Her Maverick M.D.

by Teresa Southwick

  “Dawn—”

  “Remember the time he swore he would come to my birthday party? He said a kid only turns eight once and he would be there. No-show.” She saw shadows in Hank’s eyes and knew he remembered. “Or the father-daughter dance when I was twelve. You scraped up the money to buy me a new dress and did my hair. I waited for hours but he didn’t call, didn’t come.”

  “This isn’t helpful,” Glory said.

  “It is to me. Then there was that apple pie I baked for him. I cried myself to sleep because he couldn’t be bothered to fit me into his busy schedule. On Christmas.”

  “Dawn, you’re being rude,” her mother scolded.

  “You’re right. I’m being a brat. But you can’t tell me I’m lying.”

  “Dawn Debra—”

  “She’s right, Glory.” Hank’s mouth pulled tight for a moment but he never looked away. There was sadness in his eyes. “I was a lousy husband to you and an even worse father to the girls.”

  “At least we can agree on that.” Something twisted inside Dawn as he winced, telling her the verbal arrow struck and drew blood. Good. She told herself she wasn’t being mean. Trusting someone who had constantly disappointed you was just plain stupid. Reminding her mother not to trust him again was a public service.

  “What I did cost me big-time because I’m not Glory’s husband anymore.”

  “No, you’re not.” Dawn stared him down.

  “I’d like to be her friend, if possible. I’m ashamed about what I did to her and you girls. You’ll never know how sorry I am and I plan to do my best to make it up to you. Because, the thing is, I’ll always be your father.”

  Unfortunately he had a point there. But her mom gave her another stern look so she kept the thought to herself.

  “I haven’t done very much to make you believe this, but if you or Marina ever need me, I’ll be there for you.”

  “So I should put you on speed dial in case I need a kidney?” Where was this nasty sarcasm coming from? Good golly, she needed therapy. This had been bottled up for a long time and it wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen him here and there. Why let him have it now? All she could think of was that using her father’s past behavior as a horrible warning to explain to Jon why she’d pushed him away had churned things up. And, apparently, she couldn’t keep it inside any longer.

  “I deserve that.” There was no anger or defensiveness in Hank’s voice. Just acceptance. “And there’s nothing I can say to make you believe I’m being straight with you now.”

  “Right again.”

  “But I made a promise to your mother and I intend to honor it.”

  “And what would that be?” Dawn just heard him imply that he was going to help paint the house but wanted to hear him say it.

  “I’m going to fix this place up for her. Paint, plumbing, a rack in the kitchen for her pots and pans. Lights under the cupboards like she’s always wanted. I’m going to keep my word to her.”

  “Well, I sure hope she doesn’t hold her breath. But, then, we all have to live with disappointment. And after being married to you she’s had a lot of practice.”

  “Not this time.” He looked at his ex-wife. “I’m not nineteen anymore and overwhelmed at being a teenage father. Or feeling like a failure because I couldn’t support my family. It took a while for me to grow up, but I did. I can’t undo what I’ve already done. All I can do is try to be a better man. Do the right thing from now on.”

  Dawn wasn’t falling for it. “That was a good speech.”

  “Everyone deserves a second chance,” Glory said.

  “I stopped counting the chances I gave him a long time ago.” Dawn looked at her mother. “How can you be so gullible? Even more than Marina and me, you had to deal with the messes he always left behind.”

  “Don’t make me the saint and him the sinner, Dawn. We were hardly more than babies ourselves when we had babies.” She glanced at Hank. “Mistakes were made on both sides.”

  He smiled at her. “As far as I’m concerned it’s all water under the bridge. Now is a new start. Like a fresh coat of paint.”

  “Friends,” Glory said, smiling at him.

  “Works for me.”

  Apparently Dawn didn’t inherit the forgiveness gene from her mom. “Have you ever heard the expression that leopards don’t change their spots?”

  “Yeah, I have,” he said. “All I can say is watch me.”

  “I don’t have to—”

  “Dawn—” Glory’s tone allowed no argument. “Before anything else comes out of your mouth that you might regret, you should know that I’ve invited Hank to stay for dinner.”

  After that bombshell there was no danger of saying anything she’d regret because she couldn’t say anything at all. The three of them stared at each other while tension crackled in the air. The adrenaline pounding through her was so loud that she almost didn’t hear the doorbell.

  Thank God she did. Saved by the bell. “I’ll get that.”

  She hurried to the door, fully prepared to buy whatever they were selling or kiss whoever had rescued her. But that was before she opened the door and saw Jon Clifton standing there.

  * * *

  “Hi.” He lifted his hand in a wave.

  “Hi?”

  Jon had no trouble at all reading the expression on her face and could tell what she was thinking. Not that he was very intuitive with women, but his stopping by was unexpected. “I’m the last person you expected to see.”

  “Yeah. Pretty much.” She looked puzzled. “How did you get my address?”

  “I called Emmet.”

  “Why did you need it? Or, more to the point, why are you here?”

  He held up a cell phone in its neon green case. More than once he’d seen her pull it out of her scrubs pocket and knew right away who it belonged to. “When I was turning off lights and locking up, I noticed your phone in the break room. I thought you might need it. Probably you set it down in there when you were showing Dr. Shepard around the clinic.”

