Her serious tone made him wary and he wondered where the conversation would lead. “Yes, she did.”
She took a deep breath and her words sounded rushed. “I’ll be by to pick you up at six-fifteen. If that’s OK with you?”
CHAPTER FIVE
MARTA waited, hoping Evan would respectfully decline to attend and knowing he wouldn’t.
If he was surprised by her comment, he didn’t show it. Instead, a slow smile spread across his face. “Yeah, sure,” he drawled. “Six-fifteen. I’ll be ready.”
Sweet Betsy, she was committed to Ros’s unholy plan. Why did everyone feel as if they had to meddle in her life? “It’s casual, so dress accordingly.”
Unbidden, her mental picture of him wearing a pair of swimming trunks appeared. Considering the fit of his trousers and the way the fabric molded itself to his thighs, her imagination couldn’t be too far off the mark.
He nodded. “Casual I can do. Dressy is a problem.”
She hadn’t thought about it before, but his comment explained why he didn’t wear dress shirts and ties. One didn’t usually pack formal wear for a vacation trip.
“We’ll be outside, so it’ll be hot. They usually serve ribs, so it’ll be messy, too.”
He gave her a thumbs-up signal. “Hot and messy. Got it.”
“Don’t feel obligated,” she said. “If you have other plans…” For pity’s sake, what was she doing? Trying to give him an excuse to stay away?
Yes, she was, she admitted. Because, as much as she wanted to clear the air and send him packing, part of her didn’t like the idea.
Skeletons were better left in their closets.
“I didn’t have any other plans. Pardon me for asking, though,” he said, his face expressionless, “but you’re not going to abandon me in some deserted field, are you?”
His teasing tone brought a wave of heat spreading upwards from her neck. “I won’t leave you to fend for yourself. I promise.”
Evan’s gaze met hers and she saw the twinkle in those dark depths. “Then I’ll see you in a little while. Unless there are more patients waiting?”
She laughed. “Haven’t you had enough for today? You’re supposed to be resting and recreating.”
“The Lazy Daze isn’t exactly the holiday resort of the Midwest.”
She couldn’t imagine staying more than a day at the motel, and then only under duress. To think he’d suffered for more than a week…Once again a twinge of guilt over her rudeness struck her. “No luck finding an apartment?”
He shook his head. “I was hoping the manager would have called by now, but he hasn’t.”
“Too bad,” she said sincerely.
“What? No comment about how it’s a sign from God to hit the road?”
Once again Marta’s skin warmed, as if she’d received an instant sunburn. Before her talk with Ros, she would have offered that very suggestion, but she’d since vowed to turn over a new leaf. “No comment.”
Then, while she still had him flummoxed, she made an offer that a few hours ago would have caused her tongue to snap off its rollers. “If you don’t want to go back—”
“I don’t.”
She smiled at his vehemence. “Feel free to hang around here for a while. Ros and I aren’t expecting any patients, so we’ll spend our last hour getting ready for Monday.”
“If I help, we’ll finish in half the time.”
“Since when do doctors sweep floors and take out the trash?”
“Hey, I’m desperate. Besides, I’ve cleaned floors before. I worked in a grocery store when I was fifteen, stocking shelves and doing whatever odd jobs the manager asked me to do.”
“Really?” How could a young man born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth have taken such a lowly position? She’d have expected him to start with a job more prestigious, like a bank vice-president.
“Of course I would never have gotten hired, but I was tall for my age and I fudged on my birth date.”
“You’re kidding. You lied?”
“It wasn’t actually a lie. The ink smeared and the manager thought it was a five instead of a six. My parents and I were desperate for the income—my dad had been laid off—so I didn’t correct his false impression. That one number let me work more hours.”
Evan’s comments had not only raised more questions but had also altered Marta’s perceptions of his background. Perhaps she had more in common with Evan than she’d originally thought.
“In that case,” she said lightly, “if you want to get started on the trash…? The Dumpster’s out back.”
