by Fiona West
“I didn’t read the sign,” said Evan, his voice aggrieved. “This is my fault; I shouldn’t have been so wrapped up in the bike.”
“No, it’s not. It’s fine, it’s just a scratch.”
Evan placed a firm hand under his arm and helped him to his feet. “Can you make it home again on the bike?”
“Oh, yeah. Definitely.” But his dad was already kneeling to examine the wound for himself, gently rolling up his torn pant leg. “Hey. Listen to the patient. I’m fine.”
“Just having a quick look . . . ,” Evan soothed.
“Think of it this way: this will actually be a quick ride like you promised Mom and all the other people waiting for you to grill their dinner.”
“Funny bone doesn’t seem to be affected,” Evan muttered. “Fine, let’s get you back on the bike and see how it goes.”
Gingerly, Daniel mounted the bike again, the joint protesting, the pain screaming down his calf and up his thigh.
“See? I’m okay.” He smiled, but his father narrowed his eyes.
“I’m not an idiot, Daniel.”
“Neither am I, Dad. I don’t want to sit here while you go get the car. Let’s just get back to the house.” The scenery didn’t touch his soul in quite the same way on the way home, his pride stinging worse than the deep cuts on his knee.
CHAPTER FIVE
WINNIE WAS DREAMING about trying to set a table. The utensils kept moving while she wasn’t looking, ringing against the tiles as they fell, when she suddenly realized it was her phone that was ringing. The caller ID said Jason Miller.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Winbie,” said Jason. His wife, Lacey, was one of her newest patients. “I mean, Winnie. Sorry, I got distracted, I was looking at a magazine cover that used the word newbie in the title, and it got tangled with Winnie. I’m sorry. I do know your name, I swear . . .”
Bleary-eyed, she checked the antique clock perched on a moving box still full of comic books.
“Hi, Jason. What’s happening?” It seemed like a fair question at 11:31 p.m.
“Oh right, yes. So Lacey’s having some pain and cramping, and I wanted to take her to the emergency room. But she wanted me to call you first.”
Smart lady. “That’s good, I’m glad you did. Does she have any bleeding?” Winnie turned on the light and sat up. This wasn’t going to be a phone call she could handle quickly and go back to sleep right away; there was no point in lying in the dark.
She heard him murmuring soothingly to his wife. “She says no.”
“Does she have a fever?”
“No, she feels nice and cool.” The octave drop in his voice told her that he’d reached out to touch her, and it made her heart feel a little loopy. Couples about to have a baby were fun to be around; despite the stress, there was a lot of tenderness in them.
“And what did she have to eat tonight?”
“She wasn’t real hungry; we just had Cheerios with milk. She’s been craving it a lot, with bananas. Isn’t that funny? I’ve heard babies really like Cheerios and bananas, so it’s kind of funny that the baby is already so into such things. I don’t know if there’s any relationship—”
“Jason,” she said gently. “Can we keep the focus on Lacey for just one more minute?”
His tone was chagrined. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry. I’m just stressed.”
“That’s fine,” Winnie said. “It’s completely understandable. Is she constipated?” She put one bare foot on the distressed wooden floor to reach for her hospital bag without falling out of bed. Her notebook would remind her what Lacey had complained about last time they met. She seemed pretty easy-going; Winnie had liked her immediately.
“No, she stunk up the bathroom this morning.” She heard an offended female squawk from beyond the immediate proximity of the phone, and Winnie grinned.
“What?” Jason asked. “You did.”
Winnie cleared her throat, hoping to regain his attention. This one was going to be a handful as a labor coach. She’d be surprised if she could keep him in the room with Lacey; he’d probably be chasing surgery patients down the hall, wanting to chat.
“No weird smell when she pees?”
“I’m not usually there when she pees . . .”
Winnie chuckled quietly as Lacey yelled something she couldn’t quite make out.
Lacey’s voice came on the line, calmer now. “Hi, Winnie. Sorry about him, he’s . . .” She motorboated her lips, as if baffled at how to explain her husband. “He’s Jason.”
