Could Be Something Good

by Fiona West

  “Pardon?”

  “Don’t ‘pardon’ me like you’re senile; that gray hair doesn’t fool me. You haven’t told me what team you’re on.”

  “Yours, of course. How can you even ask me?” She pushed the pan of brownies toward him, and he took one for himself. “How does your girl feel about the publicity?”

  “She’s not crazy about it. She’s from—” He started to say California, but he stopped himself just in time. “Salem. They’re not so all up in each other’s business there, I don’t think.”

  “Mmm.” She dusted the chocolate off her hands and got up to pour her tea from the steaming kettle. “Well, I can have them tone things down if you want, but it’s not going to stop people from talking. They’ll just be less public about it.”

  “I think that’d still be for the best. Thanks, Hattie.”

  “If she’s going to be one of us, though, she’s going to have to get used to it . . .”

  “Yeah.” He had the urge to scrub his scalp with his fingers, but he didn’t want to mess up his hair. Shallow.

  “You want some advice?”

  “Please.”

  “There’s an all-church work day at St. Thomas Episcopalian Church, where her mother attends, next Saturday. Put it on your calendar.”

  He pulled out his phone to leave himself an audio message.

  “And the PTO is having a pancake fundraiser for the high school’s new pool. See if you can get on the serving line.”

  “This is good stuff,” he muttered, opting to type it so she wouldn’t stop talking. “Anything else?”

  Hattie shrugged and sat back. “Just that you get in front of her outside of work as much as possible and be your charming self.” She pointed at him sternly. “And do things that’ll keep you out of the house, to avoid temptation. My team’s gonna win this thing.”

  He paused. “What if I screw this up?”

  “You won’t.”

  “But if I do, everyone’s going to know we failed. They’re going to know Dr. Baker won.”

  “So what?” she asked. “People will forget about it as soon as Jean Helsing and James Miller get into a shouting match about the gravel truck’s route the next time it snows.”

  Daniel nodded, chuckling. “You’re probably right. Thanks. I’ve gotta go see Winnie now.”

  “You want to take some of the brownies? Might help smooth things over.”

  He smiled gently. “No, I’m good; she’s more of an ice cream person. Those are yours. And the carrots are for your royalty out back.”

  “They’ll appreciate them, I’m sure.”

  “See you, Hattie.”

  She walked him to the door. “Don’t be such a stranger. And tell your teacher friend to ask out your brother, the grumpy one. I’m tired of waiting for him.”

  Daniel laughed. “Yes, ma’am.” He had no such intention, he thought as he drove over to Ainsley and Winnie’s apartment, nervous. He took the steps two at a time, and she had the door open already when he got to the top.

  “Hey.” Her tone was slightly cold; that was strange.

  “Hey.” He pulled her close and kissed her. She tasted like peppermint tea, and it felt appropriate, because peppermint tasted like Christmas, and that was how Winnie made him feel. Happy.

  “You got my message?” She bit out the words, and he scowled.

  “Yes, sorry. I was so busy working on the solution, I forgot to text you.” He came into the apartment. Ainsley was sprawled on the couch on her stomach, eating popcorn and reading a thick novel. “Hey, Slick.”

  “Hey.” She smiled. Hattie’s request came to mind, and he bit back the words. They needed to work it out themselves. He shouldn’t get involved, even though he’d love to see them together. Before he could say anything more to Ainsley, Winnie took his hand and started dragging him down the hall toward the bedrooms. His eyes wide, he looked to Ainsley for an explanation, who just smirked.

  “I have twenty bucks riding on you two!” she called after them. “Leave room for the Holy Spirit!”

  Winnie didn’t slow down. She pulled Daniel past the bathroom, past Ainsley’s room, and straight into her bedroom and shut the door. He hadn’t been in here yet, and he took the opportunity to look around, even as his mind strained to figure out what was going on. Her modern, floral down comforter was on her neatly made bed, and on her windows were a coordinating gray roller shade and pink blackout curtains. Her shoes were paired, each inside its own little pocket, in a canvas shoe holder on the door of her closet; the clothes inside seemed to be organized by season, then color. Her bookcase was full of midwifery textbooks, comic books, and childhood favorites. The desk in the corner, however, was a mountain of papers and books, and he grinned to see that evidence of her imperfection. Though, strangely, he thought it made her a little more perfect.

