Country Bride

by Debbie Macomber

  She supposed even the Swiss sometimes wondered if they ought to occasionally step up and take a stand.

  “You’re welcome,” she finally said, feeling her face heat.

  He gazed at her out of those dark-fringed, impossibly blue eyes and for just an instant she was almost certain his gaze rested on her mouth. Her breath caught and she fought the sudden wild impulse to lick her lips.

  “I’d better get in there and help your mother transfer Taryn,” she said quickly.

  He blinked a few times. “Right. Do you need my help? I’ve got some phone calls to make but they can wait awhile.”

  She shook her head. “We’ll be fine. It will be good practice for all of us to use the lift system you’ve got in there.”

  “My home office is down at the end of the hall. If you need me, just yell.”

  She nodded and watched him walk away, his body tough and athletic. Oh, she definitely would have to be careful around this dangerous but infinitely appealing man. She had a feeling it was going to be very tough to remember she was freaking Switzerland, especially when she suddenly wanted to throw open every border to him.

  Five

  Less than a week later, Evie threw Switzerland out the window and decided she would far rather be Napoleon marching across Europe, cannons blazing, swallowing up borders and taking no prisoners.

  Despite her best efforts, she wasn’t aloof and detached anymore. Instead, she was frustrated, tired, achy and cross. Every minuscule shred of patience she might have once thought she could claim lay in ruins.

  In nearly a decade of her private practice in Los Angeles she had known her share of stubborn patients. Kids who refused to do their exercises unless they were in the mood or insisted on working to a particular song or who had to have the lights just so before they would even consider doing as she asked.

  They were nothing compared to the sheer unbreakable will of this fifteen-year-old girl. “Come on, Taryn. You can do this. I’ve read the notes from your therapists at the rehab center. According to them, you’ve been standing on your own for up to twenty seconds at a go for the last two weeks but you haven’t done it one single, solitary time for me. Is everybody lying or have you forgotten how?”

  Taryn managed a shrug and Evie wanted to scream. Every time they worked on standing, Taryn’s legs would collapse as if they were filled with mascarpone. “I just want you to show me. One time. Come on, honey. How are we going to work on walking up those stairs to your bedroom if you won’t even show me how well you can stand?”

  Taryn sent her a sidelong look then glanced away as if she didn’t understand a word. Evie wasn’t fooled. Taryn understood everything, even if she couldn’t always communicate her needs. She knew just what Evie wanted of her, she simply didn’t want to cooperate.

  “I want...to watch TV,” she said.

  Taryn inclined her head toward the big flat-screen TV set in a niche of the wall, and Evie was by turns frustrated and heartened. Already, Taryn was doing a better job of stringing together words, which forced Evie to wonder what she was doing wrong and why she was meeting roadblocks at every turn.

  “Fine,” she said. “You stand for thirty seconds to show me you can do it and then you can watch whatever you want for fifteen minutes. Deal?” Taryn favored reality-TV shows with no redeeming value but if that’s what it took to get the job accomplished, Evie was willing to try anything.

  The side of the girl’s mouth lifted in her half smile. “Deal.”

  Evie pulled her from the chair, feeling the strain in her back as she took most of the girl’s weight. Taryn was still thin, her wrists spindly as twigs. Before the accident, she had been vivacious and fit, always surrounded by other teenagers. When she used to come into the bead store, she seemed to bring a glow with her that lit up everyone else with her smile.

  Brain injuries sucked, Evie thought as she supported Taryn’s weight. Two people could suffer the exact same injury—same location, same intensity, same everything—and manifest completely different outcomes.

  She completely understood now why the staff at the rehab facility had thrown up their hands and suggested giving in to Taryn’s wish to be home. The only trouble was, now that she was back in Hope’s Crossing, Taryn didn’t seem any more motivated to do the exercises necessary to regain as much function as possible than she had when she’d been in rehab.

  Evie had to figure out a way to reach her, but she didn’t have the first idea how to accomplish that. Every technique she’d tried thus far had been a big bust. If Taryn would work in exchange for the dubious privilege of watching a few minutes of some reality-TV crapfest, Evie wouldn’t quibble.

  “I’ve got the walker right here for you to hold on to if you need it. Are you ready for me to let go?”

  At Taryn’s nod, Evie released her grip on the girl, though she didn’t move her hands away far. Much to Evie’s pleasure, Taryn actually took her own weight and stood, though she kept her hands on the walker.

  Evie had only counted to fifteen when she noticed movement out of the corner of her gaze and saw that Brodie had come into the room.

  “Dad,” Taryn exclaimed, sagging backward.

  Evie caught her before she could fall. “That wasn’t thirty seconds. You stopped about ten seconds short. I guess no Snooki for you then.”

  Taryn made a face but she straightened again. Exactly ten seconds later, she collapsed into her chair again.

  Evie laughed. “Look at you, counting in your head. All right. I guess you’ve earned it. Fifteen minutes, okay?” She pushed the girl over toward the big screen and handed her the adapted remote pad with the large buttons that Taryn could easily press.

  “Interesting choice of motivator,” Brodie murmured from beside her. She couldn’t tell by his tone whether he approved or not.