He headed for the first room.
“And don’t forget to wear gloves,” she called.
He gave her a sassy salute, but obeyed.
As he’d promised, they made a swift end to their chores before locking the doors and going their separate ways.
Marta agonized over her clothes, wishing for advice from Amy, her fashion-conscious stepsister. After discarding a pair of trousers and a cotton blouse as being too hot for the hundred-degree heat, and a pair of shorts and tank top as being inappropriate, she settled on a floral print sundress and sandals. She let her hair hang loosely around her shoulders, although she slipped on a baseball cap to keep the wind from tangling her curls during the drive to Charlie’s place via the Hazy Daze Motel.
She pulled into the parking stall in front of the door marked “SIX”. Before she could slide out from behind the steering-column, Evan walked outside.
He stood on the sidewalk, giving her vehicle the once-over while she reciprocated. My, but he looked good. Breathtaking, in fact. A pair of navy twill shorts covered muscular thighs and a white polo shirt with a sporting logo stitched on the right side stretched across a broad chest. She couldn’t think of a single male in town who could compare.
“I didn’t tell you before, but nice wheels.”
She heard the note of admiration in his voice and felt a twinge of embarrassment over how close she’d come to driving over his feet. “Thanks. Hop in.”
To her surprise, he reached for the bar over the door and hauled himself inside without so much as a grunt. She reversed while he fastened his seat belt.
“I hadn’t figured you with a Wrangler,” he admitted. “A van maybe, but definitely not a Jeep.”
“Between the snow in winter and the mud in the spring, I needed something with a four-wheel drive.”
She accelerated as they left town. The wind whistled past and she had to turn her head to hear him speak.
“How far out of town is this barbecue?”
She pointed to a side road directly ahead. “We’re almost there. Hang on. The road’s a little bumpy.”
She gripped the steering-wheel, suddenly conscious of his attention straying to her bare arms before moving on to her bare shoulders. Those two little straps holding up her dress suddenly seemed far too flimsy and unstable.
She was also aware of how this was the first time he’d seen her in clothes tailored to her form rather than the baggy uniforms she wore at work. She’d chosen not to wear her strapless bra and now she felt as if she could see right through the cotton fabric of her bodice to the skin underneath.
Seeing a huge hole in the sanded road directly ahead, she downshifted to avoid it. As she depressed the clutch with her left foot, she felt the hem of her dress ride high above her knee.
She should have worn those trousers after all.
And yet a quick glance at him showed the masculine appreciation on his face. She was woman enough to enjoy it.
“Looks like there’s a big crowd,” he commented as she guided her Wrangler through a maze of cars before she parked in a place where she wouldn’t get blocked in.
“Charlie’s family always throws a big party. They provide the beef and the guests provide the rest.” She opened the door to slide out as gracefully as possible, noticing that once again Evan simply jumped over the door.
Oh, to have been granted long legs!
“Could yo
u hand me the ice chest and that sack with his present?” she asked, nodding toward the back seat as she removed her cap and fluffed her hair with her fingers.
Evan obliged. “I hate to admit this, but I’m starving already.”
She grinned. “Me, too. Come on. I’ll drop these off and then we can mingle.”
She introduced Evan to Charlie Zindel, the birthday boy and guest of honor, watching for Evan’s reaction to the thirteen-year-old who was sitting in an easy chair and had peach fuzz covering his scalp.
“How do you do, Charlie?” he asked soberly, shaking his hand.
“Pretty good. Tired.”
Charlie’s mother, a blonde in her late thirties, broke in. “He just came back from Camp Hope and I’m afraid he overdid it while he was away.”
“I’ve heard about Camp Hope. It’s here in Kansas, isn’t it?”
Charlie nodded. “Near Great Bend.”
“I don’t need to ask if you had a great time,” Evan said, smiling down at him.
“It was wonderful.”
“Too wonderful,” his mother, Lynette, added. “He’s been exhausted all day. We wanted to postpone the party, but he insisted it go on.”
