Aware of her disheveled appearance, she forced a smile and tucked away the hanky. Hopefully, she didn’t look too awful and sweat stained, or with any luck, didn’t smell like a men’s locker room.
“Nice to see the guys enjoying the lovely weather.” She gestured toward the patients.
“Yes, Sister Greene was concerned they’d overexert themselves, but sunshine and clean air rarely cause a problem. Wouldn’t you agree?” His deep voice rumbled.
“Uh…sure, but that’s an uneducated opinion. You’re the professional.”
He ran his fingers over his scalp, leaving his hair spiked.
She resisted the urged to smooth the tufts. “So…uh—”
“Listen—”
They laughed in unison, and he motioned for her to continue talking.
“No, you first. I didn’t have anything important to say.”
“All right.” He shuffled his feet and cleared his throat. “I wanted to apologize for the other day when I belittled your feelings. Saying you had no right to be upset was out of line and uncalled for. I should have handled the situation differently.” He reached for her hand. “I hope you’ll forgive me.”
Her fingers trembled in the warmth of his palm as tingles shot up her arm. Did he feel the electricity or was she imagining the sensation? “Of course I forgive you. I’m sorry for my own behavior. We’re at war. Not all information is for public consumption. I promise to remember the need for privacy in the future.”
His face split into a wide smile, and he squeezed her hand. “I appreciate your grace and hope you’ll pray for me as I try to be a better man. More open to change, especially where you ladies are involved. Regardless of what I manage to blurt out, I am impressed with the work all the gals do around the world. I respect you and the others. Please, believe me.”
Doris peered into his eyes. Clouded with doubt, they searched her face. She shrugged. “I’ll try, but you must admit some of your comments make trust difficult.”
“I know. I’m a stick-in-the-mud. Opinionated and bossy. High-handed and dictatorial.” He broke off and grinned. “Feel free to stop me at any time.”
“No need.” She giggled, and some of the tension cleared. “You’re doing fine on your own.”
“My sister has been telling me to change since we were kids. My dad was protective in an overbearing kind of way, and I guess I learned those behaviors from him, but I need to pave my own path now. Figure out who I am…my own convictions.”
“A commendable goal.”
“More difficult than I imagined. I’m finding that old habits die hard.” His face reddened. “As evidenced by the other day. I really am sorry for being such an oaf.”
“It’s okay…well, not for being an oaf, your apology…I accept, and we’ll say no more about it because God is working on me, too. You’ve been the recipient of the sharp side of my tongue numerous times. My temper gets the best of me, and I say things I shouldn’t. I also need forgiveness and will try to be less…uh…”
“Spirited?” He chuckled and stroked the back of her hand with his thumb.
She shivered, and her breath hitched. “Generous choice of words.”
He drew her into a quick hug then released her. “I’m glad things are repaired between us and to celebrate...how about if we go on a picnic? I’ll take care of everything. How does that sound?”
“Afraid I’ll tell your sister how awful you’ve been?” Doris chortled. “Or worse, your mom? Did you forget your own mother is a Rosie the Riveter at the airplane plant in town? She’d be disappointed at your attitude.”
“I know. I’ll give you fifty bucks not to say anything.” He made a pretense at pulling money from his back pocket then widened his eyes. “I guess I left my wallet elsewhere.”
“Aha! Then I can’t make any promises.” Their banter warmed her, and she smiled. Why couldn’t their friendship be like this all the time? “Or perhaps you’ve got a better offer?”
He rubbed his jaw. “Hmmm. I’ll have to work on my proposition…uh…proposal…” His face flamed to the roots of his hair.
“Keep digging that hole, mister. I mean, Doctor.” She laughed.
“Enjoying my discomfort, are you?”
“Absolutely.”
He guffawed and shook his head. “You are a pistol. I hope you’ll settle for the picnic at the moment, m’lady, and I’ll see what I can do to make up for my past mistakes.”
“Gifts would be a good place to start. Chocolate, flowers, you know, the usual items that ladies like.”
