For the Sake of Warwick Mountain (Harlequin Heartwarming)

by Douglas, Charlotte

  Then why had she opened up to him and shared the story of the most humiliating time of her life?

  That answer was easy. The wine had gone to her head. Becca apparently wasn’t used to drinking. That fact gave him pause. He’d dated petite actresses who could imbibe all night, and still be bright-eyed and pert hours later.

  Even though he was a doctor, for the first time he felt suddenly offended that these women had abused their bodies so flagrantly.

  Matt stopped, holding a sheet of drywall in midair. He’d never thought that way before about the women he’d dated. Drug and alcohol abuse were the norm for the Hollywood social scene. That explained why meeting a woman like Becca was like a breath of fresh air.

  Was he falling for a Goody Two-shoes?

  Not a Goody Two-shoes, he realized with a jolt, but a woman who had self-respect.

  So much self-respect that the first guy she’d dated got her pregnant?

  Matt shook his head. So much self-respect that she tore up a hundred-thousand-dollar check, a bribe for her silence and a fortune for a woman like Becca, rather than let herself be bought off by a worthless scum and his father.

  That self-respect was one of the main differences between Becca and the other women Matt had known. The others would have sold their souls for the right part, the trendiest look, the best connections. Becca’s values were as deeply rooted as Warwick Mountain itself.

  So why should he expect a woman like her to have anything to do with Dr. Wonderful, stud to the stars?

  Matt clenched his teeth in anger. He wasn’t the man the magazine had portrayed. Too close for comfort maybe, but he wasn’t as degenerate as the unrealistic picture the article had painted. Sure, he’d partied too hard, spent too much, passed his spare time in frivolous pursuits and enjoyed his freedom, but he’d never broken a woman’s heart. He’d never made promises he wouldn’t keep. Certainly never left a woman high, dry and pregnant like that slimeball Grady.

  Was he trying to convince himself that he was worthy of a woman like Becca?

  Matt wasn’t talking about marrying her. He just wanted to be her friend.

  But he had been thinking of marriage—

  A high-pitched squeaky voice behind him jolted Matt from his churning thoughts. “Whatcha doing, mister?”

  Matt fumbled the drywall sheet back onto the sawhorses and turned toward the door. A small, slight figure, a child dressed in shorts, a T-shirt and well-worn sneakers with a Braves baseball cap pulled low on his face stood in the shadows.

  “I’m hanging drywall,” Matt said.

  “Why?”

  “To make an office.”

  “What kind of office?”

  “A doctor’s office.” Although Matt wondered why he bothered, after what Becca had told him last night.

  “Where’s the doctor?” the boy, who appeared to be around eight years old, asked.

  “You’re looking at him.”

  “Didn’t know doctors did work.”

  “Some doctors have been known to break a sweat,” Matt said dryly.

  “Are you the doctor who’s going to fix my face?”

  Now the boy had Matt’s complete attention. “What’s wrong with your face?”

  The boy stepped forward into the glare from the electrical lights Matt had suspended to illuminate his work area. He immediately noted the scarred and puckered skin of the boy’s right arm exposed by his short-sleeved T-shirt. The boy whipped off his ball cap, revealing a thick thatch of red hair that stood in unruly clumps where it hadn’t been matted by the cap’s band. Bright blue eyes confronted Matt, as if daring him to flinch at the boy’s appearance. Only Matt’s years of training allowed him to gaze dispassionately at the boy’s scars, which marred the right side of his face as completely as a wealth of freckles covered the left.

  “Are you Jimmy Dickens?”

  “Yeah. How’d you know?”

  “Miss Warwick told me about you.”

  At the mention of his teacher, the boy’s face softened into an expression of unmistakable puppy love. With a start, Matt realized he knew just how the kid felt.

  Shaking off his feelings for Becca, Matt glanced behind the boy toward the door. “Are your parents with you?”

  “Ma’s up at the church, meeting with the ladies’ society.”

  “Does she know you’re here?” Matt asked.

