by Lori Foster
He had new insight into what Emma’s teen years must have been like in Buckhorn, and it was decidedly worse than he’d thought.
“Let’s sit down,” Dr. Wagner suggested.
Emma went to a chair and Casey stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders, making it clear to the doctor and to Lois that he was there for her.
Many times in the past, he’d stood in front of her, trying to shield her. He knew now that she was stronger than he’d ever suspected. She had to be to have survived with her naturally generous nature still intact. Standing behind her, offering her support in what she chose to face, and respecting her strength to do it, seemed more appropriate.
The doctor pulled up his own chair facing Emma, and Lois sat beside him. Dr. Wagner pasted on his patented reassuring physician’s smile. “Ms. Clark, your father is doing much better today. I see improvement not only in his mental capacity in identifying objects, but also in his mind/eye coordination.” The doctor turned grave. “But, to be truthful, for a little while there I thought we might lose him.”
“Lose him?” Emma stiffened in alarm. “But I thought…”
“You’re seeing him now, with much improvement. For three days he had no clear recognition of most things. He knew what he was seeing, but he couldn’t find the word in his memory to identify it.”
Emma bit her bottom lip. “I came as soon as I was told, but I had to pack up and I didn’t arrive in Buckhorn until late last night. I stopped here first. My father was asleep, so I just looked in on him.” She twisted her hands together. “The nurse said he’d be okay.”
“And she’s correct. But I anticipate quite a bit of therapy not only to help him deal with what he’s suffered and his diminished capacity—which should be only temporary—but to help rebuild his coordination. We’ll get his meds regulated—blood thinner and blood pressure medicine to keep him from having another stroke.”
For several minutes, the doctor explained the causes and effects of a stroke, and Emma listened in fretful silence.
“He’ll need to be monitored for TIAs—or mini strokes.”
Emma nodded. “The nurse said that he also fell?”
Dr. Wagner’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Your mother didn’t tell you he fell off the porch steps when she called you? She said she found him unconscious, which is why she called the paramedics. And good thing too, as I’ve already said.”
Lois made a face. “He’d been drinking, so his wife thought he’d just passed out.”
Scowling, Dr. Wagner twisted around to face the nurse. “Incorrect, Ms. Banker. Alcohol had been spilled on him, but he had not consumed any noticeable amount.”
When he turned back to Emma, his expression gentled and he reached out to pat her hand. “It’s my guess that he was carrying a bottle of whisky when he had the stroke. It spilled all over him and, yes, we could smell it. I had thought to question his wife about it, but haven’t seen her yet.”
Emma stammered, “Mom d-doesn’t get out much.”
Casey wanted to roll his eyes at her understatement. Her mother was a recluse. She was seldom seen around town, and apparently she hadn’t even ventured out to visit her husband.
“I see.” The doctor gave her a long look, then referred to his notes. “Well, he did some further damage with his fall. We got the MRI back on his ankle, and luckily it isn’t broken, though it is still severely swollen and I’m certain it’s causing him some pain. Add to that the bruising on his ribs and shoulder…well, he took a very nasty spill. I’m relieved he didn’t break his neck.”
Emma nodded. “Me, too.”
“You say you’re from out of town. Will you be able to stay around to attend him, and if not, is your mother capable of the task?”
“I…” She glanced at Casey, who squeezed her shoulder, then back at the doctor. “What kind of care will he need?”
Appearing to be a little uncomfortable, Dr. Wagner explained, “I don’t anticipate he’ll go home for a while yet. But when he does, he’ll need help with everyday tasks until he regains control of lost motor skills. He’ll need transportation back and forth to the hospital for therapy. He may even need help feeding himself, dressing…at least for a while. As I said, his improvement so far is quite promising, but we can’t make any guarantees.”
“I understand.” She waited only a moment before giving a firm nod. “I can be here as long as I’m needed.”
Casey wondered if she could stay indefinitely. She’d made a life in Chicago…by all accounts, a happy life that suited her. But her roots were in Buckhorn. Whatever had driven her away the first time, he’d be here with her now, offering her support in whatever way she needed. Maybe it’d be enough.
Emma dropped back in her seat, and Casey noted the weariness in her face. She looked beautiful to him, so he hadn’t at first noticed. But now that he did, he felt guilty. She’d been given worrisome news, spent several hours on the road yesterday with only a few hours’ sleep to recoup, and then faced her father.
And he’d been bulldozing her straight into an affair. He suddenly felt like a bastard. No, he wouldn’t change his mind. He couldn’t. But he would treat her gently, give her plenty of time.
“I hope I’ve relieved your mind,” Dr. Wag-ner said.
“You have. I’m sure I can handle things, as long as you tell me everything I need to know.”
“Yes, of course. When he’s ready to be discharged, we’ll give you a list of his prescriptions, along with instructions on his general care. He’ll have regular checkups and you can always reach someone here at the hospital or at my office if you have questions. Thanks to his injured ankle and ribs, he’ll spend a good deal of time in bed, so you’ll also need to rotate his position until he’s back on his feet. He’s going to be very sore for a while.”
