She caught herself, realizing how maudlin she sounded.
“Was that what it was like for you after Arthur left?”
Shannon held his question in her mind, contrasting it with her memories. “I’d be lying if I told you that wasn’t true. The first few days, even though I had already called off the wedding, my heart would stop whenever the phone rang, whenever someone came to the door. Each time I thought it was Arthur and he had changed his mind.” She blew out a sigh. “I know it sounds silly, but that’s how it was for me.”
“Again, I’m sorry.”
Shannon waved off his apology. “Please don’t apologize. It had nothing to do with you and everything to do with false expectations. I suppose, like you and Saskia, I expected something from Arthur he couldn’t give me.”
Ben looked back at the Shadow Woman and nodded. “Makes for a strained relationship.”
“While I’m being completely honest,” Shannon continued, leaning back against his truck for support, “I think Arthur’s and my relationship had been strained for some time already. I think I hoped being married would change that. Like you said, it was probably better the wedding got canceled.”
The mournful wail of the train’s horn wafted up to them on the wind coming from the river. Shannon smiled at the sound, as familiar to her as her own face. Sounded like home.
“Is it on time?” Ben asked.
Shannon looked up from her watch. “Sorry?”
“You do that every time a train comes through,” he said. “Check your watch as if to make sure it’s on time.”
“One of the few constants in my life,” Shannon returned, surprised he had noticed her unconscious habit. Then she pushed herself away from the truck. “But it also means Nana’s book club has been done for a while. We should probably get going.”
As Shannon turned, she put her foot wrong and pain shot like a hot needle up through her knee. She stumbled and would have fallen but for Ben’s hands catching her.
“You’re favoring that knee.” He frowned as he looked down at her leg. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”
“I’m fine,” Shannon said. “It’s fine.” But as she moved to pull away from him, she winced again.
“It’s not fine. Come here. Let me have a look at it.” With his strong hand still firmly holding her arm, he led her carefully back to her side of the truck. Then, again, he helped her in, but stopped her before she turned.
“Lift up your pant leg and let me see.”
She was about to protest again, but she caught his eye and heard the firm note in his voice.
With a sigh she gave in and pulled her pant leg gingerly up and over her knee. “I think it’s infected.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” he demanded as he carefully unwound the bandage she had put on this morning.
“Why? You’re not my doctor.”
He shot her a look of irritation. “Maybe not, but I’m still a doctor.”
His words hung in the air between them. Shannon’s mind jumped back to his touchy response when she mentioned the opening at Hartley Creek.
“That is, I still know how to be a doctor,” he said, gently pulling the bandage away from her wound.
Shannon let the comment drop. Though he had said he was taking a break, she got the distinct sense there was more to this than he was saying. The more she got to know Ben, the more complicated he became.
“You’re right. It is infected,” he said, touching the warm skin around the cut. “Not bad, but you should get it looked at.”
He looked up at her and she couldn’t look away. The moment lengthened and as she looked into the depths of his brown eyes, Shannon felt a slow awakening of yearnings she thought had died with Arthur’s defection.
No. This can’t happen. This won’t happen. He’s Arthur’s brother, in case you’ve forgotten.
Even as the cynical voice called its warning, her heart increased its steady beat. She saw him swallow and wondered where his thoughts were headed.
“It’s getting looked at right now by a doctor and an E.R. nurse.” Shannon grinned, trying to dispel the emotions of the moment.
Thankfully Ben returned her smile. “I guess you wouldn’t get any different treatment at the hospital.”
No, but Dr. Henneson wouldn’t make her heart go all fluttery when he looked at her.
“I just need to pick up some antibiotic cream at the drugstore,” she said. “I didn’t have any at home and Emma didn’t have any in her medicine cabinet.”
“So you snoop through other people’s medicine cabinets when you go into their bathroom?” he asked in mock horror as he carefully wrapped the bandage around her knee again.
Shannon laughed, thankful for the return to a lighter tone. “I asked. Besides, Emma is a good friend. She wouldn’t be offended.”
Ben folded her pant leg over her knee and then pushed himself upright. “It’s good to have friends,” he said.
“You must miss yours back in Ottawa?”
Ben scratched his chin with his forefinger. “Don’t have a lot. It’s not that easy to create a circle of friends outside of work. Come to think of it, it’s not that easy to create a circle of friends inside work. Besides, any of my friends were also friends with Saskia and unfortunately—” He let the sentence hang between them, then without finishing it, got up and walked back around the truck to his side.
She could guess at what he had been about to say. That in the divorce, many of their friends had sided with his ex-wife.
She felt a touch of sympathy for all he had lost and wondered what had happened in the past year that had made him take time away from an important job and sent him clear across the country to help his mother on her house.
“So where is Saskia now?” she asked.
Ben looked straight ahead, his lips thinning, and Shannon guessed she had ventured into forbidden territory.
“Saskia is dead.”
Dread pierced Shannon and she wished she hadn’t asked.
“When did she die?” she asked, genuine sorrow for his pain flowing through her.
