Race to the Altar

by Judy Duarte

  “You’d really like Molly, Mom. She’s been giving me some long-needed TLC.”

  Molly crossed her arms, shifted her weight to one hip and lifted her brows in an I-can’t-believe-you’re-doing-this way.

  Her expressive blue eyes sparked with both amusement and disbelief, making her prettier than ever. And he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her.

  Even in a pair of pale blue hospital scrubs, she promised to be shapely underneath.

  For a moment the girlfriend rumor didn’t sound the least bit far-fetched.

  When his mom mentioned the party again and suggested he bring Molly, Chase said, “You bet. I’ll tell her all about Dad’s birthday at the end of next month. Of course, she may get tired of me by them, boot me out of her life and tell me to find another bed to warm.”

  “Now, you be nice to her,” his mom said. “And stop teasing her like that. I know you, and she must be listening, no doubt embarrassed. But if you really were sleeping with her, you wouldn’t be talking about it, especially with me. So she must be holding out. And if so, good for her. She’s got morals and brains. I like her already.”

  Chase laughed, but only until the pain shot through his head again. “Hey, Mom, I’ll have to give you a call later with that address, okay?”

  “Sure. But if you want it to arrive tomorrow, you need to get it to me before the post office closes. And be sure to say hello to Molly. Tell her that I hope to meet her soon.”

  “I will.”

  The call ended, and Chase fumbled with the phone as he tried to hang up.

  “What was that all about?” Molly asked.

  “My mother said to give you her best.”

  “You told her you were on vacation? With a blonde named Molly?”

  “Actually, ‘vacationing’ was her idea. I said I was kicking back.”

  “Oh. So you’re one of those.” Her eyes sparked again, and her tone suggested she hadn’t meant it as a compliment.

  His smile faded, but this time it wasn’t just to make his head and face feel better. “I’m one of what?”

  “A creative liar. A guy who knows how to fabricate an alibi or an excuse without actually coming right out and perjuring himself.”

  “No, I’m usually pretty up-front and honest, even with the ladies I date. But in this case, I didn’t want to worry my mother. So I’m just…creating a myth that will put her heart at ease.”

  But for some reason, the thought of kicking back with Nurse Molly in his bed was making him feel better than any pain meds had.

  Chapter Three

  It had been a long, grueling day, and by the time Molly stopped at the market to pick up a bag of cat litter, a quart of milk and a dozen eggs, it was well after nine.

  She had grocery shopping down to a science, though. As long as she could pack it all in a single bag, she could carry it on her bike.

  After removing her helmet and leaving her bicycle on the front porch, she unlocked the door and entered the living room, where she’d left a lamp on earlier so she wouldn’t return to a dark house.

  Rusty, who’d curled up on the recliner, meowed out a welcome, then yawned.

  “You’re in luck,” she told the orange tabby. “The Brighton Valley Market carries your favorite kitty food again.”

  She kicked off her shoes, made her way to the recliner and gave Rusty’s head an affectionate scratch. “How was your day?”

  Rusty leaned into her hand to allow for a better massage and meowed his response.

  “Yeah,” she said, “mine, too. Long and tiring.”

  But it had been interesting, as well. And having Chase Mayfield as a patient had made it even more so.

  Molly walked into the kitchen, with its pale yellow walls and white café-style curtains over the sink. She set the cloth grocery bag on the ceramic tile counter and put away her purchases. Then she fixed herself a microwaveable dinner, which she stocked in the freezer for nights when she didn’t feel like cooking.

  Instead of sitting down at the table to eat, she carried her meal into the bedroom, where she kept her computer.

  As the screen lit up, she logged on to the Internet and did a Google search on Chase Mayfield. She was only doing it because of professional curiosity, she told herself. As a way of getting to know her patient better.

  But at the same time, she couldn’t deny more than a tinge of feminine interest.

  Sure enough, she found page after page of references—to his Web site, to newspaper articles, to lists of racing wins and awards.

