Rescued by a Stranger

by Lizbeth Selvig

  “Excuse me, folks. Excuse me, I’m sorry to be late.” Jill turned as Duncan Connery hustled into the room. “I just came from a meeting with three members of Sandhurst’s board of directors. It ran long, I’m afraid, but I think I can clear up the problems here with a simple statement.” He patted Robert’s shoulder and eased past him. “May I?” he addressed the council.

  “Go ahead, Duncan,” Sam Baker allowed.

  “Connery Construction withdraws its request for a permit to build a gravel pit on the section of land west-southwest of Butte Glen State Park and south of the town of Kennison Falls.”

  The floor erupted in chaos and cheers. In the midst of it all, Robert turned to Jill, positively ebullient. “Damn, I’m good.”

  “Yes, you are, my friend.”

  “Now why don’t you get into that ugly truck of yours and go get our boy?”

  “Do you think he’ll listen to me?”

  “All I know is you’re our best chance, girlie. Now go. Those teenagers and their father will feed my girls. Gladdie will get me back to the asylum.”

  She hugged him so tightly he cursed in her ear and refused to apologize.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  WITH ITS WINDOWS cranked fully open, a rejuvenating morning breeze flowing over Jill’s tired face, a floor littered with Diet Coke and Mountain Dew cans, and Gray Covey’s newest album pouring from the stereo at a volume loud enough to keep three drivers awake, The Creature rolled into Memphis proper after twelve hours and four pit stops.

  Her GPS chattered over the music, excited that she had more than a highway to navigate. Jill followed the directions gratefully to a Super 8 on Elvis Presley Boulevard, several miles from her ultimate destination. Now that she was so close, the urge to skip the motel and head straight for the clinic compelled her. But she couldn’t show up with bleary eyes, chip crumbs down her T-shirt, and a dog who’d dutifully kept her company all night and deserved a chance to walk farther than ten feet from the truck.

  “We made it,” she cooed to Angel, who sat up eagerly as they pulled into the lot. “You were the best driving buddy ever. Let’s go clean up and find Chase, huh?”

  Angel barked and pawed the door.

  Three hours later, just past one in the afternoon, her GPS directed them onto Marian-Lee Avenue, three miles southeast of downtown. Jill’s confidence seeped away with every block. The closer she got, the less she wanted to park anywhere and leave the safety of The Creature. Angel, on the other hand, stared out the window with tail wagging in excitement.

  Chase’s practice was the Marian-Lee Clinic, and halfway between Graceland and tourist-studded Beale Street Jill found it, in the heart of an amalgam of blighted apartment buildings and attempts at rudimentary neighborhood upkeep.

  Cool shade trees lined the long, eclectic street. Most buildings were whole enough, but in the sultry summer sunshine the air held a gray quality. Barefoot children in shorts and shattered-knee jeans raced along cracked sidewalks like loose pets. Adults were few and far between, but teens hung in bunches, like Goth bananas, on every corner. Black, white, Hispanic, they gripped cell phones, glaring and punching numbers as she passed, as if she was the circus come to town.

  The clinic, on a better-maintained block, was one of half a dozen row houses mid-street. The closest parking spot, however, was more than a block away, and the unconcealed stares she received after taking it bordered on the malevolent.

  She wasn’t going out there. She’d call Chase and have him come out instead. She might be wearing plain khaki pants and a simple summer top, but compared to the limp cotton and oily leather as far as she could see, she’d be conspicuous as snow in the rain forest. She wished she’d chosen her dirtiest horse jeans.

  Without warning, Angel placed her paws on the passenger door armrest and barked. Her entire body shook with excitement as two young boys passed and peered at her, grins breaking onto their faces. A flush of hot shame crept up Jill’s face. What kind of lily-white snob was she, kind and accepting but only when people fit into her small-town box? These people lived here. Chase worked here. Her dog didn’t care what people appeared to be, she only wanted to make friends.

  Still, she wasn’t going to leave Angel alone in the truck. Clipping on a leash she’d never used, she led the dog out the driver’s door and made sure to lock it. She could be accepting without being stupid. Every single pair of eyes she passed swiveled to her. She garnered two wolf whistles and a “cool dog.” Not until she reached the clinic did anyone confront her directly.

