Beautifully Knight (Jordan Knight Fanfic, Liadan #5)

Harts and Hugs

-NATALIE-

I watched as the waning light of the moon shone through the sheer curtains of the living room in my in-laws' guest house whilst I chewed incessantly on the end of an old, worn-down pencil. The bitterness of the yellow paint seeped into my mouth and made my forehead wrinkle even deeper.

"No, I don't think you're listening to me. I'm not asking you to connect me with his therapist. What I'm saying is that I am his therapist of record and I need to change that and transfer him to someone else. I thought I'd already handled that at the hospital tonight, but I just received an email with dozens of old files that should be going to his care provider."

"I understand that, ma'am. What I'm saying is that I don't see you listed under Mr. Holloway's records. You told me that your last name was Ward, correct?"

"No," I sighed deeply as I struggled to maintain my patience after repeating myself a half-dozen times. "I said that it's Wood. Double-U-Oh-Oh-Dee. Wood. Like firewood. My name is Natalie Wood."

"Oh, okay Wood," the man clarified before the clack of his keys echoed through the phone in almost perfect rhythm to the creak of Trey's automated baby swing that hummed from the corner of the room where he'd finally dozed off to sleep after two hours of restlessness for both of us. I sucked in a hopeful breath—but it was futile. "That's still not what I have listed here. I'm reflecting a Natalie Knight, board-certified art therapist. Not a Natalie Wood."

"Knight is my maiden name. I don't know why it's in the system—I got married before I finished my undergraduate degree, let alone my counseling program—but Natalie Knight is still me."

"Okay, well I'll need some proof of that, Mrs. Wood. A driver's license with both names on it or a marriage license—"

"I can get that over to you. That's not a problem," I pulled the pencil from my mouth and fetched my notepad off of the side table next to the couch where I sat with my knees pulled to my chin. "I can include my NPI information too. Is there a secure email address where I can send everything?"

"I'd have to ask my supervisor. We're short-staffed right now, though, so I probably won't have time to talk to him until the end of my shift."

I fought the urge to scream as I ran my fingers through my hair, "Okay, and when will that be?"

"In about five hours at 7 AM. We work twelve-hour shifts, 7 to 7."

I chewed on my lower lip, "Alright."

"Alrighty then, after we get all this sorted we can discuss the protocol for transferring the records, but in the meantime, I'll leave you down as a mental health provider on Mr. Holloway's care team, if you don't mind?"

I did, but I knew I couldn't say that. I breathed out and rubbed at my banging temples, "That sounds like a plan."

"Excellent," he exclaimed in a voice that made my head hurt worse. "Is there anything else I can help you with until then, Mrs. Wood?"

"No. Just please make sure your supervisor gets my note, please. I can imagine you have a million things to do, but I would really appreciate it."

"I definitely will. I put the post note right up on my monitor."

"Thank you."

"No problem, Mrs. Wood. Have a lovely night—or morning I suppose."

"You too," I mumbled as I tapped the screen of my phone to end the call before I tossed the near-dead device onto the coffee table in front of me—I'd plug it in to charge when I trekked into the bedroom. I fought the urge to scream as the vibrations of the phone landing on the table stirred my work laptop to awaken from its screensaver and reveal that it was still magically working after a week of giving me the blue screen of death.