She looked at him thoughtfully. “How old is your daughter?”
“Four.”
Fleur nodded. “Actually, the island’s a really great place when you’re four. When you’re a teenager, though...we get a lot of mainlanders coming over during the summer. Sometimes people do things on holiday that they wouldn’t necessarily do at home.” She seemed to be choosing her words carefully.
For one tantalizing moment Rick thought she was going to tell him what he wanted to know. Fleur’s mask of self-sufficiency slipped, and he saw pain and vulnerability. But then she shrugged. “Everywhere has its risks. Maple Island has a lot going for it.”
“Like living in a lighthouse.” If Fleur couldn’t be persuaded to talk about the risks, maybe she’d be a little more forthcoming about the benefits.
Her face lit up suddenly. “You’ve got the lighthouse? I love the lighthouse, we used to play up there as kids and the old guy who used to live there would chase us off. I heard that the cottage has been extended and refurbished as a rental home.”
“Yes, that’s right. There’s a room up in the tower as well, and the views are spectacular. It’s written into the lease that we have to make sure there’s a light on every evening in the lantern enclosure, even though it’s not needed for navigation anymore.”
Fleur chuckled. “Absolutely. It’s an island tradition.”
“Hopefully the time switch will keep working, then.”
“I wouldn’t worry. Half the town will notice if the light goes out, and you’ll get plenty of calls to let you know.”
“That’s a relief.” A thought occurred to Rick. Patients who were well enough were encouraged to visit the small harbor town, which was just a mile away from the clinic. It would be good to try and coax Fleur out of her self-imposed confinement.
“I was wondering. If you wanted to take a trip down to the town, then maybe...you could show me around a bit?”
She shook her head suddenly. “You really don’t know much about Maple Island, do you? During the winter people will be falling over themselves to get to know a new face in Main Street. You’ll be fine. I’m better off staying here.”
“Watching the sea?” Squandering the chance she had of top-notch medical professionals to help with her rehab in favor of wanting to cross those white-capped waves, back to Boston, as soon as possible. It was a waste.
Her wistful look told Rick that maybe she knew that already. “You mean watching the ocean. You’ll have to get used to things being a little bigger here...”
CHAPTER THREE
WHEN RICK KNOCKED on the door of Fleur’s room the following afternoon, and heard her call for him to come in, he hesitated, wondering if there was a booby trap waiting for him. The nurse had reported that she’d been in there alone, with the door closed, for over an hour, and that there had been sounds of activity coming from the room.
He admonished himself with a shake of his head. Fleur was a patient, and whatever she could dish up he was equal to.
Or...pretty much equal to, at least. When he breezed into the room, he found her sitting in the easy chair next to her bed. She was fully dressed, her long hair tumbling across her shoulders. Looking...
Well was the word he needed. She looked well. Amazing or gorgeous shouldn’t be part of his vocabulary. Her pale cheeks had a little bit of color and she was up and dressed. In his professional opinion, she looked well.
“Hi.” She looked up from the paper spread across her knees and gave him a smile. Rick choked back the temptation to smile back.
“Hello. How are you today?”
“Well...how do I look? Do you approve?” She shot him an innocent look, which didn’t quite chase the knowingness from her eyes.
“It’s not for me to approve or disapprove.” Caught in her gaze, Rick gave the honest answer.
“Ah. So you were trying to annoy me yesterday. That’s good. There’s a lot to dislike about a man who’s chauvinistic enough to tell a woman what to wear.”
Rick was lost for an answer. And the sudden thump of his heart, which went with the idea that Fleur might actually be looking for something to like about him, wasn’t even slightly appropriate. It didn’t matter whether she liked him or not, he was here to do a job.
“Mom and Dad popped in this morning...just for ten minutes. They left me a coat and then scooted off again. Things to do all of a sudden.”
So her mother had responded to the suggestions he’d made when they’d spoken on the phone last night. That was good, but pretending that her parents had just happened to choose today to find something else to do, instead of sitting with Fleur for hours as they usually did, would clearly be a mistake. She knew full well what he’d done.
“If you want some company, you have to go and get it.”
“So you’re reckoning on starving me of company, so I’ll submit to your plans.” Her lip curled, as if she’d caught him out in a piece of bad judgement. “What’s first on the list, braving the cold outdoors?”
Rick had thought that going out might wait for a couple of days. Fleur had been cooped up inside for a long time now, and the cold wind that had been howling in from the sea this morning might be a little too much for her to contend with straight away.
“Maybe today’s not quite the day for that...” He glanced toward the window. The sky was heavy with cloud and it looked as if it might snow again soon.
A smile spread across Fleur’s face. “You’ll have to toughen up a bit if you’re going to live here. This is what we islanders call a nice winter’s day.”
* * *
Maybe she’d overreached herself. Rick had taken his time over fetching his coat, and it had given Fleur time for second thoughts. She was so afraid of falling still. And there were certain people that she definitely didn’t want to bump into in Main Street.
But chickening out now would only prove him right. It would prove that she couldn’t face Maple Island, and Fleur wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction. She pulled her hat onto her head, zipping up her coat and putting on her gloves. Even though they were unbearably warm inside, she’d have her crutches to deal with at the door of the clinic, which meant she had to think ahead.
