by Lynne Gentry
His interest in her career quickly morphed into the plans he had for his own career. He’d come here to clear his conscience and his name. He’d never expected to experience the healing he’d found in Mt. Hope. Now that he’d accomplished his purpose, he intended to use his newly acquired management skills as a stepping stone into big-city hospital administration. Listening to him was like listening to...herself.
Ambition had driven her to rise above the disadvantages of being a preacher’s daughter from a small, Texas high school. It had driven her to study harder for the MCAT than anyone in her pre-med classes and dare to apply for the best med schools. She’d always been proud of her ambition. But it was a sobering, sickening thing when clawing your way to the top was the only thing two people had in common. Ambition had been the mutual attraction between her and her old boyfriend Justin, the snowboarder who went on to win Olympic gold. In the end, it was the inability to look out for anything other than their own interests that tore them apart.
Suddenly bone-weary and slightly nauseated, Maddie gathered her purse. “I have an early call at the clinic tomorrow.”
Robin reached across the table and took her hand. “See me again.”
She shook her head. “What’s the point? I’m leaving.”
“Not for two weeks.” He held her fingers, seductively running thumb over hers. A devilish smile caressed his handsome features. “It could be fun.”
“I haven’t had time for fun in years.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Saturday morning the west wind blew in hot and dusty. It whooshed through the open bedroom window and lifted the plastic drop cloth Parker had spread over the hardwood floor. He’d had chosen to convert the room across from his small master suite into Isabella’s nursery. If his daughter cried out in the night, he wanted her within easy reach of his comfort.
“Look out, Sugar Bean!” Isabella chased after him as he raced to set a full paint can on one corner of the plastic and his step stool on the other. “What you laughin’ at, little girl?” He scooped her up and twirled her around. He got in a few kisses on the soft spot on her neck that still smelled of last night’s bubble bath thanks to Nellie’s gifts. “We’ve got work to do.” He set Isabella down in the middle of the cleared-out room. “Let’s see if we can get more paint on the walls than on us. Okay?”
Isabella picked up a dry brush and started pounding on a paint can.
He’d let his mother and Nellie select the crib, the bedding, and the paint. Once they’d gathered everything he needed for the redecorating project, they’d helped him get settled in for his first night back at the ranch. But after Isabella’s bath, he’d sent his parents back to their own spread.
Despite everyone’s protests, his mom needed a rest from double-duty caregiving, his father needed to heal, and he and Isabella needed time to figure this father-daughter stuff out on their own. And Nellie? Well, he had to admit that in his weakened condition, it had been nice having an extra set of hands when it came to Isabella’s care, feedings, and baths. But he could tell from the way Isabella hung on his leg that she wasn’t crazy about the loud and flashy redhead.
Then again, Nellie had always been an acquired taste. One he’d never been interested in acquiring...until last night. After Isabella had finally fallen asleep, he’d invited Nellie to crash with him on the porch swing. He didn’t know if the moment of stupidity had been caused by the warm night air, Nellie’s perfume, or the euphoria of his meds, but the surprisingly comfortable experience had brought on thoughts of having someone to share in his concerns for Isabella’s well-being.
Maddie’s right. Raising a child alone isn’t going to be easy.
He hated to admit that Maddie—the only woman his daughter had called momma—was right. Even more, he hated how images of her kept pushing against his efforts to silence them. This bland diet she’d put him on was beginning to pump up his strength, but his feelings still lagged behind. They were hung up on what he wished would have been.
He turned to the sound of ripping cellophane, but he was too slow. Isabella had already stuffed the plastic from the unwrapped roller cover in her mouth.
“No, Sugar Bean.” He hurried to her and dug wet plastic out of her mouth. He snagged the new roller cover and squatted beside her. “Play with this.” He handed her the fuzzy tube.
She rubbed it over his face and across his hair. They both started giggling. Pleased he’d found something to keep her entertained, he stood. “Okay, let’s get back to work.”
