* * *
COLE ARRIVED HOME to find that Yvette’s car wasn’t in the garage and there were no visible signs of dinner preparations. Tired, thirsty and annoyed, he grabbed a bottle of beer from the refrigerator, popped off the cap and took a long drink as he looked around, wondering what he could have for a snack while he waited for his wife to come home and fix him something to eat. That was when he spied the note on the kitchen table.
I’ve gone into town to help with the Extreme Paint Over at the hospital. I’ll be back by dark. Love you, Yvette.
“A note?” he grumbled, frowning at the neat lettering. “Why’d she write me a note? Why not call or text?”
He thought about it for a minute. “Because I would have answered right away and she didn’t want me to tell her not to go. Even though she knew I wouldn’t want her to help Nathan, she went anyway.”
He took another drink of beer. This was getting out of hand. Yvette knew he had certain expectations, but she insisted on defying him. He finished his first beer and opened another one. Still brooding, he flopped down in his recliner, shoved aside the six remote controls for his various gaming systems and grabbed the one for the television. He scrolled through the channels until he settled on a baseball game, but even after several minutes of watching, he couldn’t have said who was playing or what the score was.
He didn’t understand why Yvette wanted to get involved in painting the Reston hospital. Their baby wasn’t going to be born there. Her doctor was in Claybourne. Cole would drive her there, be with her throughout labor—although the thought of that made him feel kind of sick to his stomach. He would be the one to cut the cord and show off his son to his mom and dad.
In fact, he didn’t see the point of reopening the hospital in Reston. The town was doing fine without it. Maybe he should have brought that up at the town meeting, along with trying to get Nathan to admit what had happened to the funds his old man had stolen. Cole was still convinced Nate knew more about it than he was telling, but there might not be a way to prove it beyond getting Nate to confess.
Cole finished his second beer, tossed the bottle and pulled a fresh one from the refrigerator. He sat with his elbows on his knees as the game played in the background and he contemplated the carpet at his feet. Momentarily, he considered getting up and finding that snack he’d been looking for earlier, but his thoughts returned to the problem he was having with his wife.
He knew he could get her to see things his way. He just had to figure out how. He’d been shocked when he’d found her at Gemma’s birthing center, taking a class on how her body was changing with the baby. He could have told her how. The baby grew, her stomach expanded and eventually the baby was born, leaving her with stretch marks. He’d have to encourage her to do crunches and sit-ups to return her belly to its former flatness. She would probably appreciate the reminder.
Cole admitted that he was having a hard time trying to figure out why she had defied him after he’d told her to stay away from Gemma. He’d always gotten his own way. His parents had made it clear that he was special and they expected great things from him. Well, at least until he’d injured his leg and had to quit football. And he’d gotten his own way until he’d wanted Gemma to be his girlfriend and he’d ended up in the lake, thanks to Nate. Their laughter still rang in his ears. They had humiliated him and taken away what he wanted, but he wasn’t going to let that happen again.
How would he stop it, though? His eyes narrowed in thought as the alcohol began to work its way through his system. He wasn’t going to let them take Yvette away from him, or influence her. He had to put a stop to it. Having her go off without his permission to help with painting...
“Painting,” he said aloud, sitting up straight. Maybe he needed to do something she would like. She’d wanted to paint the nursery. He hadn’t wanted to go to all that work, so he’d said the white walls that were there had been good enough for him. That was true, but maybe they weren’t good enough for his son.
Cole drained the last of his beer and stood, staggering slightly. Maybe three beers on an empty stomach hadn’t been such a great idea. It took him a second to get his balance, but then he was striding out to the garage, where he grabbed the cans of paint Yvette had purchased, along with the paint tray, brushes, rollers and drop cloths, and hauled it all back inside.
