Almost a Family

by Donna Alward

  Jason was in an exam room when Molly came back to the work area. He was bent over a limp and muddy brown dog, whose claws scratched on the stainless steel table with every disoriented movement.

  “Grab a coat off the wall and a set of gloves,” he commanded, and silently Molly slipped into a white coat, buttoned it up and pulled her hands into stretchy latex gloves.

  “Hold right here,” he said, and she gripped the dog’s leg as she was told, staring at the spot that he’d already shaved clean of hair.

  Molly watched with fascination as the vein popped up beneath the V shape of her hand and Jason inserted the needle, hooking in an IV.

  He rubbed the dog’s head affectionately, and Molly got a glimpse into Jason’s dedication and compassion. He’d been right to make this his profession. He wasn’t just competent, he was caring. Far more understanding than he could show to people sometimes.

  “There you go, Casper. That’s a good boy.” He ruffled the dog’s ears lightly.

  “What’s next?”

  He carried Casper to the X-ray room. Molly slipped the heavy iron apron he gave her over her clothes and helped position Casper on the table. The dog cried out as she moved his left hip. When Jason looked at the films, he showed her where the break was in the dog’s leg. He left momentarily to talk to the owners, explaining Casper’s injuries and his course of treatment. Molly stayed in the exam room, patting Casper’s head. She had a look around, impressed. Jason had been out of school for only a few years, but it was obvious he’d worked very hard at setting up his own clinic. It was clean, orderly, complete with state of the art equipment, yet with a comfortable, homey touch for his patients’ owners.

  He came back with the young couple behind him, their faces lined with worry. “He’s a bit out of it,” Jason explained, but smiled reassuringly. “But that’s because we’ve made him a little more comfortable. He’s going to be just fine. I promise.”

  They patted Casper and whispered endearing words to him as he lay quietly, groggy with pain medication, his tongue hanging limply out of his mouth.

  “We’ll set the bone and stitch up his lacerations,” Jason explained warmly. “Why don’t you call back on Monday to check on his progress? We’ll settle your bill when he’s ready to go home.”

  They nodded, and the woman bent to kiss Casper’s brown head. “Thank you, Dr. Elliot.” She smiled at Molly who smiled back. “And thank you for coming in on a Saturday.”

  “It was no problem,” he answered, but his gaze cut to Molly and she remembered very distinctly what the after-hours call had interrupted.

  “Molly will show you out,” he suggested, asking her with his eyes if she’d mind. Without a word, Molly led the couple to the door. After they were gone, she locked the deadbolt behind them and made a quick check on Sara. The movie was still running, and Sara had helped herself to a cheese and cracker snack. Her head was on a needle-pointed cushion and she’d covered herself with the throw from the back of the couch.

  When she returned to the exam room, Jason was finishing setting the bone. Casper’s mouth was open and his tongue lolled out. “Boy, he’s out of it,” Molly remarked. “Does he feel anything?”

  Jason smiled a little at her concern. “Not much.”

  “What will you do with him tonight?”

  Jason pulled over a tray. “He’ll be fine here, and tomorrow morning Jan comes in to walk and feed the animals. She’ll make sure he’s fine, eating and peeing and such.”

  “Oh.”

  “He’s lucky he’s not hurt worse,” Jason continued. “This is nearly done. How’s Sara?”

  Molly took the clear plastic bottle he offered and irrigated the wound as he indicated. She found gauze on the tray and dabbed it a bit while Jason prepared to suture the laceration.

  “She’s fine. She got a snack and covered herself up.”

  “She’s a good kid.”

  “Mmm. Except when she takes off without asking.”

  Jason chuckled. “Yeah. Except then.” Carefully he began stitching, and Molly marveled at his perfect sutures. His hands moved smoothly, almost poetic in their grace. Molly glanced up and saw the concentration on his features.

  Oh dear.

  She was getting hooked on him all over again, and that was too dangerous.

