A Texan on Her Doorstep

by Stella Bagwell

  Her gaze clashed with his then awkwardly drifted to the floor. “I wasn’t supposed to be on call tonight,” she admitted. “But my stand-in is having trouble with Frankie.”

  The unease that raced through Mac took him by surprise. Whether Frankie Cantrell was actually his mother or not, he didn’t want anything to happen to the woman. Not when he’d gotten this close. Not when his life and that of his brother’s was on this precipice of uncertainty. And certainly not now that he’d met Quint. The man loved and needed his mother. For Quint’s sake, Mac wanted her to survive.

  “Is this something serious? Has she had a setback?”

  “I don’t believe it’s anything physical. But I need to go just the same.”

  She turned and started out of the kitchen. Mac quickly followed on her heels.

  “Of course,” he said. “I’ll drive you to town.”

  She tossed him a look of surprise. “That isn’t necessary, Mac. I’ve made the drive at night hundreds of times.”

  Quickly, she opened the coat closet and pulled out a heavy woolen jacket. As she shrugged into the garment, she headed over to a small desk where she’d left her handbag and truck keys.

  “I don’t care if you’ve made the drive a thousand times,” he said. “It’s snowing, and I don’t want you to make the trip alone.”

  She studied him for one brief moment, then held her palms up in a gesture of acquiescence. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”

  “I do.”

  He grabbed his hat and coat, and they quickly left the confines of the warm house. Outside the snowfall had grown much thicker, and the ground was beginning to turn white.

  Even though Mac wasn’t familiar with driving in such weather, he insisted on taking his newer truck. Fortunately, the highway wasn’t yet beginning to pack, and all he had to concentrate on was following the unfamiliar crooks and turns through the mountains.

  Across the console, Ileana wrapped her coat tightly around her and tried to gather her scattered senses. She wasn’t quite sure what had just taken place between her and Mac. One minute they’d been talking and the next she’d found herself in his arms, kissing him, holding him as though she’d done it many times before.

  In the dimness of the truck cab, her face burned at the memory of how she’d responded to him. And it wasn’t embarrassment that was heating her face. It was the coals of lingering desire that were still warming her blood.

  Clearing her throat, she said, “This is very good of you to drive me to the hospital.”

  “I’m glad to do it.”

  Why? she wondered. Where was this protective side of him coming from, and why did it make her feel so cared for?

  She was studying his face, trying to decide whether to bring up the subject of that heated scene in the kitchen when he glanced over at her.

  “I met Quint this morning.”

  His blunt statement took her totally by surprise. “Oh. How did that happen?”

  “Your mother invited him to the Bar M.”

  Ileana bit back a groan. “And let me guess, she didn’t let you in on it until Quint was already there.”

  “That’s pretty much how it was.”

  Sighing, she said, “I don’t know why she takes it upon herself to interfere in other people’s business.”

  His gaze remained focused on the dark highway ahead of them, and Ileana wondered what he was thinking about her, their kiss, her family, everything. Never before had she wanted to get inside a person the way she did Mac. Sometimes he seemed so serious, and at other times he appeared to treat life very lightly. She doubted he’d ever revealed the true man to anyone.

  “Is that what she does with you? Interfere?” he asked. “Is that why you don’t live in the main ranch house?”

  Ileana looked down at her lap. “She is not really an interfering mother. She cares—sometimes too much. But I have my own home because I like the privacy. And my parents deserve to have their privacy, too. Especially after raising three children. But as to why she called Quint, that’s just her way of saying I care and I want to help fix things. She doesn’t stop to think that her meddling might not be appreciated at times.”

  Mac shook his head. “I don’t mind. Now that it’s happened, I’m glad I met Frankie’s son.”

  “How did that go? What does Quint think about the situation?”

  He shrugged as though the meeting wasn’t a big deal, but Ileana figured deep down it had to have been rough on him and Quint.

  “Naturally, he’s shocked. He can’t believe his mother might have kept a past life hidden. But he sees the evidence is a little too coincidental to dismiss. He wants to find the truth just as much as Ripp and I. I offered to let him read Frankie’s letter that I brought with me, and he took it back to the ranch with him.”

