by Terri Osburn
“She is, isn’t she?” Carrie beamed. “I know you’re busy, but do you have two minutes you can spare? I’d like to talk to you about something.”
Certain this would be another conversation about Cooper, Haleigh said, “I’m not sure . . .”
“Please. It’s about something you said Friday night.”
“Whatever it was, I’m sorry. I wasn’t myself that night.” A sorry excuse, but nothing better came to mind.
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Carrie assured her. “We all have our off days. But you said something about there being more important needs in this area than a restored movie theater.”
She didn’t recall making that statement to anyone other than Cooper, but she wasn’t about to contradict the woman. “I might have said that.”
“You did, and I agree with you.”
Someone agreed with her? Maybe she did want to have this conversation. Glancing down at the food in her hands, she said, “Let’s find a seat. That little one has to be getting heavy, and I’d really like to eat this.”
Carrie smiled. “We can do that.”
The pair found an empty table in the corner. Haleigh set down her coffee and muffin, and then retrieved a high chair from beside the drinks station. When she returned, she realized that Molly might not be big enough for a high chair.
“Can she sit in this?”
“Sure,” Carrie answered, whipping a piglet-covered contraption from her diaper bag. “I just need you to hold her while I put this in the chair first.”
Before Haleigh could argue, she found a wide-eyed four-month-old blinking up at her. Instead of letting out a wail of protest, the baby nestled into her shoulder as if they were old friends.
“I think she likes me.”
Carrie glanced up. “She should. You are the first person to ever hold her, after all.”
A humbling thought. And true hundreds of times over, but Haleigh had never considered her job in that context. Feeling more at ease, Haleigh settled into her chair cuddling Molly close. “This is kind of nice.”
Dark brows drew together. “Dr. Mitchner, you act like holding a baby is a new experience.”
“Please, call me Haleigh,” she said. “And in this context, it is a new experience.”
Sliding the piglet cover over the back of the high chair, Carrie said, “That’s silly. You deal with babies all day.”
A common misconception. “I deal with mothers all day. I only hold babies for a matter of seconds before I pass them off to someone way more qualified to deal with them. And they’re usually screaming at me, not all quiet and loving like this sweet girl.”
“Huh,” Carrie said. “I guess that makes sense. Now I almost feel bad about putting her in the high chair.”
Haleigh picked up the muffin with her free hand. “I can eat around her. Tell me again what we agree on.”
“That needs are being ignored in this area, but I’m not sure you’ll agree with me on what we should do about it.”
That sounded like the beginning of a dangerous proposition. “I’m listening,” Haleigh mumbled around a blueberry, before brushing crumbs from Molly’s back.
With a deep breath, Carrie said, “I’m not sure how much you know about my life before Molly’s dad died, but to make a long story short, I endured an abusive situation because I had no place else to go. No family. No friends—Patch made sure of that—and no shelters. The last is the need I’d like to address.”
“You want to start a shelter?”
“I wish,” she snorted. “I’m not qualified to start something so ambitious. But I would like to help someone else start one. Someone more qualified to get the project off the ground. Like maybe a person with a medical background like yours.”
“You’ve got the wrong someone in mind,” Haleigh said. “That kind of endeavor would require a real leader. That’s not me.”
“You were class president, editor of the school newspaper, chair of the yearbook committee, and head of the science club your senior year of high school. And you led the debate team to a regional championship,” Carrie reminded her.
“How do you know all that?”
“I was only two years behind you in school.”
“Oh, right.” Molly pulled her knees up against Haleigh’s stomach and tickled her neck with an adorable and very contented sigh. Haleigh’s ovaries actually attempted to leap out of her body. “Does she always do that?” she asked.
Carrie smiled. “Not with everyone. Come on, Haleigh. Will you at least think about it?”
“I wouldn’t know where to start on something like that. I mean, where would we even put it?”