  She spent the next several hours reading up on her famous patient, starting with the virtual press kit on his site which claimed he was a skilled driver with a winning personality. But as she went on, she found solid evidence that he enjoyed the nightlife, Texas A-list parties and beautiful women.

  Somewhere in the midst of her search, she learned that he’d married Pamela Barden, the daughter of his primary sponsor.

  The two had looked good together in photos, although Pamela, with her dark hair hanging long and straight, appeared to be more plain and nondescript than her handsome husband. The more Molly read, the more it seemed that Pamela preferred a simpler life, one of charity work and philanthropy, while Chase seemed to blossom in the limelight.

  Apparently the couple had divorced a year or so ago. Molly, who’d already drawn her own conclusions, wasn’t surprised to hear that.

  Had Chase fallen to temptation on the road? Had he cheated on Pamela? Dumped her for one of the leggy, voluptuous beauties that flocked around him these days?

  There were certainly plenty of dots to connect, and Molly remembered Chase saying something about flying under the radar. What had he meant by that?

  The more she read, the more questions she had—and the more intriguing he became.

  Her interest didn’t please her, though. Instead, it left her uneasy. She wasn’t sure what unsettled her the most, his dangerous career or his flashy, high-profile life.

  Either way, she had to get over that silly little…what? That little crush she’d developed?

  No, it definitely wasn’t that.

  She just found him interesting, that’s all. And God only knew why she did.

  Chase Mayfield would be the worst person in the world for her to get involved with. And she’d best keep that in mind when she went back to work tomorrow.

  The next morning, Molly kept busy with all of the patients she’d been assigned, so she wasn’t able to check on Chase as often as she had the day before.

  Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She’d gone to see about him as often as necessary, but certainly not each time he’d crossed her mind.

  And that was so not a good sign.

  Neither was giving him her home address to use for his mother to mail him his checkbook, which he’d talked her into doing yesterday afternoon.

  What had provoked her to agree to that? She was usually more guarded with her patients—and with most people, for that matter. But her sympathetic nature had run away with her.

  Or had it been more than that?

  Chase Mayfield, she had to admit, was a charming rogue who could be very persuasive.

  During her lunch break she’d ridden her bike home, taking the side streets as usual. And sure enough, she’d found a package for Chase in her mailbox. She’d given it to him when she got back to the hospital.

  “Thanks,” he’d said, taking it from her and opening it. “You’re the best, Nurse Molly.”

  Was she?

  His praise had made her smile, yet it left her a little uneasy, too.

  She’d watched as he’d filled out the amount, then scratched out his signature. She’d wondered what a handwriting expert would have to say about the man who made such big, bold strokes.

  While she waited for him to finish, she’d felt like an autograph-seeking groupie. So once she had the check in hand, she’d lifted it and fanned it in the air. “I’ll get this to the billing department.”

  “Thanks, but before you go, I
have a question for you. Where’ve you been hiding out? I’ve missed you.”

  Had he? Or had he been playing with her? She feared that with Chase it would be hard to know which.

  “I was letting you sleep so you can recover faster,” she told him. “I’m sure you’re eager to be discharged so you can get out of here.”

  “Yeah, but there are a few perks.” His face was still battered, his eyes puffy and bruised, but he had a nice smile. A flirtatious smile.

  Had he meant her?

  Oh, for Pete’s sake, she scolded herself yet again for giving him and his playful comments so much thought.

  Chase was a charmer, that’s all. And she was a fool for considering him to be anything else.

  Molly went back to work, although her thoughts continued to drift back to Chase whenever there was a lull on the floor.

  As the afternoon wore into evening and the sun dipped low on the Texas horizon, she sat at the nurses’ desk, keeping busy—and away from Chase’s bedside. Things were pretty quiet and peaceful on the floor now, which was good.

  At the sound of shoes clicking on the tile floor, she looked up to see Betsy approaching the desk. The dedicated physician didn’t smile as much these days as she had when Molly first met her, but she appeared to be even more solemn than usual.

