by Cheryl Wyatt
Ian’s gut clenched. Sweat misted his palms. If he didn’t show in court today, that could put him in jeopardy with the judge who would decide Tia’s fate and their future as a family.
He eyed his watch, and hoped Lisa would get here soon or he’d be faced with abandoning a patient and breaking a battlefield promise to a brother-in-arms. Stress drove him to walk halls.
After pacing, Ian parked his anesthesia cart outside Bri’s bay. Regret multiplied. He’d promised Caleb to watch over her. He’d failed. He owed Caleb. Big-time. Ian reentered Bri’s room, intent on righting his wrong. “You hangin’ in there, Bri?”
Not until seeing her under fluorescent lighting did he realize how white-blond and silky long her hair was. Blinking swiftly, she aimed her pretty cornflower-blue eyes up at him, making him momentarily forget what he came in here for. Must be lack of sleep from a week’s worth of on-call nights. “Dr. Shupe, what turned me too stupid to heed Caleb’s warning?”
He wanted to chuckle. “It’s Ian. And trust me, my list of stupid things is twice as long as yours. Kate’s is triple.”
Kate snorted from the corner of the room and stepped out. Bri’s face sobered. “Seriously, what stripped my common sense today?”
“Could be the ominous bank notices you’ve been getting recently.”
She stared long and hard at him. “You know about that?”
He nodded. Bri lost the battle holding in her tears the second Kate came in carrying X-rays and a sympathetic expression. “Sorry, Bri. The bones aren’t aligned, so surgery is a must.”
Ian knew that could double her recovery time and triple her chances of losing the lodge. Compassion for Bri and Caleb washed over Ian. They had just lost their mom and were about to lose their childhood home and heritage. Not to mention the community was about to lose an iconic retreat center that once was, according to Mitch, the bustling pulse of the rustic, close-knit community.
The bank had planned to shut down and level the Landis family’s grounds, which included the main lodge, fourteen cabins and seven bunkhouses.
His morning runs around Eagle Point Lake revealed the retreat as a flat horizontal triangle. The main lodge made the point, seven cabins on either side angled out in two lines and bunkhouses formed a bottom line opposite the lodge.
“Bri, if you’re worried about losing the lodge, don’t be.”
Surprise flashed across her face. Tears welling up meant he’d hit a nerve. “Your cabins need to be fixed. I worked construction in college. Let me help.”
“I don’t accept anything for free.”
“You can’t be serious?” The stubborn set to her jaw said she was. “Fine. Caleb mentioned you have a child-care degree. I need a permanent sitter for Tia. Problem solved.”
“You mean, like a barter?”
“That’s exactly what I mean. Think about it.”
The next moments were a flurry of activity as Bri was assessed, prodded, questioned, medicated, primped with surgical garb and prepped.
Ian smiled at her. Her vitals had calmed after he’d proposed the barter. It could work. He’d just have to be brutal with his time, which meant no entertaining, no socializing and definitely no dating.
Lisa rushed up, tying her mask. “I’m here, Ian. Shoo. Go.”
Bri hyperventilated at the O.R. doors. Understandable, since, according to Caleb, their mom died in surgery. Ian brushed fingers along Bri’s hand. She clutched him in a death grip. “Please don’t tell Caleb I broke my arm. I’m scared it’ll distract him in combat. I can’t lose another family member. He’s all I have.” Her raw voice disintegrated.
That she was more concerned for her brother than for herself hit Ian to the core.
He held on to her fingers as long as he could. He was already late for court, and her orthopedic surgeon waited not so patiently. But Bri’s pleading eyes really got to him.
But, he had to get to court.
He also had to call her brother. If she had complications in surgery or under general anesthesia, they’d need directives from family. She’d be mad, but being a doctor wasn’t a popularity contest. It meant making hard decisions that sometimes caused pain. He averted his gaze.
“Ian, Caleb can’t know I’m in surgery. Okay?”
Despite the risk of making her angry by disregarding her request, Ian was convinced Caleb needed to know. Ian released Bri’s fingers and nodded to Kate to take her on in.
