by Olivia Miles
Ridiculous.
She crossed the room, pretending to assess the space, even though she already knew how to best fill it. A few plants in the corners, with some strings of lights for ambience. A centerpiece for each table, two for the bar, and tea lights scattered on all the surfaces. The hospital was on a budget, and she knew that whatever money wasn’t spent on decorations could be put to better use. She’d make things pretty, but she wouldn’t go overboard. Seasonal flowers like white hydrangeas should work just fine, especially with the rustic environment. She’d talk to the supplier tonight at the market, see if he’d cut her a deal.
“The tables and chairs they use here will be fine. As will the linens. I suggest white and green for the color scheme. Elegant but simple.”
“You’re the expert,” Brett said.
Ivy frowned at him. She’d arranged to meet him here, telling herself it was the sensible, safe choice, but he’d seemed distant since she’d first climbed out of the car. “Is everything okay?”
His dark gaze traveled back to her. “Fine.”
She never knew fine to mean anything close to it, but she decided not to press the issue. He wasn’t her boyfriend; he wasn’t her brother or cousin.
But he was her friend, right? She looked out onto the hills, thinking about it. She might have agreed to be his friend, but she still wasn’t so sure how she felt about it. A week had passed since the last time she’d seen him, not that she had been opposed to running into him around town. She’d even tried the treadmill at the gym one night, but he never appeared, and the sense of disappointment she carried with her on the walk home only confirmed the fact that she still wasn’t over her crush. No matter how much she wished she could be.
She looked up at him, at the way the sun caught the chestnut highlights in his dark hair and how his hawklike gaze was set on the distance, and felt that little pang. Yep. Still there.
“Well, I should be getting back to the shop…”
“I thought you were closed on Sundays,” Brett said, turning to give her his full attention.
“Oh.” Ivy gulped. Couldn’t she have thought of a better excuse? But she could barely think at all, not when Brett was staring at her like that, all moody and sexy and silent. “I’m closed to customers, but I have to catch up on some paperwork before the week hits. And of course, there’s lots to do for this event.”
“The heat’s let up a bit. Let’s walk around,” Brett suggested.
She hesitated, and then, because for some reason she still couldn’t quite resist him, she began following him down the gravel path that she knew led out to private gazebo near the edge of the property. Most brides came down here for the formal photos. She especially loved seeing it in the fall, when the leaves had just turned and the splash of color contrasted brightly with the white wood and dresses.
Today, though, despite the drop in temperature from last weekend, the sun beat down, and by the time the neared the end of the hill, Ivy was regretting the jeans she’d worn.
“Do you have anything to drink in your bag?” Brett asked as he leaned back against a post.
“Of course.” She reached inside and retrieved a bottle of water, but he just held up a hand.
“Drink it. It’s hot.”
Ivy narrowed her gaze on him. “I can take care of myself.”
“Oh, I have no doubt about that. In fact, it’s one of the things I admire most about you.”
Her hand froze on the water bottle cap. “Oh really? Go on,” she teased, grinning.
“I mean it. You’ve faced a lot of adversity in your life. Some people would let that kind of thing hold them back, define them. But you pressed on. You’re a strong woman, Ivy.”
“I’m just a little sensitive when it comes to suggestions on how I should be taking care of myself.”
“I was just trying to be chivalrous,” he said, his brown eyes twinkling. “And I’m a doctor. It’s hard to check that kind of thing at the door. Concern follows me wherever I go.”
She told herself not to feed into that even as a pleased smile teased her mouth. “I thought you didn’t like to get emotionally involved with your patients.”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen.”
His frown deepened and Ivy stepped forward, worried she’d misspoken in her effort to defuse an awkward moment. “I’m sure you’re an excellent doctor, Brett.”
“I could be better.” He scowled, looking down at his feet for a moment. “I messed up. In Baltimore. That’s why I’m here.” His gaze was sharp when it caught hers, as if waiting for her to question him or judge him, the way he so clearly judged himself.
“Everyone messes up,” she said, feeling the familiar knot return when she thought of all the ways she’d let people down. Let herself down.
He shook his head. “I don’t mess up. Every time I walk out of that ER, I know I did all I could. Whatever the outcome, I did everything, my best, and that’s enough for me, even if some cases are rough. But this one night…” She waited, sensing the weight he carried. “I didn’t do my best. I was distracted. Tired. God, I was so tired.” He paused, eyes on her as he hesitated. “No one knows this, but a few months ago my mom had a health scare. She thought… she thought she was sick again.”
“But she’s not?” Ivy felt a flicker of alarm. Sharon Hastings had already been through so much. She was a good woman. Kind and friendly. Not the kind of person to let circumstances knock her down.
“No, no, it turned out to be nothing. But when she called and told me… asked for my opinion on some things… it was all I could think about. I offered to fly back, but she said to wait until they’d done more tests. I listened. For the second time in my life, I listened when she told me to put my career first and her second.” He gave a low, bitter laugh. “What kind of son does that make me?”
