Nibbling toast, she leaned back and enjoyed the first easy breath she'd taken since picking up the phone in her old-fashioned country kitchen to make the appointment she knew would dredge up old hurts. So far this reunion of sorts with Luke had been far less painful than she'd anticipated, and she was honest enough to admit a large measure of the credit belonged to him.
He wasn't at all the man she'd imagined him to be on those rare occasions when she couldn't quite shove thoughts of him out of her mind. It was both unsettling and … what? Amazing?
It was almost as though she'd imagined those four days with an uneducated brash hell-raising bronc buster. A frown creased her forehead when she realized she was rubbing the cesarean scar, which was the only tangible reminder she had of the child she'd given up.
To survive the pain she'd compartmentalized her thoughts about that baby into tiny boxes, like perfect gems in a nest of cotton.
Did the people who'd taken her child cherish her the way she would? Did they tell her every day how precious and wonderful she was? How utterly loved she was and always would be, no matter how many times she stumbled? Did her daddy teach her things and praise her beauty?
Except Luke wouldn't have been around long enough to teach their daughter anything.
No, she'd made the right decision, she told herself yet one more time. The couple who'd adopted Jenny were good people, Doc had promised. College-educated, financially well-off, stable and responsible. A loving couple. Everything she and Luke hadn't been.
After putting her breakfast dishes outside the door, she retrieved her address book from the table and carried it with her back to the bed. Settling back, she flipped to the W's, then she picked up the phone.
"Weldon residence. Jason speaking."
Madelyn's lips curved at the six-year-old's careful diction. "Hi, Jasey, it's Aunt Madelyn. How're you doing today?"
"Hi, Aunt Mad'lyn. We have a new puppy!"
"You do?"
"Yep. She has floppy ears and big feet."
"What's her name?"
"Mama calls her Peaches, but Daddy says her name should be Misery."
Madelyn laughed, but the pressure around her heart increased. This might have been her life if only… Sucking in a breath, she pulled herself up short. Recalling old angers and resentments would only serve to complicate an already complicated situation. "Is your mama available, honey?"
"Uh-huh. Mama, Aunt Maddy's on the phone!" Jason yelled. Wincing, Madelyn held the phone away from her ear.
"She's comin'," she heard Jason say in normal voice again.
"Thanks, sweetheart. You enjoy your puppy now, you hear?"
"Yes, ma'am."
They said goodbye and the phone clunked down. In the background Madelyn heard a baby wailing, followed by the sound of what Emily Weldon called her "mommy" voice, which was in sharp contrast to the authoritarian brusque tones of the harried high-school administrator she was during the week.
If anyone deserved to have it all, it was Emily, Madelyn thought, rubbing at the residual ache in her temple. A doting husband, a passel of beautiful healthy kids, a useful satisfying job she loved. She was also an incredibly nice person.
Tall, plump and brilliant, with a Ph.D. in elementary education and administration from UCLA, she'd taken over as principal of Whiskey Bend High the same year Wiley Roy had been hired to teach mathematics.
Madelyn had been in college then and hadn't met Emily until the day she'd interviewed for the position. They'd become friends, as well as colleagues.
A woman who'd made some bad mistakes herself, Emily had made it clear to the town busybodies that she wasn't interested in listening to gossip—about Madelyn or any other member of her staff. She always said it was one of her biggest regrets that she hadn't found an excuse to fire Wiley before he'd turned his attention in Madelyn's direction.
Emily had been one of the first people to learn of her pregnancy. Madelyn would always cherish the memory of the unflappable administrator's uninhibited squeal of delight as she'd raced around her desk to give Madelyn a hug.
Emily had been furious when she'd learned of Wiley's decision to divorce the mother of his child. Since she was also Wiley's boss, she'd been in a tough spot, but she'd handled it professionally. Privately, however, she'd come up with some highly imaginative ideas for the punishment she thought he deserved.
"Madelyn, honey, I'm so glad you called." Emily's voice was slightly breathless, her normal state on a Saturday morning, Madelyn suspected. "How did it go?"
