If You Could Read My Mind

by Jeanie London

  “That depends on—”

  The telephone rang.

  Last-second calls were never good. Jillian clearly knew it, too, and sat with her finger poised over the keypad, ready to depress the code to roll the phones over to the service. He could hear her thinking.

  Oh, no. We just can’t catch a break, can we?

  “What do you want to do?” she asked him.

  Michael stared at the phone in indecision, what Jillian said and what she thought waging a battle inside his head.

  “Michael?”

  He’d concocted this entire fantasy idea with the intention of making more time for the two of them. How could he have her pick up that phone?

  How could he not?

  Most offices closed at five. When someone called at five-oh-four, there was usually a reason. Question was: did he want to find out what that reason was now or hope the service didn’t call with an emergency while he and Jillian were at dinner?

  My sweet Michael, I would never ask you to turn your back on a patient. Not even for a fantasy.

  She depressed the speaker button. “Dr. Landry’s office. May I help you?”

  “Oh, thank goodness,” a female voice on the other end blurted. “I was afraid you’d left for the day.”

  The woman’s relief blasted over the speaker, a nearly tangible force, and Michael saw all hope of their intimate dinner die a swift death.

  “You caught us in the nick of time.” Jillian didn’t meet his gaze. “What’s going on?”

  The patient explained how she’d been watching her son’s baseball game when the baseman’s glove had flown off, hitting her full in the face and knocking out her front tooth.

  “You’ve still got the tooth?”

  “In a carton of milk. I didn’t know if that’s an old wives’ tale but I wasn’t taking any chances. I’m desperate.” Her voice rose on every syllable like the whine of a straining fan belt. “I’m scheduled to speak to the entire Taylor supervisory conference at eight in the morning. All one hundred and six of them. I can’t go on without a front tooth.”

  He tried to catch Jillian’s eye for some hint about where she stood on this, but the chilling reality hit him full in the face, nearly hard enough to knock out a few of his own teeth.

  He had no choice, not if he wanted to look himself in the mirror. “Come on in. I’ll wait.”

  He disconnected the call. “I’m sorry, Jilly.”

  “Oh, Michael, don’t be.” She smiled one of those bittersweet smiles, and he knew she wouldn’t have wanted him to leave any damsel in distress. “The fantasy has been wonderful, but we live real lives. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  He believed her. But that didn’t change the fact that he was letting his work get in the way of them, again. And her understanding shouldn’t have made him feel worse, but it did. “This won’t take too long, but we’ll probably be too late for dinner.”

  “We’ll go another night. Just do what you need to do.”

  Once again he’d be letting their time together take second place to his work. “You’re sure?”

  “Of course, I’m sure. Why would you even ask me that?”

  Turning her attention back to the phones, she depressed the pass code to activate the service and ended the conversation.

  Michael had asked because he felt bad. “I know you understand. It’s just that I’ve been trying to change things, and here I am canceling our plans.”

  She glanced over the counter, warmth making her eyes seemed flecked with the same gold that spangled her lashes. “You are changing things. You might have to cancel, but usually you wouldn’t think a thing about it. We’ll get the focus back where it belongs. It’ll just take time. And you have to work, Michael. Emergencies are going to happen. And I would never ask you to sacrifice your patients. I love your commitment to them.”

  I just wish you felt as committed to me the rest of the time.

  Michael frowned. That statement seemed to come out of the blue and felt downright unfair. He had to fight back the urge to defend himself against her silent charges. How could he possibly be more committed? They lived together and worked together….

  “You know I’m going stand beside you no matter what. That’s what a good wife does.”

  Even if you don’t give me nearly as much thought as you do your patients. If you did, you might actually remember my birthday every once in a while.

  Something about that made her smile, and she wheeled the chair away from the desk to replace a file on the shelves. But she wasn’t done thinking. Not by a long shot.

  “Jillian, I know you’re the best wife. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do.”

  When you think about it—which I’d guess isn’t often since you don’t have a clue about what’s going on in my life unless I inform you. You haven’t even noticed me running between doctors to figure out what to do with this lump in my breast.

  Lump? What lump?

  “And we’re changing things,” she said reassuringly. “That’s what’s important.”

  You’re even coming around about the camp. I know you didn’t want to buy the place, but it was important to me. I wasn’t asking you for much, just to help me out a little until I got some good people in place.

  “Jillian, I—”

  “I love you, Michael. I’m willing to take things one step at a time.” She rolled back to the desk. “Honestly.”

  I honestly hope we can tackle the important stuff and make more time for us. Life’s just passing us by. But I’ve been under a lot of pressure lately. Maybe I shouldn’t expect so much. You’ve been so thoughtful with your fantasy. Maybe I should just let that be enough.

  Michael just stood there as Jillian handed him a file.

  “Here’s the chart. I’ll go get everything ready in the back.” She didn’t give him a chance to reply, just pushed through the doorway and disappeared down the hall.

  No, she wasn’t expecting too much.

  Michael was guilty as charged. He just hadn’t realized it. He hadn’t spent any time thinking about what was going on in Jillian’s life until he’d been inadvertently dropped inside her head. He remembered her telling him about her doctor’s appointment. He also remembered her telling him about a radiologist’s appointment.

