River's Bend

by JoAnn Ross

  “That’s not it.”

  “Yeah, I know.” His brother sighed, plucked a peanut from the bowl in the middle of the table and cracked it open. “Guys around here think flu shots are for old ladies, kids, and wusses.”

  “I can’t argue that.” Cooper took a long drink of Klamath Basin’s flagship ale. “But you’re right. If nothing else, getting flu will keep me from helping Rachel with the café and hanging out with Scott in the afternoons.”

  “He’s a cute kid. And I like his mother. A lot.”

  “She’s damn likable,” Cooper agreed. “And as a friendly fraternal reminder, you can’t have her because I’ve already called dibs.”

  Seemingly distracted, Ryan didn’t rise to the challenge. “So, did she happen to mention anything about her appointment?”

  “Just that she was grateful you got her and Scott in and that you give good shots.” Cooper put down his beer and scooped up a handful of peanuts. “Why?”

  “If she’d noticed anything off kilter, would she have told you?”

  “I’m not sure. Possibly.” A blast of ice hit his bloodstream. “You’re not going to tell me that you’re self-medicating, are you?” He knew vets who’d come back with problems. Even he had the occasional flashback.

  “Hell, no.” Fire flashed in whiskey brown eyes inherited from their mother. “What kind of doctor are you accusing me of being?”

  “I’m not accusing you of anything. It was merely a question. What, exactly, do you mean, by ‘off kilter?’ ”

  Ryan sighed heavily as he traced the condensation trailing down the side of the mug with a fingertip. “I was giving her son—”

  “Scott.”

  “Yeah. Scott. Who idolizes you, by the way.”

  “I like him too. A bunch. Getting back to your reason for calling me . . .”

  His brother rubbed the back of his neck, obviously uncomfortable with the topic. “I think you need some backstory. While I was in Kandahar, there was this kid about Scott’s age. His hand had been blown off by a detonated mine and they’d operated on him at the local civilian hospital, but whoever did it must’ve learned surgery from an Amputation for Dummies book because after it had been hacked off, the wound wasn’t properly closed.”

  “So it got infected.”

  Ryan winced and took a longer drink of the beer. “Dealing with an infection might have been workable. It had gone way beyond that to freaking rotting off. I don’t think I need to describe it.”

  “No.” Cooper shook his head. “I’d just as soon you didn’t.”

  “I’d never seen a totally black arm before. The flesh had mummified and there wasn’t a pulse. So, obviously, it had to come off.”

  “It’s always hardest with kids,” Cooper said, having seen his share of horror. War, unfortunately, wasn’t neat and tidy. It killed anything and anyone who happened to get in the way. Even innocent children.

  “You don’t forget a thing like that,” Ryan said quietly.

  “No.” But there was more. Cooper could see it in his brother’s haunted eyes. So, he waited.

  “His father must’ve had him late in life because he looked older than you’d expect for a child that young. Then again, those people live such a damn hard existence, they look older than their years. He’d driven miles over the goat paths laughingly call roads in those mountains, risking IEDs, drone strikes, even getting caught in the middle of a battle, just to bring his son to us. So we’d save him.”

  Ryan answered the question Cooper had been afraid to ask. “And we did. At least, when he left a few days later, with instructions for aftercare, he was doing a hell of a lot better than I’d initially expected.”

  “But?”

  “It was his dad who got to me.” Ryan shook his head and downed the rest of his beer in one long, thirsty gulp. “As we were getting ready to operate, he grabbed my arm, pointed toward his own and, through the interpreter, begged me to amputate it and transplant it to his son.”

  “Jesus.” The chill skittered over Cooper again and caused his gut to churn. “And that’s what you flashed back to when you were giving Scott his shot.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay, that’s about as bad as it gets.” Now that the picture was in Cooper’s mind, joining his own imbedded images of too many bodies, he was afraid he’d dream of it himself. “Maybe you ought to talk it out with someone.”

  “I just did.”

  “I mean a professional. Or a group. There’s one over in K. Falls—”

  “Yeah, that’ll give my patients a lot of confidence in me. Knowing that I’m being treated for PTSD.”

