Life After Perfect

by Nancy Naigle

  “I’m glad.” She nodded and forced a weak smile. “I can hardly wait to see him now.”

  “Good. You can bet he’s just as excited as you are.”

  “Can you help me to the bed? I’m so tired.”

  “Sure.” He stepped over and held out his arm, and then rather than let her struggle, he lifted her into his arms. She was so light. She barely weighed as much as his turnout gear bag. He moved slowly, gently placing her on the mattress.

  She let out a breath, and he pulled the sheet and blankets up over her.

  Kelly Jo snuggled under the covers, drawing them up high against her chin.

  “Laney was very blessed,” she said, and then she closed her eyes.

  He sat in the chair near the bed and watched her sleep for he wasn’t sure how long. Her tiny frame barely made an outline under the heavy quilt. The soft yellow pattern looked pale compared to her skin. Her liver was failing. She was right. There wasn’t time for much of anything anymore.

  When he walked back out to the front of the house, Naomi was sitting on the couch, but he didn’t see Katy anywhere.

  “Thanks, ladies,” he said anyway, raising a hand.

  Katy swung through the kitchen door. “I thought I heard your voice.” She came toward him. “I wrapped up a couple of those cupcakes for you. They’re right there on the desk.”

  He reached for the small plate with a piece of plastic wrap across the top. Toothpicks tented the plastic from the frosting.

  “Thanks.” He lifted it and gave her a nod. “Didn’t know you could cook.”

  “I think anyone can be a good cook in this kitchen. Have you ever seen it?” Her eyes were wide, like a kid who had just spotted Santa at the mall.

  Derek shook his head. “Can’t say that I have.”

  “Naomi, do you mind if I show him the kitchen? It’s amazing.”

  Naomi shook her head. “Sure, honey. Grab me a cup of tea while you’re in there, would you?”

  Katy waved Derek back, and then picked up Naomi’s teacup and headed through the swinging door to the kitchen. She held the door wide. “Look at this!”

  Derek had heard the stories of this place, of course, but even though Marshall and Dillon Laumann threw a lot of parties and had quite a public following, few of the locals had actually ever been on the grounds of the huge estate until after Marshall died and Naomi had turned their home into an inn.

  “I’m glad I didn’t have to repaint a pink kitchen this size.”

  “I used to love being in the kitchen, but I’ll admit I’m a little out of practice. I sure am enjoying rattling around in here. I can’t seem to keep myself from cooking. You might have to put Naomi on a diet when I leave here.”

  “I think she could do with a few pounds. Probably with the help too.”

  Katy nodded thoughtfully. “You know, I’d had the same thought. Maybe that’s why I landed in Boot Creek. I mean they say everything happens for a reason.”

  “Right.” That made him think about his own project. “Maybe you’d like to come over to my house. I’ve got this thing I’ve been thinking about. I wouldn’t mind bouncing it off you. It’s not fully fleshed out, but maybe you could let me know what you think. With your project background, you might even have some suggestions.”

  She didn’t answer right away, and that caught him off guard. In his head, this conversation had gone a lot more smoothly. She’d answer with a big smile and notable excitement in her eyes. Instead, she sucked in a breath like she was going to make a wish and blow out a candle. He wasn’t quite sure if she was going to say yes or no.

  “Yeah. Sure. That sounds good.”

  He tried to hold back the obvious relief he was feeling. “I’ll pick you up when I finish up at the clinic today.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you later then.” She poured Naomi’s tea and then headed for the door, holding it for Derek.

  But he put his hand above her head and scooted her through first. His mom raised a gentleman and he wasn’t about to compromise on that.

  Naomi poked her head up over the couch like a meerkat. “I’d heard you bought Clancy Jennings’s old place after their kids shipped his wife down to Florida.” She started laughing, a raucous you-got-stuck kind of belly laugh. She had to catch her breath. “Oh, Lordy, when Clancy died, she was so mad at him for letting things get in such disrepair. She’d been hounding him to paint forever. You’ll love this, Katy. When the old fart died, just for spite, his wife hired a bunch of college kids over the summer and had them paint it pink. And I’m not talking some peach pink or burgundy pink. I’m talking fluorescent highlighter pink!”

  “Very John Cougar Mellencampish,” Katy said trying to make light of the fact that she’d already been to his house.

  “Tonight at six-thirty?”

  Naomi was nodding her head, as if encouraging the words out of Katy’s mouth.

  “See you then.”

  “Great.” He wanted to run out the door before she could change her mind. “Good.” He shoved his hands in his pocket and backed out. “Looking forward to it.” He started to walk away, but then turned around. “Got your phone?”

  She pulled it out of her pocket and held it in the air.

  “Hand it over.”

  Katy typed in her security code and then thrust it in his direction.

  He typed his phone number in her phone and called himself. His phone rang. Now he had hers too. “There you go. In case anything comes up.”

  He walked out of the house with his confidence spiraling upward.

  In the truck, he typed in her name on the contact entry and saved it.