Wearing a half smile, Emma admitted, “I’m a massage therapist, so I know about sore muscles.”
“A massage therapist?” Lois asked, looking down her nose.
“Excellent,” Dr. Wagner said at almost the same time. “It’s too bad you don’t live here. I could have used your services last week after a day spent fishing.” He chuckled as he rubbed the small of his back. “I’m getting too old to sit on the hard bench of a fishing boat for hours on end. I was stiff for two days. But the wife had no sympathy. None at all.”
Emma laughed with him. “I’ll be glad to help you out while I’m here. Just give me a call. The desk has my number.”
Dr. Wagner brightened. “Careful now. I’ll hold you to it.”
“It’ll be my pleasure. A thank-you for all the good care you’re giving Dad.”
Casey wasn’t at all sure he liked the sound of that, and then he caught himself. Dr. Wagner was a grandpa, for crying out loud. A kind old man who’d known his father forever. Yet…Lois had the same damn thought, given her spiteful expression. She smiled, but it was a smile of malicious intent.
Casey wondered how much Emma would let him help. Considering what he’d learned, he knew it wouldn’t be easy for her to be home with both her parents. Yet her father’s health dictated that she do just that.
He wanted to do what was best for her, and if that meant helping her with Dell… He and her father were not on great terms—not since the night Dell accused him of getting Emma pregnant—but Emma would have cleared that up with her father by now. Dell would certainly have realized that he wasn’t a grandfather, and Casey wasn’t a father.
Not that he didn’t want to be. Someday. With the right woma
n.
He looked at Emma again and felt a strange warmth spread through his chest. Emma was such a gentle, affectionate, sensitive woman, she’d make a wonderful mother.
And if she knew your thoughts, Casey told himself, she’d probably head directly back to Chicago. Hell, he scared himself, so he could only imagine how Emma would react.
“You’ll be hearing from me.” Dr. Wagner shook her hand, then clapped Casey on the shoulder. “I’m off to see the rest of my patients.”
He went out, yet Lois lingered. She looked Emma up and down with a sullen sneer. “A massage therapist? Is that what they’re calling it these days?”
Casey felt like strangling the little witch for her insinuation, yet Emma only smiled. “Far as I know, Lois, that’s what they’ve always called it. You didn’t know that? I’m surprised, since the field of massage therapy has become an integral part of health care, and you are a nurse, after all.”
Stung, Lois pursed her mouth. “It sounds like a shady front to me. I remember you too well. I can just imagine what you do while massaging someone.”
Emma leaned toward her, taunting, egging her on. “It is scandalous. Why, I light scented candles and play erotic, relaxing music. But I’m good, Lois, so good, that I get a lot of repeat customers.” She held up her hands. “I’m told I have magic fingers and that I can work the tension out of any muscle.”
Red-faced, Lois said, “It’s an excuse to get naked and get…rubbed.”
“You make that sound so dirty!” Emma laughed. “Actually, people with real physical ailments come to me. Strained muscles, stress, rehab after an injury…”
Lois sputtered in outrage. “You should encourage people to see real professionals.”
“Oh? You mean like the massage therapists employed by the hospital? I noticed their offices downstairs. They’re not quite as well equipped as I am, but they’re still adequate.”
“They’re accredited.”
“Me, too.” Emma fashioned a look of haughtiness. “I’m certified with the AMTA and licensed by the city of Chicago. You know, you look so puckered up, you should really try a little massage. All that frowning ages a person and gives her wrinkles.”
“I do see a few frown lines, Lois,” Casey managed to say with a straight face. It was strange, but seeing Emma so confident, even cocky, turned him on. “Maybe the folks downstairs will give you an employee discount.”
Clearly knowing she’d lost that round, Lois stalked out in a snit.
Unwilling to let Emma leave the same way, Casey caught her elbow. She’d put up a good front for Lois, but he could see that she was miffed over his interference with the doctor. “Do you want to visit with your father some more before we head off?”
She considered it, and finally nodded. “Maybe just to smooth things over before I leave.”
Casey hated for her to face him alone again, but he already knew he wasn’t welcome. “Hey.” He touched her chin and resisted the urge to kiss her. “Don’t let him get you down, okay? He’s bound to be a little grouchy, all things considered.”
“It’s not that.” She started out of the room. “There are some things my father and I will never agree on, that’s all. But I don’t want to argue with him here, not while he’s hurt and sick.”
This time Casey waited for her in the hall, but he could hear them speaking. The words were indistinct, but the tone was clear: Emma calmly insistent, Dell complaining, even whining. Casey winced for her. Under the circumstances, being Dell’s caretaker wasn’t going to be easy.
When she emerged ten minutes later, looking more agitated than ever, he slipped his arm around her waist. They walked down the hallway to the elevator in silence, but once inside, Casey pulled her into a hug. “Ms. Clark, I’m noticing a few frown lines on you, too.”