“Absolutely,” Evan declared. “You can’t miss celebrating your first day as a teenager.”
Charlie grinned. “No, sir. I can’t.” He glanced at his mother. “Don’t worry, Mom. I know when I need to rest.”
“Let’s hope so,” she scolded gently. “Now, you two, just make yourselves at home.”
“We will,” Marta promised. She led Evan through the crowd toward the tables loaded with birthday gifts and placed her package wrapped in vintage-car paper on top of a flat white box. Next she headed for the tables loaded with food, already finding it difficult to hear over the music blaring out of strategically placed speakers. Conversations in both English and Spanish flowed around her and she introduced Evan to everyone she met, including Walter, the county’s paramedic, Frank, one of the EMTs, and the rest of the volunteer firemen.
“I’ve died and gone to heaven,” Evan murmured in her ear.
“Why?” Marta stared at him, surprised to see the look of wonderment on his face.
He pointed. “The food. All that delicious homemade food.”
Marta smiled as she placed her dish of spaghetti salad next to a bowl of cucumbers swimming in a vinegar dressing. “Withdrawal symptoms?”
“You don’t know how boring restaurant fare can get. Or how quickly.”
She pulled him aside. “Yeah, well, be careful of Minerva’s bean concoction. It’ll kill you.”
“It looks good.”
“Appearances can be deceiving. Eat it at your own risk. On the other hand, if you can get a taste of Juanita’s chili Rellenos, you’re in for a real treat.”
She steered him toward the stock tank where soft drinks lay nestled in melting ice. He fished a cola out of the frigid water while she selected an orange soda.
Evan downed his in no time. “I’m curious about this birthday party,” he said, tossing his empty can into the bin designated for recycling. “Somehow I’d expected Charlie to be older. Like an adult. I presume he has leukemia?”
She moved toward a few vacant chairs near a cottonwood and sat. “Acute lymphocytic. When Charlie was first diagnosed, the whole town rallied around the family. We raised money to help pay for his medical expenses and everyone waited with bated breath when he went in for his tests.
“To keep Charlie’s—and their—spirits up, the Zindels began hosting a barbecue for his birthday. It became a symbol of hope to everyone. To Charlie, it was a milestone to reach.”
“Great idea.”
She nodded. “Of course, the possibility always exists of each year’s bash being the last, but we’ve had three of these so far. A few months ago the doctors said he was in remission, so this year’s party is extra special.”
“Where does he go for treatment?”
“M.D. Anderson.”
He nodded. “It’s one of the best hospitals in the country.”
“Worth every penny,” she agreed.
A flurry of voices and a high-pitched squeal caught her attention. Marta turned her head to see who had caused the commotion and saw her two stepsisters, Rachel and Amy, coming toward them.
“There you are,” Amy called out. “We’ve been looking all over for you.”
Evan watched the three women embrace. He’d done his homework and knew the short, bubbly reddish-blonde was Amy, the youngest. The tallest of the three, Rachel, had brown hair and appeared more reserved than her sibling but equally friendly.
“We just got here,” Marta said. “I was afraid you two weren’t coming.”
Amy was aghast. “Miss Charlie’s birthday? Not a chance.”
“At least you’re staying until Sunday,” Marta declared. “Did you pass your classes, Amy? And, Rachel, how’s your new boss working out?”
Rachel rolled her eyes, but the love on her face said that she didn’t mind Marta’s grilling. “We’re fine, but I’m disappointed, sis. Your manners are slipping.” She inclined her head in Evan’s direction.
“Oh.” Marta turned toward Evan. “Rachel, Amy, I’d like you to meet Dr Gallagher.”
Rachel raised one eyebrow. “Evan Gallagher?”
Evan stuck out his hand. “Yes. Pleased to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
Before he knew what was happening, Rachel and Amy each took an arm and began escorting him toward the stock tank.
“You look a little parched,” Amy said.