  “What about his sister, Alexa? Does she know about this yet?”

  He nodded solemnly. “Quint said he called her this morning. I got the impression that he didn’t like giving her the news.”

  “Alexa is pregnant. I guess he didn’t want to upset her unduly. But hearing that sort of thing from someone other than him would have been far worse,” Ileana explained.

  Frowning, Mac shook his head in regret. “I’m sorry, Ileana, about all of this. Sometimes—” Pausing, he glanced at her. “Sometimes I wonder if I’ve done the right thing by coming here. Sometimes I wonder if Ripp and I, and everyone involved, would have been better off if we didn’t know the truth of the matter.”

  It was easy to see that he was agonizing over his decision to search for his mother. It was also obvious that he didn’t want to hurt anyone along the way. As Ileana studied his strong profile in the darkness of the cab, she wished that things could have been different for him. She wished with all her heart that she could make it all better.

  “Sometimes the truth hurts, Mac. But so does going through life with agonizing questions at every turn.”

  “Yeah. But it doesn’t look as though there are going to be any winners here.”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” she pointed out. “You don’t know what’s going to happen yet.”

  He looked at her, and the faint smile on his lips tugged at the very center of her heart. “Well, one good thing has come out of this—I met you.”

  Another flash of heat spiraled through her, and she forced her gaze on the falling snow in hopes it would cool her thoughts of this man who merely had to look at her to charm her.

  “That’s sweet of you to say, Mac.”

  After that their conversation turned sporadic as Ileana forced her attention on the worsening weather and Mac focused his efforts on getting the truck safely down the highway.

  Thankfully, fifteen minutes later, they arrived safely at Sierra General. While Mac took a seat in the waiting room, Ileana fetched a stethoscope and Frankie’s chart from the nurse’s station as Renae gave her an update.

  “Earlier tonight she was very restless. Her cough was worse, and she kept asking the nurses if her son had been around. And Annette caught her trying to get out of bed by herself. I know she’s your family friend, Doc, but the woman is difficult. No, I take that back, she’s spoiled rotten.”

  Ileana’s lips pursed to a grim line. “I understand, Renae. Just do the best you can. If she’s not having some sort of setback, I’m going to allow her to sit up tomorrow. Maybe that will help matters.”

  After a quick conversation with Jerry Vickors, Ileana hurried down the hallway to Frankie’s room.

  When she entered the small space, the head of the bed was raised slightly, and the television that was fastened to the wall in one corner was flickering a black and white classic movie. The woman’s eyes appeared to be closed, but she must have heard the door swish as Ileana opened it, because she immediately turned her head toward the sound.

  “Ileana,” she said weakly, “what are you doing here?”

  Ileana quickly walked over to her patient’s bedside and reached for the blood pressure cuff hanging on the wall. As
she wrapped it around the woman’s upper arm, she said, “Dr. Vickers said you’d been coughing up a storm. I thought I’d better check on you.”

  Frankie’s thin hand lifted from the sheet to wave dismissively. “It’s that breathing machine that does it, Ileana. I told Dr. Vickers that, but he doesn’t listen—” She broke off as a spasm of coughs shook her thin shoulders. Ileana didn’t make any sort of reply as she pumped up the arm cuff. After she’d read the slightly elevated pressure, she said, “You tried to talk him into giving you codeine. You know better than that, Frankie. Am I going to have to put signs on your door warning the nurses that you’re suicidal?”

  The woman with blue eyes and black hair threaded with only a few gray streaks, frowned up at Ileana. “Don’t be silly. I only wanted something to stop this damned coughing.”

  Ileana stuck a thermometer in her patient’s ear and waited for the instrument to beep. “You wouldn’t be coughing in the first place if you’d taken care of your heart condition months ago. In fact, you wouldn’t be here in the hospital at all. You’d be home with your son.”

