A Doctor for Keeps

by Lynne Marshall - A Doctor for Keeps

  “That’s great. You’ll have to model it for me sometime.” His genuine smile rolled over her, doubling the unfamiliar feelings she harbored in her heart right then, until caution stepped in. Don’t get too chummy with anyone because you won’t be around that long. At the warning, her arm slipped from her grandmother’s back.

  “I’ve got to get back to the booth,” Gerda said. “Why don’t you show Desi around all of the displays?”

  “Glad to. That is, if Steven doesn’t get his nose bent out of shape.”

  “I think he’s forgotten me for that group of boys over there.”

  Gerda pointed at Kent. “I remember this one when he was Steven’s age. I could tell he had a crush on Ester, and I warned her to be extra nice to him when she babysat. Do you remember that?”

  “I do. Truth was, Ester was my first big heartbreak.”

  Kent went quiet as Gerda shut down before Desi’s eyes. Pain replaced the tender glances from earlier, and after a goodbye nod, Gerda make a quick departure for the bakery booth.

  Desi and Kent exchanged puzzled glances. How should she process what had just happened? Kent had accidentally brought up the taboo topic. No wonder it seemed so hard to ask about her mother, when her grandmother had never gotten over her running away.

  Kent flattened his lips into a straight line. “I put my foot in it, didn’t I?”

  “It’s so many years. Who would think it could still be so painful?”

  “Losing a kid. I don’t know how I’d survive,” he said.

  Desi couldn’t begin to imagine the hurt her mother had caused when she’d set out on her own, barely eighteen and pregnant. Seemed as though there were always two sides to every story. Times like these, Desi wished with all of her heart her mother was alive and she could ask her the tough questions.

  Kent glanced at his watch. “Well, it’s after noon. The kid’s distracted. Would you like a taste of schnapps in some cocoa? I know just the place.”

  “Sounds good.” Anything to replace the heartsick feeling for her mother and grandmother that had suddenly come over her. How different would her life have been if her mother and grandparents could have worked things out?

  Off they went, down the street toward a booth decorated in swaths the colors of the Swedish flag. On the way, without asking, Kent took her hand with a gentle, comforting touch, setting off a tingly domino effect all the way to her toes.

  Chapter Three

  Kent let rip a piercing whistle as he set the three cocoas on the outdoor table. After Desi nearly jumped from her chair, she saw Steven making a beeline for them. The kid must know his dad’s call.

  “That’s yours.” Kent handed Desi a thick mug filled with rich, hot chocolate with a strong peppermint aroma.

  “Thanks.” Seated beside a small round table, she blew over the top of her mug and inhaled more of the delicious scents. “You always call your kid like a dog?”

  Kent winked at her. “Works every time.”

  The quick, subtle wink sent a comet up her spine, and she sat infinitesimally straighter.

  Steven arrived, took one quick sip and put the non-spiked cocoa down. “Thanks, Dad! Gotta go.”

  “Wai…wai…wait a minute.” Desi grabbed the boy’s sleeve and pulled him back. “I thought I was your guest today. Stick around and finish your cocoa. Talk to us a little bit before you run off with your friends again, or I’ll get my feelings hurt.”

  The boy sat on the edge of the chair, too antsy to sit still. “We’re playing tag.” He slurped another drink. “I’m it.”

  “Sounds fun, but they get to see you every day at school.” Once she had Steven’s attention, she took a long drink of the warm, spiked cocoa and let it go down slow.

  “Have you ever been in the parade?” she asked.

  Steven tried to be polite, feet fidgeting, eyes darting to the side from time to time. “Not yet. But next year the fourth-grade class gets to make a float and wear costumes.”

  Desi glanced toward Kent. “Were you in the parade when you were in fourth grade?”

  “You bet. One of the biggest days of my grammar school life.” Kent’s usual guarded style gave way to a smile, making him look younger, even a little carefree.

  But Steven changed. His previous exuberance closed down and he stared at his drink. “Will I wear Swedish or Norwegian colors, Dad?”

  “Both, if that’s what you want to do.”