"Surprisingly well. Dr. Jarrod—Luke—has agreed to take me as a patient."
"Oh, honey, I'm so pleased. What did he say about the baby?"
Madelyn gave her a brief rundown of the visit, ending with the emergency call that had cut it short. "I have an appointment to see him again Monday."
She heard the sound of chair legs scraping against the floor and pictured Emily perched on a stool at the breakfast bar. "Pardon me for being indelicate, but was it awful, his doing the examination, I mean?"
"Not at all." She found herself smiling. "In fact, it was, well, fun."
"Excuse me, but we are talking about an internal exam, are we not?"
Madelyn laughed. "You'd be amazed."
"I already am." Emily cleared her throat. "Seriously, how was it, seeing him again, I mean?"
"Stressful, but I got through it."
"Any lingering … attraction?"
Madelyn twisted the phone cord around her finger and told herself not to think about the half-naked body that had lain within touching distance last night. "Not enough to worry about."
"I don't suppose he's gotten fat and bald?" An image of that massive chest and hard belly shimmered into her mind. In another lifetime she would have snuggled next to all that latent power, lulled to sleep by the steady beating of his heart. And in the morning, when he'd awakened aroused and vulnerable, she would take him inside her body and make long lingering love to him the way she'd done so many times in her dreams.
Her breathing faltered, then picked up. "He's still a very attractive man," she said primly. "Not that it matters."
"Is he married?"
Madelyn set her jaw against the sudden acceleration of her pulse. "No, not that it matters one way or another. He's my doctor, nothing more."
The pause was nearly imperceptible. "Works for me, honey," Emily assured her, loyal as always. "I just wanted to know which way to direct my good thoughts, that's all. You know, toward a fairy-tale ending where the two of you ride off into the sunset on his majestic white horse or the distinctly less satisfying The Way We Were scenario."
Madelyn laughed. "I can't sing a lick, but go ahead and picture me as Barbra Streisand."
"So much for romance," Emily said with an exaggerated sigh.
"As I've told you countless times before, dear heart, we can't all have a happily-ever-after."
"And as I've told you, there's almost always another chapter if you have the courage to turn the page, which— Oh, hell." Emily's exclamation was followed by a furious high-pitched yapping. "Honey, I have to go. Sissy just dumped a pitcher of maple syrup on the pup's head."
Madelyn laughed. "I'll call again when I have a permanent phone number and address."
"You'd better, girl! Oh, and Maddy, when you go back for that appointment on Monday, take a good look around. I have a feeling you just might see a white horse tethered to a parking meter out front." She hung up before Madelyn could reply.
* * *
Chapter 7
« ^ »
It had stopped raining during the night. By nine-thirty when Luke pulled away from the Mallory with Madelyn sitting primly in the passenger seat of his Cherokee, the clouds were gone, and Portland sparkled like a new penny in the clean air. Figuring she'd enjoy the sunshine, he took her on a scenic tour of the downtown district before heading east toward Mill Works Ridge.
"First thing Monday I'm going to get a library card and hit the history stacks," she said, folding her
hands primly over her baby Buddha tummy. "Baby and I will have a lot of time to read over the next few months, and I intend to enjoy every luxurious minute."
"You sound like Raine." He glanced over in time to see her inquiring look. "Raine Paxton. She owns While Away Books in the university district. Mostly used, but some new, too. And darned if she doesn't know every single book on the shelf without having to look it up."
"Sounds intimidating."
"Nah, she just has one of those photographic memories I would have given a large chunk of my future income to borrow when I was in med school."
"Since I doubt Stanford is in the business of handing out diplomas on a whim, you must have managed somehow."
His heart jerked at the grudging compliment. If he thought it would redeem him even a little in her eyes, he'd trot out the whole damn list of honors he'd accumulated. Because he suspected it would only make him look like a braggart, or worse, a sinner looking to buy his way out of hell, he settled for a shrug. "I got through it okay."
