by Debra Dixon
“I get your drift!” she interrupted angrily, dragging her fingers through her hair. When she’d collected herself a little more, she thumped him on the chest to move him out of her way. She needed room to pace.
Joshua couldn’t have done a more effective job of bringing her to her senses if he’d dumped a bucket of cold spring water over her. After a several steps she turned around and put her hands on her hips. “Ducks in a barrel? Unarmed? Oh, please! Give me a little credit. I may have made a mistake peeking inside your cabin, but I am not the last starry-eyed virgin in America. I’ve been married. I’m a midwife, for God’s sake. I probably know more about making love than you and five of your buddies.”
Joshua clucked disappointedly. “I’m not talking about making love, Vicky. I’m talking about chemistry. Lust. Sex. What do you know about those?”
She opened and closed her mouth several times, but nothing came out. She needed an exit line. She needed distance, and she needed both quickly. Backing away from him, she said, “I know enough to run as fast as I can when confronted with them. I don’t need to be sidetracked. The only thing I have time for is building my practice. I absolutely don’t have time to play games with you.”
“Does that mean you won’t be needing my services as a guide?” Joshua wanted to take the question back as soon as he saw her reaction. She stiffened, the healthy spark of anger went out of her eyes, and she composed herself in the blink of an eye. He felt her withdrawal in an almost physical way. She was once again the cool beauty he’d caught in his bed.
“You know I need you,” she stated.
“You just don’t plan on wanting me.”
She glanced at the door and then at him. “Right.”
“All you need is a tour guide”—Joshua walked to the door and opened it—“who keeps his chemistry to himself.”
“Right.”
“I think I can manage that.” Casually, Joshua stretched his arm across the door, stopping her escape. “When do we start, boss?”
“I’ll call you,” Victoria said, deftly slipping beneath his arm and off the porch without a backward glance. “Dr. Grenwald’s got your number.”
Joshua watched Victoria climb the hill and murmured, “What a coincidence. I’ve got yours.”
Victoria studied the colorful map on the table in front of her and gritted her teeth. She had to get her mind off the blatant challenge in Joshua’s eyes and back on the task at hand. She was determined to have some sort of plan before she called Logan back. After the fiasco two days earlier, she wanted to be professional and organized the next time she saw him. She wanted to know at least where she wanted to go even if she didn’t know the best way to get there.
The only trouble was, she didn’t have the foggiest idea where the Mention and Logan’s Hollow clinics were going to be. The towns were supposed to let her know as soon as each decided which school or church in their area could donate a day for her visits. Even worse, she didn’t know where she was going to live. The weekly rates at Shepherd’s Motel were going to skyrocket as soon as it got a little cooler and the leaves began to change color. Tourists would overrun the area for a brief time, trying to capture the event in photographs that could be only a pale imitation of the real thing.
The real thing. That phrase made her think of Joshua again. She could still see him vividly when she closed her eyes, brown hair touched by the sun, and big as all outdoors. Especially those hands. She hadn’t been able to get them out of her mind. A memory of something flirted at the edge of her brain, but she couldn’t pull it close enough to examine.
Exasperated with herself for wasting time, she threw down the pencil, which hadn’t made one mark on the map, and tried to sort out her priorities. Instead of worrying about Joshua Logan, she should be out looking for a house. Pronto, in fact.
She heard the familiar clump of Wally Grenwald’s footsteps in the entrance hall of the renovated old house that served as their offices. Wanting to catch him before he got out the door, she yelled instead of getting up. “Dr. Grenwald!”
Despite the fact that he was past seventy and looked every day of it, his voice boomed out strong and musical and got louder as he got closer to the back of the house. “You cannot get blood out of a turnip, dear. I have leased you three rooms at a rock-bottom price and given you every piece of spare equipment I have been able to beg, borrow, or steal.”
“And I appreciate you more than you’ll ever know!” Victoria started to yell, and then softened her voice when he appeared in the doorway of her leased clinic space.
