She let him put his arm around her shoulders and lead her to the sofa, and her head was reeling with confusion and sudden deprivation, but she lacked the coherency to put any of her thoughts into words. It was as though she were moving through a mist where nothing was supposed to make sense and answers didn't matter. And because this sudden helplessness was so strange, so unprecedented, it seemed only natural that Kevin should take control, should smile at her in such a quiet, calming manner as he sat beside her and drew her head onto his shoulder. His fingers stroked her hair, and his voice sounded easy and natural as he said, "I'll bet if you were to close your eyes you'd be asleep in two minutes."
"I don't want to sleep." Her voice sounded hoarse and raspy, and she knew she should get up, but she couldn't remember why.
"Sure you do. You're exhausted. So am I. Close your eyes."
She wanted him to kiss her again, and she wanted it with the single-minded demand of a thwarted child. She thought how crazy it was that he should be sitting here, stroking her hair and telling her to go to sleep after what they had just shared, what he had made her feel. And that was when some dim and vaguely conscious part of her mind wondered just how great a part exhaustion had played in what had just happened between them. Exhaustion and hysteria.
She should have been embarrassed. She wanted to get up, to move away from him, to recover. But the motions of his fingers on her hair were soothing, the gentle rise and fall of his chest hypnotic, and without her even being aware of it, her eyes drifted closed.
Her last thought before a deep and dreamless sleep claimed her was that he was wrong; he didn't understand at all.
Chapter Six
Kate awoke feeling stiff and cramped, and orientation to time and place was slow in coming. The room was dim, and her first inclination was to find a more comfortable position and go back to sleep. Her legs moved against the lumpy upholstery of the sofa, and when she turned her head, her cheek brushed against rough denim. That was when she realized that the hard pillow beneath her head was Kevin's thigh and the warm weight across her ribs, just beneath her breasts, was Kevin's hand.
She blinked slowly and looked up at him. "Your lap is very uncomfortable."
His eyes crinkled with a lazy smile. "Sorry. It's the only one I've got."
She sighed and stretched her legs slowly. Someone had taken off her shoes. His hand across her ribs felt comfortable and natural, like an embrace, and his leg, however hard beneath her neck, felt good. She knew she should get up, but her body was heavy, and it was hard to move. She wanted to lie there in Kevin's embrace and just think nothing for a few moments longer.
She murmured, after a while, "Did you sleep, too?"
"Hmm. Off and on." He moved his hand then, upward to brush away a strand of hair that was tickling her eyelash. "That fellow—what's his name?—Brandon—looked in once, but you were dead to the world."
She remembered. She tried to gather herself to sit up. "We're supposed to be sleeping in shifts. What time is it?"
"A little after eight."
"In the morning?" She sat up abruptly, the sudden movement and the shaft of alarm piercing her head with a thud. "I was only supposed to sleep two hours! Why didn't you wake me?"
The anger in her tone registered with surprise in his, and the warm and drowsy moment between them shattered and was forgotten. "You were tired," he protested. "You needed the sleep."
"Damn it, Kevin, I know what I need, not you!" She swung her legs over the side of the sofa and searched for her shoes. "I've got people depending on me, things to do! What did you do with my shoes?"
"Will you just calm down? What's the big deal?"
He bent and retrieved her shoes from his own side of the sofa, and she snatched them from him, glaring. In a rush of jumbled memories she recalled the moment of abandoned passion in his arms, and the surge of embarrassment and confusion that accompanied the recollection did nothing to improve her temper. His clothes were rumpled and damp from her having slept against them, there was a stubble of reddish-brown beard on his face and the drowsy early-morning intimacy of a shared night in his eyes, and to her chagrin she felt her cheeks flush just looking at him.
She said shortly, tugging on her shoes, "The big deal is I've got responsibihties! I realize that's an alien concept to you—"
"Responsibilities, hell." His tone was clipped and derisive as he got to his feet. "You just can't accept the fact that the world might have gone on quite nicely for six whole hours without you!"