Ivy set her hand on his forearm, feeling the fine hair under her fingertips. His skin was warm and soft, and he didn’t push her away, even though he seemed to be fighting something. “She wanted you to carry on with your life. Then. Now. She knew how much potential you had. She didn’t want to hold you back. You’re a brilliant surgeon, Brett. Everyone knows that.”
He turned to her sharply. The intensity in his gaze silenced her. “A patient died on my watch. Because I was distracted. Because I was only half present. It’s my fault. Mine alone. It will settle, of course, but that doesn’t change the cold, hard fact that I am responsible for a man losing his life.”
She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the details, and she couldn’t even believe what he was telling her. He was too hard on himself. “I’m sure you did everything you could,” she tried, but she knew her words weren’t enough to ease the pain she saw in his eyes.
“No. I was tired. I wasn’t focused. My shift was almost over, and I just wanted to finish up and go home. I wasn’t thinking about anything but my mother, my personal problems, not the professional ones I was there to deal with.” He dropped down onto the steps, and after a beat, she joined him.
“It was a young man. Forty years old. Triage said the chief complaint was fever and cough. He was sweaty, but it was attributed to the other symptoms. I had another case in the next room—a boy with a distal femur fracture. A broken leg,” he explained wryly. “Normally, I’d reduce the fracture and have a nurse set the cast, but I was almost grateful for the task—doing something with my hands, something simple and routine. It cleared my mind, took my worry off my mom for a bit. I sent the kid home, went in to check on the other patient and… It was too late. Pulmonary embolism. Blood clot.”
“Oh, Brett.” Ivy grimaced. “But… how could you have known?”
“Because I’m a doctor,” he ground out, clenching a fist on his thigh. “That’s how I should have known. Because I’m trained to spot these things. To stop them. To… help.”
“But certainly other people were involved.”
“The triage nurse, yeah. But he was my patient. Mine.” He swore under his breath. “
I’ve gone over it and over it. If I’d just been more thorough, taken more time. Been less distracted. Prioritized the right patient.” He cursed.
“You did the best you could at the time,” Ivy insisted.
“And the worst of it… The wife was pregnant. And now she’s alone. And that baby will never know its father.”
Ivy moved her hand to his and gave it a squeeze, but she stiffened when he gripped it tight and held it close in his. His palm was warm, and she could feel the steady beat of his pulse against her skin.
“I’ve held this in for so long.”
Ivy nodded, wishing she could ease the weight. He said he didn’t care, that he didn’t connect with patients, but it wasn’t true. The hurt in his eyes confirmed it. The softness in his voice, the way he struggled to forgive himself. He cared. About his mother. His family. His patients.
About her.
His face was close, his eyes searching hers as he leaned in. Ivy gasped as his mouth met hers. So gentle. So familiar. She opened her mouth as every nerve ending in her body zipped with awareness, wanting so much to recapture the sensation, but her mind began to spin with warning.
He didn’t want a relationship. He didn’t want anything from her. He’d said it. After their first amazing kiss. And chances were, he’d be saying it again after this one.
She pulled back and freed her hand from his. “I… I should really go.”
She stood, leaving him sitting on the steps of the gazebo, and ran all the way up the path to where her station wagon was parked next to Brett’s sleek black sedan.
Brett didn’t want what she wanted. Not the quiet, small-town life. Not the simple pleasures. Not a human connection.
And most of all, he didn’t want her.
Henry was in his office when Ivy finally left the shop that night, hoping some fresh air would clear her muddled thoughts and the image of Brett sitting on those stairs, his expression unreadable as she broke their kiss.
The office of the Briar Creek Gazette was tucked in an old brick building just off Main at the other edge of town, so she and Henry rarely crossed paths during the day unless they arranged to meet. The door was locked, but when she tapped on the window, Henry looked up from his laptop screen and smiled in surprise.
“How’d you know I’d be here?” he asked after letting her in.
“I’m your twin,” she replied, dropping into a rickety wooden chair near his desk. “I can sense these things.”
“So can I.” Henry closed the laptop and gave her his full attention. “Which is why I know something is wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong!” But she knew it was no use. Like it or not, Henry knew her. Inside and out. She wouldn’t have it any other way.
She smiled at him, her heart filling with gratitude that he was here, that she could stop by his office like this, connect with someone who’d known and loved her all her life, pop over for a family dinner whenever she wanted. He’d been out of her life for too long, and she’d never said a word, because she’d loved him and wanted him to be happy, even if that was far from Briar Creek. She’d never make him feel guilty for those years he was gone, but oh, it really was amazing to have him back again. For good.
Henry gave her a long look. “You can’t hide from me, Ivy. I know you. What’s up?”
Where did she even begin? She longed to tell Henry everything that happened, but it bordered on girl talk, and besides, Henry and Brett were sort of friends. And what was there to even say? If Henry found out that Brett had tried to kiss her again just to… comfort himself? Distract himself? Have a little fun? Well, it certainly wouldn’t go over well at all. Henry was protective of her, and she didn’t need him punching anyone on her behalf. The thought of it almost made her giggle.
“What’s so funny?” Henry asked, a small smile curving his mouth.