  Kent had grown more solemn, too, and Desi’s imagination started working overtime. Swedish? Norwegian? Her eyes darted between father and son. Did it have something to do with the missing mother and wife? And what was the deal with her? But like so many other times, she left her questions unspoken.

  Steven finished half of his drink and plopped the cup on the table. “Now can I go play?”

  “What about me?” Desi teased, reaching to tickle his sweatshirt-covered chest, trying to lighten the mood again.

  “I’ll bring you some bubblegum after me and my friends go to the candy booth.”

  “Gee, thanks. I feel so special.” She glanced at Kent. “I hope he didn’t learn his dating techniques from you.”

  Steven’s eyes lit up. “I know! I’ll bring you some fruit-flavored SweeTarts.”

  Never in her life would she ask for SweeTarts, or for a kid to spend his money on her, but since it seemed like such a big deal to the boy, she cheered. “Yay!”

  Kent got a funny look on his face and shook his head as Steven sped off.

  “You are going to pay him back, right?” she asked. “I’d hate for your kid to spend all of his hard-earned allowance on me.”

  “Wouldn’t that make it our date?”

  She locked eyes with Kent, refusing to get lost in those arctic blues. “How about I pay you and make it Dutch?” She looked suspiciously around, wondering if it was okay to say Dutch in Heartlandia.

  Tiny crinkles formed at the edges of his eyes, and Desi realized Kent was smiling again. “The other night he told me you smell like his favorite candy. That’s why he’s buying the SweeTarts for you.”

  She laughed. “SweeTarts?” She sniffed her wrists. “I guess my perfume does smell a little like candy.”

  She offered her wrist for Kent to try. He leaned forward and sniffed, his gaze walking from her wrist up her arm and connecting with her eyes. Zing. Heat jetted from her chest to her cheeks in record time. Feeling awkwardly aroused, she took her arm back and pretended to watch Steven run off.

  “How funny he noticed,” she muttered.

  “He’s a smart kid. A great kid.”

  “Agreed.” She sipped more of the delicious enhanced cocoa and let the newly emerged sunshine further warm her tingling face.

  Kent’s fingers tapped her knuckles, setting off a second wave of shivers. “He came from a mixed marriage, you know.”

  She cocked her head in Kent’s direction. The kid was a towhead.

  He had a playful glint in his eyes. “His mother’s Norwegian.”

  “Ah. Gee, it must have been hard with two extremely different cultures living under the same roof.” She’d play along to see if he’d open up about the wife who was no longer in the picture.

  Kent stretched out his long legs and crossed them at the ankles then took a long draw on his cocoa. “I can’t tell you how many arguments we had whether to serve lefse or regular potato pancakes.”

  “You’re kidding, right? What’s lefse?”

  “It’s a very thin pancake made from potatoes. Looks kind of like a flour tortilla. Great stuff. Want to try some? There’s a booth over there.”

  Her hand shot up. “I’m good. Thanks. Just ate half a dozen aebleskiver, and whatever that fishy thing you brought me was, remember? But I’ll take another rain check.”

  He studied her face. When the man let down his guard, he could melt her with that gorgeous smile straight out of a magazine. The women in this town were probably all waiting in the shadows for him to give the high sign that he was on the market again.

&nb
sp; Hadn’t Gerda said he’d been divorced less than a year?

  None of that mattered anyway, since Desi was only a tourist in town. Still, she wondered about the whole story, and the more he smiled at her, the more she wanted to know the down and dirty truth. Maybe she’d venture to ask?

  Except he beat her to the punch with another topic.

  “So when you’re not visiting your grandmother, what do you do?”