The jagged edges of temper grated at her; hostility crackled between them and made her head ache. It wasn't natural that she and Kevin should be facing each other with such anger in their eyes; it wasn't right that their words should be harsh and cutting and deliberately hurtful. And a dimension of sadness was added to the other layers of entangled emotions as she brushed past him. "Go back to sleep, Kevin," she said shortly. "I've got things to do."
He opened the door for her but blocked her exit with his arm. "Well, I must say. Dr. Larimer," he drawled, "our first night together has been a very enlightening experience." His tone was lightly mocking, but his eyes were very cool. "If you're like this every morning, no wonder you sleep alone."
She stared at him, seething, until he stepped politely away from the door. She stalked past him and did not look back, dreading, after a start like this, what the day held in store.
AS IT TURNED OUT, nothing was waiting for her but breakfast. A Red Cross volunteer was supervising the clinic and pleasantly informed her, after a brief consultation, that everything was under control and that Dr. Brandon might be found at the church, where a hot meal was being set up for the injured and homeless. Kevin had been right: the world had gone on just fine without her for six hours, and the discovery was disconcerting.
She regretted her loss of temper with him, and she couldn't understand it. She hadn't wanted to snap at him or argue with him. What she wanted was to curl up in his arms and take comfort in his familiar presence, to feel his hard muscles against her weak and aching body, to lean on him and let him quiet her tumultuous mind. And she was honest enough with herself to realize that it was those needs, those impulses, that had caused her to lash out at him this morning in confusion and defense.
The very thought of taking strength from Kevin was absurd. She took care of him; he didn't take care of her. He depended on her, not the other way around. Their sudden, brief and unaccounted for role reversal last night was confusing, at the very least. Kevin was ephemeral, shallow, superfluous in her life, but last night he had somehow taken on a real and solid shape to her; he had become important. Too much had changed too fast, and she didn't know how to deal with it.
She felt low and guilty and uncomfortable with herself as she went into the clinic bathroom to refresh herself before facing the demands of the morning. She was further distressed to look into the mirror and discover she looked even worse than she felt.
Her skin was pasty and puffy, fatigue and stress emphasizing every wrinkle and sag in her complexion. Her eyes were circled in mauve and bloodshot, her lips colorless and cracked. Her hair was limp and tangled in spiky clumps, and her clothes looked the way only wet silk can look after it had been slept in. She groaned out loud and pressed her hands to her face, thinking miserably, God, I look like a hag as well as acting like one. It's a wonder Kevin didn't push me onto the floor the minute he woke up and run as fast as he could in the other direction.
Resolutely, she splashed cold water onto her face until some of the color was restored, then brushed her teeth and used the mouthwash she kept in the medicine cabinet for just such contingencies. She brushed away the worst of the tangles from her hair but could do nothing about its lifeless shape. Judicious use of lip gloss and a light blusher would prevent giving the impression she was a patient rather than a doctor, and she covered her wrinkled clothing with a crisp white lab coat she kept hanging on the back of the door. It wasn't exactly a transformation, but it was the best she could do.
&
nbsp; A weak sun fought to make its way through a pale gray sky as she walked outside. She had expected devastation and desolation; what she found was the enormously uplifting signs of a town busily rebuilding itself. Heavy equipment and work crews labored to clear the streets of rubble; uniformed National Guardsmen manned recovery details and patrolled the streets for looters. Kate was struck by the need to examine her own house in the daylight, to inspect the damage and make plans for rebuilding, and now she thought she had the strength to do it. But she had to see to the needs of others before taking care of herself.
The concrete-block recreation hall of the church had been transformed into a dining and sleeping room. Mattresses were spread out against the walls, and people slept or rested or just sat and talked; steam tables near the front of the building offered hot oatmeal and powdered eggs and toast, and long tables in the center of the room were filled with diners. The room echoed with clatter and conversation and a battery-operated television and a radio, both of which were tuned to the morning news. The sounds were comforting and invigorating, and as Kate stopped to speak with her patients, checking bandages and dispensing encouragement, she found the atmosphere much more optimistic than she would have expected.
