit!” A pricker lodged into the ball of his right foot just as Wren reached her car, but his curse made her turn.
“Wait. Please."
Wren stopped and watched him over her car. He raised his foot, dug out the thorn, and took one hobbled step. When she saw that he was unhurt, Wren opened her car door.
“I’m sorry. I have to go." In an instant, she ducked inside, and the engine roared to life.
Then she was gone.
Lee stared at the empty curb a whole five seconds, unable to process the last unbelievable minute of his day. He finally turned and headed back to his front porch where Marcelle waited, seething.
“Who. Was. That?”
Lee limped up the steps and walked through the screen door. “I told you. She’s a patient.”
“Oh,really.”Marcelle leaned against the doorframe, her scowl turning her gray eyes into daggers.
Lee stopped in front of her. “Yeah, really. She had a hemorrhaging cyst rupture, and I operated on her.”
Marcelle’s face relaxed a fraction. “If that’s all, why was she here?”
Lee looked down at the bag in his hand. “She said this was a ‘thank you.’”
He knew it was more than a thank you. She’d already thanked him. This was something else. Something he wanted to shield.
“It seems kind of weird,” Marcelle said with a toss of her head. “And she looks like a ho-bag.”
“She’s not a ho-bag,” Lee snapped.
Marcelle’s eyes widened.
“She’s my patient.”
“Well, excuse me, but you’ve never had a patient pay you a visit or bring you gifts before.”
Memories flickered through his mind.
“I remember patients bringing my dad baskets of watermelons.”
