Shaking Off the Dust Read Online Free PDF Page A

ever seen on a man. Dark eyes with an obvious question in them looked down at me. He searched behind where I stood, expecting to find someone else.
    Vicki was right. He was tall, though not quite as tall as Tom. His jet-black hair, soft and thick, was cut short enough to stand on end. He needed a shave and looked as tired as I felt.
    “May I help you?”
    “I’m really hoping you can.” I blew out a long breath. “May I come inside for a few moments?”
    He opened the door wider and stepped aside for me to enter. The dogs came out on to the porch, shinnying at Tom, as if they could see him or feel his presence. Tom followed me in and the dogs danced behind him.
    I turned to face the handsome Dr. Shimodo. My heart rate jumped up again. I must have gotten pale, because he came to my side. I leaned into him to help my balance.
    “What’s the matter? You really don’t look good.” Tom examined my face.
    “I told you I didn’t feel well.”
    “I must have missed that.” Shimodo settled me into a chair. “Perhaps another time would be better for your visit, Miss Campbell? When you have recovered from you injuries. You are quite pale and very cool to the touch. May I ask why you would come to this house and why it is so important that you should leave your sickbed?”
    “Tom insisted I talk with you.” I pointed next to me where Tom stood. The two dogs had planted themselves at his feet.
    “What’s the matter, Hannah, do you have a headache?” Tom prodded. “You’re starting to sweat.”
    Just like a neurosurgeon to assume it was my head. One brain surgery and everyone thinks you have a headache.
     

    “What’s the matter, Mecurio, afraid you won’t have someone to talk to?” I was getting short of breath.
    “My heart’s racing. It’s done it a few times today, but I’ve been able to vagal out of it. Didn’t work this time.”
    I felt warm fingers on my wrist, as Shimodo took my pulse. He frowned at me, then went to the phone and dialed 911. He gave the address and, when assured the ambulance was on its way, hung up.
    “I’m going to try carotid massage. Your heart rate is dangerously high. Can you sit?” He helped me to the couch, placing a pillow behind my head.
    “You should have told me, Hannah.” Tom glared at me.
    “What exactly would you have done about it?” I snapped back.
    Shimodo ignored my outburst, almost maintaining a blank face. “I thought you were still hospitalized.”
    He massaged the left side of my neck with long, firm fingers.
    Tom bent over me like that was helping.
    “Go away,” I hissed through clenched teeth.
    “I’m afraid I can’t do that until the ambulance arrives. I should remind you that you came to me, not the other way around.” Shimodo spoke as if he were talking to a child.
    “I’m so sorry, Dr. Shimodo. I was talking to Tom. He keeps getting in my face.” I knew how I sounded.
    The hand massaging my neck stopped. My heart rate dropped.
    “Hey, I think it worked. My pulse is back to normal.”
    He felt my wrist again and nodded.
    I went straight to the phone dialing 911 and politely cancelled the ambulance. Both of them began to argue with me over my decision. I held up my hand.
    “I’ll go, I promise, as soon as I leave here, but first we need to have a conversation. It will help me to know if I need a psych evaluation when I get to the ED.” I plopped down on the chair across from the couch.
    Shimodo moved to one end of the couch, watching me. “Then the sooner we have this conversation, the quicker you can take care of yourself by going to the emergency department. You intrigue me though, you mentioned Tom.”
    I looked over at my ghost. The dogs jumped up on the couch and were overlapping him. Shimodo ignored the animals. The crazy woman across from him won the moment. I took a breath and decided to jump in.
    “Since I woke up at the memorial service, I can see, hear and talk to Tom Mecurio. I could be hallucinating and need medication.