  “You come on down here to get some tiny lil’ problem fixed far from yo’ fancy-assed rich family?” A beautiful black girl, maybe nineteen or twenty, sat on the clinic’s flight of seven concrete steps. Her jeans clung like denim paint, her toenails in their heeled sandals flamed red, and she filled out a spandex tube top far more flatteringly than Jill would have. “Yo’ is, then this is the wrong place. Dudes here be straight as switchblades.”

  As her meaning hit home, Jill almost laughed, but two tall, intimidating men-teens closed in behind her and cut off any irreverent reply.

  “I have a friend who works here,” she said simply. “So, no problems.”

  The two boys eased in closer and leered. “No problems, you say, pretty white girl?”

  At his voice, Angel yelped. With no other warning she jumped up against one of the boys, pawing at the belly of his black T-shirt, desperately trying to lick his face. When he jumped away, yelping himself, she went for the other kid. Both boys, shocked, backed away as if she were attacking, and the girl on the steps began to laugh.

  “Scared of a friendly dog,” she hooted. “Girlfriend, you got yourself the best bodyguard in town if it can make Lamar and Bronte back off. Come here, dog.” She patted her knee.

  “This is Angel.” Jill looked straight into the boys’ eyes. “You can pet her.”

  To her amazement the two tough talkers squatted at her head. “That’s a shit-assed name for a good dog,” one said.

  “Maybe so, but she sort of named herself,” Jill replied. She let the tough teens pet the dog for several minutes before she excused herself. “I wish we could stay, but I have to go. It was nice to meet you. Angel liked it.”

  “Whatever. You best take her if you go walkin’.” She didn’t know whether it was Bronte or Lamar—but the words formed a clear warning.

  “Thanks for the heads-up.”

  She ascended the steps and tried the handle of a slightly warped brown door. It opened into a sparse foyer smelling of old wood and polish. An ancient Oriental rug, a refurbished park bench, and a sign over another closed door that read “Saunders Clinic,” were all that adorned the space. Jill dropped to her knees and threw her arms around her dog. Angel kissed her eagerly, but sat perfectly quietly, the act she’d put on for Lamar and Bronte over.

  “Is there a little guardian angel in there? You can’t be hundred percent dog.” She closed her eyes, relief pouring through her.

  She stood again and faced the warmly worn wooden door to her left. Another friendly sign invited, “Come on in.”

  A hundred questions assailed her. Would Chase be right there? Should she leave Angel here in the foyer? What would she say? What would he say?

  “Sweetie, I think you need to wait for me, until I find out if he’s here. Will you forgive me for tying you to the bench? It’s better than out in the truck, isn’t it?”

  She threaded the leash through a wrought-iron leg, and Angel stretched out on the floor. With a fortifying breath, Jill opened the clinic door.

  The cheery yellow rectangular room stretched away for perhaps twenty feet. An eclectic mix of wooden chairs, half of which were occupied, lined the perimeter, and toys in various states of repair littered the corner to Jill’s left. Three small children sat amid the chaos, happily creating more. Several incongruous posters constituted the décor—a prunish Shar-Pei puppy, the Beatles circa 1965, a placard advertising the Cajun band BeauSoleil, and a sun-faded print of Van Gogh’s St
arry Night.

  The far wall held another door and a partially open receptionist’s window of frosted glass. No receptionist sat behind the barrier, but every face turned when Jill entered. She shifted uneasily, then the far door opened, and a slender, pretty woman with bouncing red curls entered. She wore white pants, blue tennis shoes, and a yellow polo shirt rolled at the sleeves. White block letters on a breast pocket read, “Miss Julia.”

  “We’re ready for Nathaniel, Ellen.”

  A skinny white girl hardly past her teens stood and reached for one of the children in the play corner. He fussed but the young mother grabbed a truck and handed it to him. The redheaded woman caught a glimpse of Jill and gave a nearly imperceptible start.

  “Dr. Chase’s door, Ellen.” She looked fully at Jill. “Hi, are you here to see a doctor?”

  “I think so.” Her voice caught in embarrassment. “Is this where I can find Dr. Preston—sorry, Dr. Chase Preston?”

  The woman’s eyes narrowed studiously, then grew anime-round as if she didn’t believe the conclusion she’d reached. Scurrying completely into the room, she closed the door firmly behind her. “That accent,” she said. “Tell me you’re Jill.”

