He remembered how damn proud he’d been of Ben when his brother had come home with his degree a year ago. He’d felt that Ben had finally grown up and, with Ben at his side in the clinic, he wasn’t going to be alone anymore. His brother was going to join his practice and between them, they could do so much good. He supposed that had been all hubris on his part.
Shayne sighed. “Until I found out his heart wasn’t in it.”
The feeling struck a chord within her. Sydney pressed her lips together. “I guess his heart wasn’t in a lot of things he did,” she murmured more to herself than to Shayne. “Or promised.”
He heard her. In an odd way, he realized that he empathized with Sydney. He knew how it felt to be abandoned. To feel so numb that you couldn’t believe you were actually living through something so devastating, so appalling, or that you could go on living even when your heart had been ripped right out of your chest.
When he’d watched Barbara leave—even though he’d known that was what she intended to do—he hadn’t been prepared for the emotional onslaught that followed in the wake of her departure. Hadn’t been prepared for the horrid, gut-wrenching feelings that accompanied the realization that he hadn’t meant enough to his wife for her to want to remain with him.
He moved the wheel, guiding the altimeter down a few degrees. “You’ll get over it.”
Sydney could feel her eyes growing moist. She couldn’t let herself cry until she was alone. Gruff though this man next to her was, his kindness didn’t deserve to be repaid with the tears of a sobbing woman.
She took a breath before she turned her head to look at him. “Excuse me?”
Shayne wasn’t given to being talkative and wasn’t good at articulating his thoughts. But she was in pain and he was a doctor. It was his sworn duty to alleviate the pain if he could, even if it wasn’t the kind of pain that was found in any medical book.
“That feeling you have now—the one that feels as if something just kicked you right in your gut…you’ll get over it.”
He almost sounded gentle. She appreciated the effort. She had a feeling it probably didn’t come easily to him. “Is that your professional opinion?”
Shayne stared straight ahead at the cloud formation. It was a perfect day to fly. “That’s my personal opinion.”
Had someone hurt him? She knew she couldn’t ask. The way he said it, the topic was now closed. He wasn’t about to tell her any more.
Ever so slowly, Shayne set the pace for the plane’s descent. The small airstrip he’d forged was located just ahead, very close to his home. He’d done this so many times, the movements came to him automatically, without any thought.
He prepared to lower the landing gear. “What is it that you do when you’re not packing up and moving to Alaska?”
“I’m a teacher.” It made her feel less rootless when she said that. She was connected to the world by her work, by the minds she’d touched. That meant a great deal to her.
“We don’t have a school in Hades.” Which was something that hadn’t concerned him one way or another until the past few months.
So many things that hadn’t concerned him a year ago were now pushing their way to the foreground. He was responsible for two small souls. A responsibility that didn’t end when he wrote out a prescription or doled out a kind word. It continued, round-the-clock, twenty-four hours a day. Waking or sleeping.
It was humbling and unnerving at the same time.
“There’s one in Snowshoe, though.” He did a quick calculation. “That’s about thirty minutes from Hades—shortest route,” he added. He didn’t bother mentioning that sometimes, during the winter, the shortest route was completely impassable.
Sydney supposed that it was worth looking into. Maybe tomorrow, once she pulled herself together, she’d try to hire someone to take her there. “Do you know if they need a teacher?”
“No, I don’t.” He would have thought she would have directed these questions to Ben in her letters.
He knew very little about the school there, other than that it existed. Right now, he was leaving his children’s education up to the wife of the general store owner. For now, Shirley Kellogg was doing a fair job of it. The woman had received accreditation in a home studies program to teach her own brood of seven. With all of them grown now, she taught children in the area. He’d begun his own schooling that way, in a tiny log cabin that seemed old even by Hades’s standards. Miss Faye had been the teacher then, and he’d learned a great deal.
But looking into the school at Snowshoe was something he was going to have to do soon, though. Mac and Sara were eventually going to need more education than Shirley Kellogg could provide just as he and Ben had needed. They’d attended school in the once-thriving town of Shelbyville, but it was now just a ghost town.
“What was it you were planning on doing after you and my brother were married?” he finally asked. Too late, he realized he’d opened a very raw subject. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. I’m not the talker in the family, Ben is.”
“It’s all right.”
Sydney thought of the long letters Ben had written to her, planning their future. He’d envisioned them working together side by side. It was hard to believe that the plans had all been lies. Maybe there’d been a grain of truth in them. Maybe, if this ex-love of his hadn’t shown up, Ben would have been at the airport to meet her and they could have begun this life together.
Hashing all that over in her mind wasn’t going to accomplish anything, Sydney knew. She had to face the future, whatever that held for her.
She looked at Shayne, a thought coming to her. Maybe he could still use her.
“Ben said I could work at the clinic.”
This was the first he’d heard of it. “Oh, he did, did he?” Just when was Ben planning on springing that one on him? In Ben’s defense, Shayne realized he hadn’t been very receptive about Ben marrying some woman sight unseen when he’d told him about his plans last week. He’d tried to talk him out of marrying a virtual stranger. Ben probably thought it best not to mention having her work at the clinic until after she arrived.