In only a few minutes, he had placed everything he could, including Cowboy Bear, into the crib and scooted the lot away from the walls. As he worked, he wondered what had happened to the big changing table and the rocking chair his parents had bought. He’d have to ask Yvette. She probably appreciated the fact that she didn’t have to shop for anything for little Cole Jr.
Cole popped the lid off the first can, gave the paint a good stir, poured some into the tray and gleefully slopped the roller into it. Only a little spilled onto the drop cloth he’d been thoughtful enough to spread down first. No point in getting paint on the carpet. There were a few stains on it, but it was still good.
He was tall enough to reach the top of the wall with the roller, but since he’d never painted anything before in his life, he miscalculated his aim and bumped the ceiling several times, leaving blue streaks in his wake. Also, he saw pretty quickly that he’d loaded too much paint onto the roller so that drips trailed down the wall. That was okay. He’d catch those later.
He was still trying to perfect his technique when Yvette walked in.
“Cole, what are you doing?” she asked, looking around at the piled-up baby things and the inexpert paint application.
He’d been so involved in the task, he hadn’t heard her arrive. When he turned around, his head felt a little light and it took a moment to focus on her.
“I’d think you’d be able to figure that out, Yvette. I’m painting the nursery like you wanted.”
Her mouth dropped open and he felt a moment of smugness when he realized he’d surprised her, but then she pointed to the wall and said, “I didn’t want it painted like this.”
“Whaddya mean? This is the paint you picked out.”
She indicated the drips snaking down the walls. “I mean the way you’re doing it. Haven’t you ever painted anything before?”
“Never needed to. White paint was good enough until now, but you wanted this blue.”
“I wanted everything fresh and clean and new for our baby, and—and I wanted it done well.”
Cole dropped the roller back into the tray. “And I guess you know all about it since you spent the day at the Big Paint Out.”
“Extreme Paint Over,” she said, correcting him. “And, no, I know all about it because I used to work with my uncle, who was a housepainter.”
“Well, you can’t do this now because you’re pregnant.” He shoved his hands on his hips, spoiling for a fight. She’d ruined his plan to surprise her, hadn’t shown any gratitude, made him feel foolish. He hated feeling stupid. “And what were you doing there, anyway? You can’t be around all that paint and dust.”
“I was sitting outside the front door in the fresh air, handing out the assignments. Most of the time, I even had my feet up on another chair. I met a lot of nice people. They asked where you were.”
“I could introduce you to nice people if you’d asked.”
“But you didn’t, Cole. I’m home almost all the time. The only people I ever talk to are you and your parents, at least until the Sandersons’ party, where I got to know Gemma, Carly and Lisa a little better.”
The mention of their names infuriated him. “After I’d told you not to have anything to do with them!”
She stuck out her chin. “You can’t choose my friends, Cole. You can’t control me.”
“I can take away your car.”
Yvette crossed her arms over her chest. “Yes, you could, but it wouldn’t matter. I have friends now. They would call or come to find out why they hadn
’t seen me, and, really, do you want it known around town that you took my car away from me because I wouldn’t do what you said?”
His brows drew together, his eyes narrowed and his mouth turned down. This wasn’t what he’d had in mind when he’d married her. She wouldn’t have dared do something like this before Gemma and Nate had come back to Reston.
“Besides, Cole, the car’s in my name. Remember? You made a point to do that so I’d have a safe car to drive. Legally, it’s mine.”
“Just like the baby is yours, right?” He stepped closer and pointed a finger at her. “It’s time for you to remember that you wouldn’t have anything if it wasn’t for me.”
“I know that, Cole, and I’m grateful, but...”
“But, what? You don’t like what you’ve got? Don’t like what I’ve done? You don’t know what it means to be grateful. You had nothing before I came along.”
“I know that, and—”
“You’ve let Gemma and Nathan poison your mind against me.”
“That’s not true, Cole. Gemma has never said anything against you, and I’ve hardly spoken to Nathan.”
“And you’re not going to, either!”