“He’s fine,” Winnie reassured her. “Is there any chance you have a UTI?”
“No, everything seems fine, just peeing a lot.”
“I realize this is a personal question, but just bear with me: Is it possible you two had sex tonight?”
“Yes, all my research said it was fine to continue having intercourse.”
Winnie nodded, even though Lacey couldn’t see her. “Yes, it’s definitely fine, but it can sometimes prompt cramping when you . . . finish.” She didn’t consider herself a prude, but she didn’t want to say “orgasm” right out loud like that. That didn’t seem right. Lacey was a medical professional herself, a veterinarian; different animals, so to speak, but she had to know. Surely she could figure out what she was talking about if Winnie just leaned on the word pretty hard.
“Ah.” Lacey laughed softly, and Winnie felt relief like a cool towel on the back of her neck. “I see. Well, that’s good to know. Thanks for being available to answer our questions.”
“Anytime. I mean that.”
“Thanks, Winbie,” Lacey teased, and she heard Jason in the background yell, “Oh, come on! It was one mistake!” They said good night and Winnie hung up. She was just getting up to use the bathroom and put away her notebook when she noticed the texts she’d missed while she was asleep.
Ethan: You up?
Ethan: I miss you, Win.
Ethan: I want to talk to you.
Ethan: Let’s have lunch this week, okay? My treat.
Missed wasn’t the right word; she certainly didn’t miss hearing from Ethan. She hadn’t blocked his number when he’d dumped her. Maybe she should have, but it didn’t seem very polite to her. There could be other reasons that he’d contact her—they shared a number of mutual friends. But she would have if she’d known he was going to start texting her again. This was the third time this week, plus twice last week. Maybe if she just ignored him, he’d give it up already. It had been three months since they’d broken up; she would’ve expected him to be over it by now. Winnie deleted the messages and shuffled toward the bathroom.
WHEN SHE WOKE UP THE next morning, she was momentarily confused as to who was shining such a bright light on her face. The sun. She hadn’t seen it in so long, she’d forgotten. Winnie went to the window; the sun was just cresting the top of the trees near the apartment complex, and the sky was blue and clear. Without thinking too hard, she threw on jeans and a cream cable-knit sweater. Days like this came around too infrequently to stay inside; she’d take a walk and finally explore Timber Falls’ downtown . . . such as it was. Twenty minutes later, she adjusted the headband covering her ears as she descended the steps and started down the street. She could still see her breath; spring wouldn’t be here for a while yet. Winnie mentally searched the yards she passed for signs of crocuses and daffodils, but it was too early. Still, it didn’t hurt to be on the lookout, even in January. Really, once Christmas was over, what was the point of winter?
The trees lining the downtown were bare, their branches clacking in the stiff winter breeze. There would be tourists clogging up the sidewalks in a few months, but for now, it was all locals. She saw a few faces she recognized, but she couldn’t put names to them yet. She smiled at them nonetheless. Winnie passed an antique store, an ice cream shop, a quilt store. She passed the library and waved to Starla through the window; she was the friendly librarian who’d struck up a conversation when she’d gone in to see if there was a local newspaper that mig
ht be advertising apartments for rent. Starla waved back shyly. Where Main Street crossed Hoover Avenue, there was a traffic light. It was the only one in town. When Ainsley gave her directions, she’d literally referred to it as “the light.” Singular. Town Hall stood diagonal to the library, and the fire station sat between them. It was run on a volunteer basis and was very quiet this morning except for a man in yellow pants pressure-washing the moss off the driveway.
There it was: Riverside Coffee and Deli. Ainsley said they had amazing marionberry scones, and the deck overlooked the Santiam River. It was the perfect place to enjoy a chai latte. Winnie settled into a white chair on the deck with her breakfast and her drink and was about to pull out her phone when a shadow fell over her.
“Good morning,” the older woman said. “I’m Hattie. And based on the resemblance, I’d say you must be Dr. Baker’s daughter.”
Winnie smiled. “Yes, I am. Nice to meet you, Hattie.”
“May I join you?”