To her surprise, she found her father sitting at one of the tables with Iris and Dr. Brandon, enjoying a hearty breakfast, and he cheerfully waved her over. ''What are you doing up?" she began to scold as soon as she reached him, and he cut her off with an authoritative scowl.
"Now, before you start with that tone of voice with me, young lady," he asserted, "I suggest you ranember I was practicing medicine before you were even a notion in the back of my mind. And I'll have you know," he concluded airily, "that your new partner and I have already made rounds this morning and there's nothing for you to do but sit down and have some breakfast."
Kate turned apologetically to Jeff. "I'm so sorry I overslept. Why didn't you wake me?"
His eyes were twinkling. "You have some very protective men in your life." Kate felt a tingle of embarrassment that made her irritable, imagining how it must have looked to Jeff when he found her sleeping in Kevin's arms last night. And Kevin refusing to wake her. Damn him, anyway.
As though sensing her discomfort, Jeff turned back to his breakfast, adding easily, "No hardship for me, I assure you. Right after breakfast I'm going back to the motel and sleep for about twelve hours. I'm not officially on staff here," he reminding her with a smile, "so I think I can afford the luxury."
Once again Kate felt an intense surge of gratitude and admiration for him, and the warmth of her smile showed it. She said, "You never did tell me how you happened to show up here just when we needed you most."
"Dr. Larimer, here, sit down," Iris urged. "I'll go fix you a tray."
It was an offer Kate was happy to accept, and she took the chair beside Jeff as he answered, "It was a matter of being in the wrong place at the right time more than anything else. I dropped my things off at the motel and decided to have a look at the town, maybe even catch you in your office. The weather wasn't too bad when I started out. I was in the middle of it before I knew it."
Kate felt a residual shudder sweep through her with the memory. "Well, thank God you were," she murmured, and then looked up, startled at the sound of Kevin's voice.
"Morning, folks." He pulled a chair up to the head of the table and sat down near Kate's father. He glanced at Kate, and their eyes skated away from each other, as though from embarrassment or guilt. They had never behaved that way around each other before, and the fact prickled at Kate in annoyance. She knew she owed him an apology for her skittish behavior this morning, and she fully intended to deliver it. She simply hadn't expected to meet him in a room filled with people before she had mended her fences with him.
Jason Larimer said, "Kev, have you met our new doctor? Dr. Brandon, do you know Kevin Dawson?"
The two men's eyes met, and there was a prickle of hostility Kate couldn't understand. Jeff's reply was a polite "I know him, of course, but we've never actually met. How do you do?" Kevin merely grunted and nodded in what seemed to Kate a very rude way.
Jason gestured to Kevin's Styrofoam cup of coffee. "Is that all you're having?"
Kevin grimaced a little. "I don't have much of an appetite this morning."
"Kevin's tastes run a bit more toward imported strawberries and eggs Benedict than oatmeal," Kate elucidated, perfectly aware that it made him sound like a snob. With the patter of laughter that went around the table, she immediately regretted the statement, and her only justification was that he needed to be put in his place for his rude treatment of Dr. Brandon.
She knew that Kevin looked at her and that his eyes were not friendly, but fortunately she didn't have to meet his gaze. Their attention was distracted at that moment by a television report on the tornado.
The rumors they had heard through the night about county-wide devastation were confirmed by the news broadcast. In terms of property damage and injuries, it was considered the largest natural disaster to strike the county in the century, and as Kate watched the camera pan over scenes of grim destruction, she felt both sickened and fortunate—Victoria Bend had suffered, but there were other places where the damage was much worse.
As the news moved on, there was a brief silence while everyone recovered from the sobering evidence of what they had survived. And then Jason Larimer turned to Kevin. "The press has already descended on the mayor's office," he informed him. "They'll be honing in on you within the hour, if I don't miss my guess."