  The whole afternoon they’d worked together in harmony. Molly had felt none of the resentment she had expected, nor the nausea. Instead, she’d followed his lead and had learned a lot without the strained atmosphere that seemed to surround them elsewhere. When Jason was here, doing his job, he was uncomplicated. Efficient and kind and competent, without ego. She looked down at his neat stitches, rinsed the wound again. Her coat had splatters of blood on it; she didn’t care. She’d actually enjoyed this afternoon. There had been no arguments, only conversation. But enjoying Jason was simply not in her life plan. It became too easy to forget all the reasons why she’d left him in the first place.

  “This is nice,” he said quietly, mirroring her thoughts. Her stomach jumping, she stared at his hands making stitches rather than look in his eyes.

  “Yes, it is. I don’t enjoy fighting with you.”

  “Sure you do.” His fingers kept stitching evenly, but Molly knew if she looked up, he’d be wearing a half smile that popped his dimples.

  “Well, maybe I do.” She dabbed at the wound and smiled a little.

  “You always did,” he continued, his fingers squeaking slightly in the latex gloves. “We used to have some spectacular arguments. Remember the time we went camping at Mount Carlton? You were determined to go for a swim in the lake after hiking. I told you that you’d be a mess of sticks and it wouldn’t clean you up.”

  “I remember,” she murmured, recalling all too well. They’d gone for the swim. She’d gone on and on about how refreshed she’d felt. Back in their tent, she’d peeled off her suit to discover her entire body covered in little sticks and bits of grass. They’d collapsed laughing. He’d picked the sticks off her skin and made love to her in the day’s waning light.

  “I also remember us fighting over Elizabeth Lawrence.” His voice held a note of teasing.

  “Yeah, and it was me who was right that time. She was dead gone on you. You were so blind I thought I was going to have to hold her down and shave her head to get her to leave you alone.”

  “You would have, too.”

  “Damn right.”

  They laughed together, then it faded.

  In those days, she would have fought for their love.

  “Our arguments never lasted long, though.”

  His voice was strangely thick as he answered, “No.”

  Her hands paused—her first mistake—as the words make-up sex raced through her head. Quickly, she grabbed the water bottle and applied it again. They had always made up, except for that one last time. And like that time camping, it usually had involved both of them getting naked.

  As Jason threaded his needle again, she knew instinctively he was remembering as vividly as she.

  He cleared his throat. “We’re almost done here. Why don’t you round up Sara?”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m just going to make this guy comfortable,” he said, rubbing the dog’s ears. “I’ll check on the rest of the crew in the back and we can go.”

  Molly was part way out the door when his voice stopped her. “Mol?”

  She turned, finally meeting his gaze.

  It was a mistake. The instant that their eyes met she knew he’d been remembering, too.

  “Thanks for your help today,” he said quietly.

  “You’re welcome,” she answered and spun from the room before she could say something she’d regret.

  Chapter Five

  She hung her lab coat back on a hook and threw her gloves in the garbage before going to get Sara. She found the little girl sipping happily on a juice box as the end credits of the movie scrolled through.

  “You’ve been good. You ready to go?”

 
“Yup. I had a powernap. I’m hungry.”

  Molly laughed. “Let’s talk to Jason. Maybe we can convince him to let us have a treat.”

  Together they tidied up the room so it was as neat as it had been when they’d arrived. When they went upstairs, Jason was coming out of the kennel room. “You ladies ready?”

  “Uncle Jason, can we go to McDonald’s?”

  His gaze darted to Molly, and she grinned widely. He sighed, clearly outnumbered. “Drive-thru only, kiddo. I’m too much of a mess to go anywhere. We’ll take it home, okay?”

  Sara jumped up and down, tugging on Molly’s hand. “He said yes! Yippee!”

  Molly angled an amused look at Jason. “Someone has lots of energy. She had a powernap.”

  “Let’s go, then. She’s always quiet when she’s eating.”