She threw the roller cover across the room, grabbed a screwdriver, and ran.
“No, Sugar Bean. That’s too sharp.” He chased her down and pried it from her fingers.
Isabella threw herself on the floor and started crying.
He was going to need more than strength of body to keep up with this tiny wrecking ball. But he was still a few weeks away from gaining his full stamina. Just setting up to paint the nursery had worn him out. How was he going to sling paint and have enough juice left in him to follow Isabella around today? Maybe he shouldn’t have sent his mother home?
Dr. Boyer had recommended he stay in the states for at least a year. Allow his health to return and give his body plenty of time to recover. Make certain he was free of relapses before he submitted his immune system to the required typhoid vaccinations he’d need to go back to South America.
His mother would be pleased. She’d made her wishes very clear. And she was right. Mt. Hope was a great place to raise a child. He’d always pictured himself chasing a dozen kids around his little ranch. A year would fly by. Probably way too fast. But it wouldn’t change the fact that he’d fallen in love with the work in Guatemala.
“Want to help Paki tape?” He held up a blue roll and she quit crying.
For every piece he put down, it seemed Isabella went behind him pulling up two. A job that should have taken ten minutes ended up gobbling up an hour.
After he finally finished taping the drop cloth to the baseboards, Parker stripped Isabella down to her diaper. “Here, Sugar Bean.” He gave her a small bucket of water and a clean paint brush. “You work on those walls over there while I start painting over here.”
He cranked the volume on the country and western radio station he’d missed while he was out of the country and sang louder with each swipe of his roller.
“Parker!” The familiar voice calling him over the music sounded irritated.
He wheeled, paint dripping from his brush. “Maddie?”
Isabella dropped her paint brush in the water bucket and charged toward the door. “Maa-d!” She hit Maddie’s knee-caps full force and flung her arms around Maddie’s legs. “Maa-d!”
Holding a jar of pickles in each hand, Maddie swayed to maintain her balance. “Look out, sweet girl.”
“Isabella!” Parker dropped his roller in the tray. His first step landed in his daughter’s water bucket. His arms flew up in search of something to stop his fall, but gravity won. He crashed face-first into the open, half-empty bucket of paint, slid five feet, then landed in a sprawl.
“Parker!” Maddie managed to set the pickles down, scoop up Isabella, and fly to his side. “Are you all right?”
Princess Pink dripped from his nose.
Maddie wiped a drip from his chin. “Pink’s not really your color.” The giggle she’d been holding back erupted. It turned into laughter she couldn’t control. She laughed so hard she had to sit down beside him. Isabella remained threaded tightly around her neck. “Your Daddy has always had smooth moves,” she managed to choke out to his worried, wide-eyed little girl and she handed him a roll of paper towels.
Parker pushed himself upright and mopped his face. “Wait until she sees my lay- up.”
Now they were both laughing. Isabella relaxed her hold and began to giggle but when Parker held out his arms to relieve Maddie, his daughter refused to budge. “Momma,” she insisted, stubbornly burying her face into Maddie’s chest.
Over the top of ebony curls, Par
ker and Maddie’s gazes united. Neither of them had the heart to correct Isabella’s claim.
“I may not have smooth moves, but I know better than to mess with a woman who knows what she wants.” Parker dragged his wet palms down the front of his old t-shirt and left two pink swaths. “I’ve got more paint on me than the walls.”
Maddie swallowed hard and waved at what he had painted. “Looks like somebody’s going to have a princess room...complete with a handsome pink prince.”
He raised the edge of his t-shirt and swiped at his wet cheek. “Every girl deserves a prince.”
“Not every girl needs one.”
“Sucks for me.” He offered his hand.
Maddie laughed and allowed him to pull her and Isabella to their feet. “Need some help knocking this out?”
He suddenly realized he hadn’t let go of Maddie’s hand and dropped it quickly. “I’ve got my trusty assistant.”
