“Doesn’t she still work for the post office?”
“She’s retired and looking for something productive to do. She painted the logo for the Sunshine.” Gemma gestured over her shoulder. “If you give her a call, I’ll bet she would help. And she’s an artist. Paints landscapes. She would be the perfect person to be in charge of the murals, although you’ll have to make sure she involves as many people as possible.”
“Oh, I will, huh?” His lips twitched.
“Yes, and you’ll have to make sure the board...” Gemma paused, finally taking a good look at him. “Are you laughing at me?”
He grinned. “Absolutely not.”
She put her hands on her hips. “While I have to admit this beats your usual sour expression, I don’t appreciate being laughed at.”
“I’m not laughing. I’m...admiring your enthusiasm.”
Gemma gave him a dubious look. “But will you do it? Will you talk to the board and the contractor about this?”
“I don’t know, Gemma. I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”
* * *
GEMMA’S MOUTH DROPPED OPEN. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Don’t you realize that the more help you’ve got, the sooner you can get this place open again?” She jerked her thumb toward the darkened hospital entrance.
“Don’t you realize that there aren’t many people in this town who would want to help me?”
Her face fell. “Which brings us right back to what we were talking about a minute ago. It’s why you have to change their minds—point out that it will benefit them, benefit everybody.”
Nate bit his bottom lip to keep from smiling because, just like that, she was off again. She really couldn’t help it. The rescuer in her needed to keep pulling people out of trouble, protecting them, and that was the last thing he needed. He hadn’t come home to Reston so people would feel sorry for him. He’d come because he’d hoped to do some good to make up for George’s perfidy. And he didn’t need anyone, least of all Gemma, standing between him and his detractors. Still, she might have a good idea here.
And she was so beautiful, impassioned and captivating. Right now, all of her passion was focused on him. Something in his gut squirmed at that knowledge. Since he’d grown up in an undemonstrative family, he didn’t know what to do with the kinds of emotions she stirred in him, but he knew he couldn’t simply go with them, let them take over. Besides, it wouldn’t be fair to her or to him.
Nate kept his arms crossed over his chest as she tried to convince him of the rightness of her plan. In the yellow-hued glow from the old-fashioned streetlight, her eyes glittered and her expression changed from serious, to pleading, to annoyed, while her tone of voice matched each shifting emotion. Her hands shot out to encompass the town, then formed fists at her sides before clamping onto her waist once again. It was quite a show of what an impassioned woman looked like.
He couldn’t remember a time when he’d relaxed and enjoyed anything this much. He already knew he would do what she asked. What she said made sense and aligned perfectly with what Brantley Clegg had said about being accountable to the citizens. He simply enjoyed having her try to convince him.
“So, what do you think?” she asked when she finally wound down. “Don’t you think it’s a good idea? Won’t you at least consider it?”
“I’ll consider it,” he said. “If you’ll consider having dinner with me.”
She stared at him. “What? When?”
“Now. Tonight.”
Gemma scooped her phone from her pocket and glanced at the screen. “It’s almost nine o’clock.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Um, well, yes. All I’ve had since noon were some cookies and punch.” She glanced toward the birthing center.
“Carly and Lisa put everything away while we’ve been talking,” he said. “All you have to do is turn off the lights and lock up.”
“All right, but the only thing left open in Reston is Mary Alice’s Café.”
“You’re right, but if we have one of her meat pies this late, we’ll be popping antacids all night. I...know a place nearby. The cook’s pretty good.”
“Oh, where?”
“My place.”
Again, she gave him that look where a corner of her mouth lifted and her eyebrows rose. “First, you being shirtless on the road to the Sandersons’ barbecue, and now dinner at your place. The gossips are going to have a field day with this.”
“It’s bound to happen. We both work in health care. It’s only natural that we’d see each other.”
“That’s true.”
He waited while she thought it over. He couldn’t blame her for hesitating. He’d let his demons from the past cloud his judgment and he needed to apologize.
Finally, she nodded. “Oh, okay then. I’ll follow you in my Rover. Where is your house?”
“At the end of Sycamore. The old Volney place. Their son rented it to me.”
She nodded and hurried back to lock up. Nate watched to make sure she was all right. As soon as she climbed into her Land Rover, he got into his car and drove home.
He waited for her by the door and was stunned to realize that he was nervous, his stomach fluttering in a way it never had before. When he opened the door and reached around to flip on the light, he gave the living room a quick glance to see if it was as cozy and inviting as hers. Not a chance, he decided, but he held the door for her, anyway.
* * *
GEMMA GAVE HIM a smile and stepped inside, eager to see his place and not quite believing she was here. As she might have expected, the furnishings were top-of-the-line, but all done in neutrals. There was a brown leather sofa with a matching chair and some nice brass lamps on substantial square tables. The biggest surprise of all was the row of orchids blooming on the wide windowsill. They were the hardy type, not some delicate beauties that would fade and fail with the slightest of adverse conditions. They were blooming in shades of dark red, purple and yellow.