  Frankie closed her eyes as if to tell Ileana she didn’t want to discuss the matter, but this time Ileana wasn’t going to let her get off so easily. Frankie was her own worst enemy, and she wasn’t stopping to think of the grief her stubbornness was causing her loved ones.

  Another spate of coughing hit Frankie, but this time it was brief and not nearly as deep. “Ileana,” she said after she’d caught her breath, “this isn’t like you to be so mean. I thought you came back to make sure I wasn’t dying.”

  Ileana bit back a groan. “You’re not dying. In fact, I think you’re doing better. Tomorrow I’m going to let you get out of bed for a while.”

  This news totally surprised her. “Oh, really? Is that why Quint didn’t come to see me this evening? You told him I was better?”

  So Quint hadn’t shown up to see his mother, Ileana thought, and that explains why she’d been asking the nurses about him. Quint usually didn’t let one day go by without seeing Frankie, and Ileana could only suppose his visit with Mac had left him too upset to face her. Dear God, it was going to be awful if Mac’s appearance here in Lincoln County tore the Cantrell family apart. Especially when it wasn’t his fault what happened thirty years ago; he’d only been a small boy.

  “No,” Ileana assured her. “I haven’t spoken to Quint today. I’m sure he’s very busy. The weather is turning bad, and he has plenty of cattle to care for.”

  Ileana warmed the end of the stethoscope in her hand, then placed it to her patient’s chest.

  “I suppose he gets tired of driving in to see his old mother every day,” she whined with a bit of self-pity. “He’s young and has better things to do.”

  As Ileana listened to Frankie’s heart, she wondered if this woman had truly left Mac and his brother behind, and if so, had she thought of them, longed for them? The whole idea troubled Ileana greatly, yet she did her best not to let it slant her opinion of her patient. She also told herself not to think of the sexy man who was sitting just down the hall waiting for her.

  Satisfied with Frankie’s heartbeats, Ileana helped the woman to a sitting position and placing the stethoscope to her back, focused on her lungs. After having Frankie breath in and out several times, Ileana straightened and cast her a firm look.

  “Maybe Quint’s tired of having a mother who refuses to help herself. Have you ever thought of that?”

  Frankie sniffed. “Well, if that’s the way he feels then he needs to say it to my face,” she said, then sighed. “But at least he does show up. I can’t say the same for Alexa.”

  If the woman weren’t so sick, Ileana would have given her shoulder a good shake. “Alexa is hardly in any condition to be running up and down the highway every day between here and Santa Fe. You do want your grandchild to be born safely, don’t you?”

  For the first time since Ileana had walked into the room, a semblance of a smile touched Frankie’s lips. “I can’t wait for the little darlin’to arrive. It’s the only ray of sunshine I’ve had since Lewis passed.”

  Hiding a sigh, Ileana reached over and pushed the disheveled black hair from Frankie’s forehead. Under normal circumstances the woman was always fastidious about her appearance. Even at the age of sixty, she was very attractive, and Ileana had no doubt the woman could easily find another husband if she so wanted. But since Lewis had died, Frankie had simply been languishing in grief, and her heart condition was only complicating the whole matter.

  “I’m glad you’re happy. Focusing on something positive will help you get well more quickly.”

  “My children are all I live for,” she murmured faintly.

  Ileana studied the woman’s haggard face and compared each feature to Mac’s. Was there a resemblance? The nose? The cheekbones?

  Carefully choosing her words, Ileana asked as casually as possible, “Frankie, did you, uh, ever want to have more children?”

  The woman’s brows puckered together. “What a strange question from you, Ileana.”

  Ileana forced an easy smile to her face. “Oh, the subject of Alexa’s baby made the question cross my mind, that’s all. Mom has always wished she’d had another child after me. I thought—well, you might have had the same sort of regrets.”

  Frankie turned her head so that her line of vision was on the picture window. Presently, the heavy drapes that framed the glass were partially opened, and Ileana could see the snow was continuing to fall at a heavy rate. Yet she got the feeling that Frankie was hardly watching the weather.