  True to his word, Derek picked Katy up at six-thirty. He helped her into the truck and they made the short drive from the inn to his house.

  When they got to his house, Katy could see what he meant about all the plants being pink, too. Every flowering plant on the property was pink. Pink crepe myrtles and pink petunias. She could guess that the azaleas that filled the flower bed following the fence line probably bloomed in a hot pink or magenta in the spring too. At least it played nicely in the sunshine with the new wine color he’d painted the shutters. She could only imagine his reaction when he’d first rolled up to this house only to find it painted pink.

  Probably enough to make just about any grown man cry.

  Derek wasn’t wearing his lab coat, but he still had on his crisp dress shirt, and had lost the tie, opened the top buttons, and turned up the cuffs. He looked some kind of good no matter how he was dressed, and her heart made it hard to play it cool.

  He parked in front of his house and led her inside. “I’ve got some pork chops we can throw on the grill if you’re hungry.”

  He looked a little nervous too, and that made her feel a little less so. Thank goodness because those first few minutes her heart felt like it was pa-pow-pow-pounding. At least now it wasn’t echoing in her own ears.

  “If you’re not too hungry yet, I thought I might show you around the property before we eat.”

  “I’d like that.”

  He held the door open and they walked outside. Out back there were at least a dozen dwarf fruit trees. “If you like baking, you ought to come get some of these apples. I drop as many as I can into buckets and take them over to the hog farmer in Level Green a couple times a week just so they don’t go to waste. Can you make an apple pie?”

  “Best apple pie you’ve ever had.” She raised her hand into the leaves of the tree.

  “Are you bragging?” he asked.

  “Totally,” she said.

  He led her down the path through the tiny orchard and then out to the clearing. He’d marked off what he hoped would be the future site of the retreat weeks ago. It was very preliminary with all he had to get done on the house first, but it kept him motivated.

  She turned and looked curious, pointing to
the stakes with bright yellow tape hanging from them. “What’s that?”

  “That’s part of the project I wanted to tell you about. My future. Well, maybe. It’s still in the idea phase.”

  “You mean in case the doctor and firefighter gigs don’t work out?”

  He liked her quick wit. “No. I’ve been thinking about maybe building a retreat here one day. This would be the building site. At least I think so.”

  “What kind of retreat?”

  He took her hand and walked toward the markers. She hadn’t noticed the bench beneath a curved area where a half dozen river birch trees stood until now. It blended right in with the surroundings. He let her sit first and then sat down next to her. The wooden slider chair moved back and forth.

  He lifted his arm up over the back of the chair. “I still want to make a difference in this world. Somehow. But after Laney, it changed how I felt about cancer and treating it. So, I’m thinking about building a retreat of sorts. Somewhere to get away and rebalance.”

  “So, a retreat? For cancer patients?”

  He shook his head. “No. Not for the patients. For the doctors. Creating a place where medical professionals can renew themselves and keep themselves balanced. It just might be my way of giving back.”

  Her eyes widened. “I see. So treat those that heal. Keep them healthy and they can heal more people.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Neat. So tell me about it. How many rooms? What’s it like? Do you have a style in mind?”

  “Picture casual elegance. Two stories. Plenty of privacy. Lots of windows. Sunlight is good. Lots of it.”

  She watched as he described the setting. If she had to guess, he could probably describe every room. He’d given this more than just a little thought. She admired his passion—he could look past his pain to find a way to give back. How long would it take before she could look past what had happened to really see a different future?

  He pointed off to where a thin stand of trees seemed to mark the entry to deeper foliage. “Hiking trails over there.”

  “That sounds beautiful.”

  “Honestly I don’t think it matters what it looks like. I think it will be the attitude of the place that will make it work. I want it to have a relaxing feeling to it. Simple, but comfortable.”

  “How’s this different from the inn?”

  He nodded. “You’re a smart lady.”

  “Yeah. I know.” She could tell he had a lot more going on in that brain of his.

  “Can I tell you over dinner?”

  “Absolutely, but I’m not going to forget.”

  “I don’t want you to.”

  Derek stood, then took her hand and they walked back up to the house without much conversation. When they got to the back deck, he raised the top of the grill and pressed the button. The flame danced beneath the grates as they went inside.

  He went straight over to the refrigerator and retrieved a covered plate.

  “Is there something I can do?”

  “I’ve got some salad. We’ll just do a salad and pork chops, if that works for you.”

  “Works for me.” She followed him outside.

  He put the chops on the grill and just as she walked over to sit down on one of the chairs on the deck, the sky opened up.

  She raced inside, but Derek was already soaked to the bone.

  He closed the lid on the grill and ran into the house for cover.

  “That is the coldest rain!” He was laughing and wet. When he saw that she was laughing, he grabbed her in a hug, soaking her too.

  She wiggled free from his grip. “Hey. No fair.”

  He glanced outside. “Maybe we don’t need those pork chops.”

  The rain came down in buckets.

  “Don’t you have an umbrella?” she asked, and a roll of thunder shook the house.

  “That doesn’t seem like a very good idea. You have a death wish? Because I’m pretty sure even when things get bad, I still want to live.”