Even out of sight, Bri’s pleading face wouldn’t leave his mind. He sighed. Rounded the corner. Walked the hall. He pulled out his phone, knowing legally, ethically and morally, he had to call her emergency contact. He hoped it would be a nonissue.
Especially when Bri discovered he’d called her brother.
Caleb was a capable army medic. He could handle hard information and compartmentalize it in a way to keep his head in the game and not endanger himself or his fellow soldiers.
On the other hand, if something happened to Caleb...
Ian weighed his options, waffling between Bri’s atypical emotional plea and what his doctors’ creed dictate he do.
Ian sighed. This time at the irony of staring at a so-called smart phone while wondering if this would turn out to be the stupidest thing he had ever done.
His Hippocratic oath came to mind. But doubt assailed him. Her surgery was dangerous and she had no one else to call. Caleb had confided that their estranged dad was incapacitated in a nursing home. A sense of sadness over her isolation riddled Ian.
Nevertheless, he pulled up the number for Caleb’s commander, texted a message marked as urgent and pushed Send.
* * *
The morning after surgery, Bri woke from a groggy mist to a most pleasant sound. A masculine voice drawing close. A deep chuckle, then, “Get some sleep, Kate.”
Ian? Bri’s eyes fluttered open at the smell of evergreen. Ian’s cologne reminded her of Christmas. He approached and rested casual elbows on her bed’s side rail. “Good morning, Crash.”
A smile touched her lips before she could stop it. She took in Ian’s disheveled appearance. Wrinkled scrubs. Ruffled hair. Sleepy eyes and a shadow-roughed jaw she hoped he wouldn’t shave. “You look worse than I feel,” she fibbed. “Rough night?”
Lip twitching, he ripped an O.R. mask off his neck. “Yeah. The shortest day of the year feels like infinity.”
“That’s right. Today’s the first day of winter.” She also recalled the barter. “Were you serious yester—”
Rock music chimed. Annoyance flashed across his face as if it were the call coming across his touch screen. Ian’s reaction made her courage disappear, taking her back to intimidating tones Eric had used when she’d unwittingly called at “inconvenient” times.
Ian touched his cell phone. “Shupe.”
“Ian, this is your neighbor,” said an older woman. “I want to make you aware your little’n wandered over here again.”
Ian’s face snapped up, his expression full of worry. “Tia’s there?”
“Yes. I’m guessing your babysitter got too busy texting again to realize Tia was gone. Again.”
Ian’s jaw rippled. “I’ll be there right away, Miss Ellie.”
“I’d watch her for you, but I’ve got chemo today.”
“No, no, Ell. You need to keep your appointment.” His voice, tender upon first hearing Ell’s voice, softened more.
Suddenly realizing Bri had heard the entire conversation, Ian masked his features and stepped out.
His child care wasn’t working out and he was considering a leave from EPTC, which opened mere months ago. His absence would strain staff and halt expansion projects. She knew about those from small-town breakfast chatter at Sully’s, a local mom-and-pop eatery.
Also, Mitch, EPTC’s founder, requested prayers at Eagle Point Lake Pavilion’
s “PRAYZ” gathering Tuesday, a weekly event Lauren and Kate had invited Bri to attend. Bri had learned there of Ian’s struggles with Tia, whose mom had abandoned her. Bri had her own wounds from when her father had left them destitute. Like her neurotic inability to accept help.
Would Ian be angry if he knew people prayed for him? Eric had gone ballistic upon discovering she confided in praying pals about their faltering relationship. She’d been foolish to let him bully her into staying together. Never again would she let a man intimidate and manipulate her with angry words and arctic moods.
Ian exited an office across the hall and reentered her room. He grabbed his lab coat off a wall hook, brusque motions depicting the strain of a struggling single dad who hadn’t gotten enough sleep in the two weeks Tia had been living with him. He stormed for the door, then doubled back.
He snatched a parent how-to book off her chair, evidence he’d been here before. Her gaze sought his. Face stony, he crammed the book under his arm. Why hide it? No one blamed him for wanting to be a better dad. He left in a stiff, halfhearted daze.
Fifteen minutes later, the sound of a little girl crying pierced Bri’s heart. “I don’t wanna come here! I want my mom!”