Maddie tickled Isabella’s bare tummy. “She’s dressed for easy cleanup.”
“She’s lucky I’m a patient man or she’d be wearing an orange jumpsuit with an inmate number on the back.” He reached over and tickled Isabella, too. “You love to keep your old man hoppin’, don’t you, Sugar Bean?”
“Sugar Bean?” The name sounded surprisingly comfortable rolling off Maddie’s tongue. “I like it.” She stroked Isabella’s head. “It suits you, little one.”
How could a woman stroking a child’s head be so incredibly attractive? Maddie looked up and caught him staring.
Searching for something to fill the first awkward silence, he spotted the jars by the door. “Pickles?”
“From the Storys. I said I’d deliver them.” Isabella wiggled to get down, so Maddie lowered her to the drop cloth. “But you can’t have a single bite. Not while you’re on a soft diet.” She wagged a finger for emphasis. “Which you are sticking to, right?”
He gave a little salute. “Absolutely, General Harper.”
“Paki, paint.” Isabella held out her empty water bucket and ordered, “Paint.”
“Sorry, Sugar Bean. Daddy’s made a mess of things again.”
“Here, let me.” Maddie took the bucket and hurried off to the bathroom to fill it with water.
Parker finished wiping paint from his face and ran his fingers through his hair. The room was a wreck. His daughter had paint all over her body. And his emotions were spinning faster than the roller he’d been pushing over the walls.
“Here you go, Sugar Bean.” Maddie set the bucket in front of Isabella and handed her the clean paint brush.
Isabella tugged on Maddie’s hand. “Paint, peez.”
Maddie shot Parker a look he couldn’t quite decipher. Knowing Maddie and her aversion to kids, he opted to take the help-me-out course.
“Really, Maddie, you don’t have to stay. I’m sure you’ve got places to go and people to save.”
She took the brush Isabella offered. “If we all work together, we can knock this out in an hour.”
“But you’ll get paint on those fancy jeans.”
“Not if you’ve got an old t-shirt I can borrow.”
His breath caught in his throat when she stepped out of the bathroom with her hair pulled up and wearing his faded Texas A&M shirt. She’d always seemed bigger than life, but the sleeves came past her elbows and the hem covered her knees. How could so much strength be crammed into such a perfect little body?
“All right, then.” She picked up a roller and flashed a determined smile. “Let’s do this.”
It was hard to concentrate with the sweet scent of her so close, but three hours later and two more mop-ups of Isabella’s spilled water bucket, they yanked the last piece of tape from the drop cloth.
“Ready?” Maddie ruffled the plastic drop cloth and redirected his attention from the pleased twinkle in her eyes.
“Born ready.”
Starting at opposite walls, he and Maddie rolled plastic until they met in the middle. Hands touching, breaths mingling, and eyes locked, they stood victorious in the center of the beautiful pink room.
“We did it,” Maddie whispered so as to not wake Isabella who’d curled up on a pallet in the corner an hour ago.
It was all he could do not to kiss the pleased smile below the drop of pink on her nose. “Hungry?”
“Starving.”
“Should we wake her?”
He glanced at Isabella. “Never poke a sleeping bear.” He took the wad of plastic from Maddie’s arms. “If you’ll put the brushes in some water, I’ll see what I can rustle up in the kitchen.”
“I make a mean grilled cheese.” Her eyes sparkled.
“I remember the time you nearly burned down the parsonage fixing lunch for David and me. Blackest sandwiches I’ve ever seen.”
“You ate every bite.”
“A guy will choke down a lot when he’s trying to impress a girl.” Why had he said that? “I’ll see if I have anything with some taste to it.”
He was pulling a skillet from the cabinet and still kicking himself for his bungling puppy-love-like comment when Maddie joined him in the kitchen.
She went to the sink and started rinsing the brushes. “Is Isabella having trouble adjusting?”
“Why do you ask?”