  He skimmed a hand over hair he still wore in a military cut. Which now that he looked at his brother more closely, Cooper realized that the short hair revealed cheeks that were more hollowed than they’d been the last time Ryan had been home on leave. And while he’d always been rangy, he was definitely leaner.

  “Maybe the VA hospital in Roseburg.”

  “I’m okay,” this brother insisted. “It was just a flashback. And it only lasted a second.”

  “Which seemed longer,” Cooper guessed.

  “Yeah. But they don’t come that often.”

  “Jesus.” Cooper shook his head. “If you don’t get treatment, I’ll tell dad.”

  “Snitch,” Ryan complained without heat.

  “Sticks and stones.” Faking a relaxation he was a long way from feeling, Cooper tilted the wooden chair on its back legs and sipped his beer. “I’d rather be called names than show up here some day and find that you’ve eaten your gun.”

  Ryan rose to the bait. “Coming home and setting up an office is what kept me going during all those damn deployments.” His face was set, and his eyes were practically shooting sparks. If they’d been kids again, they’d be about two seconds from rolling around on the floor, throwing punches. “No way would I ever do anything like that after finally achieving my goal of coming back here as a family physician.”

  Ryan hadn’t always wanted to be a doctor. When he’d been a kid, he’d spend hours building miniature rockets and setting them off. At seven, he announced his plan to be the first astronaut from Oregon. When their mom’s cancer bombshell hit their family, he’d turned on a dime and changed direction to medicine. Accustomed to looking below the surface, and having spent so many years sharing a room with this man, Cooper knew how seriously Ryan took medicine. It was more than a career; it was a calling.

  “Damn right you wouldn’t,” Cooper said, unfazed by fire burning in his brother’s eyes. “But if you need to talk about anything, you know I’m always here for you.”

  Ryan’s lips quirked. “That’s because you got stuck with the big brother role.”

  “No,” Cooper countered, though it was partly true. His innate need to take charge of things and fix problems was probably another reason he’d become a cop, then a sheriff.

  Ryan, on the other hand, was a people pleaser and peacemaker, undoubtedly good traits for a family physician and why all his patients loved him. “Because though I’m about to embarrass us both, I love you, man.”

  “Ditto,” Ryan said. “And now that we’ve had our beer and brotherly conversation, why don’t you drop by Blossoms and pick up one of those mixed bouquets in the window?”

  “I was going to do that,” Cooper lied, wishing he’d thought of it.

  Ryan laughed. A robust sound from deep inside that sounded like the old Ryan and eased Cooper’s concern somewhat. “Sure you were.”

  As he left The Shady Lady, headed toward the flower shop, Cooper was unsurprised his brother knew he’d begun spending dinners with Rachel. At first she’d resisted him buying the ingredients, but he’d been able to win the argument by pointing out that she was saving him from eating Cocoa Puffs and Pop Tarts for dinner.

  He also claimed that he was trying out recipes as part of his investment. By the third night, after tasting her short ribs, although he wasn’t fool enough to suggest it, Cooper realized that she was wasti
ng her talents in a town as small as River’s Bend.

  Would she come to realize that herself?

  And more importantly, when she did, would she stay?

  30

  “I don’t have anything to wear.”

  Women said that all the time. Rachel certainly had on more than one occasion, even when her oversized, professionally designed walk-in closet was filled with designer clothes. In this case, it was true.

  Not having planned to leap into a social life in River’s Bend, and suspecting that there would be no place to wear Valentino or Versace, along with needing the money, she’d sold most of her dressier clothing to consignment stores.

  Which was what had brought her to Back to the Rack, a consignment thrift shop she’d noticed down the street.

  She was browsing through the scant selection when Mitzi suddenly appeared. “Attending a prom, are we?” she asked as Rachel dismissed a strapless candy pink chiffon dress studded with sequins and moved on to a beaded red and black skin-tight gown with a side slit cut nearly to the waist.