To Haleigh’s surprise, Carrie whipped a manila folder from her diaper bag. “I’ve done some research on that. The old band camp out on Highway 76 is up for sale, and it’s the perfect location, with several dorm-like rooms plus office space.”
Haleigh ignored the folder dangling inches in front of her nose. “What the heck kind of magical bag is that?” she asked. “I’m afraid you’re going to pull out a tuba next. Or maybe a hula hoop.”
The folder dropped to the table. “Do you know what it’s like to be punched?” Carrie asked. “Or slammed against a wall?”
Jaw tight, Haleigh said, “You’re not fighting fair, Carrie.”
“This is too important to fight fair. There are women suffering right now because they have no alternative. We can change that.”
She’d never suffered physical abuse, but Haleigh did know how it felt to be a scared young girl without a lot of options. And something like this might have been an option for Jessi when she’d had nowhere else to go. If the thickness of the folder was any indication, Carrie had already done a lot of the preliminary research.
Still, where would she find the time for something like this? Working sixty to seventy hours a week at the hospital while appeasing her mother with regular dinners in her downtime didn’t leave room for a new project.
As Haleigh opened her mouth to refuse Carrie’s request, their conversation was interrupted.
Chapter 14
“Lookee here,” Cooper said, “three of my favorite ladies in one place.”
At the sound of his voice, Molly lifted her head fast enough to buck Haleigh’s chin, then promptly lifted her arms to be picked up. He took her without hesitation, immediately shooting raspberries into her belly. The little girl laughed with glee.
The man was a natural. By the time he tucked the tiny thing against his chest, his shirt was spotted with drool and Haleigh’s ovaries were doing a Kermit flail. Even the echo of Abby’s warning did nothing to calm the WANT voice screaming through her head.
You promised, she reminded herself, even while her ovaries bartered with her brain. Just one night. Or maybe a weekend. Okay, a solid week and she’d have her fill.
Which might have been the biggest lie she’d told herself in months.
Haleigh looked everywhere but at Cooper. Even so, he didn’t have to see her eyes to feel the tension coming off her body.
“What are y’all up to today?”
“Nothing,” Haleigh said, but Carrie spoke over her.
“I’m trying to convince Haleigh to help me start a women’s shelter in the area.”
The doc didn’t look happy about Carrie sharing that detail. In fact, she looked as if she were bracing for a blow. He didn’t see why, since this sounded like what she’d been talking about Friday night when he brought up the theater project.
“That’s a great idea,” he said, enjoying Haleigh’s shocked expression. At least now she was looking at him.
Eyes narrowed, she said, “What did you say?”
“I said it’s a great idea. You should do it.” Molly grabbed his lips and Cooper wrestled her hand away. “Friday night you said more important needs than a theater were being ignored. If you believe that, then do something about it.”
“I . . .” she sputtered. “That’s not what I meant.”
“So girls like J
essi aren’t stuck with no place to go?”
“Yes, that’s a problem.”
“Okay then. Now you have a chance to change it.”
The idea seemed simple enough. Haleigh had the intelligence, the determination, and the experience to make a difference. Not that delivering babies wasn’t making a difference, but this option would have more far-reaching effects.
“See,” Carrie said. “Even Cooper agrees.”
“Cooper was a saint in a former life. Of course he agrees.”
“That’s me,” he said, rocking on his heels. “The patron saint of motor oil.” Molly chimed in with some incoherent gibberish, and Cooper nodded in agreement. “Even Molly thinks you should do it.”
Haleigh squirmed in her seat as if something more than the shelter idea was making her uncomfortable.
“Fine,” she snapped. “You two can stop ganging up on me. I’ll think about it, but I’m not committing to anything.” Snatching a folder off the table, she added, “If I decide not to do it, I promise to at least recommend someone who would be a better choice.”
“There is no better choice,” Carrie said stubbornly. “You’re the perfect person to make this happen.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“What makes you so sure you aren’t?” Cooper asked.