Ben dragged his hands over his face and expelled a heavy sigh. “A month ago in a car accident.”
“Oh, no. I’m so sorry to hear that.” She couldn’t stop her hand from reaching out and touching his shoulder in sympathy.
To her surprise he reached up and covered her hand with his.
It felt rough, surprising for a doctor, but then he’d been doing manual labor for the past few days. It was also warm and it easily covered hers, giving her a surprising sense of security.
His hand tightened and her heart lifted in response.
“I was sorry, too.”
“That must have been difficult.”
His grip on her hand tightened. “More than you can know.” He gave her an apologetic look. “Sorry, but I don’t really want to talk about it.”
As he lowered her hand she felt the tiniest moment of loss, then she pulled her hand back, angry with herself for her foolishness.
Yet she sensed there was more to Saskia’s accident and death than Ben let on.
It shouldn’t matter, she thought, as Ben turned the truck on and pulled back onto the road. Ben’s past was none of her business.
But even as she told herself this, a small corner of her soul felt a subtle undertow of dissent. The bleakness in his expression called to her and made her want to comfort him.
She wanted to ask more. Wanted to know more.
She had intruded far enough into his personal life. If she wanted to maintain the distance she felt she needed to around this man, she couldn’t ask more. Because she had a niggling feeling if she found out what those bigger reasons were, she would be drawn further into the
pain she saw deep in his eyes.
After all the time it had taken to get over Arthur’s betrayal, she didn’t know if she could allow herself to get involved with Ben. He was far more complicated than Arthur.
But even as she assured herself of this, the optimistic and hopeful part of her wondered what would happen if she allowed Ben into her life.
Chapter Six
Ben lifted the spade and turned over another clump of sod, perspiration running down his forehead into his eyes. He’d been working in the backyard for a couple of hours now, determined to finish by noon. Hopefully the lawn edging would be in at the hardware store by then and he could take care of that today.
Tomorrow he would clip the hedges, pick up some plants from the nursery for the bed he was working on right now, get at that leaky faucet in the bathroom, fix up the window crank on the living-room window and replace all the burnt-out lightbulbs his mother couldn’t reach.
The day after that he could get back to work on Mrs. Beck’s house. Because on that Wednesday Shannon was going back to work.
Saturday he had come dangerously close to making a fool of himself in front of her. Better to give himself breathing space, and the best way to do that was to wait until she was gone all day before working on the house again.
The sound of a door slamming caught Ben’s attention just as he shoved the spade in the dirt.
He wasn’t going to look, yet couldn’t stop a quick glance over to the other house to see Shannon hobbling down the walk. He wondered how her knee was healing.
And why did that matter to him?
“Do you want to take a break?”
His mother’s quiet voice behind him made him jump and almost drop his shovel.
She wore a yellow-and-brown-striped fleece jacket with black stretchy pants today. She looked like a bumblebee ready to do the lotus. Her outfit made him smile, but when he heard Shannon’s voice calling for her grandmother, his eyes veered back to her.
He was dismayed to see her looking at him, a frown marring her features.
She was probably wondering why he hadn’t come to their house this morning to finish the work he started. He hadn’t come because spending time with her on Saturday had made him nervous. Something about her made him talk about things he wanted to push to the bottom of his thoughts and forget.
Being around her made him realize how lonely he really was.
“I’m okay, Mom,” he said, gripping his shovel, pushing it into the ground with more force than necessary.
“You said you wanted me to let you know when the lawn edging came in,” she continued, ignoring his comment. “Dan just called. I thought we could go together to pick it up.”
“Just let me finish up here,” he said, grunting as he lifted the next piece of sod. “Then we can go get it.”
“How long will you be?”
“About another ten minutes.”
“You’ll have to take a shower before we go, though.”
“Yeah?” He set the spade in the ground again, wondering what his mother was getting at.
“So why don’t you have your shower now,” she continued. “I hoped we could go right now so I could treat you to lunch at Mug Shots.”
Ben glanced at his watch, surprised to see that it was one o’clock already. He gave his mother an appreciative smile. “Thanks, but I can just as easily grab a sandwich here.”
Sophie Brouwer made a moue of protest. “I really want to go out for lunch and I don’t want to go by myself.”
“So go with your new friend, Eloise,” he returned, glancing again at the other house.
Shannon was already in the car and as he spoke, Mrs. Beck came out of the house. At the top of the stairs she glanced their way and gave them a polite wave.
Ben couldn’t stop the niggle of guilt when he saw her.
“She and Shannon have plans,” his mother said. “And I really want to treat you to lunch before we get the lawn edging.”
Ben stifled a sigh. His dear mother got stubborn when she latched on to an idea and he suspected her bumblebee outfit was her “going out” clothes.
“Okay. I’ll go shower and then we can leave.”
Ten minutes later Ben parked his truck across the street from the café, surprised to see so many other vehicles.
“Popular place,” he said as he opened the door for his mother and helped her out of the truck.
