Hannah Swensen was just taking the last pan of Cocoa Crisp Cookies out of her industrial oven when her partner, Lisa Beeseman, pushed open the swinging door that separated The Cookie Jar coffee shop from the kitchen. “There’s a phone call for you, Hannah. It’s Doc Knight, and he says he needs to talk to you.”
“Thanks, Lisa.” Hannah shoved the pan of cookies on a shelf in the bakers rack and hurried across the kitchen to grab the phone. Her heart was pounding hard, and it wasn’t from her dash across the floor. She’d been waiting for Doc’s call for two days now, and he was finally ready to give her the results of her test.
“Hello?” she said breathlessly.
“Hi, honey.” Doc’s voice was warm and Hannah wondered what that meant. “Can you come out to the hospital now? I need to see you.”
“I . . . yes, of course I can. But . . .”
“I just got the results of your tests,” Doc interrupted what was bound to be a question from his stepdaughter. “I’ll see you in a few minutes, then. When you get to the hospital, come straight to my office. I’ll be waiting for you.”
There was a click as Doc ended the call. It was clear he wouldn’t answer any of her questions over the phone. Hannah was frowning as she replaced the receiver in the cradle. Couldn’t Doc just tell her what she wanted to know? All she needed was a simple yes or no answer . . . unless there was something else wrong that he’d discovered from her lab test results.
You don’t need any new worries, her rational mind told her.
Of course you don’t, but that doesn’t mean there’s nothing else wrong, her suspicious mind insisted. It could be anything. Hepatitis, a blood infection, an incurable disease that you picked up from traveling on your honeymoon . . .
The only way she’d find out was to see Doc in person and Hannah knew it. She hurried across the kitchen and grabbed her parka from the rack by the back door. She didn’t want to speculate about any more dire possibilities. They were endless. She’d just tell Lisa that she was leaving, get in her cookie truck, and drive to the hospital to hear what Doc had to tell her.
During her uneventful drive to Doc’s Lake Eden Hospital, Hannah did her best to think positive thoughts. She pulled into the parking lot, parked in the visitors’ section, and rushed in without taking advantage of the electric sockets on the posts in front of each parking spot to plug in the block heater in her truck.
“Hi, Hannah,” the volunteer at the receptionist’s desk greeted her as she came in. “Doc’s waiting for you in his office.”
“Thank you.” Hannah signed the visitors book and hoped she didn’t look as anxious as she felt as she walked down the hall. When she reached Doc’s office, she took a deep breath for courage and opened the door.
“Hello, Hannah. He’s in the inner office,” Doc’s secretary, Vonnie, told her. “Go right in.”
Hannah thanked her and opened the door. She found Doc sitting at his desk, riffling through a stack of medical journals.
“Sit down, Hannah,” Doc said, gesturing toward the chair in front of his desk. “No, you’re not pregnant.”
The news hit her like a blow between the eyes. “I’m not?” she managed a response.
“No, the sample we took was conclusive.”
Hannah leaned back in the chair and grasped the arms tightly. “I . . . I don’t know if I’m supposed to be devastated or relieved.”
“Of course you don’t. If I had to guess, I think you’re a little bit of both.”
“Yes,” Hannah said past the lump that was forming in her throat. “But, Doc . . . something’s wrong.”
“Yes, it is. It’s stress.”
“Stress?” Hannah stared at him in shock.
“Yes, stress can take a toll on the human body, and you’ve been under extreme stress ever since Ross left Lake Eden. Stress throws off your body clock, plays havoc with your nervous system, and mimics symptoms of diseases you never believed you could contract. Every day someone comes in here believing that they’re having a coronary event and it turns out to be a panic attack.”
“But, Doc . . . I don’t feel that stressed.”
“Perhaps you don’t think so, but believe me, you’re stressed. And eventually, extreme stress will manifest itself in actual disease. That’s why your mother and I have decided that you’re