  “Hey, if I find something that works, I’m going to use it. Even if it’s ridiculous trash.”

  As her solitary patient would be occupied for a few moments, Evie began to clean the exercise ball and the walker and the rest of the equipment they’d used that day—anything to distract her from the ridiculous simmer of awareness that bloomed whenever Brodie came in to check on things.

  “You don’t have to do that. Mrs. O. could probably take care of it for you.”

  “It’s an old habit. When I was in private practice, most of my clients were medically fragile. We had to sanitize everything between patients for their safety. I just figure it can’t hurt, even when only Taryn is using the equipment.”

  “Is she? Using the equipment, I mean? Has today been any better?”

  Since she’d started the week before, Brodie had checked in with her every afternoon. She didn’t want to admit that some silly part of her actually waited in anticipation of these visits.

  “The last few minutes have been her best in several days, even if I had to use MTV to motivate her. I’m earning every penny of the exorbitant fee you’re paying to the Layla Parker scholarship fund. How is the search for my replacement coming?”

  “I’m interviewing another possible applicant tomorrow. Would you be willing to sit in again and give your opinion?”

  So far the applicants for the position either had been underqualified or looking for something a little less nebulous and a little more permanent. She was flattered that Brodie apparently was willing to trust her judgment on a couple of them. When she’d voiced concerns after the respective interviews, he had agreed to continue looking.

  “What time?”

  “Nine.”

  “That’s fine. I should be able to come a little earlier than I’d planned in the morning.”

  Taryn suddenly laughed at something on the screen and her laugh sounded exactly as Evie remembered—full and rich and brimming with life.

  When Evie turned back to Brodie, she found him watching his
daughter with a look of stark emotion.

  “I’ve missed that laugh. Stupid, isn’t it?”

  “Not at all,” she murmured.

  His fingers drummed on the countertop. “The last few years have been rough. Teen growing pains. We fought all the time, you know? It seems like I wasted so much time with her before the accident being frustrated and impatient about dumb little things and my own unreasonable expectations that I rarely took a chance just to listen to her and remember to savor these moments.”

  The orange scent of the disinfecting wipe grew stronger as she clenched her fingers more tightly around it to keep from touching his arm. “Here’s your chance. Maybe you ought to go numb your brain for a few minutes and watch with her.”

  He made a face. “Ugh. Bonding over Jersey Shore. Just shoot me now.”

  She laughed, entirely too drawn to the blasted man. His glance flickered to her mouth and Evie caught her breath as heat sizzled and tugged between them. The sounds of the silly television show faded away and she forgot Taryn was even in the same room, mesmerized by those blue eyes.

  Evie was painfully aware of him, of the low, fluttery curl in her belly and the insane urge to step forward, dig her fingers into the cotton of his shirt and tug him toward her.

  Whoa. Slow down, she told her errant hormones. Stupid idea, letting him stir her up like this with just a casual look. Okay, he might not be the arrogant jerk she had taken him for since she’d arrived in Hope’s Crossing, but that didn’t mean she needed to go all soft and gooey over him.

  He was still not her type. That hadn’t changed simply because she was discovering these different facets of the man. He might be a good parent. But he was also motivated by the almighty dollar, just as her own father had been.

  He was the first one to blink in the sensual game of chicken they were apparently playing. He jerked his gaze away and looked down at his watch. “I only have fifteen minutes to spare. I’ve got a conference call I can’t miss.”

  “That should give you just enough time to watch the ending,” she said.

  “Lucky me,” he muttered and headed over to his daughter’s side. He pulled one of the chairs over from the table-and-chair set he had, indeed, carted into the room for their use, and set it beside the wheelchair.

  Evie wasn’t about to let herself be dragged into the show and she decided this would be the perfect time for her to catch up on paperwork. She had been trying to take copious treatment notes about each day for her successor. After breaking out her laptop, she sat at the table and tried to focus on recording their activities of the day, from their frustrating time in the pool that morning when Taryn had refused to use the kickboard, to the equally frustrating work at the table, where Taryn refused to practice using silverware.

  The litany of her defeats left a sour taste in her mouth. She didn’t remember ever feeling like such a failure during the time she was actively practicing P.T. Maybe she needed to throw in the towel and let Brodie find someone else who might be better at reaching the girl. Heaven knew, she certainly didn’t seem to be up to the job.

  “It’s over.” Taryn’s petulant words interrupted Evie’s self-flagellation.

  “Darn. Just when it was getting good,” Brodie said drily.

  “You’ll just have to watch again next week with Taryn so you can keep track of what’s happening,” Evie teased.

  He gave her dark look. “Isn’t there a good PBS special or something we could watch instead?”

  “Boring,” Taryn declared.

  Brodie shook his head but leaned over to kiss the top of her elfin curls. “Remind me to do something about your pitiful taste in entertainment, kiddo. But not right now. I’ve got to take a conference call. Give Evie your best effort, okay? Remember that ski trip to Chamonix we’ve been talking about? You’ve got a fair bit of work ahead of you if we’re finally going to make it this winter.”

  Taryn’s smile faded and she looked down at her legs. “I...can’t...ski.”