  “Oh, stop that. There’s no lightning.”

  “Yet,” he said. “Besides it’ll be a little hard to hold an umbrella and turn the meat and hold the plate and . . . we might just be eating salad.”

  “You have to have protein. A balanced diet. Aren’t you a doctor? You should know that.”

  “I get paid to say that.”

  They exchanged a subtle look of amusement. “Where’s the umbrella?”

  “There’s one by the door.”

  She got it and they stood at the door watching for lightning. “I don’t see any lightning. Do you?”

  “No, and those pork chops are smoking.” He looked at her as if challenging her. “It’s now or never.”

  She twisted the knob in her hand and swung the door open. She pushed the umbrella out first and opened it. The huge blue golf umbrella was big enough to cover both of them and a friend. The Duke Cancer Center logo showed more proof of the life this man had once lived, and that he hadn’t let go of it completely. She wondered if he’d ever find his way back. Maybe Naomi was right and there was something even bigger in the future for him.

  “No sense risking bad luck,” she explained. “Come on,” she said as she stepped outside under the umbrella.

  “I’m already wet.” He stepped outside, too, and walked alongside her.

  “Get under here. You’re going to catch a cold.”

  He gave her his serious doctor look. “That’s not how you catch a cold.”

  “It could happen, and then it would be my fault.” Okay, so maybe that was stretching it.

  He dipped his head and got under the large dome with her. “Happy now?”

  “Yes.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her.

  The rain pounding on the umbrella was loud, and it was probably a good thing because she was pretty sure when he moved in deeper with that kiss that she’d just moaned. His mouth on hers made her want to drop the umbrella and clamor for higher ground, for air, or maybe really what she wanted was more. The assault of emotion was dizzying.

  And then as quickly as he’d surprised her with that kiss, he stepped out from under the umbrella back into the pouring rain and lifted the lid of the grill to rescue the pork chops from the rising flames.

  “They’re on fire!” she said, and she knew exactly what it was like because every nerve in her body felt like it had just sparked. “Break out those fireman skills. Want me to go get your cute suit?”

  He gave her an exaggerated glare.

  “Too much?”

  “Yeah.”

  He quickly moved the meat off to the side of the grill, away from the flames, and then opened the drawer below the cooking space to get a small basting mop. He swished the mop into a sauce on the top rack and worked it over the pork chops and then settled them back on the grill top.

  “What is that?”

  “Chef’s secret.”

  “Really now?”

  “Okay, it’s just butter and garlic with a little barbecue sauce mixed in.”

  “Garlic butter?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Guess it’s a good thing you already kissed me.” And she’d liked it. A lot.

  “You look disappointed.”

  She opened her mouth, but nothing witty came to mind, and she wasn’t about to say what was on her mind . . . which was, “Yes, I’m disappointed.” She closed her mouth and shrugged. Seemed like the only safe response at the moment.

  He dropped the top of the grill down with a loud clank and turned to face her, taking the umbrella from her hand and tossing it over the side of the deck.

  “Hey—” she started.

  But suddenly his mouth was on hers and she couldn’t care less that they were getting soaking wet, or if those pork chops got burned to smithereens.

  L
ost in the kiss, Derek didn’t seem to notice the smoke pouring from the grill, but she could see it floating up behind him. The rain sizzled against the hot metal.

  He turned around and glanced at the grill. “Damn.” He fished the meat off the grill onto a plate.

  She laughed. “I’m sure they’ll taste fine.”

  “I wanted to impress you.”

  “You did. It was those firefighting skills.” And so many other things about him that she’d needed right now. Like someone who wanted to share. Wanted to hear her opinion. Who seemed interested. She hadn’t even realized how much she’d missed that . . . until she had it again.

  He ran his finger down her rain-soaked top.

  She shivered at his touch.

  “The temperature has dropped,” he said, looking to the sky.

  “That wasn’t that kind of chill.” She barely recognized the deep, soft tone of her own voice.

  “Is that okay?” he asked.

  “Oh yeah. Amazing.”

  “Good. I like that,” he said, dropping kisses into the nape of her neck with each word. “It’ll be even more amazing if I didn’t completely ruin our dinner. Let’s get these inside and see what we’ve got.”

  Katy walked inside behind him. “I promised Naomi a doggie bag if we ate.”

  “She might be going hungry.”

  But the chops were fine. A little charred on one side, and Derek played it off as a way to settle their stomachs and overeat at the same time—giving her a little Medicine 101 on the benefits of charcoal for intestinal discomfort and heartburn.

  She stayed away from the garlicky mushrooms.

  “I’m eating those, so you better,” he said pointing to the mushrooms.

  “What? You gonna withhold my dessert if I don’t eat my veggies?”

  “Hey! If I have garlic breath . . . you should have it too. Unless you don’t plan on letting me kiss you again.”

  She stared into his eyes, enjoying the playful banter. She lifted her fork and, without ever breaking the lock with his gaze, she stabbed a mushroom and stuck it in her mouth.