He braked for a red light, then shifted to ease the tightness in his shoulders. She adjusted her skirt, then turned a curious gaze his way. "Did you ever win that silver belt buckle you were always talking about?"
"Yeah, the year I turned twenty."
She glanced at his belly. "How come you're not wearing it?"
He hesitated, wondering how much of himself to reveal to her. "After the presentation I threw it in the nearest river, which happened to be the Colorado. Figure it's still there." The light changed, and he concentrated on navigating past a utilities crew digging up the street.
"Were you drunk?" she asked. "When you threw it in the river, I mean?"
His mouth quirked in a smile that had nothing to do with amusement. "Not then, no."
"Then why would you throw away something that meant so much to you?"
"Hell if I know." But he did. Going after his place in the sun had cost him his shot at real happiness, the kind that didn't tarnish. It had cost him Maddy and his child, and he would regret that for the rest of his life.
Now, as he turned onto the street bordering the Columbia, he let himself imagine what his life would have been like if he'd stayed in Texas. But every time his mind started down that road, he smacked up against the brutal truth. If he'd wanted to stay, he would have stayed. Instead, he'd wanted good times and applause, not responsibility and restrictions.
"The hospital is only ten minutes away," he said as he braked for the light at the intersection of Columbia Heights and Waverly Lane. "Five, if you hit the lights right."
She gave him a considering look. "Is that why your friends from the hospital live there?"
"Part of the reason, yeah."
"How come you don't live there, too?"
"It's strictly a single-family type of place. Big yards full of jungle gyms and kids." Kids he'd tried hard not to love too deeply because it only made it more difficult when he went home to silent rooms.
"That's the Columbia down beyond that little park yonder," Luke said as he braked for the sharp left. "And this is Mill Works Ridge. Only two blocks long, but I think it's the prettiest street in town."
Still enthralled with the shimmering ribbon of the famous river visible through the screen of pretty bushes, Madelyn took a moment to turn her attention to the houses on the other side of the narrow street. When she did, she couldn't prevent a low exclamation of delight.
The neighborhood was enchanting. Six sparkling white-frame cottages, lined up three to a block like graceful Victorian debutantes in fussy lace-trimmed party dresses. Each was different and yet equally charming. Bright bunches of flowers bordered neatly trimmed lawns bisected by rust-red brick walks.
Luke flicked her a look before parking in front of a two-story gem at the western corner of the first block. The shutters and front door were a soft slate blue. Lace curtains swept back from the front windows in twin swags, reminding Madelyn of shimmering cobwebs. Lush lavender roses the size of cabbages framed the porch steps, and pink and white petunias spilled from boxes beneath a large front window.
"Is this it?" she said, her voice coming out in an embarrassingly eager rush. "The house I'm … considering?"
"Nope. This one belongs to the Paxtons." He opened the door and climbed out. Disappointment crashed over her as she fumbled with her seat belt. She had simply assumed that because the key was here, the house must be in this neighborhood. Never assume, she reminded herself. Yet another in an increasingly long list of painful lessons, she told herself with a sigh.
Reminding herself that brooding was bad for the baby, she grabbed her purse and reached for the door handle, only to find Luke had beaten her to it. Bracketing her thickened waist with those big hands, he helped her down from the Cherokee's high seat, then touched her shoulder.
"That one over there is yours," he said, indicating the house on the opposite corner. The smallest of the six, it had sparkling curlicue trim along the eaves and bright emerald shutters on the windows. "You said you wanted small."
He shoved his hands into his pockets, then pulled them out again. It was the first time she'd seen Luke look unsure of himself. "Prue said to warn you it's not real modern inside."
But there were white and pink peony hushes blooming along the walk and a birdbath on the lawn.
Luke saw the direction of her gaze and frowned. "I, uh, forgot to ask if Miz Finkle pays for a gardener."
"Hmm."
"Look, it was just an idea. I know I kinda ran over your objections, so—"
"Is that a cherry tree in the side yard?"
He turned to look, his eyes crinkling against the sun's glare. "Looks like it, yeah."