  Jimmy looked guilty. “She said I could buy gum at the Shop-N-Go.”

  “How long is her meeting?” Matt asked.

  “Till lunchtime.”

  “I was about to have coffee. You want some milk and cookies? Then you can tell me what happened to your face.”

  Jimmy hesitated, as if well aware he was violating his mother’s instructions.

  “Tell you what,” Matt suggested. “I’ll bring them out to the loading dock, so you can watch for your mom, in case she gets out of her meeting early. That okay with you?”

  Jimmy nodded, and Matt went into the back room. He filled a mug with coffee, loaded chocolate chip cookies from their package onto a plate and added a glass of milk. When he carried the snacks out front, Jimmy was sitting on the edge of the dock, swinging his legs over the side. Matt handed the boy the plate and sat beside him.

  “So,” Matt said as casually as possible. “What happened to your face?”

  Jimmy swigged his milk, leaving a white mustache above his upper lip. “Ma burned me.”

  “How’d that happen?”

  “It was an accident. Ma loves me. She wouldn’t have done it on purpose.”

  “Of course not,” Matt agreed.

  “Sometimes she cries when she looks at me.” Sadness etched the boy’s face. “She feels so bad at what she done.”

  “Tell me about the accident.”

  “It was two years ago when I was just a little kid. Ma was fixing to fry green tomatoes.” His sadness disappeared and his blue eyes brightened. “She makes the best fried green tomatoes in the county. Wins all the ribbons at the county fair.”

  Matt sipped his coffee and prayed for patience. Apparently Jimmy would have to meander through his tale at his own pace.

  “Ma had the lard heating in the frying pan, but the baby started crying. While she was checking on the baby, the lard caught fire. I hollered for Ma and asked her what to do. She came running, grabbed the burning pan with a pot holder and told me to open the back door.” Jimmy took a bite of cookie and chewed thoughtfully, as if remembering. “We was all afraid the house would catch fire.”

  “But it didn’t?”

  Jimmy shook his head. “It was my fault.”

  “That the grease caught fire?”

  “That Ma tripped. I shoulda stood behind the door, not in front of it. She stumbled over my foot and the burning grease sloshed all over me.”

  Matt’s heart went out to the little boy. “That must have hurt.”

  Jimmy nodded solemnly and swallowed a mouthful of cookie. “It hurt something powerful. My clothes caught fire, and Ma rolled me in the grass. Then she took me inside and coated my burns with butter. Said that would soothe them, but it didn’t.”

  Matt suppressed a scowl. Apparently knowledge of the uselessness—and potential harm—of that old wives’ remedy hadn’t yet reached into the back roads of Warwick Mountain.

  “When I couldn’t stop crying—” Jimmy hung his head with an embarrassed expression “—Ma called the County Fire and Rescue, and they sent the paramedics.”

  “I would have cried, too,” Matt assured him, “if I’d been burned like that. Takes strong painkillers to numb that kind of pain.”

  “The paramedics musta used them. They gave me a shot that knocked me out. Next thing I knew, I woke up in the hospital in town.” His voice dropped to almost a whisper. “And it still hurt.”
>
  Matt cursed silently. He’d seen the tiny hospital in town when he’d gone to buy supplies. Better than a walk-in clinic, but definitely not equipped to handle an emergency such as Jimmy’s.

  Life sure wasn’t fair. If Jimmy had been living in Los Angeles or some other major city when he’d been burned, he’d have been instantly airlifted by helicopter to the nearest burn-trauma unit, where he would have received immediate specialized care. That treatment would not only have reduced his suffering, it would have lessened the amount of excessive scarring.

  “Did they move you to a special burn unit?” Matt asked.

  “A few days later.”

  The boy’s answer confirmed Matt’s suspicions about the extent of his scarring.

  “Guess you spent a lot of time at the burn unit,” Matt said.

  Pain flitted across the boy’s face. “Months. But the folks was nice to me. They treated me good,” he added quickly.

