“Hey, lady,” her companion called to her over the roar of the boat’s engine and the howl of the wind. “Would you like something to drink? I’ve got a thermos of coffee, or…something stronger, if you like rye whisky.”

Erin shook her head. The thought of something in her already-knotted stomach made her want to gag. “No…thank you. I’m fine.”

“You sure?” he asked, not convinced. The young woman was pale and scared, and deep lines of concern creased her otherwise beautiful face.

“Yes, really,” Erin asserted, and managed a wan smile. The young man lifted his shoulders and turned his attention back to the sea. The remainder of the trip was made in silence. It seemed an eternity before Erin was on solid ground once again.

Virginia Mason Hospital stood out starkly white against a threatening charcoal-gray sky. Inside, the corridors were hushed, and the white walls were only made more severe by the garish splotches of color in the modern-art prints that hung on the walls. The bustling, white-uniformed staff, the mechanical groans of the elevators, and the overall oppressive silence gave Erin a strange sense of impending doom.

Room 538 was easy enough to find, and Erin braced herself to enter the white cubicle just as a portly nurse in a neatly starched uniform approached her.

“Looking for someone?” the nurse asked in a professional voice. There was a calm smile on the broad face that spoke of authority and efficiency. “Can I help you?”

“I hope so. I’m a close friend of Krista Webster. I just found out about the accident today, and I hurried over here as quickly as I could.” The disapproving brown eyes of the nurse studied Erin, and for the first time she realized what she must look like in her rain-drenched clothing and wet hair.

“You’re not a member of the family?”

“No…not exactly.” Erin shook her head.

The nurse placed a friendly hand on Erin’s arm. “I’m sorry, but only family members are allowed to visit Miss Webster. Perhaps you would like to wait in the lobby? There’s a coffee machine and some magazines….”

Erin refused to be brushed off. “Can you at least tell me how she is? Will she be all right? I…I have to know!”

“I understand,” the nurse replied, and Erin felt that those wide, brown eyes and large, kindly face wouldn’t lie. “Krista had a very bad fall and suffered a concussion, but Dr. Sampson is caring for her and the prognosis is very hopeful.”

“But…what does that mean, exactly? Will she recover? Will she be able to walk again?”

The nurse was steering Erin toward the waiting room. “Don’t worry. Dr. Sampson is a very capable doctor, and he has the entire staff of the hospital to support him.” With that, the nurse excused herself to answer another patient’s call, and Erin found herself alone in the clinically clean waiting room with its ancient magazines and battered plastic furniture. She waited impatiently, staring out the window at the gloomy city, and ignored the stacks of outdated magazines that cluttered the table, while she sipped bitter coffee from a machine that looked as old as the hospital.