His lips quirked. “I’ll keep that in mind. Now, I’ve kept you from your duties long enough. Will six o’clock work with your schedule? I can come by the barracks to pick you up.”
Her stomach buzzed as if a swarm of bees had taken flight. “Six o’clock is perfect.” Hopefully, she’d have an appetite by then.
Chapter Sixteen
Light from the setting sun filtered through the trees, casting an orange-and-pink glow over the grassy knoll. Ron grabbed a chicken drumstick from the basket and nibbled on the succulent meat while Doris pushed food around on the plate. His medical instincts kicked in. Was she not feeling well but too embarrassed to admit it? Her color was good, and she hadn’t seemed extra warm as if feverish when he picked her up.
His chest tightened. Maybe she regretted her decision to have dinner with him by the pond. Perhaps she’d accepted his invitation too quickly and now wondered how long she had to keep him company. Granted, he wasn’t as suave as some of the other guys, but he could at least entertain her for a bit. They’d gotten along all right on the periodic trips to other hospitals. Surely, he could prove himself to be somewhat fun to be around.
He pressed his lips against a sigh. “Is the food not to your liking?”
Her head jerked up, and she met his gaze with wide eyes. “What? Oh, no…it’s delicious.”
“Is that why you keeping poking at it?”
She set down the plate, and pressed a hand on her stomach. Her face flamed, giving her an appearance of guilt. “Can I be honest?”
Brace yourself, boy. Here it comes. Ron forced a smile. “Of course. I’d expect nothing less.”
She patted her hair then tightened her pony tail, and his eyes were drawn to her silky tresses. What he wouldn’t give to pull out the band that held her dark locks in place. To watch it swish onto her shoulders. To run his hands through its glossy smoothness.
“…so that’s all. I hope you understand.” She rubbed her hands on her skirt.
Uh oh. He’d been so caught up in her beauty, he missed what she’d said. What an idiot. Now, he’d have to fake his response. “Absolutely.” He nibbled the inside of his cheek. What had he agreed to?
Relief coursed over Doris’s face, and she blew out a deep breath. “Thanks. I’m being silly, I know, but I haven’t been on many dates…uh…not that this is a date, but I usually pal around with the girls, and that’s different. You know what I mean?”
It sounded like she was nervous about being on the picnic. With him. Alone. She wasn’t the only one who was skittish. “Yeah, but we’ve got shared history, which is more than most folks who wind up over here. We can talk about the good old days.”
A giggle like tinkling wind chimes escaped her lips, and she cocked her head, eyebrows arched high on her forehead. “The good old days when a lofty senior boy had little time for a gawky, freshman girl.”
He chuckled. “Okay, so maybe the only thing shared in our past was location, but we can talk about that. Will it make you too homesick? We’re here to have fun not depress each other.”
“I don’t think talking about home will bother me, or maybe, in a bittersweet way. I mean, even though we’re here because of a war, I’m getting to do work that is challenging and exciting in a field I couldn’t break into at home. I miss some things, but in a weird way, I’m not anxious to go back, well, except when we get bombed.” She shuddered. “I could do without
Hitler’s flying henchmen, but we’ve been blessed thus far, not getting injured.”
“Your optimism is one of the things I lo—appreciate about you.”
She ducked her head. “My sisters say I’m an idealist as if it’s a bad trait.”
“I disagree.” He picked up another chicken leg. “You first. What do you miss about home?”
“Well…” She looked into the distance and tapped her index finger on her chin. A grin lit up her face. “Roller skating at Gadaway Park, speeding around the bandstand as if I were flying or riding a horse. The wind in my hair. I felt free…unencumbered, as if I were actually graceful, not gangly and clumsy.”
“You? Clumsy? I can’t see it.”
“Again, you weren’t looking. Too busy doing your own thing.”
He swallowed against the lump that formed in his throat. “High school is awful for most of us, isn’t it? Trying to figure out who we are while attempting to fit in with a bunch of kids who have no idea who they are, many of whom lash out in meanness as a way to feel better about themselves. Ugh.”