  “And when you came home? Did people here treat you well?”

  Jimmy grinned, what would have been a beautiful sight if the right side of his face had responded as the left had. “The ladies brought me so many cakes and pies, we had to give some to the neighbors.”

  “And the kids at school?” Matt asked gently.

  The grin faded, replaced by such sadness Matt ached for the boy. “Some of ’em laughed at me. Called me names. All except Lizzie.”

  Lizzie McClain, Matt thought with a clutch in his heart. That little sweetheart knew the agony of being taunted about her looks. She wasn’t about to inflict that misery on another.

  “So...” Jimmy finished the last of his milk, hunched his shoulders, and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “You gonna fix my face?”

  The hope shining in the boy’s eyes stabbed through Matt like a serrated blade. “That depends on a couple of things,” he said and watched the hope die in Jimmy’s eyes and his shoulders slump.

  “Things like what?” Jimmy asked warily.

  “I’ll need your parents’ permission to treat you, for starters.”

  “That’s no problem. They want my face fixed. Ma, especially, so she won’t cry no more when she looks at me.”

  Matt sighed. Apparently the boy hadn’t heard the Dr. Wonderful gossip. And he wasn’t about to explain that complex dilemma to an eight-year-old. “There may be a problem.” Matt chose his words carefully. “Your parents may not want me to treat you. They were expecting Dr. Peyseur.”

  Jimmy nodded. “We met him last year. How come he didn’t come back?”

  “He broke his wrist and couldn’t operate, so he sent me instead.”

  Jimmy thought for a minute. “Ma and Pa liked Dr. Peyseur. If he says you’re okay, then that’ll be good enough for them.”

  Remembering Becca’s reports of the community’s reservations about him, Matt doubted that. “Did Dr. Peyseur explain that fixing your face might take a long time? More than one operation over several years?”

  “Yep, he sure did. That’s why I’m anxious to get started.” The boy’s clear gaze met Matt’s without flinching. “The sooner the better. Will you do it?”

  “I’ll talk to your parents. We’ll leave the rest up to them.”

  Jimmy nodded, apparently satisfied that all would be well. Matt didn’t have the heart to discourage him. Besides, he intended to use all his persuasive powers to convince Mr. And Mrs. Dickens to let him begin. His fingers itched to start reconstructing the right side of Jimmy’s face so it would be as appealing as the left. The boy was a good kid. He didn’t deserve the stigma of his scars.

  “Now—” Matt picked up the empty plate and glass “—you’d better buy your gum and go back to the church before your mother starts to worry about you.”

  Jimmy stood and flashed his endearing lopsided grin. “Thanks, Dr.—”

  “Tyler.”

  “Thanks, Dr. Tyler. I’ll see you soon.”

  Jimmy jumped from the dock and headed across the street to the store, his happy whistle floating back to Matt on the morning stillness.

  * * *

  “YOU OKAY, MAMA?” Emily’s voice seemed to come at Becca from a distance. “Mama?”

  Becca blinked, seeing for the first time the book she’d been staring at for the past hour without reading a word. As she sat on the front porch in the pool of morning sunlight, her thoughts had centered on Matt and the unforgettable kiss he’d given her last night.

  “Can I?” Emily asked, making Becca realize she’d been so preoccupied, she had missed entirely what Emily had said.

  “Can you what?”

  “Have lunch with Lizzie. Her mama said it was okay.”

  Becca started to protest that Emily spent too much time at the McClain house, then relented. Emily was Lizzie’s best playmate, after all. The only one who didn’t tease Lizzie about her cleft palate and strange speech. Becca had tried to instill in her daughter an acceptance of people as they were, and she was grateful that Emily gave Lizzie her unconditional friendship.

  Besides, in the distracted mental state Becca was in, she might poison Emily unintentionally if she tried to feed her. “As long as it’s all right with Mrs. McClain. But remember your manners.”

  Emily threw her arms around Becca’s neck, planted a sloppy kiss on her cheek and skipped off the porch toward the McClains’.