  “Is something wrong?” Molly asked.

  “No, not really. I just got back from a visit with Tommy Haines and his mother, Diana. I told them I was checking on his cast, but I’d also wanted to let Diana know that the medical bill had been paid. The other night, she seemed to be really stressing about it, and since they can’t afford a phone, the only way to do that was to stop by and tell her in person.”

  “That was nice of you.”

  “I suppose, but it nearly broke my heart to see the way they were living.”

  “It was that bad?”

  “Well, the kids were clean and happy, but their clothing was tattered from wear and too small for them. And when Tommy’s sister opened up the pantry in search of a snack, the shelves were pretty bare.”

  It wasn’t unusual for the hospital staff to come into contact with poor families. They always had a list of social service agencies to which they could refer them. They couldn’t get personally involved with every case, but apparently, this particular situation had touched Betsy in a way some of the others hadn’t.

  “I wish I had more to give them than the news that they didn’t owe money for Tommy’s bill,” Betsy said. “I gave Diana a hundred dollars, which she didn’t want to take. I had to insist that she spend it on the kids. But I have a feeling it isn’t going to stretch very far.”

  From what Betsy had said in the past, and Molly had gathered, Betsy had some money from a trust fund her aunt had left her, and as a successful doctor, she’d managed to save quite a bit over the years. But those funds were no longer available to her.

  Most people didn’t know it, but Betsy was one of the investors in BVMC. And while she certainly wasn’t one of the principals, she’d put the bulk of her money into the hospital investment.

  Thank goodness she had. Otherwise her ex-husband would have cleaned her out completely before he’d disappeared six months ago, leaving her with a slew of bills to pay and an empty bank account.

  Of course, that was another tidbit that most people didn’t know.

  “On top of the financial troubles,” Betsy added, “Diana is taking care of her elderly grandfather, who’s clearly showing signs of dementia. He used to babysit for her so she could work part-time at the fabric store, but he’s at a stage where he needs almost as much care as the children do.”

  “That’s too bad,” Molly said. “Has she considered putting him in a convalescent hospital?”

  “Yes, but the man raised her, and she feels an obligation to keep him at home as long as she can.”

  Molly could relate to that. She’d had to deal with her own grandfather’s health issues—not dementia, but a stroke. “Diana is in a tough spot.”

  “I know.” Betsy blew out a weary sigh. “I gave her the contact number for a social worker who is a friend of mine, but I still felt…ineffective.”

  Molly wasn’t sure how much help she could be, but she’d like to do something, especially since Chase had picked up the cost of the medical bill. “Would you mind giving me their address? Maybe I can take them something myself.”

  “It’s a long ride on a bicycle,” Betsy said, “even for you. You’d have to take your car.”

  Betsy was one of the few people at the hospital who knew that Molly preferred not to drive when she didn’t have to. Not that it was a big secret; she just didn’t think it was anyone’s business but her own.

  “Do Diana and the kids live in Brighton Valley?” she asked Betsy.

  “Yes, but it’s on the opposite side of town. They live in a trailer park on Sage Brush Trail.”

  Molly was torn between the sympathy that urged her to visit Diana Haines and the discomfort she felt whenever she slid behind the wheel. But there was only one way to get to the other side of town, and that was by car.

  She could call a cab, but she made a lousy passenger—white knuckles and the whole nine yards. She felt powerless in the backseat, not to mention vulnerable, so she rarely kept her mouth shut, no matter who she rode with.

  In retrospect—and with a nursing degree now under her belt—she realized that she probably should have had some counseling right after the accident.

  Her grandparents had lost their only child in that accident, and seeing their eyes well with tears each time they thought of her father had made her own grief nearly unbearable. They’d been so caught up in their pain, they hadn’t realized how tough it had been for her, although that’s probably because she masked it so well.

  But why make any of them suffer any more than they had to?

