If You Loved Me Read Free Page B

coastline, knew nothing about boats and wilderness. That had been Graham MacKenzie's world, and oddly, it was also the world her son loved.
    It never had been and never would be Emma's world.
    She set her answering machine, picked up her medical bag, and went to the hospital for morning rounds. Timmy Jones complained of pain, but his blood pressure and color were good, so she left instructions for physical therapy to get him up on crutches later in the day. This was Thursday, one of her O.R. days, so after she'd seen her other children, she scrubbed for a fractured femur on a ten-year-old boy.
    When Chris still hadn't called at noon, she spent ten minutes on the phone with the Coast Guard and learned Chris and Jordy had been seen on the weekend in southern Grenville Channel.
    "No one's seen them since? Something must have happened there."
    "Not necessarily," the voice explained in the calming tones she herself used when speaking to worried parents. "Southern Grenville Channel is narrow. Any boat passing a couple of kayaks would be bound to notice them. Further north, the channel widens and it would be easy to miss a couple of kayakers. They'd be paddling close to shore because there's been a north wind. They'd get some lee near the shore, and when the current's running against them, they'd want to catch the backwash."
    Emma knew about reducing fractures and repairing deformed bones. She knew nothing about currents and prevailing winds. She'd never been comfortable with the idea of wilderness, but she'd encouraged Chris when he showed interest. She wished now she'd learned more herself. It was years since she'd felt inept because of her sheltered city upbringing—not since the last time she saw Gray MacKenzie.
    Today, she'd give anything to know exactly what Chris was facing out there.
    Over lunch with Alex in the hospital cafeteria, she told him about the notice to mariners, about Chris and Jordy being spotted in Grenville Channel.
    "There must be something I can do," she said, fighting her growing fear.
    "You're used to being in control, Emma, but you can't control this. You need to accept that all you can do is wait, phone the Coast Guard, and meanwhile keep yourself busy and try not to worry too much."
    It wasn't bad advice, but she had no patience for it.
    On the way back to her office, she walked into the newsstand and stood staring at a variety of newspapers. What did she think she would find here? News about Chris? Boats went overdue every day, and two seventeen-year-old boys were close enough to being men that there was nothing newsworthy about one of them having failed to call his mother by midnight on the twelfth of August.
    If Chris had broken his leg, she'd know what questions to ask the doctors, and she'd make sure he got the best care available. If he'd failed an exam, she'd talk with him, sympathize with him, and help him learn the material for next time.
    There must be something she could do.
    If this were a medical case beyond her skills, she'd call in another specialist. That's what she needed, a specialist. Someone with a boat, perhaps, for searching the coast. Someone with intimate knowledge of the coastline from southern Grenville Channel to Prince Rupert. A guide.
    Her gaze focused on a rack of magazines above the newspapers—wilderness magazines designed for people who wanted to plan wilderness trips. There'd be advertisements in a magazine like that. Perhaps the expert she needed would be right here in this newsstand, advertising services.
    She bought copies of Field and Stream, Pacific Yachting, and Beautiful BC. She rolled the magazines and stuffed them in her handbag, then hurried across the street to the medical center. In her office, with ten minutes before her first patient, she shut the door and checked her answering machine at home, then called the Coast Guard again. This time she was referred to the Rescue Coordination Center. The official search for her son had begun, but after five minutes