She met his challenge with a level glare. “Lack of time, for one thing. Then there’s lack of connections and experience.”
“The only thing you’re lacking is faith in yourself, and we have more than enough to make up for that.”
History had proven that once Haleigh set her mind to something, nothing stood in her way. Whether scoring perfect grades or earning her MD, she’d achieved every goal she’d set for herself.
“Like I said, I’ll think about it.”
“Good.” Carrie bounced out of her seat. “Now we have to get moving.” She whipped some pink contraption off the high chair near Cooper’s hip and stuffed it into the diaper bag. “Little one’s good mood is about to go out the window. Today is her four-month shots.”
“I should go, too,” Haleigh said, wrapping up the remnants of a half-eaten muffin.
“I’d like to talk to you if you have a minute,” Cooper said. His run-in with Abby had left him worried, and the only other person who knew her as well as he did was Haleigh.
She tossed the garbage in the can behind her seat. “I need to do my rounds.”
“It’s about Abby,” he explained. “I’m worried about her.”
With a glance to her watch, she said, “We’ll have to make it fast.”
“Let us get out of your way,” Carrie said, taking Molly. “My number is in the file. Give me a call when you make your decision or if you have any questions. See you later, Cooper.”
As mom and baby disappeared out of view, Cooper took the seat that Carrie had occupied. “How does Abby seem to you?” he asked.
Haleigh lifted one shoulder. “Distant. Irritable. Sad.”
“So, not like Abby at all.”
“Cooper, she lost her husband. We can’t expect her to be back to normal on our schedule.”
“I know,” he said. But he hated seeing her hide away, as if her life had ended along with Kyle’s. “This morning, she nearly ripped my head off for making a joke about the laundry.”
“Yeah,” Haleigh agreed. “Her fuse has gotten way shorter lately.”
At least he wasn’t the only person to see it. “I get that this is grief, and she needs to go through it her own way, but there has to be something we can do to help.”
One side of her mouth curled up. “That white horse of yours isn’t going to work in this situation.”
“So we don’t even try?” He couldn’t stand to sit back and do nothing. “Are you working this Saturday?”
“Until six, yeah. Why?”
“I’m having a cookout, and I want you to convince Abby to come. I already know she has the night off. We normally start around five, but I can wait a little longer to put the food on the grill.”
Haleigh ran a hand through her loose curls. “After a twelve-hour shift, you want me to drag Abby out for some hot dogs?”
“You’ve never been to one of my cookouts,” he said, highly offended. Hot dogs. Please. “Try chicken, ribs, and a smoked brisket. Plus the sides that Caleb will bring. And, of course, Lorelei is in charge of desserts.”
“That does sound good.” Haleigh tapped the side of her coffee cup. “But did you miss the twelve-hour shift part? And getting Abby to come is a long shot at best.”
“Just get her out for one hour. Lie to her if you have to.”
“Ha!” she laughed. “Now I know I’m hearing things. Did the unflinchingly honest Cooper Ridgeway just tell me to lie?”
What was her hang-up with this Saint Cooper crap? She made him sound like a self-righteous asshole.
“One of these days, I’m going to show you how un-saintly I am. Just because I didn’t take advantage of you Friday night doesn’t mean I didn’t think about it.”
He’d sure as hell thought about it. And he’d been thinking about it ever since. Yes, he wanted to get Abby out of the house, but he also wanted Haleigh at the cookout. He’d planned to ask her anyway, but the plan had changed after his encounter with his sister.
“Nothing would have happened Friday night,” she stated. “No matter how drunk I was.”
“That’s not what the alcohol was saying.” Cooper was upstanding, but he wasn’t stupid. If he hadn’t backed off after buckling her in, he’d have tasted the rum on her lips and not cared about right or wrong. And she wouldn’t have stopped him.
Then again, maybe he was stupid.
“Alcohol lies,” she argued.
“You and I both know that isn’t true.”
Taking a different tack, she said, “It’s just a physical attraction. It doesn’t mean anything.”