  Suddenly Granny’s voice sounded in Becca’s head, as clearly as if she sat in the rocker next to hers.

  What have you gone and done, child? You itching to have your heart broke all over again?

  It was just a simple kiss, Becca thought. No big deal.

  Then why have you been in a trance all morning, like you’ve taken leave of your senses? Except your sense of smell, that is. I saw you bury your face in that sweater of his.

  It had been years since a man had paid attention to her, Becca argued. Why shouldn’t she be allowed to enjoy the sensation?

  Might come to enjoy it too much. So much you won’t want to let it go. What happens when Dr. Wonderful goes home to Hollywood?

  When he left, she’d forget about him. After all, she had Emily and her job. She didn’t need a man in her life to make it complete.

  Took you a powerful long time to forget Grady, and him no good and not worth shooting. How long you think it’ll take to forget a man like Matt Tyler?

  All she’d have to do, Becca figured, was remind herself of the multitude of starlets Matt had returned to. That should clear her head fast.

  And what about your heart?

  Her heart wasn’t an issue. She wasn’t emotionally involved. Last night she’d simply enjoyed the company of an extremely handsome man.

  Who smothered you with kindness. Was Grady ever that considerate?

  Grady had his own agenda, Becca remembered, although she’d taken a long time to recognize that fact. Grady had cared only about Grady.

  What’s on the doctor’s agenda?

  Matt’s intentions didn’t matter, Becca insisted. He was nothing more than a summer fling. If that. He’d probably kissed her only because he felt sorry for her after she’d poured out her pathetic story.

  But what a kiss.

  Her bones melted at the memory of it, and she longed for another one.

  She had to put a stop to her foolish thoughts.

  She sprang from her chair and set her unread book aside. She’d trim the spirea hedge around the porch. The physical activity should drive her unwanted yearnings away and clear her head of Granny’s warnings.

  She was passing through the house on her way to the barn for the loppers when the phone rang. The sound startled her, because folks in Warwick Mountain seldom used the telephone except in dire emergencies.

  She grabbed the receiver with foreboding and a breathless “Hello.”

  “Hope I’m
not interrupting,” a deep, familiar voice announced.

  “Matt?”

  “Just had my phone installed. Had to try it out.”

  Angry at herself for the way her heart responded merely at the sound of his voice, she said dryly, “Seems to be working fine.”

  He must have registered the edge in her tone. “Don’t hang up. There’s something I want to tell you.”

  Her heart pounded against her breastbone. Was he going to admit that she’d affected him as much as he had her? “I’m listening.”

  “I met Jimmy Dickens.”

  Swallowing the disappointment of her dashed expectations, she could almost hear Granny saying an I-told-you-so. “And?”

  “He’s a super little kid. We have to talk his parents into starting his facial repairs immediately.”

  She couldn’t be angry with a man who appreciated one of her favorite students. “I agree. But it’s going to be a hard sell. Mrs. Dickens is a pillar of the Baptist church. Your alleged reputation will be a real sticking point with her.”

  “I have to try. The boy deserves better than what life’s dished out to him. I want to help.”

  The sincerity in Matt’s voice was undeniable, and Becca felt her bones melting again. And her heart. How could she not be attracted to a man who cared about children and their suffering? “We could work in a visit to the Dickenses after seeing Lydia and the McClains tomorrow.”

  “I’ll pick you up at one o’clock. That’ll give us the entire afternoon. Got a pencil?”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll give you my number.”

  “Tomorrow is fine. I won’t need to call you back.”

  “I’m not thinking about tomorrow.”

  “Right,” she said. “I’ll have it in case someone needs a doctor.”

  “You’ll have it in case you need me.” An unidentifiable emotion weighted his voice.

  “Emily and I are perfectly healthy—”

  “I’m still concerned about those lights in the woods,” he said. “I want you to call me if you see them again.”

  A warm, fuzzy feeling suffused her. “I wouldn’t want to wake you in the middle of the night.”