  “Probably. Thanks for bringing it by.” Dawn took it and put it in her pocket, then leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb and studied him. “You don’t like Steve.”

  “I didn’t say that.” Apparently he wasn’t the only one who was intuitive. But his reaction to Shepard was a ridiculous and completely irrational, emotional response which he wouldn’t dignify by admitting she was right. “What makes you think I don’t like him?”

  “It was the tone of your voice—”

  “Ah.”

  “I’m not finished yet,” she said. “Your mouth got all pinchy and tight. And your eyes turned sort of flinty and dark.” She folded her arms over her chest. “What’s your problem with him?”

  “I don’t have a problem. I don’t know him.” All Jon knew was that Dawn had smiled at the guy and that got his juices flowing, none of them good. “It doesn’t make sense that I could judge him so quickly as someone not to like.”

  “Doesn’t mean you didn’t. So, what gives, Jon?”

  No way he would admit to being jealous because then he’d have to explain why. He and Dawn had just gotten past his negative first impression and he enjoyed getting along with her. Talking. Teasing. Seeing her look at him like a hero who’d adopted a three-legged dog. He didn’t want to go back to cold looks and clipped tones.

  “Let’s chalk it up to a long day and hunger. So, on that note, I’ll leave and you can get on with your evening. Good night, Dawn.” He turned and started down the path to his truck parked at the curb behind her compact.

  “Wait—”

  When he stopped and turned back she was twisting her fingers together, looking uncertain about something. Then she seemed to make up her mind.

  “Would you like to stay for dinner?” she asked.

&n
bsp; The thought of not going back to the empty guesthouse and slapping together ham and stale bread for a sandwich was so appealing he nearly jumped at the request. Then his manners kicked in. “That hunger remark wasn’t me hinting for a dinner invitation.”

  “I didn’t think it was.”

  “I wouldn’t want to put you out,” he said.

  “If it was an imposition, I wouldn’t have said anything in the first place. And I don’t feel obligated because you dropped off my cell phone. Thanks again for that, by the way.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “It’s just—” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth.

  “What?”

  “My father is here,” she said.

  “The flaky weasel dog toad boy?”

  She smiled. “Yes.”

  “Way to make the invitation irresistible,” he teased. The uneasy expression on her face said something was up but he had no idea what. He’d taken a lot of classes in medical school but understanding women wasn’t one of them. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

  “He was here when I got home from the clinic. Looking at paint chips with my mom. She bought this place after the flood a couple years ago and is fixing it up. He swears he’s changed and is going to paint the house for her.”

  “So, your father is Hank the Handyman.” He shrugged at her look. “It was hard to miss on the side of the truck.”

  “Yeah. The thing is, I think he’s cozying up to her because he wants something. He’s trying to worm his way into her good graces. Then he’ll disappear like he always does and she’s going to get hurt. So—” She slid her hands into the pockets of her scrubs. “I said some things. Told him how I felt.”

  “It’s healthy to get your feelings out.” Jon didn’t see agreement in her expression. “No?”

  “It might have been if I hadn’t said it before Mom told me he was staying for dinner. Now it’s just awkward.”

  “Aha. You want me to take the heat off you.”

  “Kind of. My mother actually sent me to answer the door with the words ‘before anything else comes out of your mouth that you might regret.’”

  “Hmm.” He pretended to think about it, partly to mess with her and partly because he didn’t want to seem too eager. “I’ve never been the rose between two thorns before. What’s in it for me?”

  “My everlasting gratitude?” There was a pleading note in her voice. “I would seriously owe you one. Big-time.”

  Owing him wasn’t the reason he was going to accept but it definitely was not a bad thing. No, the deciding factor was that he wanted to fix this for her. And it was best not to examine too closely why that was. “Okay. If you’re sure it’s no bother—”

  “Let that go, Clifton.” She swung the door wide. “Come on in.”

  A muffled female voice carried from another room. “Dawn, who’s at the door?”

  “Coming, Mom.” She looked up at him and said, “Follow me.”

  He did and was mesmerized by the way her very fine rear end gave a sexy shape to the shapeless scrubs. In the kitchen he saw an older, strawberry blonde woman stirring a pot of spaghetti sauce on the stove. A man about her age lowered the oven door to look inside and the smell of garlic was a clue that there was bread in there. Jon’s mouth watered and hunger twisted in his stomach.

  Then it hit him that these were her parents and suddenly he felt a little pressure. If he had to guess, he’d say it was because he wanted them to like him, but that didn’t make sense. He had no emotional investment. He was there to take the heat off Dawn. That was all. It didn’t matter what they thought of him.

  “Mom, Hank—” Dawn hesitated for just a moment, as if she was feeling pressure, too, but for her it was tension with the man she’d obviously refused to refer to as “father.” “This is Jon Clifton. Dr. Clifton. We work together at the clinic. I forgot my cell phone and he brought it by. I invited him to stay for dinner.”

  “Happy to have you.” Her mother put down the wooden spoon and wiped her hands before moving closer. “Dr. Clifton, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Glory.”