“She was so calm on the plane. I was kind of surprised when you said she’s been getting into things.”
He started chopping an onion. “She’s eighteen months old. According to the books, that’s what toddlers do.”
“You’ve been reading parenting books?”
“Doesn’t everybody?”
“I thought you’d know what to do...I mean, you’ve always been so good with kids.”
“Never raised one before.” He dumped the onions in the skillet. “Unfortunately, Isabella didn’t come with an instruction manual.”
“After trying to keep up with her today, I’m convinced it’s every bit as hard as it looks.”
He dug another onion from the bin and started chopping. “When did you get so insightful about kids?”
“Just because they don’t like me doesn’t mean I don’t like them. I do.”
“Isabella likes you. A lot.”
Maddie shrugged off the compliment. “It’s the granola bars I keep in my bag that she’s really after.”
“Isabella had just begun to bond with me and then I got sick. She must have been terrified when I left her.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I can’t thank you enough.”
She pointed a wet paintbrush at him. “Guess my bedside manner doesn’t repulse everyone.”
He’d get sick all over again if it meant having her...no, he didn’t have her. “I’m livin’ proof you’re one heck of a good doctor. The hospital that snags you will be blessed.”
Maddie turned off the faucet. She pressed the last of the water from the bristles. “I’m not going to work in a hospital.”
“Well, a medical practice then...I know you’ll bless your patients. I’ll even write you a letter of recommendation.”
“I’m going to work for the Center for Disease Control...in Atlanta...at least I’m hoping to get the job.”
“A lab?” His heart sank, not for him, but for her. “You’ve always been so adventurous. I guess I never pictured you stuck behind a microscope.”
“If there’s an outbreak of some kind...I’ll travel to the site, treat patients, and stay until the threat is contained. Then it’s back to the lab.”
Where she’d be safe from real interactions. “When will you know if you’re moving?”
“Soon.”
Whether she was in Mt. Hope or in Atlanta, it didn’t matter. Distance was distance. Miles or heart. “You really want this, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“Then I’ll be prayin’ that door swings open for you.”
“Thanks.” She lowered her eyes and dried her hands on a towel. “So, do you love Guatemala as much as you’d hoped?”
“More.”
“High altitude is intoxicati
ng.”
“I remember when you came home from that summer you spent at the clinic. You were so pumped I thought you’d never live in the flatlands again. Miguel and Rosemary still talk about you.”
Her smile dropped and he wished he hadn’t brought up the couple Maddie had lived with during her stay in the village. “That was a long time ago.”
“Sorry...”
“How are they?”
“They’re remarkably well. Have gone on to have two more kids. Rosemary said she wouldn’t have gotten through the grief of losing her baby if it hadn’t been for you.”
“Really? I felt so inadequate. If I’d had more training, I could have done something when their baby contracted that respiratory infection.”
“The world’s going to be a better place because you’ve got the training now.” He was glad he’d restored her smile, even a forced one. If only he could restore the confidence the losses she’d suffered had stolen from her.
“Maybe.” She ripped a paper towel from the holder, spread it on the counter, and laid the brushes out to dry. “What you’re doing, bringing fresh water to these people, is amazing.”
He shrugged. “Makes me happy.”
“Why?”
“You know how it is, the more we bless others, the more satisfied we feel.” He stopped chopping for a minute. “Right after I arrived in the village, I heard about a young widow with two kids. I went to see what I could do. She was living on a couple of bags of rice some missionaries had brought by. The kids were skin and bones. She had a nice little piece of ground behind her little one-room shack. I helped her plant a few vegetables and taught her how to tend them. She and her kids eat healthy now. She’s managed to sell some of the excess produce and buy a few necessities. But she has to carry water uphill for nearly a half mile. Just think what she could grow if I could get running water pumped up there. Makes me giddy just thinking about seeing her standing there with water shooting out of a garden hose.” He realized he was babbling. “Bet you feel the same when you save someone’s life.”