As they walked slowly toward the entrance of the clinic, she could feel sweat dribble down her spine. This wasn’t the time for nerves. She could see an SUV parked up, just two steps away from the glazed doors of the clinic. Fleur took a breath and made for the doors, relying on her crutches to steady her instead of his outstretched arm.
The cold wind hit her hard when she stepped outside. Maybe she had spent a little too long inside. Rick opened the passenger door of the car, and Fleur hesitated, not sure which leg she should lead with. Finally she allowed Rick to help her.
“Okay. I’ve got it...” She settled herself into the front seat of the SUV, unable to let go of her crutches. They were all that stood between her and falling, and right now she felt that she was on very shaky ground.
She’d never been afraid before. When she’d performed, she’d always checked her own equipment, the way that the other dancers did. She’d been confident that the flying rig wouldn’t let her fall, but then she’d fallen. Since then she’d been unable to handle the possibilities for disaster that almost every situation presented.
“At least you’re not going to make me walk into town...” She attempted a joke, even though she was shivering.
“I’m not sure I fancy walking along here at the moment.” He was driving slowly out of the car park. The snow plow had left a clear path for them but snow was piled up on each side of the road.
“No one does.” It was comforting that in one thing, at least, she knew better than he did. “There’s a beach path. A bit windy in the winter, but it’s still a nice walk.”
He smiled. “Perhaps you’ll show it to me. Another day.”
Yeah. Another day. All Fleur
could think about at the moment was getting through the next hour or so. That was more than enough.
* * *
She had grit. Rick was under no illusions that most of that was directed at proving him wrong, but that was fair enough. When she’d stepped out of the front door of the clinic he had almost felt her panic, even though she’d been trying very hard to hide it.
Although it was pretty much impossible to get lost on the straight road into town, giving him directions seemed to calm her a little, as if it put her back in control. When keep going, straight ahead wore out, and she lapsed into silence, he leaned forward to switch on some music.
It was the wrong music, but it had the right effect. Fleur chuckled suddenly. “This is your favorite band?”
“No, it’s Ellie’s... My daughter.”
“And here I was thinking I’d found your Achilles’ heel. That you get into the groove with ‘Nellie the Elephant’.”
“I’m not admitting to that. Change it over if you want.” Fleur was already humming along with the music and he wondered whether she’d stretch forward or just leave it playing.
She leaned forward slowly.
“‘Driving’...” She scrolled through the list. “Perhaps not, we don’t have far to drive. ‘Soul’... Is that your soul or just soul music?”
“Just soul music.” Rick wasn’t ready to admit to having a soul at the moment, because that soul was telling him that a couple of laps around the island with Fleur wasn’t out of the question. Just so he could extend this time alone with her.
“Well, that’s not likely to give me any insight, then...” She aimed a sidelong grin at him. “‘Old Favorites.’”
She stabbed at the playlist title with her finger, leaning back in her seat. When the music started she smiled. “Well that’s unexpected.”
“I like sixties music.” He’d loved going through his grandmother’s old records when he’d been a kid. Learning how to operate the portable gramophone that she’d kept in the corner of the sitting room so he could play them. It had felt as if he’d had a proper home. Later, he’d danced to this music with Lara in the sitting room of their flat in London.
“So do I. We’ve done a few sets around this kind of thing. Summer of love and all that...” Fleur was suddenly silent. It seemed that the music meant something to both of them, in different ways. Something that was lost forever.
The mood didn’t last for long. As they entered the Main Street of Maple Island’s only town, she looked around suddenly. “Can we stop here? At the library?”
The library looked more like one of the older houses on the island than a public building, a stone-and-brick-built structure that had obviously been well tended over the years. But when Rick drew up, he could see the notice outside.
“I’d like to go in and get some books, if that’s okay.”
It was better than okay, this was exactly what he wanted. Fleur managed to get the car door open, shifting her legs round and planting one of the crutches tentatively on the ground.
“No...” She frowned. “That’s not going to work, is it...?”
“No, it isn’t. You must know how to use weight and balance, Fleur, from your dance training.”
She shot him a Don’t remind me look, putting her hand on his shoulder. Clearly even this memory of what she’d lost was difficult, but she didn’t resist him as he pivoted his weight to bring her out of the car and onto her feet. If every patient had such an instinctive understanding of how the inertia of two bodies could work together, then not so many nurses would have bad backs.
But as soon as she was out of the car she let go of him, leaving him to walk beside her between the piles of snow on either side of the path. Rick readied himself to steady her if she slipped, but she was obviously intent on doing without his help. Fleur maneuvered herself carefully up the stone steps at the front of the building and then walked past Rick as he held the door open, leaning on a pair of swing doors that stood ahead of her to open them.
The interior momentarily took Rick’s attention from her. Gleaming wooden shelving, which looked as if it had taken many years’ worth of wax and care, protruded from the walls to the right and left. In the center, an open space held heavy, old-fashioned library tables, one of which was stacked with newspapers. A second tier of shelves, above the first, was reached by two curved wooden staircases and a gallery.