“To be honest, it wasn’t much better in college, part of the reason I dropped out.” She waved her hand. “Your turn. What do you miss?”
“Promise you won’t laugh?”
“Never.”
“Okay…feeding the fish with my dad off the dam.”
“Really?”
He shrugged. “Sounds stupid saying it out loud.”
“No. Time with family is never dumb. I saw you a couple of times.”
Tears pricked the backs of his eyes. “Good memories. He was so busy, but for some reason he would make time about once a month to head over to the dam, and he always asked me to accompany him. Precious times. Just the two of us.” He cleared his throat. “He died of a heart attack two weeks before I graduated from med school.”
She squeezed his hand then left her fingers nestled in his palm. “He was proud of your accomplishments. I’d run into him in town sometimes, and he’d regale me with your grades and tell me what you were doing.” A single tear trickled down her cheek, and she swiped it away. “Maybe we can find a school of fish who need feeding.”
“I’d like that.” He wiped his hands on a napkin then pointed to her empty plate. “Your appetite returned. That’s good. One shouldn’t leave a picnic hungry.”
“Yes, talking about home made me forget my nervousness. The food was delicious. How did you manage to get your hands on fried chicken and coleslaw?”
Ron chuckled. “One of the cooks owed me a favor. They’re serving it for dinner tonight, and he said there was more than enough to go around.”
“I hate to ask what kind of favor.”
“It’s best left unsaid.” He dug into his breast coat pocket and pulled out a paperback. “Have you seen these? The military is calling them armed services editions. They plan to publish hundreds so the boys will have something to read during their downtime. The Victory Book Campaign worked out okay, but the cost of shipping all those hardbacks was exorbitant. And a lot of the books were unsuitable—stuff no one wanted to read.”
Doris reached for the book. “Oliver Twist. I love Dickens. What a wonderful idea. The logistics of taking care of our troops must be overwhelming. I hadn’t thought about keeping them entertained.”
“Can you imagine going on a ten-mile march carrying a hardback copy of Great Expectations?”
“I expect I’d toss it by the roadside. How did you get your hands on the book? Another favor?”
He shook his head. “Nope, swapped it for a Louis L’Amour from my own library.”
“I didn’t figure you for a reader of western stories.” Doris cocked her head. “I wonder what else I don’t know about you.” She flipped to the first page, and he leaned forward to read over her shoulder. A stray lock of her hair brushed his cheek, and he sucked in a breath. With effort, he read aloud, “Among other public buildings in a certain town, which for many reasons it will be prudent to refrain from mentioning, and to which I will assign no fictitious name, there is one anciently common to most towns, great or small: to wit, a workhouse; and in this workhouse was born; on a day and date which I need not trouble myself to repeat, inasmuch as it can be of no possible consequence to the reader, in this stage of the business at all events; the item of mortality whose name is prefixed to the head of this chapter.”
She closed the book. “That’s got to be the world’s longest first sentence, don’t you think? I do love it, though…sets the stage for the entire book.”
He drew back. “He was a great writer, whereas I can barely string together two words.”
“Doesn’t matter. Patching up our guys good as new is more important.”
“Not really, just a different set of skills.” He glanced at his watch. Drat. Time to return for his shift. Where had the evening gone? “Unfortunately, I’ve got to get back.”
“Me, too. When you’re done I’d like to borrow the book.”
“Or we could read it together.” He searched her face. Would she be amenable to the idea?
Her eyes sparkled, and she nodded. “I’d like that.”
His chest swelled, and he rose and helped her to her feet. “Wonderful. Is tomorrow too soon?”
“I’ll have to check my schedule.”
His heart fell. “You may be booked already?”
“Yeah, I may have to perform surgery on some poor ambulance.” She laughed and began to collect their soiled dishes and put them into the basket. “The mileage on the vehicles adds up quickly, and the wear and tear occurs sooner than normal.”
“Ah, of course.” His chest lightened. The breeze picked up and lifted one of the cloth napkins like a kite, sending it skittering across the meadow. He gave chase and snatched it from the air.