Of course, all that was water under the bridge now. She wouldn’t be marrying Ben and as soon as she experienced a hostile winter, she’d be on the first plane out of here.
Sydney didn’t particularly like the tone in his voice. The decision for her to work at the clinic wasn’t based on charity or a nebulous whim.
“I have some medical training. I was going to become a doctor.”
It was that, in part, that had brought them together. Ben had mentioned in the article what it was like, being one of the only two doctors for miles. He’d sounded quietly heroic and selfless. She’d fallen in love with that image.
Just went to show her there were no white knights left.
“What happened?” Shayne didn’t bother to erase the skepticism from his voice.
The plane was rattling. Hard. Sydney wrapped her fingers around the armrests again. Her breath felt like a solid entity, weighing heavily in her lungs as the plane approached the airstrip. Her nerves jangled, mimicking the rhythm of the plane. She couldn’t imagine wanting to do this over and over again.
Sydney forced her mind back to the question he’d just asked.
“My father became ill. The money I had for medical school went to take care of him.” She’d never regretted that decision. But she did, at times, regret not being able to become a doctor. “Becoming a teacher seemed the best compromise.”
She’d left him behind with that leap in conversation. “I don’t see the connection,” he said, flipping a lever, preparing the plane for landing.
“I was going to be a pediatrician.” She was trying her level best not to sound as afraid as she felt. “I love working with children.”
The short, soft laugh was self-depreciating. “You’re a braver man than I, Gunga Din.”
That caught her attention, drawing it away from the swiftly approach
ing frozen ground. “Kipling?”
He shrugged one shoulder carelessly. “I do a lot of reading. Not much to do at night around here.”
“What does being brave have to do with children?” He was the brave one, flying this shaky tin can on a regular basis.
He thought of his children, two small strangers he had yet to get to know, much less understand. Almost every word out of his mouth seemed to be the wrong one. “They’re just difficult to deal with.”
Was it her imagination, or was the shaking lessening? She certainly hoped so. “No more than anyone else.”
“I have no idea how to talk to children,” he readily admitted.
That there should be a difference had never occurred to Sydney. She dealt with everyone in the same manner—honestly and with compassion. She supposed that, in the case of men, that was her mistake.
“Just the way you’d talk to anyone else,” she told him. She watched the ground as it continued to approach them quickly. “Children surprise you. They’re a great deal brighter than most adults give them credit for.” The words dribbled out of her mouth as she braced herself for impact. “The trick to communicating with them is to remember how you felt when you were their age.”
It seemed to Shayne that he had been born old. Childhood, if it had ever existed for him, was a million miles away. “I don’t remember being their age.”
His admission aroused her sympathy. “That’s a shame.”
He didn’t deal well with pity. “If you say so.” Shayne braced as the wheels of the plane made contact with the ground.
Like a dentist’s drill that had slipped and hit a nerve, the jolt went through her entire body. Recovering, she sucked in a long breath to steady herself before she hazarded a look at him. He seemed completely unfazed.
“Do you always land that way?”
“No.” Pressing the button, he released his seat belt, then wiggled it out of the slot when it refused to budge. “That was one of the smoother ones.”
She thought he was kidding until she looked at his face. The man was dead serious. “Maybe you should get a bigger plane.”
He was already out and ducking under the wing to get to her side. “I intend to. As soon as I can afford one.” And from where he stood, that day wasn’t going to be any time in the near future.
He held his arms out to her, waiting to help her down. She slid into them, realizing belatedly that her legs were shaky. When her feet touched the ground, they felt like limp dental floss. She sank as she tried to put her weight on them.
“Whoa.” His arms tightened around her immediately, jerking her to him as he steadied her.
Something quick, sharp and elusive spiraled through her, discharging electricity like an eel that had been stepped on, the moment their bodies touched. Confusion creased her brow as she looked up at him.
The next second, the sensation was gone, vanishing as if it never existed. As if it were all in her mind.
Maybe it was, she thought. She’d been through a lot today and the day wasn’t over.
Aware that he was holding her too close, Shayne loosened his grip. He peered at her face. “Are you all right?”
She felt really foolish. “Yes.” With effort, she forced her legs to stiffen until they could support her. “Just haven’t got my sea legs yet—” Sydney raised her eyes to his face. “Or is the term ‘air legs’?”
He wished she’d stop looking up at him like that. It made a man lose his train of thought. “There is no term for it.” He almost bit off the words. “Can I let go now?”
To be on the safe side, Sydney kept a hand on his arm as she tested her legs before giving him an answer. Mercifully, they didn’t buckle this time.
“They’re steadier,” she announced, then flashed a quick smile at him. “Sorry, didn’t mean to fall all over you like that.”
He’d had worse experiences. “No harm done,” he muttered.
But there had been harm, he thought. Holding her like that, however innocently, had only served to remind him just how long it had been since he’d held a woman in his arms. Up until this moment he’d talked himself into believing that it didn’t matter. His practice kept him in credibly busy. And now, with his children here, he was more than busy. That was supposed to be enough.
