Orchard Valley Grooms

by Debbie Macomber

  “I don’t know if I can explain it,” Valerie said after a moment, her look distant and thoughtful. “All I know is that Dad was on the brink of death for days. When I first arrived, Colby told us Dad would require open-heart surgery. He wanted to perform the operation immediately but couldn’t because of various complications Dad was experiencing. If you want the medical terms for all this you can ask Norah or Colby, but basically it boiled down to one thing. Dad had lost the will to fight for his life. He’s been miserable without Mom. We both know that, but I don’t think anyone fully appreciated exactly how lonely he’s been.”

  “I shouldn’t have left him.” Despite Valerie’s reassurances, Steffie partially blamed herself for her father’s failing health. She’d known when he came to visit her in Italy last year that something was wrong. He’d taken the trip to Europe not out of any desire to travel but because Valerie and Norah had thought it would help revive his spirits. The fact that Steffie was living in Italy had been a convenient excuse.

  Steffie had enjoyed the time with her father, and had been excited about showing him the country she’d come to love and introducing him to her new friends. She’d carefully avoided any conversation having to do with Orchard Valley or her mother. Her father had urged her to come home, but she’d already registered for new courses and paid her rent in advance and planned another trip. All excuses. Because it really came down to one thing: she’d been afraid to go home.

  Steffie Bloomfield afraid! The family daredevil. Dauntless, reckless Steffie Bloomfield was afraid of a mere man. More precisely, she was terrified of having to speak to Charles again, of looking him in the eye and pretending it didn’t hurt anymore. Pretending she didn’t love him. Pretending she didn’t feel humiliated.

  She was incapable of shrugging off the past, especially when it was much simpler just to stay in Europe. She loved her art history courses, she enjoyed traveling throughout Italy, she was fond of her landlady’s family, she had lots of friends and acquaintances. She’d discovered, too, that she had a real aptitude for languages; besides being proficient in Italian, she’d picked up some French and German and hoped to continue learning them. No, she’d decided, there were too many good reasons to remain in Europe. And so she’d stayed.

  “Do you want to ride to the hospital with me?” Valerie asked, apparently deep in her own thoughts.

  “Sure.”

  “I might need to do a few errands later, but you might be able to get a ride home with Norah if I’m not back.”

  “I’m not worried. I haven’t been able to spend much time with Dad yet.” Steffie felt guilty about rushing out of the hospital the day before without returning to see him.

  As it turned out, Steffie couldn’t have chosen a better morning to be with her father. It was the day he was being transferred out of the Surgical Intensive Care Unit and onto the surgical ward. His time in the SICU was only four days, his recovery nothing short of remarkable. Even Dr. Winston seemed to think so.

  “I can’t get over how beautiful you’ve become,” her father said when he woke from a brief nap. Steffie was sitting at his bedside, doing the New York Times crossword puzzle and feeling downright pleased with herself that she’d managed to fill in a good half of the answers.

  “I’ll tell you what I’ve become,” Steffie said with a laugh, “and that’s Italian. The first day after I left Rome I slipped from English to Italian and then back again without noticing. I think I spent twice as long clearing customs as anyone else, simply because the agent didn’t know what to make of me.”

  “So can you cook me some real Italian spaghetti?” her father asked.

  “I certainly can, and I promise it’ll be so good you’ll dream about it the rest of your life.”

  “With plenty of garlic?”

  Steffie raised the tips of her fingers to her lips and made a loud smacking sound. “With enough garlic to ward off vampires for the next hundred years. Besides, I hear garlic’s good for your heart.”

  “But lousy for your love life.”

  “I don’t think either of us needs to worry about that,” she teased.

  “Ah.” David Bloomfield shook his head. “That’s where you’re wrong, Princess. You, my darling Stephanie, are about to discover what it means to be in love.”

  Steffie didn’t want to say she already knew all she cared to on that subject. Thanks, Dad—but no thanks, she told him silently. Falling in love wasn’t an experience she wanted to repeat.