“You’re—you’re not going to control me, Cole.” Even though her voice broke on the words, she was defiant.
Fury surged through Cole. Even more than he hated feeling stupid, he hated being contradicted. She wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t do what he said, and lately, she opposed every statement he made even though he knew he was right. Cocking his arm back, he formed his hand into a fist.
Terror bloomed in Yvette’s eyes as she threw her hands up in front of her face and cried, “No, Cole. No!”
She jumped back, stumbling over a pile of the things he’d thrown onto the floor. Her shoulder slammed into the door frame, knocking her off balance. She slid to the floor, where she huddled, one arm protecting her head, the other cradling her belly.
Shocked that he’d raised a hand to her, that he’d threatened her with his fist, and sick with remorse at her reaction, Cole crouched beside her. “Yvette, honey... I’m...”
“Get away from me.” Her arm flailed out, pushing him away. “I don’t want you to touch me! Don’t ever touch me again. You’re not going to hit me. You’re not going to hit my baby.”
“No, no, Yvette, of course not. I...”
“Go away.”
He tried once again to help her up, to show her he wouldn’t hurt her, but she pushed his hands away and huddled, sobbing, on the floor.
Cole got to his feet and stepped back. He’d never seen her like this—never seen any woman like this.
“Yvette, I didn’t mean it. I... I wouldn’t...”
“No, and you never will.” Tears were running down her face as she looked up at him, determination and anger in those blue eyes that had only ever looked at him with affection and amusement. “Gemma said I have to protect my baby and...that means—that means even from you.”
“Gemma! What’s she told you?”
Yvette shook her head. “Go away.”
Furious, feeling helpless and confused, he rushed from the room, through the house and out to his truck. Rain was falling at a steady rate, running off the house and onto ground that was already soaked.
He started the engine and backed out of the driveway. His tires squealed as the truck fishtailed and he straightened it out. He needed to get away, fix this, get Yvette to calm down and listen to him. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do yet, but he knew who was responsible, who to blame. He planned to find them and make them understand they couldn’t interfere in his marriage.
Pressing down on the gas pedal, he headed toward town.
* * *
“THIS IS THE last place I want to be right now,” Carly said, looking around the high school gym. “Can’t I go home and slip into something more comfortable instead? A shower and a deep coma, for example.”
“No,” Gemma and Lisa said in unison.
Gemma tried to keep from wincing at the headache-inducing wall of noise that had hit them as soon as they’d walked in—people talking, laughing, kids chasing each other and shouting.
“If we have to be here, you do, too,” Lisa added. “Besides, almost everyone in here is as grubby as you and I are.”
“Not Gemma,” Carly pointed out with an exaggerated pout. She eyed her friend’s clean slacks and top, then her own paint-stained shorts and shirt. “She managed to get cleaned up.”
“And you can, too,” Gemma responded. “As soon as we show our support for Frances and our gratitude to Marlene and her crew. Count your blessings. At least you got some dinner when the ladies from First Baptist delivered sandwiches to all the workers. Also, unlike the hospital, the air-conditioning works here.”
“Believe me, I’m grateful.” Carly pulled at the neck of her shirt and fanned herself as she took a slow look around. “Why did Frances want to do this today? When everyone’s so tired?”
“I suspect because exhausted people are less resistant to her financial pleas.” Gemma nodded to the Wilsons as they walked by. “Besides, she knows that if she offers our citizens ice cream and toppings, they’ll follow her anywhere.”
“She is very persuasive,” Carly admitted. “Do you think she was the one who got the rain to stop? It was pouring a few minutes ago and now the sky is clear.”
“It’s entirely possible,” Gemma said.
“And I’d still like to know how Frances arranged all of this in one day. Magic?”
Lisa grinned. “No, Carly. People won’t say no to Frances any more than they would to Marlene. Anybody who didn’t already have a job or two was sent out scouring for everything she needed. I’m betting there’s not a spare quart of ice cream left in Reston County.”