“These are beautiful,” she said. “But, orchids?”
“A patient gave me one a couple of years ago and I discovered I could manage to not kill it, so I tried another and another.”
Gemma nodded sympathetically. “Gateway orchid. You get one, and then you have to have another and another. I’m the same way with my herbs...and with purses. I love buying purses, and if I can find one on sale, or in a thrift store, even better. I love a bargain even better than I love a new purse. I used to have dozens.” She sighed. “But I’ve managed to cut down to about twenty.”
“Where do you store them?”
“In the guest room closet. I lined them all up on the shelf. Unfortunately, when I want one, I have to get the ladder and climb up to get it.”
“You appreciate something more if you have to work for it,” he pointed out drily as he walked into the kitchen.
This time, she was certain he was laughing at her, but she really didn’t mind. Nate brought her a glass of wine, which she sipped as she wandered around the living room, reading the titles of the books that filled the bookcases on three walls. Fleetingly, the hundreds of books reminded her of Lisa’s grandmother. Mrs. Thomas had owned so many books, along with dozens of unusual keepsakes, that it was impossible to walk through their house. In contrast, Lisa had gone the other way, keeping a book only until she had finished reading it, then giving it away unless she thought she’d read it again. She was the same way with everything. Anything in her house had to be loved and used often.
Nate had his books arranged in basic subject areas so it was easy to locate the medical books, or the ones on astronomy or paleontology. His interests were varied, but confined to one field: science. The only novels he had were medical thrillers.
After she finished looking over his books, Gemma went into the kitchen, where she found Nate wearing a
chef’s apron and expertly chopping vegetables.
He glanced up. “Grilled salmon and sautéed vegetables,” he announced. “Be ready in about twenty minutes. No dessert, though. I can cook, but I can’t bake.”
“No problem. I’ve eaten enough cookies lately.” Gemma sat down at the table. “Anything I can do to help?”
“No. I’ve got it.”
“A man who cooks,” she said, marveling.
“I like to eat and I don’t want to go out to restaurants every night.”
That made sense for an introvert like him, Gemma thought. He had to be around people but needed time alone to recharge. Of course, that didn’t explain whatever else was going on in his mind—his opposition to midwifery and his questions about the friendship between Mandy and her parents.
“So you think that if we ask the community to help, they would actually do it?” he asked.
“Why not? It would benefit everyone.”
“Yes, it would.” Nate paused as he placed their food on plates. “Thanks for the suggestion, Gemma. I know I haven’t always listened to you, but this time, I am.”
She gave him a sweet smile. “Which shows that even the most stubborn people can change.”
He nodded, and they talked about the project all through dinner. It was nearly eleven o’clock by the time they finished.
Nate had turned his chair sideways and leaned back, his legs stretched out before him, crossed at the ankles. He was slowly twisting his wine goblet. Light caught the faceted glass, sending small rays over his fingers. It was the most relaxed Gemma had ever seen him—and the most vulnerable. His hair was mussed from where he’d run his fingers through it when they’d talked about the need to upgrade the hospital’s two operating rooms. His eyes drooped with tiredness, but he seemed free of the strain that had been his companion lately. It made him approachable, and oh, so attractive.
She knew it was time for her to leave, but she wasn’t quite ready yet. “How is your practice, Nate? Do you have new patients coming in?”
“Yes, but it’s slow,” he answered, and they talked about the challenges of a small-town medical practice.
Considering what had gone on between them since they’d both moved back to Reston, Gemma was surprised at her reaction to him, and her reluctance to leave, but she had a class to teach tomorrow, so she stood and said, “Thanks for dinner, Nate. It was delicious. You’re an accomplished chef. I’ve got to go get some sleep or I won’t be worth anything tomorrow.”
“Like I said, I like to eat.” He followed her to the door and reached for the knob just as she did. His hand covered hers.
Their hands sprang apart and Gemma looked up with a nervous twitch of her lips. Any humorous quip she might have been able to construct died when she looked into his eyes. Want and need welled up in her, chased by doubt.
He was a mystery that only grew.
Memories of the youthful crush she’d had on him resurfaced, adding a poignant sweetness to those needs, but more recent memories followed, ones that weren’t nearly as sweet.
His lips tightened in the way she was coming to recognize as a prelude to something unpleasant. “Gemma, I’m not staying.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“I’m not staying here permanently. I agreed to come reestablish the hospital and a family practice, but someone else can take over in the next year or so. I’ll go to Houston. A friend has invited me to join his practice. But I couldn’t do it until I’d finished here.”
Gemma shook her head. “I don’t understand why you would go to all this work if—”
“To make up for what my dad did, and then forget everything about this town and move on.”
“So you can put Reston and everyone in it behind you?”
“Yes, and you don’t have to worry about rescuing me from those who dislike me. I won’t be here that long.”
“I... I see.” She looked down, trying to assimilate this news and deal with the pang of sorrow and regret that pierced through her.