  “You aren’t going to argue with me like Valerie did, are you?”

  “Would there be any point?”

  “No,” he said, smiling broadly.

  “I didn’t think so.”

  “You don’t believe I really talked to your mother, do you?”

  “Uh…” It wasn’t that she disbelieved him exactly. He was convinced that something had happened, so her opinion was irrelevant. He claimed to have enjoyed a lengthy conversation with her mother while strolling around some celestial lake. Valerie had mentioned it soon after Steffie’s arrival. Norah had talked about it, too. Steffie found their accounts fascinating. Did she believe it had happened? She didn’t know. She was inclined to think he’d experienced some kind of revelation—but whether it was spiritual, as he thought, or a dream, or a fantasy of his own making, she had no idea. And it didn’t matter.

  “You won’t be the only one who doesn’t believe my talk with your mother was real.”

  “It isn’t that, Dad.”

  “Don’t you worry about it. Time will prove me right.”

  “Prove you right about what?” a distinctive male voice asked from behind her. Steffie froze and the dread washed over her.

  Charles Tomaselli.

  He was the last person she’d expected to meet here. The last person she wanted to see again.

  “How’re you feeling, David?” he asked.

  “I’ve been better.”

  “I’ll bet you have,” Charles said wryly.

  Steffie was on her feet immediately. “I’ll leave you two to chat,” she said with a cheery lilt, anxious to leave the room.

  “There’s no reason for you to go,” her father countered, holding out his hand to her. “Your smile is the brightest sunshine I’ve seen in days. Isn’t that so, Charles?”

  Steffie cringed inwardly, and not giving Charles time to comment, quickly squeezed her father’s hand. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to have too much company all at once.”

  “That’s probably true,” Charles agreed. “Besides, I’ve got some business to discuss with you. I thought you’d be interested in hearing what happened as a result of that article we did on the migrant-worker situation.”

  Steffie’s breath caught in her throat until she realized Charles wasn’t referring to the stunt she’d pulled in his office the day before. She went weak with relief when she heard him mention something about Commissioner O’Dell initiating an inspection program.

  Steffie still hadn’t looked at Charles, still hadn’t turned to face him. She delayed it as long as possible, leaning forward to kiss her father’s cheek. “I’ll get a ride back to the house with Valerie or Norah, but I’ll be in again this evening and we can finish our…discussion.”

  “I’ll see you then, Princess.”

  Steffie nodded and mentally braced herself as she turned away from her father’s bed. She looked shyly at Charles. To her astonishment, their eyes met instantly. They seemed drawn to gaze at each other, as though neither could resist the pull of mutual attraction. Her own heart gave a small burst of joy and she wondered if, deep within, his did, too.

  “Hello, Steffie.”

  “Charles.” Her voice was low and wispy. “I’ll see you later, Dad.”

  “Bye, Princess.”

  Her eyes skidded past Charles as she hurried from the room, eager now to make her escape. By the time she reached the end of the corridor, she heard a roaring in her ears and she was breathless—all because of a casual encounter with Charles. Obviou
sly she’d need to prepare herself mentally for even such minor confrontations.

  She hadn’t been nearly as shy with him that summer evening three years earlier, she remembered with chagrin. It mortified her now to think of her brazen behavior….

  If Charles considered her a kid when he’d invited her for coffee, then Steffie decided she owed it to herself to show him he was wrong. Without difficulty, she’d been able to discover where Charles lived. Crime had never been much of a problem in Orchard Valley, and Charles had been kind enough to leave his front door unlocked.

  When he appeared several hours later, there were scented candles lit throughout the living room and a bottle of champagne chilling in the kitchen.

  “Is that you, darling?” Steffie had called out from the bathroom. She’d been sitting in a bubble-filled tub for the better part of an hour, and her skin had started to shrivel. She was also worried about the candles dripping and the champagne getting warm, but she dared not leave, fearing she’d never be able to get the bubbles just right again. It was important that he think she was completely nude, though in reality she wore a skimpy bikini.