  “Do you have a space number for the Haines?” Molly asked.

  “Yes, it’s two-twenty-three. It’s close to the entrance, so you shouldn’t have any trouble finding it.”

  No, her biggest problem would be in mustering her courage for the trek.

  As long as she knew exactly where she was going, she did okay driving into Wexler or even to Evansville, which was ten miles to the east. But whenever she had to drive anywhere unfamiliar, she got a little uneasy.

  But, hey. It wasn’t that bad. She would just put on her seat belt, adjust her mirrors, stay under the speed limit and keep lots of space between her car and the other vehicles on the road.

  So what if she had to deal with a few impatient drivers who honked at her?

  “I’ll probably stop by sometime tomorrow,” she said, thinking it would be best if she had more daylight hours ahead of her and she didn’t have to risk being on the street at night.

  “Thanks, Molly.” Betsy smiled, but before she could add anything else, her pager went off. “Uh-oh. That’s my answering service. I’ve got to call in.”

  Molly nodded, just as her pager went off, too. She glanced at her own display screen. Room 310.

  Chase needed her.

  Chase lay in bed, his television on the blink. He supposed he could have used the call button, which would have paged any nurse at the desk, but it wasn’t just any nurse he wanted to see; it was Molly.

  Why did he get the feeling she was avoiding him today?

  Had he gone too far when he’d asked her to let him use her mailing address?

  No, it couldn’t be that. She wouldn’t have given it to him if she hadn’t wanted him to know it, at least subconsciously.

  And if that was the case, she wouldn’t be disappointed that she had. After giving it to his mother, he hadn’t disregarded it. Instead, he’d memorized it, and once he got out of here, he’d send her flowers. Or maybe he’d even stop by for a surprise visit. He wondered what she was like away from the hospital.

  “Did you need something?” Molly asked from the doorway.

  “Yeah. My television isn’t working.”

  She walked over
to the wall-mounted TV, clicked a button and turned a dial. The screen kicked right on. “It looks okay to me.”

  “Sorry about that.” He glanced at his remote control, wondering why it hadn’t worked for him.

  “They get a bit temperamental sometimes,” she said.

  As she started for the door, he asked, “Do you have a minute?”

  “Sure, why?” She returned to his bed.

  “I don’t know. I guess I’ve got a little cabin fever.” He didn’t want to admit to being lonely and bored. Or that he hadn’t wanted to talk to just anyone, especially when the only one around here that piqued his interest was Molly.

  She took a seat in the chair next to him. “How’s your shoulder doing?”

  He shrugged the side that didn’t hurt. “They thought there was some nerve damage, so they called in a specialist. But the orthopedic surgeon thinks that an old injury has flared up. He said something about physical therapy, but I’m not sure what he decided for sure. He wants to consult with the first doctor.”

  “Things are pretty cool here, but when the other doctor is called, news of your accident could get out.”

  “I guess that’s okay.” Now that he’d written that check for the boy’s medical expenses, it wasn’t as important to keep his identity a secret.

  Originally, he hadn’t wanted Gerald Barden and the other sponsors to find out that he’d ended up on the eleven o’clock news within an hour of their straighten-up-and-fly-right speech. But they’d undoubtedly like hearing that he’d stepped in and had done something noble, like paid a kid’s medical bill.

  So he asked, “Does the boy’s mother know that the hospital has been paid?”

  “Yes, Betsy—I mean, Dr. Nielson—went to tell her earlier today, although the situation was worse than we thought.”

  Chase hoped the boy hadn’t been injured more seriously than he’d originally been told. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m sorry,” Molly said, reading the fear in his eyes. “I wasn’t talking about his broken wrist. The family’s financial situation isn’t very good. And on top of that, his mother is also trying to care for her grandfather, who has dementia. She’d like to get a job, but she doesn’t have anyone to care for the kids. The old man used to babysit for her, but now she’s afraid to leave him unattended, so her job prospects are more limited than ever.”