It had been enough.
This wake-up call was far from welcome.
Abruptly, he turned from her and retrieved her luggage from behind the seats. He set the first suitcase on the ground, then leaned in to pull out the second one, setting it beside its mate as he secured the plane. Finished, he turned and picked up the suitcases. Snow clung to their bottoms as he grasped both handles in his hands.
Not accustomed to having someone else do for her, Sydney reached for the closest suitcase. But to her surprise, Shayne wouldn’t release it.
“Here, let me take one.” Sydney tried to reach for the handle again.
Shayne used the suitcase as a pointer, indicating the building in the distance. “Just walk,” he instructed.
Since he couldn’t be reasoned with, Sydney wrestled the suitcase out of his hand, then fell into step beside him. When he looked at her as if she’d just lost her mind, she asked pleasantly, “Were you in the army?”
Where had that come from? he wondered. “No, why?”
She grinned at him. “You sounded like a drill sergeant just then. I’m beginning to understand why you might have trouble talking to children.”
There was no “might” about it. He had probably exchanged fewer than fifty sentences with Mac and Sara since they had come to live with him. And it was just getting harder, not easier, for him with each passing day.
Paying attention to what was in front of her, Sydney got her first clear view of the house where she would be staying. It looked exactly the way Ben had described it. An old-styled, two-story Swiss chalet, all wood and stone perched on a tablecloth of pristine snow.
Sydney had a tremendous sense of homecoming, despite the extenuating circumstances.
“It’s charming.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the questioning look he gave her. “Your house,” she explained.
Charming. Barbara hadn’t thought so. She’d thought it hopelessly rustic and outdated. He’d promised to renovate it for her, but he hadn’t found the time to get around to it. After six months, it ceased to be necessary.
As for himself, he’d never thought of the building in terms of adjectives. It was just home. It always had been.
“Thanks. Ben and I were born here,” he heard himself unintentionally sharing with her, and shrugged it off to empathy.
“Really?” Ben had already told her that, but she pretended it was news. The house boasted four bedrooms and several fireplaces, she recalled. She’d thought it large for one man when Ben had described it. He’d promised that they’d fill it with children as soon as she was ready. The thought had thrilled her.
She couldn’t believe that she’d been so easily taken in. With effort, she shook off the memory. “It looks so large. Were your parents wealthy?”
Only in terms of the love they bore one another, Shayne thought. Watching them, he’d grown up believing that husbands and wives adored each other and that marriage was forever. Finding out otherwise had been a rude revelation.
“No, my father was good with his hands,” he explained matter-of-factly. “My mother wanted a large house. He wanted to please my mother.”
“An admirable quality,” she commented, shifting the suitcase to her other hand.
Shayne caught the motion out of the corner of his eye. Small wonder, he mused. It felt as if she’d packed rocks in both. Never breaking stride, he turned a hundred and eighty degrees, took the suitcase from her and then faced forward again. The expression on his face dared Sydney to offer any protest.
He noticed with satisfaction that she had enough sense to keep her mouth shut. They were at the front door quickly enough anyway.
Shayne nodded toward it. “Get the door, will you?”
> “Sure.” She turned toward him. “Where do you have the keys?” There was no Welcome mat before the threshold and she doubted if he meant for her to rifle though the pockets of his parka.
His eyes indicated the doorknob. “Just turn that, it’s unlocked.”
She liked that, Sydney thought. Liked the idea of living somewhere where she could keep the doors unlocked. Where she felt safe. But she had to admit it was going to take some getting used to.
Turning the doorknob, she pushed open the door and heard a startled, shrilled yelp from the other side. She immediately pulled the door to her before looking around it.
There were two children, a boy and a girl, standing directly behind it.
Children. Shayne had children, she remembered belatedly. Ben had written all about his niece and nephew. The affection that had spilled out in his words was just another element that had tugged on her heart and sealed her fate.
She left the door standing open as she looked from one child to the other. “Oh, I’m sorry. Are you two all right?”
The boy, with his black hair and green eyes, looked like a miniature version of Shayne, right down to the scowl darkening his handsome face. His sister’s features were far more delicate, her long, silky-blond hair unearthing the memory of a porcelain doll Sydney had once seen in a catalog.
“Yes.” Huge blue eyes looked up at her as a shy smile made a hesitant appearance on the little girl’s small lips.
There was no sign of a smile on the son’s face. “Who’s she?” he demanded of his father. It was obvious he was offended his father had brought someone into the house.
Instead of waiting for Shayne to make the introductions, Sydney put her hand out to the boy. “Hi, I’m Sydney. What’s your name?”
“Mac Kerrigan.” He gave the information grudgingly, though Sydney had the impression that he liked her shaking his hand. The green eyes swept over her critically. “Sydney’s a funny name for a girl.”
“You think so, too, huh?” Her agreement defused a little of his dark mood. “It was my dad’s name. He gave it to me because he liked it so much.” And because he’d hoped for a son, she added silently. The bond that was forged between them over the years, though, had quickly made gender unimportant.
Wife in the Mail Page 4