  “Keep at it, sweetheart,” Brodie said firmly. “You can do anything you set your mind to. And Evie is here to help you.”

  He waved to them both and headed out of the room. Evie watched him go for about thirty seconds longer than she should have before she forced her attention back to Taryn.

  Yeah. Stupid idea, entertaining those crazy thoughts about him for even a minute. In her experience, letting herself go soft and gooey usually only led to one big, sticky mess.

  * * *

  Taryn lay on the stupid padded table, hating her life. This dumb room, her weak legs, that big mirror that showed how ugly she was now.

  And Evie. Especially Evie.

  Evie was pretty, with blue eyes and that long blond hair, like some kind of angel.

  A bitchy angel.

  “Come on. Four more. You can do this.”

  “I...don’t like...leg lifts.” The words sounded stupid, too. They were mushy, like eating peanut butter, and she hated that she had to work so hard to squeeze the right ones out when they were right there in her head. It was easier not to say much of anything. “Leg lifts...hurt.”

  “We’re almost done. Hang in there.”

  “I want...to rest now.”

  “In a minute. Four more.”

  No. She wanted to be done. To watch more TV and be quiet and forget her stupid life.

  “Excuse me. Sorry to interrupt.”

  Mrs. O. peeked her head into the room. Taryn lowered her leg. Interrupt. Please. Go ahead.

  “No worries.” Evie smiled. “What can we do for you?”

  “A young lady is here to visit Taryn. One of her friends. I didn’t know if she might be up to visitors.”

  Taryn looked in the mirror she hated. She was gross. Short hair now, scars on her cheek. Worst of all, Evie made her put on her own makeup earlier and she couldn’t do it and now she looked like a clown.

  “You look beautiful,” Evie had said when Taryn had tried to take it right off. “It will get easier. Believe it or not, this is good practice and will help you regain your fine-motor skills.”

  She didn’t want to do that. She just wanted everyone to leave her alone.

  “What do you say, Taryn?” she asked. “Are you in the mood for a visitor? It’s really up to you.”

  It was better than therapy. Evie could talk for her. “Wash...this...off first,” she mumbled, with a gesture to her face with the hand that still worked okay.

  Evie rolled her eyes. “You look perfectly fine, but whatever.” To Mrs. O., she said, “Give us five minutes, will you, so we can primp a bit.”

  Mrs. O. smiled. “Of course. I can chat with her out in the foyer for a few minutes.”

  Evie helped her stand to transfer to the chair and then wiped off the ugly makeup. “Want me to put more makeup on?”

  “Eye...shadow,” she muttered in her stupid mushy voice.

  Who was here? she wondered. Probably Brittni or Lyndsey. School was starting soon. Maybe they had new cheerleader uniforms to show.

  Evie put on Taryn’s makeup and it looked okay. Better than what she’d done before.

  “Are you ready?” Evie asked.

  “Yeah.”

  Evie opened the door to let Mrs. O. know she could let the visitor in. Not Brittni or Lyndsey, she saw, surprised. Hannah Kirk. Her old best friend. She looked big and kind of sweaty.

  “Hannah. Hi!” Evie smiled, happy to see Hannah.

  “Hi, Ms. Blanchard. I didn’t know you would be here.”

  “I’m helping Taryn for a few days while she settles in at home.”

  “That’s nice of you.”

  “I’m glad to do it,” Evie said. “It’s been fun.”

  Lie, Taryn thought. She wasn’t glad and it wasn’t fun. Evie didn’t want to be there at all, Taryn could tell
.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t been at String Fever to help you with your mother’s earrings,” Evie said. “I’m afraid I’ve been a little distracted the last few days.”

  “No problem. I haven’t had time anyway. I’ve been working pretty long hours at the Snow Chalet. That reminds me,” she said suddenly, pulling her hand out from behind her back. “I brought Taryn a blue raspberry. That’s the kind her dad ordered for her the other day. I thought she might like another one. It’s so hot!”

  “That’s really thoughtful of you,” Evie said, smiling.

  Taryn stared at it, wishing she could think of something to say.

  “It melted a little while I was riding my bike up the hill but I put it in an insulated coffee go-cup I brought from home. It should be okay.”

  “Aren’t you clever? Taryn, look what Hannah brought you? Isn’t that nice?”

  She looked at Hannah. At the cup. At her hands. She couldn’t hold it, drink it, without help. Like a baby.

  “That is the perfect thing on a hot August afternoon. Here, honey, would you like some?”

  She frowned. “No.”

  Evie blinked. “No?”

  “I don’t want it.”

  Hannah turned pink, like watermelon ice. Taryn felt bad but her words were slippery. She looked at Evie, pleading.

  “Later.”

  “You’re probably full from lunch, right? We can put it in the freezer and then see if you’re more in the mood in an hour or so.”

  “Good. Yeah.”

  “I’m just going to put this in one of the cups from the kitchen and rinse yours out so you can take it home. Will that work?” Evie asked Hannah.

  “That would be good. My mom takes that one to work at the grocery store. She might be mad if she can’t find it.”

  “Why don’t you two have a visit for a minute and I’ll run to the kitchen to take care of this?” Evie said.