She took a swallow of the chilled sparkling water, savoring it. The first sip was always the best. “The day of the farmers market you introduced me to your friend Sebastian.”

Ben chewed, nodded.

“He’s a doctor in Atlanta, right?” Leah asked.

“Yes. He lives there during the week but stays at his house here in Misty River most weekends.”

“Do you think he’d be willing to speak to me? I have a few medical questions I’d like to ask.”

Lines of concern indented his forehead. “Are you sick?”

“No. My questions have to do with old records.”

“I’d be happy to relay your questions to Sebastian and get back to you with his answers.”

“I appreciate the offer, but the records I’m after are a bit on the . . . personal side. I don’t mind giving him a call.” Leah opened the New Contact screen on her phone and passed it to Ben.

Because he was a doctor, Sebastian would know how to go about obtaining records. Additionally, doctors were good at keeping information confidential. Lastly, he’d be predisposed to help her because she’d helped him when he’d crashed his car.

Ben frowned slightly as he typed in Sebastian’s details.

It had been unsettling in the extreme to watch Sebastian’s car lunge off the road last fall. Terrified of what she might find, she’d parked and hurried down the embankment. The front of his SUV had crumpled, wisps of steam rising from it. Since the driver’s side door was wedged against small trees, she’d jerked open the passenger door. She’d discovered a good-looking, dark-haired man slumped against his seat belt, unconcious. She’d climbed onto the seat and tried to wake him. At first there’d been no response. She’d been hugely relieved when he’d woken.

He hadn’t been scared, just in pain and disoriented.

The lucid, virile Sebastian of the farmers market had been very different from the Sebastian of the car crash.

He was taller than she would have guessed. At least six foot two, with a forthright, masculine, chiseled face. His hair was inkier than she’d recalled—almost black. The day of his accident, he’d been dazed. The day of the market, his gray eyes had regarded her with extraordinary intensity. He’d spoken with assurance. There’d been no weakness in him at all.

Ben gave her phone back.

“Did you know Sebastian before the five of you were trapped by the earthquake?” she asked.

“No. He was a foster kid, and the church offered him a place on the mission trip, all expenses paid. He didn’t want to go, but his foster parents insisted. That was the first time Sebastian had done anything with our youth group. He hated being there, and he was determined to hate all of us, too.”