  “Surely girls don’t wear dresses like this to proms,” she said. “It looks more like a Dancing With The Stars tango costume.”

  “Believe me, if this were spring, those would’ve been snapped up by now. Coincidentally, I was on my way to the café to suggest we drive up to Eugene or Portland to shop for something for you to wear to the banquet.”

  “I’ve already agreed to go to the coast with Cooper. I can’t take an entire day to go shopping.”

  “Well, you’re lucky I saw you come in here,” she said as Rachel held up a strapless scarlet dress with a short bell skirt. Even if she could keep it up, she’d freeze to death before they got to the main course. “Because you’re definitely in need of a fairy godmother.”

  “I’ve stopped believing in fairy tales.”

  “Too bad because fairy tales demonstrate compassion, intelligence, courage, coping skills, and determination. All of which you have in spades,” Mitzi countered. “As for the charge that they encourage girls to believe in the power of love, I’ll be damned if I can figure out what’s wrong with that since I suspect it’s what most people really want. Deep down.

  “However, getting back to the issue at hand, you need a new dress.”

  She stepped back and gave Rachel a long, considering head to toe look. “Unfortunately, you’re too tall to fit into anything in my closet.” She pulled an emerald silk sheath off the rack and checked the price tag. “This is a steal.”

  “Green makes me look sallow.”

  “I sincerely doubt you’d look bad in anything, but if you don’t feel pretty in a special occasion dress, there’s no point in getting a bargain.”

  “This entire idea was a mistake,” Rachel said, feeling defeated as she passed on a trio of taffeta gowns in day-Glo colors that could only have been bridesmaid dresses and came to a wedding dress at the end of the rack. The tag on the dress read “Never Worn.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Mitzi scoffed. “Call me an unabashed romantic, but I know the night’s going to be special. For both you and Cooper.”

  “Still—”

  “Look.” Mitzi cut her off again by holding up a manicured hand. “Given your life before moving here, I can’t believe there isn’t something in your closet that will be perfect.”

  She managed to frown without furrowing her brow as she skimmed a disapproving glance over Rachel’s paint-stained sweatshirt. “Surely you didn’t get rid of everything decent you owned?”

  “I have clothes,” Rachel defended herself as Mitzi made her sound like some pitiful urchin from a Dickens tale. “Just nothing fancy.”

  “Some of the women at the banquet will go for glitz and glam because they don’t have all that many opportunities to get dressed up,” Mitzi said. “Or they’re like me and just enjoy a bit of sparkle. But you’re a lily, Rachel. Classic and beautiful on your own. You don’t need gilding. How about a little black dress?”

  “I brought one with me, but—”

  “Please tell me it’s not the one you wore to your husband’s funeral.”

  “No. I gave that away.” The same day she’d packed up all Alan’s clothing and taken the box to Goodwill. “This is one I was planning to wear to an after-party during Fashion Week.”

  “Bingo. Let’s go look at it,” Mitzi said.

  Ten minutes later, Rachel was almost unable to recognize the woman looking back at her from the bathroom mirror. All the hard, physical work she’d been doing had resulted in her appetite returning and during the past weeks in River’s Bend, she’d begun to gain back the weight she’d lost. While no one would ever call her voluptuous, the dress hugged what curves she had like a second skin.

  “Well?” Mitzi called in to her.

  “I don’t know.” She loved the dress as much as when she’d first seen it on Saks Fifth Avenue’s pricey third floor on a splurge day with Janet that had included afternoon tea in the SFA café. “I think it might be a little edgy for Oregon.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, women in cowboy country no longer live in gingham and calico,” Mitzi shot back.

  When Rachel returned to the bedroom, Mitzi drew in a deep breath. “Be still my fluttering heart,” she said. “That’s a Herve Leger.” She twirled a finger. “Turn around.” She breathed out a huge sigh as she took in Rachel’s bared back. “I’d kill to be able to wear that. If anyone dared to remake Breakfast at Tiffany’s, this is the dress Holly Golightly would wear.”

  “Are you sure it’s not overkill?”