  They drove to the McDonald’s in Oromocto, and then went back to Jason’s house to eat. Molly set Sara up at the table and went to find Jason. She discovered him in the laundry room amid piles of sorted clothes awaiting his attention. Being a single guy with his own business obviously did not leave a lot of time for domestic chores. She could relate to that. Her laundry basket was constantly full, and there always seemed to be a layer of dust on her furniture thanks to fourteen-hour days. If she got her promotion, she was seriously considering getting a maid to come in once a week.

  “Aren’t you eating?”

  He blushed. “I’ve gotta change first. This shirt’s covered in blood and mud.” His dirty bottoms were sitting in a heap on the floor; he now wore clean jeans, but the scrub top had streaks of blood and mud in the pattern of doggie toenails. “I forgot to get a shirt.”

  “Do you want me to get it?”

  “Do you mind?”

  She’d been looking for an excuse to snoop through his house. So far she’d only seen part of the downstairs. “Nope.”

  “T-shirts are third drawer down in the dresser.”

  “I’ll be right back.” She left him spraying a prewash treatment on his pants.

  Upstairs she found his room. It was dark in the late winter afternoon and she flipped a switch, which turned on a bedside lamp. The bed was made haphazardly; the covers thrown over top of the pillows without much precision. Molly ran her hand over the end of the spread before going to the dresser.

  Had he said second or third drawer? Molly hesitated, then curiosity got the better of her and she pulled open the top one. It was, as she expected, his underwear drawer. Cotton briefs, a jumble of sports socks and three neatly folded pairs of dress socks looked up her. Rapidly she pushed the drawer back in.

  She opened the next drawer. It was filled with scrubs, some green, some dark blue. She pressed her hand down on the pile of shirts, hitting something hard and square with her hand. She dug beneath the clothes, pulling out a black velvet box. It was familiar—too familiar—and her heart began beating a strange tattoo.

  With shaking hands she lifted the lid. The hinge creaked softly in the twilight. Nestled inside was the engagement ring he’d bought for her all those years ago.

  It winked up at her, a shining, painful reminder of that day years before when he’d offered it to her and she’d turned it away. That was the one fight they’d had that hadn’t been resolved. Yet he’d kept the ring all this time.

  With a trembling finger she reached out, touching the bright diamond in the center, flanked by two smaller ones. Why had he kept it? It was an uncharacteristically sentimental thing for him to do. He’d been so angry. She’d always figured he’d gotten rid of it right away. But here it was, sitting in his dresser. A lover’s memento. Or a hurtful reminder of mistakes.

  He was waiting for his shirt, she realized, probably wondering what was taking her so long. Not wanting him to catch her with the ring, she hurriedly closed the box and shoved it back under the shirts where she’d found it. She grabbed a T-shirt from the next drawer and exited the room, leaving on the light.

  At the bottom of the stairs, she halted.

  She could see Jason still in the laundry room. Transfixed, she watched as he peeled the scrub shirt over his head and tossed it in the washing machine.

  His upper body was absolutely stunning. Each muscle curled into the next, all shadows and curves and dips. He’d always been lean, but in the intervening years he had indeed filled out to be…most impressive.

  Her hand gripped the banister as a grand rush of desire flooded through her. This was not supposed to be happening. They were still as different as they ever were, perhaps even more so. Hers was a life of power suits, of legal briefs and corporate dinners, while his consisted of scrubs and labs and fast food on the run. His house was comfortable with curtains that didn’t quite match and cookie jars that stood empty.

  Her condo was done by a decorator with coordinated accoutrements.

  Her life was across the country and his was here. But knowing it didn’t stop the wanting. Didn’t stop the wondering of why he’d kept her engagement ring, or what that could possibly mean.

  Taking a breath, she descended the last three steps, gripping his shirt in her fingers.

  He looked up at her approach. Mesmerized, she took one step, then another, closer to him until they stood face to face. She could feel his breath on her skin; see the rise and fall of his chest as his breathing quickened, matching her own. In that moment she regretted, for the first time, the decision she’d made six years ago. This body, this man, this heart—the one she would swear she could hear beating—could have been hers all along.