She blinked. “Oh, of course. Here . . .” She pushed a chair toward her with her toe. “Please, sit down.”
“Thank you,” said Hattie, lowering herself slowly into the chair. She let out a happy sigh and closed her eyes, soaking in the sun. “Gotta get my vitamin D while I can, you know?”
“Yes, I certainly do, I had the same thought.”
A buzzing sound drew Winnie’s attention away from the woman’s contented face.
“Hummingbirds,” she breathed. There were ten round red feeders hung along the deck, and at least five of them were occupied, while other birds swooped and dive-bombed each other aggressively.
“Bet you didn’t know they were so territorial, did you?”
“No,” she said, watching with fascination as their iridescent feathers flashed in the sun.
“You’re living with Ainsley Buchanan now, aren’t you? How do you like it?” When Winnie’s face twisted with surprise, Hattie laughed. “Hummingbirds aren’t the only ones who’re territorial. I like to know how things are going in my town. Just checking on you, not trying to pry. Think of me as a one-woman welcome committee.”
“Well, thank you. I like it here so far.”
“Glad to hear it.” Hattie sipped black coffee out of a white mug that said “Timber Falls is my happy place” in black cursive. “We’re glad to have another midwife around. Hope you’ll stick around and take over Frances Mitton’s practice.” She’d gotten to work with Frances a few times, filled in for her with patients when she was attending a birth.
“I’ll consider it,” Winnie said, and took a big enough bite of her scone to preclude further conversation for the moment. Hattie grinned slyly as Winnie groaned. The scone was amazing: the tart berries paired with massive amounts of butter made it a symphony in sugar. “What is in this, magic?”
“Yup,” Hattie said, settling deeper into her chair, watching the hummingbirds.
“BREATHE IN AND OUT through your nose, little sips of air,” directed the thin brunette on the screen, tattoos winding around her white arms. Winnie tried to comply, but it wasn’t easy when you were twisted like a pretzel, holding triangle pose. Ainsley had been trying to get Winnie to go running with her, but she kept putting her off, saying she preferred yoga. But that meant she actually had to do yoga instead of just talking about it. She considered just leaving the mat out conspicuously, but she didn’t like untidiness.
“Three more breaths here,” said the yoga instructor, and Winnie closed her eyes as her ankles wobbled, her muscles shaking. She heard a key slot into the front door just before it opened, and her eyes flew open again. Daniel stood in the doorway, mouth slightly agape, watching her with interest; after a long moment, he seemed to come to his senses.
“Hi, Winnie Baker.” Daniel grinned, closing the door behind him. His hair was up, and he wore a sky-blue cashmere sweater that matched his eyes, with pressed khakis and a pair of brown vintage snakeskin loafers.
So high maintenance. Winnie tamped down her annoyance, while sending up a silent thank-you to the universe that she’d put on reasonably cute workout clothes today.
“Heard of knocking?”
“I didn’t think anyone would be here, sorry.”
He didn’t look sorry. Not at all. In fact, he looked as happy to find her here as if he’d won the lottery—maybe not the jackpot, but one of those hundred-dollar scratch-offs at least. Fashionable. I’m exciting for the moment, but it won’t last.
“My shift starts later today.”
“Ainsley left the key under the mat so I could drop this book off for her. I guess she wants it for a lesson tomorrow or something.”
“Okay, I’ll get it to her.” Winnie eyed the large flat brown book as he stood it up on the eat bar and she pivoted her triangle to the other leg. On the cover was a sepia illustration of a man in a suit with a suitcase, staring down at a white cat-like creature. “Aren’t you a grown man? What are you doing with a picture book, anyway?”
He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at her playfully, lowering his voice a full octave. “Don’t make me angry; you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.”
Winnie peered at him over her bent right knee, forgetting all about looking at the eye of her elbow like she was supposed to. “Are you quoting the Hulk right now?”
His eyes widened. “Yes! Winnie Baker, you know the Hulk’s catchphrase?”
She unbent herself and the blood rushed away from her head. “Doesn’t everyone?”