  “Hey!” She snapped her fingers near his eyes, and irritation bristled inside him. He focused on what she was shoving in his face: her phone.

  Martina: Hear that?

  Martina: That’s the sound of hearts breaking all over Timber Falls tonight . . .

  Martina: Because Daniel Durand just professed his love for you to the entire cafeteria.

  Daniel blinked. “What’s wrong?”

  “What’s wrong?” she repeated slowly, her voice dangerously low, heavy with disbelief. “What’s wrong is that you told all our coworkers that you love me before you told me.”

  “Oh.” He rubbed at his beard. “That was a mistake, huh?”

  “You think?” Her fists were balled at her sides; she looked like she wanted to hit him. He didn’t think it was too likely, but he’d never really fought with a girlfriend before. When things got ugly, he’d just leave. Not an option this time . . . Well, he’d better try to fix it immediately.

  “I love you, Winnie.”

  She stomped a bare foot against the carpet. “Stop that,” she said fiercely.

  “Stop what?” he asked, hopelessly confused now.

  “Stop being so sweet. I’m mad at you. I’m really, really mad at you.”

  He grinned, sidling up close to her. “I love you, Fred. I love you so much. I love you more than all the microbes in all the petri dishes in all the world.”

  “Don’t,” she said, her voice warbling. “Don’t say it unless you mean it.”

  He moved close enough to whisper in her ear. “I love you more than all the hippies in the Northwest. I love you more than all the recycling centers, all the microbreweries, and all the marijuana put together.”

  “Now you’re just being trite,” she whispered back, and he chuckled.

  “You’re right. There’s no appropriate metaphor for it. They all fall short.” He caught her tear as it fell, wiping it from her cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you first.”

  Winnie skipped the usual warm-up kissing; she caught the back of his head, bringing his lips to hers, dipping into his mouth with her soft tongue. He was so surprised, he ceded all control to her before he knew what was happening. His arms found their way around her, his hands roaming over her back, into her hair. Eyes closed, he reveled in her softness, in her curves, her closeness. They were a perfect union of heat and touch, kissing with synchronized give and take, like they’d been doing it for decades.

  Until Winnie sunk her teeth into his bottom lip. It was like she’d flipped a switch, and that switch was his rational mind. Daniel reached down and picked her up, carrying her over to the bed. He tossed her onto it and covered her body with his. He devoured her with kisses, and based on her soft sighs and happy hums, he wasn’t the only one thinking this was a great idea. But he did hear the toilet flush in the bathroom next door, and that reminded him that they weren’t alone. Ainsley was here. Ainsley was Team Daniel, as were Hattie and Kyle and his dad. And Team Daniel was determined not to let this fail.

  Desperately, he tried to slow them down; as determined as he’d been to be closer to her a moment ago, he now felt an equal determination to detour them from where t
hey’d been heading. His heart rate started to slow as she followed his lead, relief flooding him. Daniel rolled off and lay next to her on the bed, breathing hard, and he reached for her hand.

  “I love you, too, Daniel,” she said, turning her face into his neck, her voice breathy, and it almost did him in. He covered his face with his arm and groaned, and he heard Winnie’s low chuckle in answer. “That was close, wasn’t it?”

  “Fred, you have no idea.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  THE SCENT OF MAPLE syrup, orange juice, and bacon surrounded Winnie like a fog. It permeated the gym. She and Daniel had agreed to work the pancake fundraiser event together, following Hattie’s advice; she’d gotten people to stop with all the team talk. Except for the Durands; they were all still very vocally Team Daniel, or so she heard. His family seemed very sweet . . . She hoped she could fit in with them as well as she seemed to get along with Daniel. Their standard family dinner was at the same time as hers with her grandparents, unfortunately, so they hadn’t gotten much time together yet.

