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“I would guess Molly told him, wouldn’t you?” she retorted. She didn’t feel like explaining the rapport Jonas had established with Molly at the hospital.
Molly would be proud to show off her loft bedroom anyway. The walls were a patchwork of posters of whoever happened to be Molly’s idol at the moment, and Bridget was sure that the squeaky-clean star of the Tiger Beat issue Audrey had given her would be pinned up next.
“Yes, of course you’re right,” her mother agreed with the plausible explanation.
Bridget started toward the open stairwell leading to the loft. At that moment Jonas appeared at the top of the steps, hesitating for a fraction of a second as he looked at her before descending.
“She wants to change into some clean clothes,” he stated.
“She’ll need help. I’ll go up,” Margaret Harrison declared, hurrying quickly up the steps Jonas had just come down.
Jonas watched her disappear, then turned and spoke softly. “She means well, I guess.”
Bridget stiffened, slightly indignant that he should voice a double-edged comment like that when it was possible her mother could overhear.
The last thing any of them needed was to revive old conflicts that were best left buried. Of course, that also meant they were left unresolved, but there was nothing Bridget could do about that. It simply wasn’t possible to fix the past. She reminded herself that he had walked away ten years ago. There was a limit to how much she was able to trust him, even if he had helped her so much today just by being there.
It didn’t really prove anything. She and Molly had managed pretty much on their own for all this time, and done pretty well, all things considered. Just the thought of that balance being upset in any way was enough to make Bridget want to proceed with caution.
“I have to let her help, Jonas.” She started to walk past him to the stairs.
“Okay. I understand. Let’s go over what you need to know one more time. If Molly’s head begins to ache …” His tone was cool and professional again. He went through the warning signs of head injury complications once more and Bridget didn’t mind. He meant well, she thought with a faint smile. “… give her a couple of non-aspirin pain reliever tablets,” he was saying.
“Okay.” She didn’t ask who she should call. Obviously Jonas was closest if she needed him—and he was right about the shortage of doctors in rural communities. Doc Winston wasn’t the only one who planned to retire, and he was well into his seventies. Again she started up the steps.
“You’re not exactly listening,” he said curtly.
“Yes, I am.” With one foot on the stairs, Bridget paused, feeling a little guilty. “And hey, I haven’t thanked you for all—” Belatedly she began to express her appreciation, but he interrupted her.
“Forget it. I’ll bring the horses back later.”
As she turned, she discovered she was talking to no one but herself. The front door was closing behind Jonas. She trembled weakly. He seemed to have taken some of her strength with him when he left.