She applauded. “I’ve not seen you run that fast before. Didn’t know you had it in you.”
He executed a deep bow then trotted toward her. “Very funny. Guess I’m full of surprises today. Like this one.” He rolled the napkin and snapped it at her, not quite hitting her arm.
Her mouth formed a perfect O, then a wicked grin curved her lips. She reached into the basket for the other napkin. In a flash, she thwacked his arm with the cloth, then danced away, her laughter triumphant.
“Hey!” He raced toward her, and she shrieked as her legs pounded to keep away from his reach. Breathless, he caught up with her and grabbed her arm. He swung her around, and she pressed against him, heart bumping in rhythm with his. Her pupils dilated, and she pinked. His gaze went to her lips, so close. So kissable.
With a loud squawk, a large raven swooped onto the blanket.
Doris sprang out of his arms then waved her hands at the bird. “Hey, get away from that.” The winged creature protested the interruption with another raucous call then raised its wings and took flight.
Ron shook his head. So much for their special moment.
Chapter Seventeen
Doris’s cheeks burned as if she’d spent a day at the beach. Why did she have to blush at the smallest provocation? The crow was a welcome disturbance. If Ron’s expression were any indication, he intended to kiss her. She touched her lips. Gaze fixed on her mouth, his eyes had darkened to a glittering cobalt.
Mouth dry and heart throbbing, she blinked. Get hold of yourself, Doris. He’s a cliché. Tall, dark, and handsome. Granted, he’s no Cary Grant, but he gives the actor a run for his money with his dimpled chin, broad shoulders, and rugged appearance. Sharp wit and intelligence sweetened the package.
How many girls had he taken out or kissed in the months since arriving in England? The British girls were starved for affection, weren’t they? Their men were off at war. The Americans were plentiful and well paid. Ron was a long way from home and lonely. Or maybe she was jumping to conclusions, and he was just trying to make up for being a boor, like he said. To ensure she didn’t send any scathing reports to her folks. Or his.
Basket in hand, she
marched to the jeep while he folded the blanket. He claimed to have dated few women during college, but perhaps that was merely a story, one to set her at ease and try to lull her into a false sense of security. Yes, he was arrogant, but he didn’t prey on women. He’d been taught better than that.
She stumbled over a divot in the ground, her ankle twisting. Righting herself, Doris continued to the vehicle. Had Ron seen her clumsiness? Seen that she was the same lanky, awkward girl she’d been in high school?
Footsteps pounded the ground behind her as Ron trotted to catch up. “Hey, I would have carried that. You left me with the lightweight work.”
Lifting the basket into the back of the jeep, she forced a smile. “There’s little remaining inside. We ate everything.”
He nudged her shoulder. “You mean I ate everything.”
A chuckle escaped, and she smoothed her slacks. She needed time to recover from his nearness. Lord, I don’t know what to do. My emotions are all jumbled. One minute I’m sure he cares about me more than as a friend, and the next I’ve contrived myriad ulterior motives for him. What do I do? She cleared her throat. “I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
“Since when?” He stuffed the blanket into the back of the jeep then brushed off his hands and crooked his elbow. “M’lady, may I escort you to your seat?”
So, he had seen her ungainliness. She sighed and slid her hand into his arm. She would play along. “Thank you, fair knight.”
His face split into a wide grin, and he patted her hand, sending tingles through her fingers that zinged up her arm. He led her to the passenger side of the jeep, and she climbed into the vehicle. “Are you comfortable, m’lady?”
“Yes, thank you.” How long was he going to keep up the role? A stiff breeze swept past, and a stray lock of hair tumbled over her face. Before she could tuck the errant strand behind her ear, he reached forward capturing the tresses between his fingers. “You have the most beautiful hair I’ve ever seen. Gold and red highlights cause it to shimmer in the light.” He took a deep breath. “And your hair always smells so fresh. Floral, but not quite.”
The Mechanic & the MD Page 9