Dr. Grenwald was a very rare bird among doctors; he didn’t see midwives as a threat to his livelihood. Then again, he had always been more of a family practitioner than an ob-gyn. And, of course, he was planning to semi-retire when she got her practice established. In a way, his friendship could have been attributed to his own selfish motives. Regardless, she liked him.
“Doc, if I promise not to ask for anything, will you come in and see what I’ve done?”
“Helen’s waiting dinner, but for you, I guess I could find a few minutes.” He kept a poker face as he scanned her waiting room. Earlier, the freshly waxed wood floor had been obscured by a collection of old furniture and boxes. During the day, everything had miraculously found its proper place. Finally, he whistled in appreciation. “You whipped this place into shape in a hurry.”
“Looks pretty good, doesn’t it?” She couldn’t keep the satisfaction out of her voice.
The Bodewell clinic was her home base, her pride and joy. The other two towns would be only makeshift clinics, but Bodewell was the center of her practice. Hanging her bachelor’s and master’s degree diplomas had been an emotional moment. Once it was done, there was no turning back; she’d officially hung up her shingle, so to speak. She had stared at the framed parchments and her midwifery certification for a long time.
She’d deliberately chosen to put them in the corner of the room above the round table she would use for counseling new patients. Around the rest of the room, wonderful illustrated posters and framed photos of the birthing process adorned the walls. The more graphic photos were in the examining room off to the left or tucked safely in her lesson notebook for the natural childbirth classes.
“Looks pretty good,” Dr. Grenwald repeated, maneuvering his way through the maze of plastic crates filled with old toys. He passed over one of the three chairs grouped around the table in favor of the ratty sofa she’d disguised with a floral coverlet. “Different, but good.”
Victoria hid a grin. Grenwald had a penchant for hospital-issue decor. If it wasn’t shiny or plastic, he wouldn’t have it. He liked his patients to know they were in a “professional” environment. She wanted her patients and their children to relax. One of the hardest challenges in rural areas was getting the women in for prenatal care.
Changing the subject, she said, “This morning I decided the exam room was too crowded for that wide cabinet I found over at McNamara’s, so I stuck it in the cubbyhole that was going to be my office. Now it’s a room for supplies and file cabinets.”
“And where are you going to do your charts?” he demanded, looking over the rim of the half-glasses that were always perched on his nose. “You’ve got to have someplace to make your notes, talk on the phone. You’ll wish you had that office.”
“Aw, this table will be fine.” Victoria patted the Formica-topped table and then gestured to the wall pocket files behind her, all neatly labeled as to the action to be taken once patient folders were slipped inside them. “I’ll put a wall phone right here and get a long cord so I can go into the supply room if I absolutely have to have privacy. As for charts, I tend to scribble as I go—in the truck, in the exam room, wherever I have time.”
Grenwald pulled at the short white hair along the back of his neck and heaved himself off the sofa. “Looks like you’ve thought of just about everything.”
“Well, not quite. I haven’t worked out my schedule, and I still haven’t found a place to li
ve.”
He looked surprised. “I assumed you’d have that all settled by now. Joshua doesn’t like having people around, but I didn’t think he’d jack up the price to scare you off.”
Used to the older man’s non sequiturs, Victoria didn’t bother asking for clarification. It was usually quicker to play along and figure it out for herself. “We didn’t discuss money.”
Laughing, Grenwald nodded. “Bet that took the wind out of his sails. Good strategy. Don’t look too eager. That old cabin doesn’t look like much, but all it really needs is a roof patch. You get that fixed, and it’ll be just fine for the winter. I used to make house calls there when Joshua was only a little fellow, back before the family moved into Logan’s Hollow. You’re not going to be toasty warm in that house, mind you, but you’ll be warm enough.”
Click. As the doctor talked, the puzzle pieces slipped into place. Joshua was moving into that big showplace over the ridge, and he wouldn’t need the cabin. Victoria looked down at the map in front of her. “Doc, could you show me exactly where the cabin is?”