A reluctant smile curled her lips, but her eyes remained dark with worry. “Is that right? Think I should stop for a massage?”
“What I think is that you should talk me through it. Maybe I have magic fingers too.”
The smile turned into a grin. “I never doubted it for a second.”
“But first, a day on the lake with the sun in your face will work wonders.”
To his surprise, Emma sighed. “Oh, that does sound like heaven.”
Aware of a slow, heated thrumming in his blood, Casey urged her off the elevator and through the lobby. Already he visualized her in a bikini, her skin warmed by the sun, dewy with the humidity… He had to swallow his groan to keep from alerting her to his intent. He’d have her alone in the boat, on the lake, with no way to escape. Touching her, kissing her, was a priority.
But first he intended to discover all her secrets. Something had happened to her, something bad enough to make her leave her home. Bad enough to make her leave him.
He wasn’t letting her off the boat until he knew it all.
CHAPTER NINE
B.B.’S HOT BREATH pelted Casey’s right ear as he drove. The dog, like Emma, enjoyed having the top down, his face in the wind.
Emma’s long hair whipped out behind her and she constantly had to shove it from her face. In something akin to awe, she breathed, “It’s so beautiful out here.”
Glancing at her, Casey agreed. Now that they’d hit the back roads leading toward the lake, the foliage was thicker, greener, lush. Blue cornflowers mixed with black-eyed Susans all along the roadway. Cows bawled in sprawling pastures, goats chewed on tall weeds grown along crooked fence posts. Blue-black crows as fat as ducks spread their wings and cawed as the car went past.
The narrow roads forced Casey to slow his speed, but he didn’t mind. Watching Emma reacquaint herself with her hometown made every second enjoyable. She waved to farmers in coveralls who tipped their straw hats to her and then lazily waved back. She strained to see tobacco huts and tomato stands and moss-covered ponds. She embraced the wind in her face and the sun in her eyes.
She laughed with the sheer joy of it all.
And Casey felt positively frenetic with lust. It burned his stomach and tightened his throat and kept him uncomfortably edgy.
If, as he’d first assumed, he had only lust to deal with, he’d have already pulled over to the side of the road and taken Emma beneath a tree on the sweet grass. She claimed to be willing and there was plenty of privacy here once you got far enough from the road that no cars would notice you. Making love to Emma with the hot sun on his back and the birds overhead would be downright decadent, something straight out of his dreams.
But he was afraid what he felt for her was more than mere lust. He wasn’t sure how much more and he wasn’t sure how hard it’d be to convince her of it. Emma seemed hell-bent on remembering how he’d once rejected her, instead of giving them both a chance to get reacquainted as adults. Not that he blamed her. Looking at her now, he couldn’t understand how he’d ever turned her down.
Emma was as earthy and sexual and appealing as a woman could be. And she was in her element here.
She belonged in Buckhorn. Did she belong with him?
They’d stopped at the motel where Emma had changed into her suit and a zippered terry-cloth cover-up. Snowy-white and sleeveless, it hung to midthigh, showing off the shapely length of her legs. She’d raised the zipper high enough to rest between her breasts. Casey could see the top of her beige, crocheted bathing-suit bra, which made him nuts wanting to know if it was a bikini or a one-piece.
She wore dark sunglasses and brown slip-on sandals, and she had
a large cotton satchel stuffed with a colorful beach towel, sunscreen, a bottle of water and her cell phone. She commented that she wanted the hospital to be able to reach her if they needed to.
Before they’d left the motel she’d also taken the time to call Damon on his phone, and discovered that the car was repaired and he was touring the area. Emma had promised him that she’d be back for dinner. Luckily, to Casey’s way of thinking, Damon had explained that he had a date, so Emma should take her time visiting.
Emma hadn’t seemed at all surprised or concerned with how fast Damon had gotten acquainted. Apparently he had a way with women, given the fond smile Emma wore while rolling her eyes.
Casey had no idea what Damon had planned, and he didn’t much care. As long as Damon stayed busy, he couldn’t interfere with Casey’s pursuit of Emma.
He turned the car down the long driveway to his family’s home. The property here was lined with a tidy split-rail fence to contain the few farm animals they kept. Their menagerie often varied, since some of his father’s patients paid for medical services with livestock, which they in turn often donated to the needier local families.
At present, they had several horses, an enormous hog, a fat, ornery heifer and two timid lambs. They’d keep the horses, and Honey had grown partial to the lambs. But the hog and heifer had to go. They terrorized Honey every chance they got. Whenever Honey was around, the damn cow dredged up the most threatening look a big-eyed, black-spotted bovine could manage.
Casey adored Honey, and a day didn’t go by that he didn’t appreciate her and all she gave to them, to his father. Because Sawyer’s first marriage had been such a public fiasco, no one had ever expected him to remarry.
Casey had enjoyed being raised in an all-male household, but having Honey around had been even better. Softer. Over the years, she’d planted numerous flowers along the outside of the fence: enormous white peonies, tall irises and abundant daisies. Something was always in bloom, making the area colorful and fragrant.