  “A pleasure,” he said, shaking hands with both of them. Then he looked down at the scrubs he was still wearing. “Sorry. I came right from work and didn’t expect a dinner invitation.”

  “No problem.” Glory waved her hand dismissively. “We’re not formal.”

  “I hope it’s no trouble for me to stay for dinner.”

  “Of course not,” Glory said. “We’re having spaghetti and meatballs so there’s plenty. Would you like a beer?”

  “Beer would be great.”

  After grabbing two bottles from the refrigerator, Hank walked over and handed one to Jon. “How do you like Rust Creek Falls, Doctor?”

  “It’s a lot like Thunder Canyon. That’s where I’m from,” he said. “But smaller.”

  “It’s growing fast.” Glory glanced over her shoulder, then stirred the pasta. “Folks are lucky to have you and Dawn here.”

  “I heard about the population explosion,” he said.

  Dawn looked up from making the salad and there was a wry expression on her face. “I guess that’s our claim to fame.”

  “Dawn tells me you’re a pediatrician. Hank and I have a granddaughter.”

  “Dawn told me about Sydney. I look forward to meeting her and her mom. For her regular checkups,” he added.

  Glory nodded but it was Hank who spoke. “You’re in for a treat.” There was obvious pride in his voice and expression. “She’s a beauty.”

  Jon saw the surprised look on Dawn’s face, as if she hadn’t known that her father had seen the little girl. She didn’t comment, just finished making the salad and then set the table, but there was tension in her shoulders. Before he could think of something to say that would make her relax, Glory announced dinner was ready.

  She put everything on the table while Dawn poured two glasses of red wine for her mom and herself. He noticed that she grabbed the one with noticeably more in it and sipped.

  When the four of them took their seats Hank lifted his beer bottle, obviously preparing to make a toast. Jon recalled that night not long ago when Dawn had ordered him not to drink “to us.” He met her gaze and the wry expression on her face told him she was remembering it, too.

  “Let’s drink to beginnings,” Hank said, looking at Glory.

  He noticed that when everyone clinked glasses Dawn managed to avoid touching her father’s. Time to be the rose between two thorns, he thought.

  “So, Glory,” he said, “you’re fixing up the house.”

  “Yes.” She explained about purchasing it at a super discounted price from the bank and her impatience at the slow pace of the improvement projects. “Thanks to Dawn insisting on paying rent, I can afford to do things a little faster.”

  “Up in Thunder Canyon we heard about that flood,” he said. “A lot of folks came to help.”

  “I remember. It was really bad.” Dawn’s eyes were full of shadows as she twisted her fork in the spaghetti. “You can still see the effects of it here and there.”

  “Those reminders are disappearing slowly but surely,” Hank said. “Thanks to people like Glory who are willing to put in hard work.”

  Jon took another piece of garlic bread. “There’s nothing like small town spirit, the way neighbors pull together.”

  “Emmet received grants to rebuild the clinic and now we’re expanding personnel.” Dawn took a bite of pasta. “Another new doctor is starting. We met him today.” Her eyes sparkled when she met Jon’s gaze.

  “I talk to a lot of people.” Glory explained to Jon about her cleaning business and the contract she’d just signed to take care of the clinic. “Folks are really glad that more health care professionals are settling here. Me included. When Dawn was little she h
ad an allergic reaction to peanuts. Do you remember, Hank?”

  “Do I?” The older man shook his head. “Scared me to death. And I had to drive you two all the way to Kalispell so the doc there could take a look at her.”

  Dawn’s eyes blazed with antagonism. “Funny. I don’t remember—”

  “Allergic reactions are pretty scary,” Jon said. “And peanut allergies are common in children.”

  Mission accomplished. Jon had earned his dinner by successfully refereeing the conversation. Her mother and father reminisced about being young parents and how they’d matured. He knew some of the bad stuff from the little bit Dawn had told him but Glory seemed to have made peace with the past. There was a fondness and friendly banter between her and Hank, but Dawn looked more hostile the longer the meal went on. Every time she started to open her mouth, Jon said something to interrupt her.

  “I’ll do the dishes, Glory,” Hank said when they had all finished eating.

  “Bless you.” She stood and picked up a bowl with the remaining pasta. “I’ll take care of the leftovers.”

  “Can I help?” Jon asked.

  “No, you’re our guest. Dawn, why don’t you take him out back and show him what you did with the yard.”

  “You mean what you did,” she said. “I could kill a cactus.”

  “Me, too.” That was something they had in common, he thought. “But I’d enjoy seeing the fruits of someone else’s green thumb.”

  “Right this way.” Dawn turned her back to her parents and mouthed “thank you.”

  There was a French door leading outside and he followed her through it. He stepped onto a small patio that had lush grass surrounding it. Flower beds against the wooden fence added color around the perimeter.

  “I hope that wasn’t too awful for you,” she said.

  “You’re not going to want to hear this, but your father doesn’t seem like such a bad guy.”

  “You’re right.”

  “I am?” He’d expected pushback.

  “I don’t want to hear that.” But she smiled. “I just don’t want my mother to count on him and be disappointed when he lets her down.”