After studying the squiggly lines for a moment, Grenwald poked a finger down on a spot. “Here. Or close enough anyway. When Joshua has the phone line brought into the new place, you could have service run over to the old cabin for next to nothing. Or you could use a mobile phone like he’s been doing. The cabin’s already got electricity.”
In disbelief, Victoria swept her eyes from Bodewell down to Mention, across to Logan’s Hollow, and back up to Bodewell. Joshua’s cabin was right smack in the middle of the Triangle. She’d be able to get just about anywhere she needed to go in thirty minutes or so.
“Doc, how much do you think I ought to offer in rent?”
Twilight was beginning to color the sky by the time Victoria stopped her truck in front of Joshua’s unlit cabin. Why couldn’t the man be home at dinnertime like the rest of the world? She wanted to wrap up this deal before anyone else beat her to it.
The location was perfect. If Grenwald said the house was sound, then she was ready to sign a lease on the dotted line. As one of the few doctors in the area, he knew everything about the Triangle. He didn’t always tell, but he knew.
Victoria banged a hand on the steering wheel. Just because Joshua wasn’t there didn’t mean she couldn’t look around outside. No sense letting daylight go to waste, she thought as she opened the door of her truck. The yard was more weeds than grass, but she wouldn’t have to worry about any of that until spring, when she put in the herb garden, assuming there was a suitable patch of ground.
As she passed the porch, she noticed the rocking chairs were gone, probably pulled inside for the winter. When she got around to the back, she saw a small addition jutting out and suspected it was the bathroom. Surprised, she realized the tarpaulin-covered object tucked beneath the roof overhang was actually a motorcycle.
Good grief, she thought. Who in their right mind would ride a motorcycle on these twisty roads? Surely not Joshua. He didn’t look crazy, but she hadn’t seen any sign of a car at either house.
Turning away from the cycle, she was overwhelmed by the sight of rhododendrons rising twenty feet into the air. Beyond the small backyard was an honest-to-God forest. Tulip trees towered more than four stories tall. She realized that trees just as big had probably been cut down with a two-man handsaw to clear out a space for the old cabin behind her.
She looked at the forest with something close to wonder. Soon the crisp nights would work their magic and set the deep green forest ablaze. She couldn’t begin to imagine having a ringside seat for the show. Breathing in the clean air, she tested it for that brisk quality she associated with the arrival of fall. Not yet, she thought, but close. Real close.
“Impressed?”
Victoria screamed and jumped from where she’d been standing. Once she realized that it was Joshua who had spoken, she stilled her instinct to flee and sucked oxygen into her lungs in great gulps. Waving off his attempt to put a supporting arm around her, she rasped, “Good God! Don’t you know better than to sneak up on people?”
“I hardly ever sneak up on people I’ve invited. They’re expecting me and I’m expecting them. You see, that’s how an invitation works. I invite you, and then we agree on a time.”
So much for making an organized and professional impression, Victoria thought. Even in the dusk she could tell that he was quite happy with himself. She also noticed the well-worn jeans that were thin and molded to all the right places. The white T-shirt revealed muscle definition that the chamois shirt only suggested. He looked rugged and completely dangerous for her peace of mind. “I do have a good reason for being here.”
“Sweetheart, that does not surprise me,” he told her with a smile. “I’m just not too sure that we agree on what constitutes a good reason.”
There it was again. An endearment. Highly inappropriate and completely unrehearsed. Richard had pushed all the emotional buttons deliberately; Joshua seemed to be doing it unconsciously. Richard reprimanded; Joshua teased. Richard never looked at her as if she were an oasis in the middle of a desert.
When her eyes suddenly looked away, Joshua realized his baser instincts were showing. She had that effect on him, and he’d have to help her get used to the idea. Either that, or spend a lot of time looking at the top of her head. A shy midwife was enough to boggle the mind and provoke testosterone.