“I’d appreciate it if you’d keep that to yourself. Brantley knows, and so does the hospital board, but I don’t want it to come out until people in town know they can trust me to do what I’ve promised before I leave.”
Even though dismay filled her throat, Gemma nodded.
“Thanks, Gemma, and thanks for coming. I’ll...walk you out.” His dark eyes were troubled, cautious, as they’d been almost every time she’d seen him. The approachable man of a few minutes ago had gone, stepped behind a secure door where he must keep his softer emotions hidden away, along with the depth of his troubles.
“Oh, um, thank you.” She stepped away and fumbled for the knob. This time he didn’t help her with it, but swung the door inward as she stepped outside, then followed her to the Land Rover.
“Good night, then,” he said in an unreadable tone as she climbed inside.
Gemma thanked him again for dinner and drove away, her emotions leading her thoughts into a tangle. Before she turned the corner, she glanced in the rearview mirror and saw him still standing there, arms crossed over his chest, staring at the ground.
The loneliness of his stance almost had her turning her car around and going back, but common sense prevailed. This wasn’t the right time.
CHAPTER EIGHT
YVETTE WALKED OUT of her first prebirth class with one of the other attendees, a tall, vivacious girl about her own age.
“So I said yes. We went out three times before I realized his name was Kelvin Summers, not Sutter, like I’d thought, but by then, I was in love. I married him and became Misty Summers. I sound like I should be a weather reporter.”
Yvette laughed. Unlike her, Misty was talkative and funny. She had a warm personality that had drawn the other girls to her. There had been four in the class, all first-time mothers with lots of questions that Gemma had patiently answered, sometimes more than once. Yvette had exchanged phone numbers with them and they had plans to get together again, both before and after their babies were born. Somehow, it made it all a little less scary to know they were in the same boat.
“I only hope my husband doesn’t want to name our daughter Stormy or Windy, or something like that.”
“You don’t have a name picked out?” Yvette asked.
“We can’t seem to agree on one. I like Natalie Elizabeth and he likes Sadie Rebecca, but then kids would probably tease her and call her Shady R. Summers. We’d better make a decision soon.” She sighed. “Little miss will be here in a couple of weeks.”
“Tough choice,” Yvette said. “They’re both beautiful. As soon as we knew ours is a boy, Cole decided we needed to name him Cole Junior.”
“It’s a good name,” Misty said in a breezy tone. “But...”
“What?”
Misty shrugged. “I talk too much, but I’ve always thought kids should have their own names, be their own person, not an extension of Mom or Dad.”
Yvette nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve never thought about it like that before.”
Misty grimaced. “I probably should have kept my mouth shut, but that’s so hard for me. Anyway,” she said, returning to their previous topic, “I’ll probably let Kelvin have his way. If he’s the one to name her, it will make him feel more connected to her while I’m sleeping and he’s walking the floor with her at night.” With a laugh, she waved goodbye and headed for her car. “I’ve got to get back to work at Phil’s Dollar Store. This is my last week before I stay home and start nesting.”
Smiling, Yvette watched her drive away. All the other girls in the class had jobs, but they’d been able to get off to attend this class. She liked that. She’d never had a boss who would have allowed that to happen. She glanced up the street to where Carly would soon be opening her boutique for repurposed furniture and what she called “upcycled art
work.” In fact, that’s what she was calling her shop—Upcycle. The frame of an old child-size bicycle, painted bright red, would hold the sign out front.
It seemed like it would be a fun place to work, but she knew she wouldn’t be the one working there. Cole had made it quite clear that he didn’t want her to have a job. Besides, she had a much more important occupation coming in a few weeks.
She turned toward her own vehicle and was brought up short when she caught sight of her husband. Cole was bearing down on her, dodging the trucks and piles of construction equipment that now crowded the center of the parking lot. His fixed expression told her he was angry. She had been on the receiving end of such anger before, though never from him. Since she had no idea how this was going to go, she braced herself.
“Yvette, what are you doing here? Didn’t I tell you not to have anything to do with Gemma Whitmire?” he demanded, coming to a stop in front of her. Before she could answer, he went on, “How do you think that made me feel? Driving past and seeing you coming out of there, doing exactly what I’d told you not to do?”
Fear shivered through her, causing her son to shift in her womb. She rested her hands on her belly to calm him.
“Answer me.” His brow was furrowed, his eyes narrowed and his mouth twisted into a knot. He was a good-looking man, but anger made him ugly.
Yvette could barely find her voice. “I...know what you told me, and I... I know seeing me here makes you mad.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Ta-taking a class, learning ju-just how my body is changing and what to expect during labor.”
He threw his hand out dismissively. “You could learn that from reading a book. You know I told you to stay away from Gemma, and yet here you are. How do you explain that? And I want to know who was at the house with you the night I was in Tulsa.”
Looking at him, Yvette saw the face of every man who had ever stood over her and tried to intimidate her—her father, her uncle, her stepfather—usually before a fist came her way. Then she looked down at her swollen belly, where her son was growing, waiting to come into this world where he would have to be nurtured and protected. By her.
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