Iris Johansen - Pandora's Daughter

She stomped on the brakes and skittered sideways, slid fifteen yards before she was stopped by a pine tree.

Her air bag went off, pinning her to the seat.

Helpless.

She could see the truck stopped on the road above her and a silhouette moving toward the embankment. He was tall, thin, wearing jeans and a cowboy hat.

Her OnStar program was telling her that her air bags had gone off and that they'd notified 911.

But the man on the bank was already starting down the ridge.

Then she heard the sirens.

Hurry. Dammit, hurry.

The man hesitated and then turned and started climbing back up the embankment. A moment later he was in his truck and driving away.

She felt limp with relief. Thank God.

PHILLIP ARRIVED AT THE SCENE twenty minutes later. By that time Megan had been helped out of the wrecked SUV and was sitting on the riverbank with a blanket wrapped around her.

He handed her a thermal cup. "Hot coffee. I figured you could use the caffeine."

She nodded and took a sip. "Actually, I could use a stiff drink."

"I'd never offer you alcohol at the scene of an accident. You can never tell when the police might try to breathalyze you." He sat down beside her and tucked the blanket closer around her. "Okay, Megan?"

"No, I'm mad as hell." She grimaced. "I couldn't even get the license number. I think it was a blue Ford pickup but I'm not sure. The only thing I'm certain about is that he's nutty as a fruitcake and should be taken off the road. He scared me, dammit. When I was sitting pinned in that SUV and he was coming down the embankment, I felt like I was being stalked by Freddy from Elm Street." She shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe he'd regained his senses and was coming down to help me. But I was glad when he turned and took off in his truck."

"Me too." Phillip glanced at the policemen measuring and marking the tire tracks. "Do they want you to check in at a hospital?"

"Yes, but I'm not going to do it. There's nothing wrong with me but a sore chest and ribs from the air bag. I want to go home." She shook her head wearily. "It's been a hell of a night."

He nodded and rose to his feet. "Let me see what I can do. Drink your coffee and leave it to me." He moved toward the sergeant giving orders on the embankment.

Megan felt a surge of affection as she watched him. It was always safe to leave anything and everything to Phillip. He didn't give the impression of brilliance and ultraefficiency, but she had never run across a situation that he couldn't handle. Even now, dwarfed by those husky policemen, he quietly dominated the scene. In his early sixties, thin, small-boned, with a high forehead and large blue eyes, he was calm and reassuring. People instinctively responded to that gentle demeanor as she did. Her mother had never even told her she had an uncle, perhaps because he was only Sarah's half brother and he had moved away when her mother was only a teenager. But from the time Phillip had come to Myrtle Beach to assume guardianship after her mother had died of a heart attack, Megan had known that nothing bad could ever happen to her as long as she had Phillip Blair beside her.

And Phillip's gentle charisma was working its magic once again. She saw the police sergeant hesitate and then shrug and turn away.

"Thank you, Sergeant." Phillip winked at her as he started back. "The kind officer is willing to believe that the physician can heal herself. Now, you mustn't let me down by having a sudden relapse." He helped her to her feet. "He asked you to drop in at the precinct to fill out the reports tomorrow or the next day. He's hoping you'll remember something more about the hit-and-run."

"So do I." She leaned on Phillip as she climbed the hill toward his car. Lord, she was tired. She could barely put one foot in front of another. "But I don't think it's going to happen."

"A shower and bed," Phillip said. "I'll take care of everything. Trust me."

Yes, she could trust Phillip. She was trying desperately not to be a burden to him these days. She wasn't that bereaved teenage kid any longer. But tonight maybe it would be okay to accept that comfort and strength that was always there for her…

"I THOUGHT YOU GOULD USE A LITTLE of that hot chocolate we talked about to relax you." Phillip stood in her bedroom doorway with a steaming mug in his hand. "Since I dosed you with enough caffeine at that river to keep an elephant awake."

"I doubt if it will keep me awake." She smiled as he walked toward her bed and dropped down in the easy chair beside it. "I feel drained."

"Good." He handed her the chocolate. "You're usually so charged after a bad night that being empty is practically therapy."

"Therapy?" She made a face. "Don't use that word. I have enough trouble with people at the hospital thinking I'm a little off-kilter." She wearily shook her head. "Maybe they're right. I don't get it. I don't see why they don't feel what I'm feeling. So much pain… How can they just cruise the surface? Even Scott doesn't seem to get close enough to them and he's a good man, Phillip."

"I know." He looked down into the chocolate in his cup. "You're a very sensitive young woman. I warned you that being a doctor might not be a good choice for you."

"You make me sound like some idiotic swooning Southern belle. It was a good choice. I've never wanted to do anything else with my life." Her lips tightened. "And I'm good at it, Phillip. I'll just have to get over this bump in the road. I can do it."

"I don't have the slightest doubt you can do anything you set out to do. I'm just hoping you can be objective enough to walk away if the going gets too rough for you."

She tilted her head. "As cool and objective as you are when your football team is losing?"

He chuckled. "Lord, I hope you do better that that, you scamp." He got to his feet. "Now I'll let you get to sleep." He moved toward the door. "And don't dream about that redneck nut who tried to run you off the bridge. He doesn't deserve another thought from you."

"He's going to get quite a few thoughts," she said grimly. "Drunks like that shouldn't be on the road. I hope to hell the police can track him down."

"Me too," Phillip said. "Just don't fret, okay?"

She smiled. " 'Fret' is a Southern belle word too. Watch it, Phillip."

"I guess I've been in Atlanta too long." He winked as he closed the door.

She felt a warm surge of love as she put down her cup and turned out the bedside light. The reason Phillip had stayed in Atlanta had been because he had not wanted to uproot Megan from the South after her mother's death. He had only been her mother's half brother and he didn't really have any responsibility toward Megan. But he had taken the responsibility anyway. He had chosen to uproot himself from his comfortable life in Seattle and settled down with her. He had told her that as a freelance engineer, he could work anywhere and he had always liked Atlanta's ambience. He had made it sound like an adventure instead of a sacrifice.

Bless him.

"Go to sleep." Phillip had poked his head in again. "Everything is going to be fine. All we have to do is work at it."

" I have to work at it," she corrected. "You've done enough for me. Now stop hovering and get some sleep yourself."

"Yes, ma'am." He softly closed the door again.

Her smile vanished and she tried to relax. As she had told Phillip, it was her job to take care of her own problems. And one of the problems was that she always had trouble sleeping after a traumatic evening. When she did sleep, she dreamed. Strange, disjointed, terrifying dreams…

She hoped to hell she wouldn't have them tonight.

PHILLIP WAITED UNTIL HE WAS sure Megan sleep was sound before he went into the living room and pulled out his cell phone.