She sighed, already picturing herself walking barefoot in the lush green lawn. "I don't suppose it comes with a puppy?" she mused half to herself.
He lifted a hand and rubbed a jaw that had lost the teeth-gritted hardness of a moment ago. "Would you settle for a cat?" he asked cautiously.
"It comes with a cat?"
"Yeah. Miz Finkle travels a lot, so she hacks off a chunk of rent in exchange for pet care."
"How big a chunk?"
"A hundred a month."
She blinked. "That much?"
His cheeks creased in a wry smile. "Apparently Miz Finkle is right fond of that cat."
She glanced toward the house again. "Did I ever tell you how much I've always wanted a cat?"
His grin flashed, pushing a crescent dimple into one austere—and now clean shaven—cheek. "Then let's go get you one, Mama."
More polite now than she remembered, he slipped his hand under her elbow to help her up the two shallow steps to the front walkway. It was subtle, the way he shortened his long stride to match hers, something Wiley who was almost as tall had never done. What wasn't so subtle was the way her heart raced whenever he looked at her. The chemistry between them was more powerful than any rational argument she'd been able to muster so far. Well, she would simply ignore it. After all, she was a mature professional woman with a couple of fairly impressive diplomas of her own hanging on her office wall.
"That's the MacAuleys' house yonder. Boyd's a neurosurgeon at Port Gen, and Stacy usually works part-time as a kindergarten teacher, but she's on maternity leave until September. She just had a baby."
Tightening his hold, he guided her up porch steps still slippery with morning dew. When he released her to ring the bell, she eased back a few inches. Away from the heat of his big body and the provocative scent of his skin.
"How old's the baby?" she asked when he turned his head to give her a faintly mocking look.
"Three months. Boyd James MacAuley III. They call him B.J."
He lifted a hand to smooth back his wind-tossed hair. The generous salting of silver added depth to the glossy softness and gave character to his face. In addition to shaving, he'd exchanged his sadly wrinkled cotton shirt for one of western design the exact blue of his eyes. In deference to the warmth of the day, he'd rolled the sleeves above the elbow, displayi
ng arms that looked too brawny to belong to a skilled healer.
She wondered what it would have been like to sleep in those arms night after night. To cuddle close to that long hard body, safe in the knowledge he loved her as she loved him. If he'd come back and married her, they would have struggled, yes, but they would have been struggling together. They would have raised their daughter with love and acceptance.
Her emotions scrambling, she leaned over the porch railing to stroke one of the spectacular blooms. The door opened then, and she whipped around so fast she staggered. Luke's arm was around her waist, steadying her before she could topple.
The dark-haired, pretty woman in shorts and T-shirt who greeted them had a toilet plunger in one hand, a miniature high-top sneaker in the other. Luke held up a big hand. "Easy, darlin', we come in peace."
"If this is a bad time, we can come back later," Madelyn hastened to assure her after Luke introduced them.
"Oh, no, actually this is fairly calm. My husband usually takes weekend duty, but—"
She stopped short when a towheaded little boy wearing only a disposable diaper and a devilish expression shot past her.
"Hold up, partner," Luke ordered, scooping the toddler into his arms.
"Unca Luke!" The boy's face lit up and he gave Luke a smacking kiss.
"Hey, Matthew. What's goin' on?"
"We's pumming."
"Uh-huh." Luke looked at Raine for clarification.
"My sons and I are playing plumber this morning," Raine translated, sharing a smile with Madelyn. "Alex swears Matt stuffed both his new Nikes into the john, but so far we've only gotten one out." As though to prove her point, water dripped on the toe of her scuffed loafer. "I don't suppose either of you know anything about unstuffing a john?"
"Probably not much more than you do, I'm afraid," Madelyn admitted, her fingers itching to smooth the soft flaxen curls tumbling over the little boy's round face.
Raine shifted her attention to Luke, who shook his head. "I sweated through four miserable years in med school just so's I wouldn't have to do manual labor." His grin flashed. "I'll pass you the tools if that helps."
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