TRACE (The TRACE Series, #1) Read Online Free Page A

fuels them runs through my mind every single day. My mother is seventy-five-years-old. If she were healthy, I'd be counting on having years with her yet. I'd feel safe in the knowledge that she'd be at my wedding, and be standing by my side when I gave birth to my first child. I'm schooled enough in medicine to know that her time is limited, and that it will be a miracle if I'm able to celebrate with her on her eightieth birthday. I'm going to lose her and the thought terrifies me to my core.
    "Don't think about that, Van." Zoe reaches across the table to pull my hand into hers. "Think about all the fun the two of you had when you were growing up."
    It's a notion that I should embrace. I try to and want to but the sad and tragic reality is that I miss the moments when I could talk to my mom about everyday things like a new dress I bought or the flower garden that she used to lovingly nurture in front of our apartment building in Maine every spring and summer. Those are lost memories now.
    "I miss her," I say softly. "I don't want to disappoint her."
    "You can't." Her head tilts to the side as her eyes hone in on mine. "You have a right to know your birth mother. You told me it's been nagging at you for years. You need to do this for you."
    She's right. I've been volleying the idea of knowing versus not knowing around for a long time. My desire to know more about my birth parents was first ignited when I was in nursing school and one of my classmates had gotten ill. It was a genetic condition and the simple fact that I didn't have an understanding of my predisposition to medical issues worried me. It's much more than that though. I want to look into the face of the woman who gave me life.
    "What if I find out who my birth mother is and she wants nothing to do with me?" The question is painful to ask.
    She tugs on my hand to get me to look at her. "This will eat at you until you find out. You have to do it. You'll never know how she'll react until you find out who she is and you contact her."
    "You're right," I agree. "I need to find the courage to go to Maine. I have to. It's time."
    ***
    "I t's time to party."
    I disagree. It's time to sleep. The problem is that today is Rosalie's birthday and virtually everyone who works in the emergency department, who isn't on duty right now, is in this bar. It's more a pub, actually. It's Easton Pub and I've been here more times than I can count. That's because Zoe used to work here and she met her husband here. When she feels like taking a sentimental walk into her memories, we come here. She orders a club soda with lemon and I order the same thing I'm drinking tonight, a Tom Collins. It might not be what you'd expect a petite blonde nurse to drink but when I drink, I don't want to waste the effort. It always gives me a slight buzz, and I'm not going to shy away from that tonight. I don't work tomorrow which means I'm only responsible for myself for the next thirty-six hours.
    I scan the room looking for a familiar face. I want someone who isn't going to engage me in a lengthy discussion about a patient's prognosis. I get enough of that when I'm rushing between exam rooms during the twelve-hour shifts I pull. Tonight, I'm just Vanessa. I'm not Nurse Meyer and I want to keep it that way.
    "Nurse Meyer," Rosalie slurs the words just as she embraces me from behind. "Let's toast to me."
    I turn towards her and raise my glass in celebration of her special day. I would have brought a gift if she hadn't insisted that we don’t mention the fact that it's her birthday. She actually called it a non-birthday party because she's not ready to age another year. She's beautiful and brilliant and by my best estimate, can't be more than fifty-years-old. Judging by the killer set of legs that she's sporting under the short black cocktail dress she's wearing, the woman is not only young in spirit, she's in great shape. 
    "You're so pretty, Vanessa." She pulls on the bottom of my hair. "You look so