  Charlotte had just mentioned another appointment, and it had never even occurred to him to ask her what was going on. He hadn’t given a second thought to the fact that she was going to see her gynecologist again when she’d just told him she’d gone a few weeks ago.

  He wanted to get angry that she hadn’t told him these visits weren’t routine. Especially when Charlotte seemed to know more than he did. But Jillian had done her part by informing him. Didn’t he have a responsibility to take the next step and ask how things had gone?

  No, she wasn’t expecting too much at all.

  He thought about her comments regarding the camp, and he couldn’t deny her charges there, either, which upon reflection seemed like crappy treatment for the woman who’d devoted her life to him. When he thought about all the things she did: running his office, their home, their social and family lives….

  Did he do anything else but work?

  Jillian had given up a full ride to an Ivy League university so she could be with him at the college of his choice. She’d doubled her course load to get done in time to accompany him to dental school. She’d never applied for a job to use her business degree, even though he knew at least a dozen headhunters had contacted her during her last semester.

  She’d applied her skills to running his practice.

  The only person Michael had to be angry at was himself—for not realizing more than their sex life needed his attention.

  10

  SERAFINE spread out the college scholarship forms over the kitchen table and sat back in the chair for a good look. She wasn’t sure why she’d had the urge to pull out all this paperwork, but while she and Marie-Louise had been giving the owners’
cottage a good scrubbing, the impulse to get back here had hit hard.

  Serafine always followed her impulses. She knew she’d find out the why-for and how-for soon enough.

  While perusing the fine print, she heard the screen door squeak open. Raphael and Philip appeared, looking grease-spattered and hardworking in their rumpled coveralls.

  “Thought you boys were helping Ike fix that old tractor.”

  Philip headed for the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water. He tossed another to Raphael, who caught it one-handed. “We were, but we’re all done.”

  “That was fast.”

  “Only needed to rebuild the carburetor,” Raphael explained.

  “Bet Ike was glad he didn’t have to tote that old tractor down to the shop and saved Mrs. Jillian a pretty penny.” Camp Cavelier kept offering up chances for the boys to prove their skills were a perfect fit. She figured Ike would share that information with Mrs. Jillian and Dr. Michael soon enough.

  As far as Serafine was concerned, things couldn’t be working out any better.

  Raphael raised his water bottle in salute as he sidled toward the table for a peek. “What you got there?”

  “Some college papers.”

  “College papers?” His gaze narrowed. “Who’s going to college?”

  “I was trying to figure out a way that you all might.”

  Raphael eyed her narrowly.

  Philip blinked in surprise before demanding, “And how are we supposed to pull our weight around here and go to college?”

  “You make it sound as if I’m asking you all to swim the Gulf to Texas.”

  “Aren’t you, Widow?” Raphael asked.

  “No. I’m not.” Leaning back in the chair, she swept a hand over the table, gesturing to the papers spread out before her. Brochures. Applications. Various and sundry forms.

  “These here are scholarship papers, boys. There’s plenty of money available to send folks to school who want to go. This brochure here offers money for historic preservation. And this one here is for wildlife conservation. Camp Cavelier is historic and full of wildlife.”

  She didn’t give them a chance to interrupt but forged on. “Since y’all are working for Mrs. Jillian and Dr. Michael, I’m betting we can convince them to pony up some money to train y’all to run this camp.”

  Silence followed. But Raphael wasn’t arguing, and Serafine considered that a very good sign.

  “You know Marie-Louise wants to go to college.” She met Raphael’s gaze. “And I know you’ve been trying to set aside some money so she can take some classes in the fall. Think you got enough yet?”

  “How’d you know about that?”

  She rolled her gaze heavenward. Knowing was what she did. That was no secret. “It’s a good thing you’re doing for your sister. So what’d you come up with?”

  “I had enough for her first semester—if she went to the community college back in Louisiana. In Natchez, we’re considered out of state until we’ve lived here for two years.”

  Serafine shook her head. “So now you’ve got a problem. Take a look at what I’ve got here. My head’s not the best for numbers, but if we can get the Landrys’ help, y’all could go to the university right here in Mississippi.”

  Philip plunked down into a chair, still clearly disbelieving, while Raphael circled the table, shooting wary glances at the various brochures. Serafine picked up one and forced it into his hand.

  “Just take a look, boy.”

  “I barely made it through high school,” Philip admitted. “What makes you think anyone would want to give me money to go to college?”

  “You barely made it through high school because you were skipping classes to run with your gang of no-account friends. There’s nothing wrong with your brain except that you haven’t been using it.” Serafine bopped him upside the head with the flat of her hand and earned a scowl. “You got a head for numbers. You hardly went to class at all, and you still got good marks in all your math classes.”

  “That’s because math is easy.”

  Serafine chuckled. “For you, maybe. If you start classes and prove you can use the brain the good Lord gave you, I’m betting you could earn some of that scholarship money for yourself.”