Darkness and silence descended on the hollow at the same time. Clearing her throat, she asked, “Exactly what would pass muster as a good reason?”
“Did you bring me Chinese takeout as a gesture of friendship?”
“I didn’t know I could get Chinese takeout around here. What other excuse will qualify?”
“Offering to help me move would be good.”
“Right! That’s exactly why I’m here.” She rubbed her hands together and started past him for the front of the cabin. “I would love to help you move. I’m free right now, as a matter of fact.”
“Victoria Bennett, that’s a boldfaced lie.” Joshua grabbed her shoulders and spun her around. “You don’t expect me to swallow that tripe, do you?”
“But I am free right now.” She laughed. “Promise.”
“No, the other part,” he told her as he squeezed her shoulders gently. “The part about coming up here to help me move.”
“That part’s … true too.” She stumbled over the words as his fingers massaged her shoulders and his thumbs rubbed tiny magic circles against her collarbones, bared by the scoop neck of her top.
“Now, why would you want to help me move?” he asked, his eyes and hands promising pots of gold at the end of a sensual rainbow.
That thought sobered her instantly. She didn’t believe in rainbows anymore. Richard taught her that it was foolish to believe in promises. Being lonely made her forget sometimes. Taking a step back, she told him the truth. “Because the sooner you move out, the sooner I can move in.”
THREE
Joshua gave himself a few minutes to think before he said no. The prospect of having Victoria close was tempting, but he couldn’t take the chance. He didn’t need people around. He didn’t need the responsibilities of being a landlord. He needed peace and quiet. How was he going to have that with this woman living practically in his backyard?
“No one’s moving in here.”
“Don’t be silly. Why should a perfectly good cabin stand vacant?”
“Winter.”
Victoria put her hands on her hips. “I’m going to have to deal with winter in the mountains regardless of where I live, Joshua.”
“This cabin was built fifty years ago. It’s hardly up to a winter.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Everything.”
“Not according to Wally Grenwald. All this place needs is a roof patch and a telephone.”
“Doc Grenwald doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Joshua told her, even though the doctor was right. The place might look a bit ragged, but it was sound. A few more p
ieces of corrugated tin would fix the roof problems.
“Oh, I think he does know what he’s talking about. He said you didn’t like having people around”—Joshua shot her a grim look—“and obviously he was right about that too. But I promise not to bother you. If you want to be an eccentric recluse, have at it. But first fix the roof and rent me the cabin.”
Joshua didn’t tell her that she bothered him already. A lot. Just standing there with her hands on her hips and her breasts outlined by the soft, clinging fabric of her blouse. She bothered him all right. “Why do you want to rent this place?” he asked. “Bodewell might not be up to par according to Connecticut standards, but the houses there have got to be better than my cabin.”
“Bodewell isn’t right smack in the middle of the Triangle.”
“I know that.”
“Think about it. As the crow flies, getting back and forth around the Triangle is easy. Except none of the roads is exactly a straight shot to anywhere. If I live in Bodewell, it’ll take me at least an hour to get to my other clinics. I can live here and get anywhere in a half hour. Living here would be best.”
“For whom?”
“For everyone.”
“For everyone but me,” Joshua corrected her. “I don’t want neighbors, and I don’t want to be a landlord.”
“You won’t hear so much as a peep out of me. All you’d have to do is fix the roof. Surely, you were planning to do that anyway.” She crossed her arms, daring him to dispute her logic. “You wouldn’t just leave it like that and ruin the cabin.”
No, he wouldn’t, but that didn’t make him like the idea of having a neighbor any better. Especially Victoria. He felt drawn to her. Living in this cabin, she’d be much too close, too accessible when he felt the need to talk. The whole idea of coming back to East Tennessee was to soak up solitude, not make new friends. Proximity usually led to companionship.
Sex he could handle. He wasn’t so certain about friendship. He was tired of being disappointed in people, tired of being used by those he trusted.