  “Are you kidding?” Mitzi tilted her head, studying the tight, mid-thigh length dress with an off the shoulder neckline and three-quarter length sleeves. “There’s not a man on the planet who wouldn’t want to show you off. I’ll bet the minute Cooper sees you, he’ll forget all about that award.”

  She studied Rachel. “I know I said there’s no point in gilding the lily, but you need jewelry. I have some diamonds—”

  “I have some pieces that’ll work.” Rachel opened the top drawer of the chest and pulled out a lined box. The pearl earrings had been a first anniversary present. Later, Alan had draped the strand of matching pearls around her neck the day she’d returned home from the hospital with their son.

  “Now that’s class,” Mitzi said approvingly. “You’re a natural.”

  Rachel laughed as she thought back on the small town farm girl who’d shown up in the big city with two new suitcases and so many dreams. “I had good teachers.” Not only had Alan’s taste had been impeccable, he’d handed her over to personal shoppers who’d ensured that she fit the image of a powerful man’s wife. It had been like playing dress-up.

  “Well, I’d argue that, but we’ve got one last problem.” Mitzi looked down at Rachel’s feet still clad in the red wool socks she’d worn to the café this morning. “I don’t suppose you happen to have a pair of shoes to go with that outfit?”

  Rachel went digging into the back of the closet. “I know it was weak of me, but I couldn’t give these away because I bought them to go with the dress.” Tugging off the socks, she balanced one hand on the top of the chest and pulled on the strappy black high heels.

  “Jimmy Choo.” Mitzi nodded approvingly. “You’re going to make a dynamite wedding attendant.”

  “Wedding?” Rachel almost fell off her shoes in surprise. “Are you saying what I think you are?”

  “Dan proposed last night,” Mitzi revealed. Rachel knew that the gleam in the woman’s eyes had nothing to do with her tinted contacts. “We’re getting married and I’d love for you to be my matron of honor.”

  “Oh, I’d love that, too. I’m so happy for you!” Rachel hugged the woman who was responsible for bringing her to River’s Bend. The woman who, in so many ways, was that fairy godmother she’d been wishing for.

  “I’m happy, too. And I have you to thank.”

  “Me?”

  “For years after Dan’s wife died, he seemed perfectly content to live alone out the
re on that ranch. Then I came to town, shook up his life a bit, and made him feel like a young stud again. But, try as I might, I couldn’t get him focused on the idea that what we had together might grow into something permanent.

  “But then you came to town and watching his son fall so fast and so hard for you made him take a deeper look at his own feelings. And Scott has him thinking how much he’d like to be a grandfather while he’s still young enough to enjoy the role.

  “So, while he was pondering on all that, it finally dawned on the man that he isn’t too ancient to take one more ride on the marriage-go-round. Maybe we might just end up making it a double wedding.”

  “I’m certainly not planning to get married.”

  Mitzi switched gears with the deftness of a natural born saleswoman. “Well, that is probably too soon,” she agreed without missing a bit. “What with your restaurant opening, and all. But the chemistry between the two of you could light up the entire town.”

  “Chemistry is one thing. Love quite another.”

  “True. But are you saying that you’re not in love with Cooper? Just a little bit?” She held up the crimson tips of her thumb and index finger a smidgen of an inch apart.

  “It would be easy to fall in love with Cooper,” Rachel allowed, not ready to admit that she feared she might already be half way there. “He’s warm and kind, and wonderful with Scott.”

  “And hot and handsome as sin,” Mitzi tacked on.

  “That too.”

  “So, what’s the problem?”

  As she considered her response, Rachel realized that she’d missed having a woman friend to talk with. Phone calls with Janet weren’t the same as talking in person, when you felt you could open up.

  How could she share her confused, conflicted feelings about a man her former best friend hadn’t even met? How could she describe how Cooper’s smile could warm her from the inside out or the way his touch could make her feel as if she were on the verge of melting into a hot little puddle of need? And how to explain that his absolute belief in her boosted Rachel’s confidence on days she’d secretly worried that she may have taken on more than she could handle?