  “Good morning, Dr. Baker!” she greeted her mother cheerfully. Sandra was not a morning person, and it showed; she held a compostable coffee cup in a death grip, already downing it, along with a paper plate with pineapple, honeydew melon, and strawberries, and utensils. “Would you like some bacon?”

  “I’m surprised to see you here,” she commented to Daniel, who smiled politely, rubbing one eye under his glasses.

  Winnie plopped two pieces of bacon on her plate unceremoniously and decided to answer the question for him. “Oh, I signed up ages ago; Ainsley twisted my arm. She promised me an easy job. Daniel wanted to tag along to spend some time together. Right, babe?”

  “Right,” he said, shaking his head a little, as if it were fuzzy. He’d just gotten off a twenty-four-hour shift, which Dr. Baker would likely know, and Winnie had picked him up rather than let him drive like that. She knew how dead one felt after a long day at the hospital.

  “Didn’t you already donate toward the pool fund?” Winnie asked.

  Her mother nodded. “But it’s good to show up for things. Be seen.”

  Winnie disagreed; what was good on a Saturday morning was yoga, comic books, and time alone . . . or maybe hanging out with Daniel. “Being seen” didn’t factor into her weekends. “Well, enjoy your fruit salad.”

  Her mother moved down the line, and at her elbow, Daniel silently yawned.

  “You should go home. It’s fine, really.”

  “No,” he said through another yawn. “I’m here. I’m helping. I . . .”

  She served the next person their two allotted pieces of thick bacon, then turned to him. She stared at him expectantly, waiting for him to finish his thought. He didn’t.

  “Daniel?”

  He startled, then turned to her. She couldn’t help but feel alarmed.

  “Did you just fall asleep on your feet?”

  “No . . . I don’t think so. I’m not sure.”

  “All right, I’m taking you home.”

  “No, Win, you stay. I’ll find someone else to . . .” He took off his plastic apron and stumbled away from the tables toward the locker rooms. She couldn’t watch him to make sure he was okay, due to the heavy number of bacon lovers, but she did manage to see him disappear down the hall. In the gym, she saw her mother casually wind her way toward the town council’s table; several of them were on the hospital’s board, and she knew her mother was concerned about keeping their grants for the residency program.

  An hour slipped by, awash in carbs. Ainsley touched her elbow.

  “Gloria’s going to take over for you up here,” she said, gesturing to a petite Latina woman next to her, already aproned and gloved. Winnie stepped back.

  “Oh, okay. But I should warn you, I don’t have great cooking skills.”

  “Actually, there’s a bit of a situation outside the bathrooms, and I was hoping you could help me resolve it.”

  “Oh?” Her mind snapped into work mode. “A medical situation?”

  “No. Well, sort of. Just come on.” Ainsley turned and strode between the bleachers into the dark hallway. She stopped by the drinking fountains and gestured to the man on the floor, clad in blue scrubs, still wearing his glasses, curled up under the metal bowls in the fetal position, his arms tucked under his head for a pillow. Daniel was out cold.

  “Did you try to wake him up?”

  “Everything short of throwing water on him or setting his scrubs on fire.” She glanced around, then moved closer conspiratorially. “He’s kind of freaking people out. Do you think you could take him home?”

  “Yes . . . Do you think Kyle could help me get him into the car? Is he here?”

  “No, Kyle doesn’t come to this stuff, but I think his dad is here. Let me . . .” Her voice trailed off, and Winnie turned to see who she was staring at. Her mother stood, her white pea coat on, her Michael Kors purse hung on her right arm, about five feet away.

  “Is he okay?”

  “I think so, he was just very tired.”

  “Then why did he come?”

  Winnie felt her anger rising, but Ainsley beat her to it.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” her roommate snapped. “Maybe he was trying to prove to someone unreasonable that he really likes your daughter and wants to do things that are important to her. Do you think that’s a possibility?”