She brushed away the question. “It’s nothing. I just… I was imagining you coming to my defense.”
He arched a brow. “Do your defenses need protecting?”
“No.” She patted his arm. “But it’s nice to know you have my back if I do.”
“Always,” he confirmed.
She leaned back, the warm, fuzzy feeling suddenly replaced with a twinge of dread. Still, the conversation had to happen. “I wanted to talk to you about the money you lent me,” she said.
Henry leaned back in his chair and groaned. He raked his hands down his face and glanced at her through parted fingers. “You’re not still hung up on this, are you? I told you, Ivy. It wasn’t a loan; it was a gift.”
“But I want to pay you back,” she protested. “I told you that all along.”
“I don’t need the money, Ivy—”
And she knew that. And he knew that she knew it. “But I don’t feel comfortable taking that kind of help.” She took a deep breath. Here went nothing. “Now, I know how you feel about my schedule—”
As expected, Henry opened his mouth to voice his opinion on the matter, but Ivy held a hand up firmly. “I’m doing well, Henry. I really am. I wanted you to hear this straight from me. I’ve decided to start offering those monthly flower arranging classes.”
“Ivy—”
“I know you worry about how hard I’m working, but nothing you can say will change my mind. I’m healthy, I’m taking care of myself, and I know my limits. Now, I’m not asking for your permission. I’m simply informing you.”
Now it was his turn to raise an eyebrow. “And I’m not going to try to stop you.”
She blinked. “You’re not?”
“No. Like you said, you’re in a better place now. If you say you’re taking your medication and following the diet plan the doctor gave you, then I believe you.”
Ivy chewed on her lip, recalling the incident at the Fourth of July festival. She forced herself not to indulge in it. It was one time, and she was human. A human with a condition that took management and care. She was doing her best. Unlike a year ago. That counted for something.
“I’m glad we had this talk.” She smiled.
Henry grinned. “Me too. Now, want me to run an ad for the class in tomorrow’s paper? Free of charge.”
No matter what, Henry would always be the one man she could count on. Perhaps the only one.
CHAPTER
21
For her first class, Ivy decided to dress for the occasion, in a floral-printed sundress. Eight people were registered, albeit most of them her friends, and she figured a few more walk-ins would make an appearance, too.
Ivy looked around the shop with a critical eye and went over her list one more time. She’d pushed most of the display stands to the front of the room to allow for a large folding table where everyone would gather. Tonight’s project would be simple, and small glass vases were stacked on her workspace at the back of the room, ready to be handed out along with the mix of stems she’d selected.
Jane had offered to help out, but Ivy was using this class for extra money to pay Henry back, not that she would tell Jane that, and with the wedding fast approaching, she knew Jane could use some extra time to focus on last-minute details.
Grace was the first to arrive, with Anna following just behind.
“I’ve always wanted to learn how to do this,” Anna admitted. “Every time I buy flowers at the market, they end up looking all wrong when I put them in a vase.”
“Same here.” Grace winced.
It was true that the most basic principles of proportion and ratio could make even the most beautiful flowers look sad or stark when placed in the wrong-sized vase. Just hearing her friends’ words confirmed her decision to offer the class, and she felt another bubble of excitement as she eyed the door, anxious for things to begin.
More people filtered through the open door, and soon the shop was filled with the sound of voices, all talking over one another, often interspersed with a peal of laughter. Ivy felt a warm tingle rush through her. This is what she loved about this town. This is why she did what she did. Even if she wasn’t going to g
et rich running this shop, her life was completely full.
And she knew the same could be said for most of the people in this room.
Kara poked her head in, calling out a cheerful hello, but her smile seemed to slip a bit when she noticed her mother already positioned near the head of the table.
“Come on in!” Ivy called. Three walk-ins had already joined, but it was time to get things started. She motioned to the opposite end of the table from where Rosemary sat. “Why don’t you sit here, next to Anna?”
Kara seemed to smile a little easier. “Perfect.”
Ivy watched as her friend gave her mother a warm but brief greeting and took her seat. She knew Rosemary could be difficult at times, but she still craved the connection Kara had with her mother, no matter the occasional strain. What she would have given to have a mother to take her shopping once in a while or meet for lunch. She and her mother had never had that type of bond—and now it was too late.
Henry couldn’t understand why she’d stuck around, why she hadn’t run when she could. It wasn’t just for this town, though. It was also for her mother. She’d never given up hope that their relationship could be something it wasn’t.
She shook her head. Denial was a powerful thing.
And one she should put in check, she thought, as Brett’s image floated back to the surface.
Except… Oh, no. No. This couldn’t be happening. Brett was here. In the doorway. Standing sheepishly, with his hands in his pockets, that boyish grin making her heart flip over.
“Room for one more?” he asked, and Ivy was aware that her jaw had slacked.
She set the glass vase she was holding down on the table before she broke it and managed a casual “Of course.” Because of course it made sense that Brett, the man who hated flowers, would want to take this class. Because of course it didn’t matter that the last time they had seen each other, she’d been running away from him. Because of course it was just fine that he was here, in her shop, pretending like none of that had even happened.