Ian passed by with a tiny flailing person clad in a purple tutu. His face and bulky arms were severely strained, and the child was crying like a banshee. “I want my mo-o-om!”
But your mom doesn’t want you.
Bri knew that from town chatter, too—that Ian fiercely shielded Tia from her mom’s rejection.
“I don’t want you! I don’t know you!” Tia screamed at Ian.
“I know, Tia. I’m sorry,” Ian said, his voice raw but gentle. “But I know and love you. Things will end up all right. I promise.”
Bri hoped Ian believed his own words. But while his voice was calm and confident, his eyes were desperate.
Thankfully, Tia couldn’t see. Her face was red, and her cries gradually softened to hiccuppy whimpers.
Ian walked the floor with Tia swaddled in the strength of his arms. He swayed her, feet bouncing in gentle rhythmic daddy-dance Bri hoped Tia would recognize as his way of infusing security and comfort. Bri’s heart squeezed.
How could she complain about her own problems when fragile Tia was in such harrowing turmoil? Bri’s heart broke for the little girl.
Lord, mend this broken family. Help Tia trust her daddy. Help her daddy trust You. Prove to them You Are.
The next time Ian passed, Tia rested a chafed and soppy cheek against his broad shoulder. Ian’s tenderness melted Bri.
Wow. He wasn’t the icy-hearted guy she thought she knew. Bri strained to see past shadows muting her view. Emotion glimmered in his eyes. He didn’t look as though he had strength left to care who saw it, either. Though Ian’s brooding insolence reminded Bri of Disney’s Beast, she’d help them for Tia’s sake.
Kate entered with Bri’s bone surgeon, who examined her, wrote discharge orders and left. Kate handed Bri a gift bag.
“Clean clothes!” Bri’s heart swelled at the gesture. Kate helped her dress around the cast. “Um, is Ian still here?”
“I’ll send him in.” As Kate stepped out, she smirked.
Ian walked in, looking worn and weary, moments later. “Kate’s watching Tia so you can speak with me. What’s up?”
Bri’s nerves coiled like a Slinky. “About that barter. We’re still on, right?”
Ian smiled like a sunrise. “You’re sure?”
“Absolutely. Bring Tia tomorrow morning, in fact.”
His gaze tacked across her casted arm. “Not sure that’s—”
“My surgeon said I could still train for the fundraising marathon. If I can run a 5K race, I can chase a kindergarten-bound kid.”
“‘Chase’ is right.” His face sharpened. Eyes narrowed. “How did you know her age and that she’s starting school next year?”
“Uhm, I—” she stammered. “It’s a small town. People talk, Ian.”
His mouth thinned. “Apparently.”
“So, about that barter...”
“You’ll let me help renovate the lodge, no resistance?”
“None. You save my cabins from foreclosure. I solve your child-care problem.” She reached out her hand. “Deal?”
He hesitated, then shook guardedly, nodding to her cast. “Deal. So long as you don’t overdo it and undo the repairs we did.”
“We?”
He scrubbed his neck. “Yeah. I, uh, scrubbed in for your surgery.”
“Why? It’s not like my injuries were life threatening.”
His silence unnerved her, and negated her statement.
“Thanks, Ian. That was nice of y—”
“It’s my job,” he responded too quickly. She opted not to inform him he wasn’t convincing. She stuffed her feet into her shoes and realized she couldn’t tie them one handed.
He knelt and did it for her without her having to ask.
Bri bristled and cringed. She hated to be the one needing help.
“Thanks. By the way, the really caring guy I glimpsed on the asphalt yesterday? Then today in the hall hoisting a princess in poufy purple? I hope he sticks around awhile.”
Chapter Two
Ian hoped this wasn’t a mistake.
He was who he was, and that was that. Appeasing Bri wasn’t a priority. Yet, here he was, trekking to her house with Tia.
Coyotes howled in the dusky morning distance. Not distant enough for his liking. He put himself between the woodlands and Tia as they crossed a forest-flanked parking lot between the ritzy state-of-the-art trauma center and Bri’s humble log home. Another feral round of howls sounded. He reached for Tia.