  Dr. Baker lifted her chin slightly, and her lips curved into a mild smile. “It’s possible. But I certainly never intended for him to put his health at risk in order to do so.”

  “I’m going to go get Evan; excuse me.” Ainsley stormed off, leaving mother and daughter to stare at the sleeping doctor on the floor. Without a word, her mother passed by them and went into the bathrooms, and Winnie sighed, massaging her temples.

  Ainsley came back soon with Evan; he had dark hair like Kyle, with a little more silver mixed in, and the same dark eyes.

  “So nice to finally meet you,” he said, pulling her into a friendly hug. “I’ve heard so much about you from Daniel. Farrah wants you to come to dinner sometime soon.” His manner was open and kind, and Winnie liked him immediately. “All right,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s get this young man to the car, shall we?”

  Daniel never came fully awake as they supported him on either side, taking him out the back to avoid curious stares and concerned questioning.

  “So, Winnie,” he asked, grunting a little as they got him up onto the curb. “Do you like biking?”

  “Well, I did as a kid. I haven’t done it much lately.” They managed to get the door open, and Daniel tumbled into the front seat.

  “Thanks for your help,” Winnie said, slightly out of breath from the exertion. “I’ll make sure he gets into bed.”

  “Just don’t climb in after; I’m Team Daniel,” Evan joked, and Winnie felt a blush race over her chest and cheeks. Evan looked a little chagrined at her embarrassment, and he hurried on. “Sorry, bad joke. Do whatever you want, I just . . . I’m rooting for you guys, relationship-wise. Most of the girls he’s dated would’ve left him sleeping under the water fountain.” He rubbed his stubbled chin. “Then again, I don’t think he would’ve shown up here for any of them.” He gave her another quick side hug, and Winnie grinned, thinking this must be where Daniel got his touchy way with people. The paternal affection was very welcome; he reminded her of her grandpa. They’d probably get along famously.

  She climbed into the car. Daniel was asleep again. Sighing, she rolled down the windows. It started to rain on the way home—just a sprinkle, but it had Daniel looking around in confusion.

  “I’m wet,” he said, rubbing his arms. “I’m cold.”

  “Welcome back to the land of the living, dear. I’m taking you home, and the windows are open so you stay awake long enough to get you into the house . . .”

  He sighed heavily. “Okay.” He turned his head to snuggle more deeply into the seat, and he was asleep again before she turned onto his street,
dampness apparently irrelevant.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  DANIEL WAS STILL YAWNING as Dr. Baker passed out their information packets the next Monday morning; he’d been getting up early to have breakfast with Winnie since he was gone at night. He’d caught up a little over the weekend, but overall, the missed sleep was taking its toll. Dr. Baker liked to do these study guides based on the cases they’d seen the previous week, and then give them a quiz. It was above and beyond, but it didn’t hurt to have more reinforcement of the material. He just wished it wasn’t printed; if he could get it digitally, he could have a program read it to him. He scratched his belly absentmindedly, and his gaze fell to the table. His paper looked different. Did his prescription need to be adjusted again?

  Picking up the packet, he looked at it more carefully. It wasn’t as hard to read as usual. She’d printed it in Open Dyslexic, the font he’d used for most of his papers in college, which he’d change to Times New Roman before he turned them in. At the top, she’d handwritten a note that was more difficult to read, despite being in neat, uniformly slanted cursive:

  I apologize for not doing this sooner. Please let me know if there’s anything else I can do to accommodate your learning needs.

  –Dr. Sandra Baker

  Daniel smiled, then looked up to see that she was watching him as the other residents and interns chatted quietly, and he gave her a nod of thanks. Is she finally coming around? Did falling asleep at a pancake breakfast really turn things in my favor?

  “Today we’re going to discuss myocardial infarction, as the symptoms are quite different for women than for men and are often mistaken for panic attacks. Dr. Durand, what are the symptoms of myocardial infarction for men?”

  “Pain in the left arm, discomfort behind the breastbone. Shortness of breath, nausea, sweating.”

  “And for women?”