The sound of a familiar voice startled her, and she pulled her gaze from the dismal gray sky and the gathering dusk into the direction of the deep-timbred sound that made her heart leap. For several seconds she found it impossible to move or to speak as she studied Kane, his face lined with concern. He was speaking in low tones to a short, balding man with heavy glasses. The identification tag indicated that he was Dr. Sampson. The conversation was short and one-sided, with Dr. Sampson explaining Krista’s condition in medical terms. Although the doctor seemed optimistic, Kane’s entire bearing was a slouch of resignation and grim defeat. Erin felt her eyes burn with tears as she saw the pain and confusion in Kane’s normally clear gaze. He loves Krista so much, Erin thought, and he is hurting so badly. She felt the urge to run to him, to comfort him, to love him, but she restrained herself.

Dr. Sampson excused himself, and Kane stood transfixed in the waiting area. He hadn’t noticed Erin yet; he was too preoccupied with his own black thoughts. Suddenly she felt very out of place, an intruder. How would he feel when he finally saw her? How could she explain how she felt about him and his daughter, the love that was smothering her in its encompassing grasp? He had instructed Mrs. Cavenaugh not to call Erin. Perhaps he truly didn’t want to see her. What would he do?

Her conjecture was cut short as Kane whirled to face her. It was as if he had sensed her presence and her uncertainty. His expression was cold, guarded, and Erin felt her heart stop as her eyes clashed with his brittle gray gaze.

“Erin?” His dark brows drew together. “How did you know?”

“Mrs. Cavenaugh told me.”

“That woman can’t keep a secret to save her soul!” He bit out the words and Erin wondered once again if she had made a grave mistake by intruding into his private grief. She took a step toward him and stopped. There was so much to say, so great a misunderstanding to bridge, and she wondered if it was at all possible.

“I’m sorry about Krista,” she whispered, and the pain in her eyes was undeniable.

She saw him hesitate for a moment. He closed his eyes and seemed to give into the pressure that was battering against him. When he opened his eyes, they were clear once again, and in swift strides, he was by her side.

“I’m glad you came,” he admitted, his voice rough from the strain of the day.

“Didn’t you know that I would?”

“Erin, I don’t know anything, not anymore!” His confession was a sigh of disgust.

“How—how is Krista?”

Lowering himself onto the edge of the plastic orange couch, he rubbed the tension from the back of his neck and ground his jaws together. When he spoke, it was in a monotone. “Dr. Sampson seems to think that she’ll be fine, even taking into consideration her previous problem. She’s got a concussion, but supposedly it’s not serious, or at least not too serious. She was unconscious for a while, but she came to. Now she’s resting. They gave her something—a sedative. The doctor thinks she’ll wake up soon and that I can see her. God, I hope so. This waiting and not knowing is driving me up a wall.” His long fingers raked deep gorges in his thick chestnut hair.