  “That’s a tough question.” She studied her ceramic mug, noticing fine cracks in the glaze. “I guess you could call me a jack-of-all-trades. I’ve waited tables and worked in bookstores. I’ve booked entertainment for a couple of clubs here and there, mostly acted as my mother’s assistant and later as her agent.” She took a sip, thinking how ditzy she must sound to a doctor. “I designed clothes for a retro girl group that was on the same circuit as my mother for a while. Being stuck in hotel rooms growing up, I got pretty good with sewing, mostly fixing my mom’s costumes. She gave me a portable sewing machine for my birthday one year.” She paused for a moment, remembering her excitement on that sweet-sixteen birthday, and how she’d wished there were more people to share it with. “I’ve done a few other la-di-da jobs, too, but I won’t bore you with them. Anyway, you name it, I’ve probably tried it.”

  He didn’t say anything, just sat there digesting her confession. Even though he was a doctor, she hadn’t tried to embellish her eclectic résumé. Truth was, she’d never ventured beyond her high school equivalency, probably not very impressive to an M.D.

  “So you’re the artistic type.” He rubbed his chin with his thumb and index finger, studying her as if she’d lost her clothes or something. His scrutiny made her squirm.

  “I guess you could say that.”

  “What about that la-di-da part?”

  She scrunched up her face, not understanding what he’d meant.

  “Those other jobs—you know, ‘you name it and I’ve probably tried it.’ The ones you don’t want to bore me with?”

  Ahh. “I can assure you, everything I’ve ever done has been perfectly legal.”

  “Good to know.” He sat back, thinking. “Where’d you go to college?”

  “Uh, I didn’t. My mother homeschooled me since we were always on the road, and by the time I could apply for college, I was really into the costume designing. So I skipped college that year, and the next year something else came up. I guess I just never got around to going.”

  He sat up straight. “Hey, we’ve got a great new community college right here.”

  “Is that right? Well, I won’t be sticking around long enough to go to school here, but thanks for thinking—”

  He shrugged a shoulder. “Why rule it out?”

  School or sticking around? She finished her cocoa. “Why make any hard-and-fast plans? We’ll see.”

  He didn’t look satisfied with her answer, but what did she care?

  Steven came barreling up to them again. “Here’s your candy.” He shoved it into her hands and took off again.

  “Thanks,” she shouted, positive the boy didn’t hear her. She cocked her head. “Some date he turned out to be.” When she glanced at Kent, there was that heart-melting smile again. Was it meant for her or because of Steven’s antics? Or maybe because he could tell she genuinely liked his son.

  “For my kid’s sake, I hope you’ll stick around awhile.”

  After all of his downright sexy smiles today, she wondered if maybe Kent wanted her to stick around, too. Or was this more about him being overprotective of his son and whoever the kid cared about not leaving?

  Racking her brain, she couldn’t remember anyone in her life ever asking her to stay put. Well, she had received an open-ended invitation from her grandmother to come to Heartlandia for as long as she wanted. That was one thing, but no man had ever seemed interested in anything long term. Not that she’d just taken an innocent comment from the gorgeous man across from her and blown it way out of proportion or anything. Talk about feeling needy. Must be the schnapps.

  As much as she’d like to think Kent had sent a subtle message about sticking around in Heartlandia, she was savvy enough to know he was only being protective of his son. Desi looked deep into Kent’s morning-sky stare and could have sworn there was a second part to that message she needed to decipher, and it all went back to his missing wife.

  * * *

  Kent finally got Steven to settle down and go to bed around nine o’clock. The kid had talked nonstop about the best day of his life after they’d dropped Desdemona back home. It gave Kent hope that Steven was coming out of his hurting place and that life would get better. For both of them.

  It had been a big day, and the boy had a lot to process: his new piano teacher, who had lavished him with attention and made him blush; the civic-pride event of the year; running with his friends downtown. How free he must have felt, and it had been a long time since Kent had seen him cut loose like that.

  Hell, last year they’d skipped the festival altogether, Kent making the excuse he had to work. He’d made sure he was scheduled just to avoid it.

  Amazingly, even tonight, Steven’s unending desire to impress Ms. Desi had led him to practice his piano lessons before taking his bath. That earnest look of concentration brought a swell of love so strong that Kent almost had to sit down. He shook his head over how a pretty woman could get a guy, even at the tender age of eight, to do things he’d never do on his own.

