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“It says to seek medical attention if there’s been a loss of consciousness, even a brief one,” she told him. “Do you think you lost consciousness?”
“When?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Never mind. How are you feeling?”
“My head is killing me.”
“According to what I’m reading, I can give you some painkillers—if I can find some in this house.”
She ran downstairs and rifled through the cupboards and drawers, eventually coming up with a small bottle of ibuprofen. It’d expired last year, but she figured even if it wasn’t as effective as usual, something was better than nothing. She got a glass of water and carried that up with two tablets.
His eyes were closed when she got back. “You’re not going to sleep, are you?” she asked in alarm. If he had a concussion, she couldn’t let him drift off. Everything she’d ever heard about blows to the head made that clear.
When he didn’t answer, she jiggled his arm. “Brant?”
His eyelashes fluttered, as if it was a major effort to lift his eyelids. But he eventually managed to look up at her. “Talulah?”
He still knew who she was, although he sounded surprised she was there. “What?” she asked.
“I like your name.”
“You’ve already told me that,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t say she was beautiful again.
He tried to finger the gash on his forehead, but she pushed his hands away. “Did you hit me with something?” he asked.
“No, of course not!” He definitely needed to be checked, she decided. Was a knock on the head like this one serious enough to bring him to the emergency room?
She was about to get him up so she could help him to her car when she remembered that there’d been a doctor in her family’s church, and she’d seen a telephone list of the members—the entire congregation—in a kitchen drawer when she was searching for painkiller.
What was the guy’s name? She knew him from when she used to attend services. Gregory... Or Gregor... Dr. Gregor!
Hopefully, he still lived in town.
After returning to the kitchen, she located the list. Sure enough, Dr. Joseph Gregor was on it.
She used her aunt’s ancient rotary phone to make the call. She thought he’d be more likely to pick up if he saw a number he recognized.
Thankfully, someone—a man—answered on the second ring. “Phoebe?” he said uncertainly.
She could tell that whoever had answered the phone found it strange to be getting a call from a woman who was supposed to be dead. “No, it’s her great niece, Talulah.”
“Sorry about that,” he said. “Your mother’s aunt played the piano for me whenever I sang in church. I couldn’t imagine anyone else calling me from this number. But I remember you from when you were just a little girl.”
“Is this Dr. Gregor?”
“It is.”
“Then I remember you, too. And I hate to bother you on a weekend, but there’s been a little accident over here.”
“What happened?”
“Someone has a head injury. Can you come over right away?”
“Of course. I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.”
As soon as she hung up, Talulah hurried back to the bedroom. “Don’t fall asleep,” she reminded Brant, grabbing his hand.
She was taken aback when he held on to her. “I’m not,” he mumbled, but he was clearly on the brink of it.