Cooper leaned back in his chair. “It means something to me.”
“And that’s where we differ.” Haleigh tucked Carrie’s folder under her arm as she rose from her chair. “I’ll see what I can do about Abby, but I doubt she’ll agree to come.”
“Haleigh, hold up,” he said, not wanting her to walk away mad.
“Forget it, Cooper.” She gave him a pleading look. “Do us both a favor and forget it.”
In the end, Haleigh hadn’t needed to lie. She simply informed Abby that Cooper had invited them all to a cookout at his house on Saturday and she was going with or without his sister. The fact that her best friend didn’t trust her, or that Abby even felt the need to protect Cooper from her, should have been highly insulting. But the truth was, Haleigh didn’t trust herself either.
Cooper had been right about the night she’d gotten drunk at Brubaker’s. She’d wanted to kiss him in that car. Hell, she’d wanted to do a lot more than kiss. When sober, common sense prevailed and Haleigh had no trouble acting like a sensible woman. When not sober, she tended to be a certified hussy.
Now that she’d had time to dwell on it, the night at Brubaker’s had been a long time coming. It was a wonder she hadn’t nose-dived off the wagon sooner considering she’d been dining with her mother on a regular basis for the last six months. Meredith Mitchner could drive anyone to drink. She’d certainly pushed Haleigh onto the path all those years ago.
Not that Haleigh blamed her mother for her addiction. She’d learned a long time ago that diving into a bottle had been her choice. Her unhealthy way of dealing with an unhealthy situation. During the week, she’d found a counselor who specialized in addiction, but the earliest appointment Haleigh could get was still a month away.
“Are you sure they won’t mind my coming?” Jessi asked.
“For the last time,” Abby said, “no one will mind. They’re going to be so excited to see Emma’s chubby little cheeks that you’ll probably have babysitters lined up around the grill before the food is served.”
“It’ll help if you don’t tell them how little she sleeps,” Haleigh mumbled,
and received a poke from her best friend. “Ow,” she whined. “Unnecessary.”
“She’ll eventually sleep more, right?” Jessi said.
“And cry less?” Haleigh asked.
Abby twisted to look at both of them from the passenger seat. “Why are y’all asking me? I’ve never had a baby, remember?”
They needed to change the subject quick.
“Does Cooper have these cookouts often?” Haleigh inquired.
Her passenger nodded. “From the minute it’s warm enough until we’re all bundled up and holding our hands to the fire to stave off frostbite.”
Haleigh suspected she knew the answer to the next question, but asked anyway. “How long has it been since you went to one?”
With her eyes locked on the passing scenery, Abby said, “I haven’t felt like it for a while.”
A while meaning since Kyle died, no doubt.
“What is there to do besides sit around eating and gossiping?” Jessi’s voice implied she found neither of these options entertaining. “I’m not even going to know anyone.”
Could these two get any more annoying? Good reason or not, Abby’s woe-is-me rut was getting old. And Miss Too-Cool-For-A-Cookout had jumped at the chance to come when Haleigh had first mentioned it. Now, as if to protect her teenage coolness, she deployed the eye-rolling attitude.
“Look,” Haleigh said. “I just worked twelve hours after pulling three sixteen-hour shifts in the last three days. If anyone has reason to be unpleasant at this soiree, it’s me. But I’m not going to do that. And neither are the two of you.” Her index finger bounced from one passenger to the other. “It’s a beautiful night, and we are going to be social. We’re going to eat good food, enjoy the stars, and have a freaking good time.” Catching Jessi’s wide-eyed stare in the rearview mirror, she added, “Everybody got that?”
“Good time,” Jessi repeated. “Yes, ma’am.”
Silence loomed from beside her.
“Abigail?”
“I will be a veritable ball of glee.”
Sarcasm was a side-step away from jovial. In some countries.
“I’ll take it,” Haleigh said, contemplating how quickly they could leave without appearing rude.