  “I brought your T-shirt,” she whispered, then stared at his lips. They were perfectly bowed and slightly open, and the fleeting memory of them on her skin haunted her.

  He took the clean shirt out of her hands, then dropped it to the floor. Without missing a beat, he framed her face with his hands and pulled her roughly to him, staring at her lips so intently it was almost as though he were already kissing them.

  “We shouldn’t…” she breathed.

  It was like dousing a fire with kerosene. His fingers slid down her neck and dug into her arms as he plundered her mouth with his. No niceties, no gentle tugs and starts, just raw, pent-up passion.

  He danced her across the floor until they reached the laundry room door. Blindly, his mouth still fused to hers, he shut it and turned the handle, locking it.

  She had no choice. Her hands slid over the skin on his chest, devouring it, memorizing it. It was different. Bigger and harder and, dear God, much more manly. The man he had been was but a shadow of the one he’d become…and she’d loved the first with all her heart. As his hands cupped her breasts, she knew it would be even harder to walk away from the man he was right now.

  His fingers left her breasts and reached for the button of her jeans. She sucked in her belly, allowing him access, moaning as he licked her neck and plunged his hands down inside the backside of the denim. He pulled her closer, moved to untie his own drawstring and she panicked.

  Molly pulled away frantically. The kiss at the hospital had been a surprise and the one earlier had been a misguided response to a tense situation, but this one wasn’t right. Despite the demands of her body, the need that pulsed through her at this moment, it would be a mistake. It would change nothing for her… She was still Molly the Lawyer who was here only for three weeks. But for Jason—he still kept the ring he’d given her so long ago. She wouldn’t, couldn’t, trifle with his feelings. She knew as surely as she knew she wanted him that to give in would cause regret on both sides.

  “No, Jason.” She put a few feet between them, her chest rising and falling heavily with repressed desire. In the intervening years, her temperature had never risen to this level, not with any man. Jason had only begun to touch her and she was feeling like she was ready to combust.

  “Are you saying you don’t want this?”

  She tried to laugh but it came out shaky and far sexier than she wanted. She clamped her mouth shut, trying to think of the right response. “I’ll admit my body says yes,” she said fi
nally. “But my heart and my head won’t let it go there.”

  He came closer and she backed away, finding herself pinned between his body and the wall. “Jason,” she warned.

  He leaned forward, teasing his lips over her earlobe. “Just one more kiss, Molly,” he whispered, making all the fine hairs on her body stand at attention.

  An image of the ring floated before her eyes and despite any regrets she might have to the contrary, the decision had been made long ago to end their relationship. No good could come from rekindling it now. She knew that deep down. She’d made her life. This was a complication she didn’t need. It didn’t matter what she wanted.

  One more kiss would be one too many.

  “Nothing’s changed,” he murmured, his breath warm on her hair. His body slid closer until she could feel his hips pressing against hers. “I still want you, Mol.”

  His words did the trick. She could get lost in heated actions but admissions of lust had the power to make her stop. She pushed him, squirming away from his arms and the eyes that seemed to see how divided she was.

  “But it’s different now between us. This wouldn’t solve anything.”

  His eyes burned bright across the few feet that separated them. “I know. It doesn’t stop the wanting. It doesn’t stop me from wanting to make love to you.”

  Her heart spun about in her chest. “We moved on.” She struggled, unsuccessfully, to keep her voice steady.

  “You moved on. I’m still here.”

  Everything swirled around her as the impact of his words struck her. Had he been stuck in the past all this time? Together with the knowledge of the ring it was too much. If she wasn’t careful, next he’d be saying she’d made a mistake and should never have gone to Toronto. And if she wasn’t careful, she’d be agreeing with him. She twisted her hands around each other nervously.

  “I can’t do this. I can’t.”

  “I know you can’t.”

  Her hands stilled. What this was all adding up to was hard to believe. “Are you saying you’ve never gotten over me?” Even to her ears, that sounded incredibly conceited, but after what he’d said, what she’d found, she had the burning desire to know.