  “I’ve often thought of other children—other babies. But I didn’t think it would be fair to Lewis. A woman can’t expect a man to take on more than he can bear.” She sighed, then looked back at Ileana. “Are you getting the urge to have a child, Ileana?”

  Ileana blushed. “Of course not. How could I be? I don’t even have a boyfriend.”

  She reached up and patted Ileana’s hand. “A woman can always dream, honey.”

  A few minutes later, after leaving Frankie’s chart and written instructions at the nurse’s station, Ileana walked down to the waiting area to find Mac in friendly conversation with an elderly gentleman and a young boy.When he spotted Ileana approaching, he bade the two of them goodbye and hurried over to where she stood.

  “Can you believe it? I found some vacationing Texans. The boy’s dad had a skiing accident. They think his arm is broken.”

  His hand curled around her upper arm in a totally familiar way, and Ileana realized she was getting used to being touched by this man. She was even expecting it, liking it. Oh, God, what was she getting herself in to?

  “How was Frankie?” he asked.

  She swallowed at the tightness in her throat. “She’s doing okay. Just being a bit fractious.”

  I’ve often thought of other children—other babies. Frankie’s words whispered through Ileana’s mind, and along with them came a haunting suspicion. But Ileana kept the thoughts to herself. Now wasn’t the time for speculation. Mac had already been hurt enough in the past. He needed concrete proof, not assumptions.

  “So it wasn’t a dire emergency?”

  “Thankfully, no. Are you ready to start back home? I’m thinking we’d better leave before the weather gets any worse.”

  “I’m thinking you’re right.”

  With his hand at her back, they hurried out of the hospital. By now the wind had picked up and was blowing the heavy snowflakes in a horizontal direction. As they made their way across the parking lot, Ileana put up the hood on her coat and clung to Mac’s arm to help steady her footsteps on the slippery ground.

  Before they left the parking lot, Mac put the truck in four-wheel drive and drove the thirty miles back to the ranch at a slow and steady speed. Once they’d gotten to the Bar M, Mac gestured over to the main ranch house where a few lighted windows could be seen through the snow.

  “Should we stop here? Or do you think we can make it up the mountain?”

 
; She grimaced thoughtfully. “I’d really rather get home if at all possible. But if you’d rather not try it, I’ll understand.”

  He allowed the truck to roll to a stop in the middle of the dirt road, then looked at her.

  “Ileana, you know more about the driving conditions. If you were in your own truck right now, would you drive it up the mountain?”

  “Yes. Sometimes I have to stop halfway up and walk the remaining distance to the house. But it’s not that far and I’m wearing boots.”

  Enjoying this surprising, adventurous side of her nature, Mac laughed. “I’m wearing boots, too. So we’ll see how far we can get.”

  Ten minutes later, after a few slips and slides up the road to Ileana’s house, Mac parked his truck safely to one side, and they hiked the last thirty yards. By the time they were inside, their coats were covered with snow, and they were both shivering from the cold.

  “I’ll stoke up the fire,” Ileana told him, “after I hang our coats where they can dry.”

  “I can deal with the fire,” Mac said as he shrugged out of his coat and handed it to her. “Just show me where you keep the firewood.”

  “Follow me,” she said.

  In the kitchen, on the opposite wall from the cabinets, Ileana opened a wooden door that led into a large mudroom equipped with a washer and dryer and a double sink. While Ileana shook the coats, and hung them on wall pegs, she said, “The wood is stacked in a little alcove just out that door over there.”

  Mac stepped through the door and found himself in a lean-to of sorts. Thankfully, the open side was facing the east, sheltering him and the stacked firewood from the driving snow. As he took a moment to glance out, he could see the mountain directly behind the house was now a white wall. Since he wasn’t at all familiar with this sort of weather, he had no idea of how bad it might get, and he wondered if he’d be wise to hurry off the mountain or risk being stranded.

  Who was he kidding? he thought, as he stacked several pieces of wood in the crook of his arm. If he was going to be stranded with anyone, he’d want to be with this sweet angel of a doctor.