“No! Not by a long shot. You wouldn’t believe how many blank stares I get. But don’t worry, I don’t actually have much of a temper. I leave the smashing and trashing to others. Unless you’re trashing graphic novels, and then you should be prepared for a stern, nonviolent talking-to.”
“I wasn’t trashing them. I was just curious.” She chose not to mention the hundreds of comic books that sat in her bedroom, encased in plastic, boxed to keep them away from the light. “I assume your skin doesn’t turn green.”
“Unfortunately, no, but can you imagine how popular I’d be if it did? It’d be epic.”
“Come to Santiam Hospital, get treated by a gentle green doctor. Is that it?”
His gaze softened. “That’s it. Hey, any chance you’re free for dinner tonight?”
“I’m afraid not. Perhaps another time.” She had promised Ainsley and Martina they would watch a movie tonight, but really, she was just being polite suggesting he still had a chance; surely he’d understand that.
He smiled. “Okay.” Daniel cleared his throat, gesturing over his shoulder with one thumb. “I’ll leave you to finish your workout in peace. Nice to see you again.”
Winnie turned her attention back to her practice, but her concentration was off. She was remembering . . .
“Whatcha reading, sweet pea?” She turned to see her dad wander into the living room with several books in his arms. He angled his head to see better. “Captain Underpants?” She grinned as he made a face. “Oh, we can do better than that. Come with me.”
His office? She wasn’t allowed in here. With fascination, she followed him into the darkened room to a shelf filled with thin books.
“Let’s see, what’s kid-appropriate . . . ,” he mumbled to himself. “Ah. Here. The Hulk, that should be okay. Read this and let me know what you think. There’s a lot more where that comes from.”
“What does he do?” she asked, flipping through it, touching the bright colors on the pages.
“Wait until they make Hulk mad. You find out. Hulk have bad temper.” He flexed his biceps and stuck out his jaw, and Winnie laughed.
When she finished the video, she padded back to her room on bare feet on the thin carpet. Kneeling, she took the lid off the box of comics . . . It should be here somewhere. With a triumphant flourish, she pulled out Incredible Hulk #24. She would lose herself in the book for a while in order to not think about the handsome doctor who’d dropped by so unexpectedly, who apparently shared her affinity for her favorite art form; Bruce needed to
avenge his murdered wife, after all. The Abomination must be defeated. The corners of the pages were discolored and bent; she’d read this one so many times after her dad died. It was a way to remember him, to remember the good times they’d had. His love of books, his silly faces, the way he could captivate a room with a story, how he was mild mannered to a fault. Reading these pages over and over, she’d wished there were some way to find closure. Wished there were someone she could battle in retaliation for losing him too soon.
CHAPTER SIX
“THERE SHE IS,” HER grandfather bellowed when he opened the front door. “There she is, oh, come here, you.” He wrapped her in a hug that squeezed the air out of her lungs and that didn’t stop until she tipped her head to kiss his rough cheek. Howard smelled like coffee and cigars tonight. He was wearing the kind of pinstriped dress shirt he wore to teach his economics classes at Oregon State, not his usual Sunday casual.
“What are we watching?”
“Seahawks at Broncos.”
“Ooh, you must feel torn.”
“I do, child,” he said, nodding somberly, pressing a hand over his heart. “I do. Thank you for understanding. Rooting for the team of one’s childhood home is sacred.” His greeting for her mother was nearly as enthusiastic, though he released her much earlier. He called her “child” as well, kissing her cheek. Her dad’s family had always been a bit demonstrative, her mother had explained to her as a child. Just go with it, she’d whispered. You can always fix your hair later.
Winnie was slipping off her shoes and hanging up her coat when she heard her grandmother singing. She’d always admired her voice, and she’d had ample opportunity to hear it: when Heloise Baker wanted music, she largely made it herself. For tonight’s selection, however, she was allowing her speakers to accompany her, even though it was an old favorite: “Una Notte a Napoli” by Pink Martini. The sweeping, romantic music always made Winnie wish she knew how to ballroom dance. Its sustained minor key was wistful.