  “What makes you think Mrs. Jillian and Dr. Michael will go for something like this?” Raphael asked, still prowling around the table.

  “I just know. Mrs. Jillian only bought this camp because it’s part of Natchez history. She’s big into her historic causes—Dr. Michael told us that. I’ve been reading up on all that Internet information Raphael printed about the camp and got to thinking…with Marie-Louise’s talent for cooking and caring for people, she could study hospitality management.

  “Raphael, you’ve been in charge of this bunch since your granny died. You’re a shoo-in for running the camp. Maybe you could get a business management degree. And, Philip, with your head for numbers, you could study accounting and handle the camp’s finances. That would save Mrs. Jillian from running back and forth to her accountant with every receipt. Should be that she only needs a tax man at tax time, don’t you think? Or maybe not at all. Between the three of you and Ike to handle the farm, seems to me this place would be well cared for.”

  Both boys stared at her as if she’d grown a second head, but Serafine held her tongue to let her words sink in.

  “Sounds to me like you’re trying to bully these nice people into giving up their camp, Widow,” Raphael said, but there was something more in his voice than accusation. Something…hopeful. “Me and my kin won’t be a part. The Landrys are nice people, and they’re being good to us.”

  “Of course they are, which is exactly why we’re here. Your loyalty is well placed, but the Landrys don’t have time to run this camp—not full-time, anyway. That’s why they hired us. And don’t you remember Dr. Michael saying he wanted kids?”

  “He said that to Mrs. Jillian.”

  “But he said it loud enough for us to hear.”

  “He didn’t know you were eavesdropping.”

  Philip snickered and Serafine shot him a quelling frown that shut him up quick.

  “Hear me out, boys,” she said. “Camp Cavelier has always been owned by a family. Dr. Michael and Mrs. Jillian might be pinch-hitting so the camp doesn’t get sold and the land developed, but they don’t seem all that eager to give up their careers. Mrs. Jillian said she wants strong people to run this place. I’m guessing if she’s convinced there’s a family who might be capable of taking over, she might help that family train up proper for the job.

  “Who knows what’ll happen down the road? But it seems to me like this might work out all the way around. You’re a family that needs a home. This camp is a home that needs a family. The Landrys bought the place as a labor of love. Did you ever think they might have done that just to make sure it’s safe until the right family came along?” She shrugged. “Since we’re heading home for the celebration this weekend, I figure it might be a good time to talk with Philly Bananas.”

  “Philly Bananas?” Philip exchanged a puzzled look with Raphael. “What do we want to be talking to him about all this?”

  “He’s a lawyer.”

  “Business law, Widow,” Raphael pointed out.

  “Well, we’re looking to conduct business with the Landrys.” To Serafine’s knowledge no one in New Iberia Parish had ever discovered why the boy named Phillip Boudreaux had been so fond of bananas that he’d actually become known by the name, but she knew the man he’d grown into could help. “He’ll write us up something legal to show our commitment to this place. Maybe there’s some sort of contract you can sign that’ll guarantee you’ll stay working here if the Landrys let you use the camp to get some of those scholarships. You know, something that makes it official. To let them know you’re looking for a future here.”

  “It’s worth a shot, Raphael,” Philip said. “We got nothing else to do.”

  “Are you saying you’re willing to tackle school?” Raphael sh
ot him a skeptical glance.

  “Hell, why not? I’m tired of sitting around feeling useless while I watch you bust your ass keeping us together. I like it around here. I like Ike. I like fixing things. I like that Marie-Louise is singing again. Didn’t you notice how she bakes more desserts when she’s singing?”

  Serafine held her tongue and let fate play its hand.

  Raphael shot her a look as if she’d cast a magic spell on his baby brother. But he didn’t give her one word of sass. Nope, he pulled out a chair, sat down and said, “All right, Widow, why don’t you show us what you got here.”

  On approach to the big weekend

  JILLIAN HAD a decision to make. Her gynecologist had pulled some strings and sent her directly upstairs to a surgeon in the same office building, who was a friend of his. Both men consulted and agreed that her lump, which appeared to be a fibroadenoma, must come out.

  She was comfortable with the plan of action and their reassurances that the mass was likely benign. But only a biopsy would confirm that. All her research supported exactly what the doctors were telling her, and Dr. Hyatt had been her gynecologist since she’d been seventeen years old. She trusted his opinion.

  Now she had to let Michael know she was facing a surgical procedure, but she didn’t want to spoil their weekend.

  Should she wait until afterward to tell him? Or tell him before? Either way, she would force the issue. She’d have to be honest about her feelings, which would leave him reacting with some feelings of his own. Especially when he realized how long this had been going on and that she hadn’t told him. He’d likely feel angry she hadn’t said anything and guilty because he hadn’t asked. And definitely worried.

  They’d eventually work through all the emotions, but this wasn’t the best scenario for a fantasy weekend.

  It was as she was leaving the doctor’s office that Jillian came up with plan C.

  Michael had been using sexy games as a distraction from reality, and playing his sexy games had done exactly what he’d intended, along with building their sexual tension to a fever pitch. By the time the weekend arrived, they’d be primed and ready for sex.