She jerked away, pink tutu fanning her jeans. “I don’t want to hold your hand and I don’t wanna go to her icky tree house.”
Ian stopped. Eyed Bri’s place. Icky? Hardly. Tree house? He smiled. Tia had obviously never seen a log home before. It did look pioneerish under the effect of a purple twilight.
“Tia, I have to be in surgery with my patient in twenty minutes.” He gritted his teeth and ignored the guilt.
A newborn winter breeze rustled Tia’s curly brown hair and caused it to fall over her amber-eyed scowl. As they passed the luminous main lodge and approached Bri’s cabin, Tia got busy in bribe mode. “Please-don’t-make-me-go!” came out as one word. Her face brightened. “I’ll even clean my room.”
Ian dipped his head to hide the snicker. Truth be told, her offer tempted, since this morning her room had turned into a disaster. How could one small person make that big a mess? “Tell you what, we’ll get Sully’s sherbet after work.”
“I don’t like ice cream. And I don’t like you!” She shoved him away, looking like a fugitive pondering flight. He pinched the hem of the new coat he’d bought her in case she made good on the getaway brewing in her eyes. Bri must’ve heard the sidewalk scuffle, because she peeled her window curtain back.
Ian knelt in front of Tia, who glared at him. “Clearly, you’re not happy about having to come here. But I need your cooperation. Please, mind Miss Bri, and be careful of her arm.”
Bri stepped onto a rambling redwood deck that shone with a new coat of cherry lacquer she must’ve applied. Ian stood.
Tia went ballistic, eyes darting around the tree-dotted yard as though seeking escape. Panic filled him that she might actually pull it off. His eyes veered to the deep lake. Images of last night’s river drowning victims flooded Ian’s imagination. He bent down, embarrassed he didn’t know this yet about his own daughter. “Tia, how well do you swim?”
“I don’t know. I never tried it.” She eyed the sparkly sapphire lake, looking very much as though she wanted to, though. Fear like Ian had never known noosed his neck.
Bri knelt. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t le
ave my sight,” she reassured as though seeing the stark fear swirling inside him. Ian had never known fire-red, dragon-breathing fear. Not even in combat.
This was his daughter. His joy. His life.
If something were to happen to her...
Ian swept her up in his arms and hugged tight despite her wriggling and making gagging noises. A kiss planted on her forehead, he carried her inside Bri’s cabin and set her down at the farthest end from the lake and all its dangers. “I’ll be back at two. Sooner if I can. Later if traumas pour in.”
Ian felt hope as Tia darted behind his legs, away from Bri. He knelt at eye level, bracing Tia’s arms. “Listen, Miss Bri is your new babysitter. She’s fun. You’ll like her.”
She scowled at him, then Bri. “I’ll hate her.”
“Not acceptable, Tia.” Beyond that, he didn’t know what to say. Make her apologize? He could crawl under a rock. As a dad, he was an epic failure. He studied Tia, hoping for a lightning bolt of wisdom.
Bri knelt in front of Tia. “You mean to tell me you’d hate a babysitter who loves to fairy hunt?”
Tia’s eyes widened. Anger fled. Flabbergasted, Ian blinked. What just happened here?
“Fairy hunt?” Tia sucked in a heap of air. “For real?” She looked at Ian for confirmation.
“Sure,” he answered Tia. “Bri’s a renowned fairy hunter.”
Suspicion narrowed Tia’s eyes. She stepped over to Bri. Aimed a finger at her nose. “Prove it.”
When Bri rose, extending her arm, Tia reached for her hand.
And just like that, Bri won his daughter’s fragile trust.
A little jealous, Ian bid them goodbye with his daughter’s demand ringing through his head and heart.
Prove it.
Those two words were the summation of his life right now, Ian thought as he strode a familiar path to the trauma center.
He desperately needed to win Tia’s trust. Needed to prove he wasn’t the world’s biggest failure as a husband and a dad. Prove to a bank that Bri’s lodge was worth saving. Prove to financial backers that his trauma center expansion projects were worth their time and dime. And lastly, he needed to know, and needed Tia to know, that life would get better. That she’d be okay.