Kevin looked disturbed as he sipped his coffee. "I hadn't thought of that." Then his eyes swept the table briefly. "Listen, I'd appreciate it if you would all kind of steer them away from me, if you get a chance. No sense turning this place into more of a circus than it has to be."
Iris set a tray before Kate, and Kate thanked her absently, looking at Kevin. She seemed to be the only one who didn't understand his motivations, but she had to ask, rather testily, "Since when did you get so publicity shy?"
Everything she said to him came out like an attack this morning, and the cool distance in his eyes did not make her feel any more pleased with herself. He replied simply, "Don't you think we all have enough to worry about without turning the whole thing into a Movie of the Week? It just seems inappropriate somehow, Doctor."
Both Iris and Jason had known Kevin long enough to sense the strain between him and Kate, and even Jeff was not blind. The unnatural tension was palpable, and it was Iris who broke the awkward moment by pointing out mildly, "People will be worried about you, Kevin. You have to issue some sort of statement."
But Kate hardly heard what she said, because she couldn't help but notice that as Iris resumed her seat beside Jason again, her hand brushed affectionately—almost possessively—down the length of his arm. And all Jason did in reaction to the most unusual gesture was to meet Iris's eyes with a brief, warm smile, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
With difficulty, Kate focused on what Kevin was saying. "I guess I should call my folks and my agent," he admitted reluctantly. "They're the only ones who really need to know. Then I'd better get over to the mayor's office and see what we need to get this place back on its feet again." He turned to Jason. "You never did tell me how bad the damage was on your side of town. Did you lose much?"
That prompted a discussion all around of experiences during the storm, and Kate listened with only half her attention, feeling as though she had stumbled into a conversation in which she did not belong and not knowing exactly why. Her father reported that he had lost no more than a few windows, and Iris's neighborhood was almost damage-free. Kevin inquired about water damage and broken gas pipes, and that was when Kate knew what was strange about this conversation.
Kevin was asking intelligent questions and expressing concern for someone other than himself, becoming involved in a situation that, in actual fact, had nothing to do with him at all. It hardly made sense. The excitement was over, the heady rush of his
first real-life adventure had passed and there was nothing left now but the cleaning up. There was nothing in the aftermath of the disaster to appeal to Kevin's sense of glamour, and surely he would be leaving now.
Kate's father was saymg, "Well, in that case, Katie, you'll be needing some transportation." She realized they had been talking about her crushed car. "Allow me to put my car at your disposal." He gestured ruefully at the cast on his leg. "I guess I won't be needing it for a while."
"Thanks," she agreed, and pushed away her empty oatmeal bowl. It had been tasteless but filling. "I do need to make the rounds of the hospitals today."
Her father's attention sharpened. "Serious cases?"
"Well, no," she admitted. "Routine care, mostly. But—"
"But you don't have enough to keep you busy around here?" Her father's tone was faintly sarcastic. "You couldn't consider calling in your orders and taking care of business at home for one day?"
Kate bristled. "Those people have been traumatized, both emotionally and physically. I need to be there for them. And I can take care of business here and at the hospitals, thank you very much."
Her father released a long-suffering sigh and directed his gaze to Jeff. "Try to tell this woman anything," he advised, shaking his head. "She never has learned the difference between dedication and psychotic compulsion. Maybe you'll be able to do something with her. I always did say all she needed was a man to take her in hand and straighten her out.''
Kate made a face at her father, and Jeff laughed, looping his arm over the back of his chair and regarding Kate easily. "This is beginning to sound more like a marriage proposal than a partnership."
"Nothing would make my father happier, I'm sure," Kate responded dryly.
"And why not?" her father asserted without a trace of shame. "If ever there was a woman who needed to get married, it's my Katie."
Kate lifted an eyebrow. "That's the second time in twenty-four hours I've heard that," she said, remembering Kevin's teasing comment of the day before. "I don't see how I can fight odds like that." She turned to Jeff, keeping a straight face with difficulty. "So, how about it, Dr. Brandon? Are you available?"
After The Storm (Men Made in America-- Mississippi) Page 9