“It is indeed,” Sophie said, beaming up at him. “You never know who’ll you’ll run into here.”
As they crossed the street, Ben couldn’t stop his gaze from lifting up to the large church across the street, its brick steeple silhouetted against the blue of the mountains.
Could he see the Shadow Woman from here?
He thought of how Shannon’s voice had softened as she spoke of the legend or the ranch, or the town. It wasn’t hard to tell that she genuinely loved this place and he wondered if she could leave it all behind as easily as she claimed she could.
As he held the door open for his mother, the mouthwatering scents of coffee and bread assaulted his senses. A row of coffee carafes near the large glass display cases holding premade sandwiches, bagels, croissants and a huge variety of squares and pies.
“So what do you want?” Sophie asked brightly, clutching her purse against her chest.
“I’m not sure.” Ben looked at the chalkboards hanging from the ceiling behind the cases, his eyes flicking over the descriptions and prices of all that was available.
“The cranberry, brie and chicken sandwich is wonderful,” his mother said. “The turkey croissant is good and so is the Mexican wrap. Mind you, the bacon and cheese bagel is amazing. And oh, you have to try her paninis. So good.” His mother kissed her fingers in appreciation. “You have to try the African black bean soup or the chickpea carrot soup. Too bad the wild mushroom soup isn’t available today. It’s amazing.”
Her voice rolled over him as he tried to absorb all the choices she was recommending. “Sounds like you eat here a lot,” he said, his eyes flicking over the sandwiches in the case.
“The food is good and there’s always someone I know here. I love the atmosphere.” She patted him on the shoulder, then looked up as an older woman wearing a bandanna and a bright orange T-shirt came out of the back of the cafe.
“Hey, Sophie. What can I get you today?” The woman’s gaze flicked from his mother to him, a curious light in her eyes.
“Katherine, this is my son, the doctor I was telling you about. He’s visiting me for a while. Lives in Ottawa.” She reached up and patted him on the shoulder. “He’s an emergency-room doctor. Like on that television show ER.”
Katherine gave him a broad grin. “Welcome to Hartley Creek and welcome to Mug Shots, Dr… .” Her voice went up in a question as if asking him to fill in the rest.
“Just Ben,” he said with a polite smile. “I’ll have the Greek panini, a bowl of the African soup and a cup of coffee.”
His mother gave her order, and while Ben paid, his mother tried to protest. He ignored her as he dropped a tip in the cup by the cash register and then took their tray.
As he turned to find a place to sit he saw them.
Mrs. Beck and Shannon were at a table in the back corner of the café. Shannon had her back to him, but Nana was looking directly at him. She gave him a smile and wiggled her fingers at them, pointing to the two empty chairs at their table.
Ben glanced at his mother, who was putting cream and sugar in her coffee.
“Picking up the edging, huh?” he asked her, feeling both railroaded and unable to stop a sense of anticipation at the thought of seeing Shannon again.
She gave him a serene smile and without replying, walked past the full tables to the back corner.
&n
bsp; “Well, isn’t this a lovely surprise?” Mrs. Beck was saying as she pulled out an empty chair beside her. “Shannon, look who’s joining us.”
Shannon just shook her head, then looked up at Ben. “Such a surprise,” she said, her voice laced with irony. “I’m sure you didn’t expect to see us here.”
Ben had to grin at her sardonic response. “This is quite a coincidence.”
“Isn’t it?” Mrs. Beck said, the faint sarcasm in both Ben and Shannon’s voices seemingly lost on her. “We just got here ourselves. Haven’t even prayed for our lunch yet.”
“Wonderful. We can do it together,” his mother said as she settled herself into the chair.
Ben sat down, as well, shooting a quick glance around the table as the women bowed their heads. He followed suit, looking down at his steaming soup. He hadn’t prayed in months and felt foolish doing so in a public place.
Even so, in the small bubble of silence at their table, he felt a gentle nudging in his mind. So he closed his eyes and sent up a quick prayer of thanks for this food. And, while he was at it, a prayer for patience with his mother and her machinations.
When he raised his head it was to see Mrs. Beck giving him an indulgent smile. “So, Ben, what did you think of our pastor’s sermon yesterday?”
Her question was followed by a stab of guilt. But he held her guileless expression and said, “I didn’t go to church so I didn’t hear what the pastor said.”
Mrs. Beck frowned. “But your mother—”
“Ben has been struggling with his faith ever since that horrible time in Ottawa,” his mother put in, trying to be helpful. Ben wished she wouldn’t. Neither Mrs. Beck nor Shannon needed to know anything more than what he chose to tell them himself. Especially not Shannon.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Mrs. Beck was saying. “I know I’ve had my dry, desert times, but I also know that I depended on God more then than when things are going well. Do you mind telling me what your mother means about that horrible time?”
Actually, he did. Especially in a public place. Especially in front of Shannon. Then she gave him a sidelong glance and in that look he caught understanding and sympathy.
Healing the Doctor's Heart Page 8