  Charles didn’t answer. He stalked into the room, stopping abruptly in the doorway as his shocked gaze fell on her.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” he’d demanded.

  “I thought you should know I’m not a child.”

  “Then what are you—a mermaid?”

  She forced a soft laugh and said in what she hoped was a sultry, adult voice, “No, silly man, I’m a woman and if you’ll come here, I’ll prove it to you.”

  “Get out.”

  “Out? But…but I was hoping you’d join me.”

  “No way, sweetheart. Now either you remove yourself from my home or I’m calling the police.”

  She pushed her big toe under the water tap. “I think my toe might be stuck.”

  “Fine, I’ll call the plumber.”

  “But, Charles, darling…”

  “Charles, nothing,” he snapped. Marching into the bathroom and gripping her by the upper arm, he lifted her halfway out of the tub. She screeched, stumbling to find her balance. As soon as she was upright, Charles tossed a towel at her and told her she had five minutes to leave before he called the police.

  Steffie had fled, but she’d seen the gleam of male admiration in Charles’s eyes, seen the way he’d looked at her for a second or two. And, fool that she was, she hadn’t been the least bit discouraged. Instead, she’d devised yet another plan.

  Steffie wandered into the waiting area searching for Valerie. One of the orderlies mentioned that her sister had gone to pick up office supplies. Steffie remembered hearing something about an errand, but she hadn’t been paying enough attention to recall whether Valerie was returning to the hospital or going straight home.

  Oh, well, there was always Norah.

  Tracking down her youngest sister didn’t take long. Within five minutes, Steffie found her in the emergency room—preparing to go on duty. The hospital was understaffed, and now that their father was beginning to recover, Norah had returned to work. Steffie didn’t bother to ask for a ride.

  Hoping Charles would be gone, she went back to the surgical ward. Her luck hadn’t improved, and they met at the elevator.

  “I thought you were headed home?”

  “I’ll have to wait for Valerie,” she said, trying to edge past him. “Or get a cab.”

  His arm blocked her escape. “There’s no need to do that. I’ll drop you off at the house.”

  “No, thanks,” she returned stiffly.

  “I want to talk to you, anyway,” he said, none too gently guiding her into the elevator. “And as they say, there’s no time like the present.”

  “This really isn’t necessary, Charles.”

  “Oh, but it is.”

  She noticed, when he led her out of the hospital to the parking lot, that he was driving the same red sports car she’d seen the day before. It eased her conscience a bit that it hadn’t been damaged during his race across the countryside.

  He opened the door for her, and Steffie climbed inside. She was adjusting the seat belt when Charles joined her. The space seemed to shrink like silk pressed against a hot iron. Their shoulders touched, their thighs, their arms. For a moment, Steffie held her breath.

  “You said you wanted to talk to me?” she said after he’d pulled out of the hospital parking lot. She was leaning as close to the passenger door as she could.

  “I thought we’d discuss it over a glass of iced tea. You are inviting me inside, aren’t you?” He turned and grinned at her, that boyish, slightly skewed grin she’d always found so appealing.

  She’d planned to tell him she had no intention of letting him in; instead she cleared her throat and said, “If you’d like.”

  “I would.”

  The ten-mile drive to the house generally took fifteen minutes. Steffie could have sworn Charles was purposely dragging out the time, driving well below the speed limit. They were so close in the small cramped car that she couldn’t avoid brushing against him, even though she tried not to. She was trying to forget that he’d kissed her the day before, and this didn’t make it any easier.

  Steffie closed her eyes. It was all she could do not to shout at him to hurry. Why was he prolonging these moments alone? The least he could do was make polite conversation.

  “My father seems cheerful, doesn’t he?” If Charles wasn’t going to say something, then she would. Anything to ease this terrible awareness.

  “He certainly does.”