“In that case, before the ice cream runs out, I plan to overdose on a hot-fudge sundae. I’ll probably pass out from sheer joy. You two will have to take me home and put me to bed. Come on.”
“That’s cool with me, but I’m not going to give you a shower,” Lisa stated firmly.
Gemma smiled as they maneuvered through the crowd, but she didn’t follow them to the other side of the big room, where a group of volunteers were filling plastic bowls with ice cream from huge tubs and adding toppings. Several people she knew had a bowl in each hand, although she didn’t remember seeing them on any of the painting crews at the hospital. She decided it didn’t matter. This was another way to build community.
A few people asked about Misty Summers’s baby, commenting on how nice it was to have a midwife and a birthing center in town, and even praising Nate for being there to help her out. Gemma didn’t bother telling people she hadn’t needed help.
She looked around for Nate. Perhaps he hadn’t arrived yet, but wherever he was in this crowd, she planned to be somewhere else. She’d had enough encounters with him for one day—for one lifetime, she added. When she didn’t see him, she let her shoulders relax.
Gemma got her own bowl of ice cream from Tom Sanderson at the refreshment table. It made her smile to see him with shirt sleeves rolled up, plastic gloves stretched over his big rancher’s hands, cowboy hat still on his head as he scooped out the frozen treat. She moved around the room, talking to people she’d known her whole life and making new acquaintances. The entire time, her mind was on Nate.
It would be so much easier if they weren’t in the same profession, didn’t have to work together. Even in a town the size of Reston she could avoid him if not for the hospital, the birthing center, and all the community relations and fund-raising that were involved.
As if the thought of fund-raising had conjured her up, Frances Sanderson appeared on a dais at the end of the gym. As always, she looked elegant in a sleeveless blue dress and high-heeled sandals. Microphone in hand, she called for quiet, then thanked everyone for coming and
praised Marlene Fedder and her committee. She called them all onto the stage to thank them personally and invite applause.
Gemma grinned when she saw that Carly looked significantly happier with a big bowl of ice cream in her hand.
“Now remember,” Frances called out. “There’s still much work to be done to get the hospital reopened, so unchain your wallets, whip out those checkbooks and get ready to give.” She graced the room with a sweet smile. “I’ll be around to collect.”
People groaned good-naturedly and then clapped when she said, “As a special last-minute addition to the festivities, we have Ron Jett and his Rocket Boys arriving right now to provide live music. Feel free to grab your partner and dance.”
Gemma marveled at the delight in Frances’s face and voice. Ron and his band were arguably the worst country-music band in southeastern Oklahoma—maybe in the whole country. The noise was only going to get worse.
As Marlene’s committee members left the dais, Luke Sanderson approached Carly and pulled her aside. He leaned in to speak to her and Carly listened thoughtfully as she continued eating her treat. Gemma wondered why he was still in town since he lived and worked in Dallas. Whatever he was saying didn’t make Carly look happy.
Gemma contemplated rushing to Carly’s side, but when she gave Luke a firm look and began talking, low and fast, Gemma decided her friend didn’t need any backup.
Calculating how long she needed to stay, and looking for an escape, Gemma turned away, only to spot Cole Burleigh coming in the door. When she saw the angry, purposeful light in his eyes, she stopped dead. He started toward her but a mass of people came between them, some heading to the area near the band, others trying to get as far away as possible. She scooted in with the fleeing group because she’d had enough drama for one day. She couldn’t imagine why Cole wanted to confront her, but she had seen purpose in his eyes, so she wasn’t going to stick around and find out. She didn’t even glance behind her to see where he had gone. Instead, she spotted her receptionist, Rhonda Morton, talking to a group of women and invited herself into the conversation. A discussion of Marlene’s mural designs and the day’s painting achievements, or almost any other topic under the sun, was exactly what she needed.
At Odds with the Midwife Page 15