“Pretty impressive, eh?” He realized that Fleur was looking up at him, studying his reaction.
“Very. When does this date back to?”
“The middle of the seventeen hundreds...”
“Seventeen thirty-two. Ezra Van Den Berg was one of the island’s founders and he left his home and all his books to the island, to provide a library for future generations.” The quiet lilt of a woman’s voice sounded behind them. “I was wondering when you’d get around to paying us a visit, Fleur.”
Rick turned to see a neat, dark-haired woman in her forties, wearing flat shoes and a slim, black trouser suit. The overall effect might have been sensible, if it wasn’t for the chunky necklace, each of the wooden beads uniquely carved. Fleur grinned at her.
“I haven’t been released from custody yet. This is Dr. Rick Fleming. Rick, this is Pamela.”
“Pleased to meet you, Rick. I hope you’ll visit us often.”
“I will. This building is spectacular. It was Ezra Van Den Berg’s home, you say?”
“Yes, it was, although it doesn’t look much like the way it did when he lived in it. He left money and instructions for the interior to be completely remodeled, and so a two-story residence turned into this.”
Fleur grinned. “Yeah. Apparently one of the walls almost fell down when they knocked out the internal supports. Which one was it, Pam?”
“That one over there.” Pamela gestured to her left. “They had to hold a local fundraiser to rebuild it. Watch yourself up on the gallery, it tends to tilt suddenly in high winds. You’re here for some books, Fleur?”
“That’s the general idea.” Fleur settled herself into one of the high-backed wooden chairs and Pamela nodded, turning to climb the spiral staircase that led to the upper gallery. She disappeared between two rows of shelves, obviously on a mission.
“The gallery tilts...?” Pamela didn’t seem like someone with a penchant for practical jokes, and she’d issued the warning with an impressively straight face.
Fleur snorted with laughter. “No, of course it doesn’t, this place would survive a hurricane. Pam tells the tourists that there’s a ghost up there as well.”
“Right. And the library’s still run by the family?” He’d noticed the shiny nameplate on Pamela’s desk. Pamela Vandenberg.
“Hush, I wouldn’t say that too loudly...” Fleur put one finger to her lips. “Pam’s a qualified librarian with an English degree, and she got this job before she got married. Her husband’s a bona fide descendant of old Ezra, but she doesn’t much like it when people assume that it’s a matter of nepotism.”
Rick nodded. “There’s a lot to learn about this island...”
“You bet there is. Don’t worry, though, you’ve got me to keep you on the straight and narrow.”
Something about Fleur’s smile hinted at the fact that she’d be more than happy to see him blunder into a faux pas. Rick shrugged the idea off. He was the one who had declared war, and if she wanted to respond, that was exactly what he’d hoped she might do.
“You’ll be able to get your own books in a few weeks’ time.” He nodded toward the steps up to the gallery.
Fleur regarded the balconies thoughtfully. “Pam knows everyone’s taste and she’s great at suggesting books. Anyway, you do know that heights aren’t really my thing at the moment.”
It was the first time that Fleur had voiced her fears, and her vulnerability hung in the quiet air between them. Her gaze met his, and Rick felt as if he was
in free-fall, tumbling into the depths of her blue eyes.
“Yes... I do.” For a moment it seemed that she was as transfixed as he was. Then the sound of footsteps, descending from the gallery, broke the spell. Pamela walked briskly toward them, dumping a pile of books onto her desk and consulting the computer screen in front of her.
“Have you got a bag? We’ve had some very nice bags made up, to help raise funds.” Pamela gestured toward a pile of canvas bags, with “Support your Local Library’ emblazoned across them.
“I’ll take one of those, please.” Rick reached for his wallet.
Pamela pushed a donation box toward him and while he was still sorting through the unfamiliar notes, Fleur reached up, taking one from his hand and pushing it into the box.
“Thank you, that’s very generous. For twenty dollars you can have one of these...” Pamela reached under her desk, pulling out a pile of brightly colored bags, which sported a line drawing of the library building.
“You choose, Fleur.” She’d have to get to her feet to look through the pile, and Rick wondered if she would. She shot him a grimace, leaving the crutches propped against the back of the chair and leaning on Pamela’s desk to shuffle forward a couple of steps.
“Pink’s nice...” There was mischief in her smile.
“Yes. Ellie will like pink.” Clearly Fleur hadn’t seen him walking along Kensington High Street with a one-year-old in a body sling and a pastel print bag full of baby paraphernalia. He was hardly going to baulk at a pink library bag.
Pamela was sorting through the books, and checking them into the computer. “I thought you might like to revisit Raymond Chandler, Fleur. Since you have the time to appreciate some of his subtler twists.”
“That’s great, thanks.” Fleur nodded.
“And these are two very good new mystery writers...” Pamela started to load the books into the bag, glancing at Rick. “And would you like to sign yourself and your daughter up for a library card, Rick? We have a children’s reading club here on Thursday afternoons, and the nursery staff at the clinic’s daycare center usually bring along any of the younger children who’d like to attend.”
Resisting Her English Doc Page 3