“I’m all right,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at Marta.
She shrugged her shoulders. “I could use another drink. I’ll go with you.”
Rachel shook her head. “You’ve had him all to yourself and now it’s our turn. Besides, you’d better save us a few chairs so we’ll have a place to sit. Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of Evan. I’ll bring you an orange soda.”
Before he could object, Evan found himself being marched away.
“Why are you here?” Amy asked without preamble.
He knew she wasn’t referring to the picnic. “To talk Marta into meeting her grandfather.”
Rachel nodded. “We thought so. She mentioned your name after you phoned several weeks ago. I’m surprised you had the nerve to come in person.”
“I’m only trying to reunite the two of them. There’s nothing sinister about that.”
“He’s going to hurt her again,” Amy predicted.
Evan shook his head. “No, he’s not. He wants this reconciliation more than you can possibly imagine.”
“Did she tell you they met before?” Rachel interrupted. At his nod, she continued. “It didn’t go well. Marta never explained, although I’m guessing he tossed her out on her ear. She pretended it didn’t matter, but it did. It still does. I especially feel bad because I’m the one who encouraged her to contact him in the first place.”
“Really?”
Rachel nodded. “We’d worked everything out. She sneaked away from our motel one afternoon while our dad visited with some business people. She went to Mr Clay’s office all excited and hopeful, but when she came back she was different. Harder, more driven. We love our sister, Dr Gallagher, and we don’t want to see her hurt again.”
“I understand. Believe me, hurting Marta is the last thing Winston wants to do.”
The two women looked at each other in silent communication. Finally, Rachel spoke. “If you really mean that…”
“I do,” he said.
The two exchanged glances again. “Then we’ll help you as much as we can,” Rachel finished.
The tension in his shoulders slowly faded. “You won’t regret it.”
“I certainly hope not,” Amy said sweetly. “Keep in mind, if you or Mr Clay cause her grief, there won’t be any place you can hide from either of us.”
He grinned at her threat. “I’ll keep it in mind. You two wouldn’t happen to know who sent the anonymou
s newspaper clipping to Winston several months ago, would you?”
Rachel sighed as she stared at her sister. “Don’t tell Marta, but we did it.”
“You?” he asked, incredulous. “After what you just put me through?”
“We weren’t sure Winston cared about her,” Rachel defended. “We never knew what happened between them years ago, but we thought Mr Clay deserved a second chance.”
“We sent the article,” Amy added, “then waited to see what Winston would do. If he ignored it…” she shrugged, “…we’d let the whole thing drop. On the other hand, we thought it was worth the gamble to find out if he’d had a change of heart.”
“You’re here, so it’s safe to assume he has good intentions,” Rachel finished. “We’re suckers for a happy ending.”
Evan shook his head. “You two are something else.”
Amy grinned. “Aren’t we, though?”
“I’m not a psychologist,” Rachel said, “but I believe Marta’s made herself indispensable to fill a void in her life. After Marta’s mom—our stepmom—died, Marta kept us together when our dad fell apart. I guess losing two wives was more than he could handle.”
“Anyway,” Amy interrupted, “we’re hoping her grandfather isn’t the hard-hearted ogre she believes him to be. If we made a mistake with our meddling this time…”
“Bringing those two together isn’t a mistake,” Evan stated. “You’ll see.”
“We hope so,” Amy declared.
They’d reached the tank and Evan pulled another cola and an orange drink out of the ice.
“How long are you staying?” Rachel asked, popping the top on her can.
“I haven’t made any definite plans, although I’ll probably leave by August.” He hoped six more weeks would be ample enough time to negotiate a truce.
“You’re not interested in relocating to New Hope permanently?”
“I have my job in Dallas. To be honest, I need a faster pace.”
“We understand.” Before they reached the tree where Marta was waiting with a frown directed toward her sisters, Rachel squeezed his hand. “Good luck,” she said softly.
“Thanks.” He had a feeling he was going to need it.
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