  This wasn’t good. Steven would go and get attached to her—the lady who couldn’t even commit to sticking around long enough to enroll in college—and then she’d leave…just like Steven’s mother had. Yet Kent couldn’t bring himself to put a stop to it. He liked seeing the joy on his son’s face again. He understood the lure of the new, mysterious woman. She’d gotten to him, too.

  Kent loved seeing his kid smile, and he liked having a little pizzazz added back into their routine. But as with everything in life, this would come with a price. Maybe Desdemona would stick around, continue to teach piano, take some classes at the city college. It wasn’t as if he had any control over it or not. But God knew Gerda would love to keep her here and could use her help, especially now that she’d agreed to fill in as mayor and the election wasn’t for months yet.

  Kent ventured out front to get some air, using the excuse of double-checking whether he’d locked up the truck or not. His gaze wandered to the large front window at the Rask house. The lights were bright, and inside, Desi walked back and forth, talking on a cell phone. She’d let her hair down and wore a colorful dress that looked more like a scarf. It hung to the floor and clung to her full-proportioned body, and he couldn’t help but notice when the light hit her just right, she was braless.

  An almost forgotten response wound its way into his chest, down his torso and through his hips. Damn, she was good-looking. Careful, Larson. Don’t let her beauty mess with your head. How many times today had he admired her light bronze complexion, the sprinkling of freckles across her nose and those rich dark eyes? Not to mention the lush lips begging to be— He shook his head. Think straight. She lives hand to mouth, picks up jobs here and there, doesn’t stick with any particular thing for long. She’s spent her life traveling the country, never settling down. She’s just passing through.

  His fists opened and closed as he did battle with the two strongest organs in his body. His brain knew without a doubt she’d break Steven’s heart. More than anything Kent wanted to protect his son, but he knew life had a way of playing out in the least expected ways. Why deprive the kid of the dazzling Ms. Desi?

  Why deprive himself?

  It took a lot of discipline, but he broke his gaze from Desdemona and strode toward the truck.

  He thought briefly about canceling Steven’s next lesson if Desi was going to teach. But no way would Steven let him; hell, he’d never been more motivated or prepared. Why rob the boy of his enjoyment and reward from hard work? It had been a long time since he’d seen his son so animated and carefree. In some c
razy way, maybe Desdemona could be part of the healing process instead of the purveyor of more grief.

  He shoved fingers through his hair, and through the car window he stole one last, quick look at Desi. Damn, the sight of her got to him again. Yet she was the exact opposite of what he needed in his life right now. There he went, overanalyzing. Whatever warm and sexy feelings he’d allowed to slip through just now had been successfully, surgically removed. As usual.

  He strangled the handle on the truck with his grip, frustrated. For once, Larson, can’t you just go with the flow?

  He jimmied the cold metal, ensured the car was locked, made an about-face and marched back into the house without another glance next door. But the image of Desdemona was already implanted in his mind…every last detail. No bra.

  * * *

  The next day Kent rushed home late again, having way too many patients at the Urgent Care for the allotted time slots. He really needed to learn to stick with his appointment schedule. This was the third time in two weeks he’d had to ask his babysitter to stay an extra hour.

  The sitter’s car was parked out front, so he pulled the truck into the driveway, noticing Desdemona sitting on the front porch again. She wasn’t looking his way or he would have waved. He rushed up the steps to the front door and let himself into the half-dark house.

  Amanda sat with Steven at the kitchen table, helping him with homework.

  “I’m sorry I’m late again.” He didn’t bother to check the mail, just went right to the kitchen. “I’ll take over the homework from here.”

  “No need, Mr. Larson. Steven’s all done.”

  Steven closed his book, making a loud clap.

  “Hi, Dad. Can I watch some TV now?”

  “A half hour. That’s all. I’ll have dinner ready by then.” Kent started for the cupboards. What the heck did he have around to feed Steven?

  “I already fed him,” Amanda said, gathering her things.

  “Hey, thanks.”

  “I was starving. She made me two hot dogs.” Antsy as always, Steven acted as if he needed a bathroom, quick.