  “He’s got a reason to live now, and that’s made all the difference in the world. I’m not sure what to think about his dream, but—”

  “What dream?”

  “Uh…nothing… It’s not important.” Steffie couldn’t believe what she’d done. In her nervousness, in her desperation to fill the silence, she’d blurted out what should never have been shared.

  She relaxed when Charles finally turned off the road onto the mile-long family driveway. He parked in front of the house.

  Steffie didn’t wait for him, but threw open her door and jumped out, her keys already in hand. She had the front door open by the time he caught up with her, and tossing her purse onto the hall table, led him briskly into the kitchen.

  Norah had made some iced tea that morning. Steffie silently thanked her sister for her thoughtfulness as she took out the cold pitcher. A minute later, she’d found two tall glasses, added ice and sliced a fresh lemon. Another minute, and the drinks were ready.

  “What was it you wanted to say?” Steffie reluctantly asked. She hadn’t realized how warm she was and held the glass between both hands, enjoying the coolness against her palms.

  “It’s about what happened yesterday,” Charles said, walking away from her. He paused at the bay window that overlooked the backyard. Just beyond his view was the stable. “Or more appropriately, what shouldn’t have happened.”

  Four

  “I’d rather not discuss it,” Steffie said adamantly. She didn’t want to hear any more about her irresponsible accusations and rash actions. Nor did she wish to hear how much Charles regretted kissing her.

  “If anyone needs to apologize, it’s me,” she said quickly. “Why don’t we just leave it at that? I was wrong.”

  Charles’s back was to her as he stared outside toward the stables. “I don’t think anyone’s ever infuriated me this much,” he said quietly. He turned, set his glass of iced tea aside and thrust his hands into his pockets. “I’ve never met a woman who manages to irritate me the way you do.”

  Steffie stiffened. “I’ve already apologized for leaping to conclusions. I admitted I was wrong.” She shrugged elaborately. “My only excuse is that I spent a hellish week trying to get home and I haven’t slept properly in days and I—”

  “This isn’t necessary,” he said, interrupting her. “I’m not looking for an apology…. Actually I’m here to make my own. I want you to know I’m sorry about chasing after you.
It was a dangerous thing to do. I might have spooked Fury into throwing you.”

  “Not to mention damaging your car.”

  “True enough.”

  “Let’s put it behind us,” Steffie suggested with a weak smile. “I was wrong to run away. It was…childish.”

  “You were angry, too.”

  “I’ve never met a man who manages to irritate me the way you do,” she said, consciously echoing his words.

  “We always seem to get on each other’s nerves, don’t we?” His grin was warm and gentle, just as his kiss had been. Strangely, Steffie found his smile no less devastating.

  “We certainly have a history of annoying each other.” It took her more courage than he’d ever know to refer to the past. But suddenly she hoped they could put that behind them, too.

  “I’d never be able to forgive myself if anything had happened to you,” he said.

  “I wasn’t really in any danger of Fury throwing me.” Okay, so that was a slight exaggeration, but she had stayed in the saddle.

  “It was, shall we say, a memorable way for us to meet again.” Charles’s voice was husky. He moved closer to her and she lowered her eyes, but not before she noticed how his attention seemed to center on her mouth. “There’s one thing I’m not sorry about.” He took another step toward her and raised his hand to touch her cheek. His fingers brushed aside a stray lock of hair. Steffie couldn’t move. She couldn’t think coherently. She could barely breathe.

  “I don’t regret kissing you,” Charles whispered.

  Then she did move. Trembling, she stepped backward and bolted to the other side of the room.

  “Stephanie?”

  “Call—call me Steffie,” she stuttered. Her hands were shaking so badly that she jerked them behind her.

  “I prefer to call you Stephanie. You’re not a little girl anymore.”

  She smiled brightly. Now was the perfect time to convince him how sophisticated she’d become after three years in Europe—sophisticated and experienced. She was sure that was the type of woman he expected, the type of woman he wanted.