  “I’m … Jill Carpenter.” She glanced around suspiciously. How on Earth would this woman know her?

  “Oh my gosh, you’re real!” She sounded close to gleeful. “Wait! Please? Have a seat for one second? I promise we’ll be right back.”

  She disappeared, and Jill apprehensively did as she’d been asked. She prayed for strength, knowing Chase was about to come through the door, but before she could tell if any came her way, the door opened again, and Jill looked into a round, full-cheeked face decorated with a dazzling grin. The man would have been completely unfamiliar except for a slender, perfect nose and full, sculpted mouth.

  “Jill? I’m Brody Preston. I’m—”

  “Chase’s brother.” She stood, surprised at her relief, and held out her hand.

  “We’ve heard about you.” He took her hand in both of his but shook his head. “Aw, shoot, forget the handshake. It’s great to meet you.” He spread his arms, and she stepped into his brief-but-warm hug. “Did Chase know you were coming?”

  His voice lilted with the same Kentucky musicality Chase’s did, and his yellow polo shirt matched the woman’s.

  “No.” Her embarrassment resurfaced. “In fact, I’m not sure he’ll welcome me. I’m sorry to show up with no warning.”

  “Nonsense.”

  The redheaded woman reappeared through the door and leaned around Brody to extend her hand. “Sorry, had to get little Nate settled. I’m Julia Preston.”

  “Not only our nurse,” Brody said with clear pride, “but my best half and almost better ’n an original Preston.”

  “It’s great to meet you, Julia.”

  “This has turned into a great day!” Brody rubbed his palms together.

  “Oh no.” Julia shook her finger at him. “This is your I-never-grew-up look. Just you go tell your brother he’s got himself a visitor.”

  “Heck, woman, where’s the fun in that? Come on, Jill, I have a great idea.”

  Brody did indeed look like an impish ten-year-old ready to punk his sibling.

  “Wait,” Jill said. “I … I have a dog. Out in the hall.”

  Brody and Julia exchanged astonished looks. They turned in unison and chorused, “Angel?”

  She nodded mutely. Chase truly had been telling tales. Her spirits rose with the first ray of hope.

  “He made her sound like a dog come straight from heaven above,” Julia said. “Go. Get her.”

  “But hurry,” Brody urged. “He’s in with his patient. We’ve got a window, but it’s small.”

  “Is he … all right?” Jill asked.

  “Big brother? Crazy as a betsy bug. Walkin’ around like death eatin’ a cracker. But I got me a feelin’ that’s all about to change.”

  EXHAUSTION HAD SETTLED into Chase’s bones like cold into an Eskimo. He should have stayed longer in Kentucky when he’d dropped off the Triumph with Poppa, but instead he’d hurried to Memphis. He still didn’t know why he’d been in such a rush. This was his third day back at the clinic, but the fatigue wasn’t lessening. In Minnesota he’d worked four times as hard and been energized at day’s end. Hardly an hour went by that his weariness didn’t remind him of everything he’d left behind.

  Julia handed him a chart when he’d finished drying his hands. The folder was crisp and fresh, and the paper inside filled only with statistical information. A new patient. He studied it for a moment and shook his head.

  “What’s this?”

  “A patient folder.”

  “Hedda Longride?”

  “Some of these names,” Julia agreed.

  “There’s no age.”

  “She wouldn’t give a birth year. I figured you’re good at sweet-talking these ladies, Chase. That’s why I gave her to you.”

  He leveled a stare at her, but she didn’t flinch. “Approximately?” he pressed.

  Julia merely offered an irritating shrug. “Definitely wear the lab coat.”

  His “Dr. Chase” version of the polo shirt was royal blue. Kids responded to the informal dress. But in deference to adult patients, he and Brody had traditional white lab coats. He grabbed his from a hook in his office.

  “This is crazy, Julia.”

  “This is Memphis.”

  Seconds later, Chase swore he heard her shushing his brother. He gave one final frown to the odd, empty chart and sighed, rapped softly on the exam room door, and turned the knob.

  She looked up as he entered. While his heart slammed into his throat, she unfolded her arms and met his disbelief with bright eyes. Her honeyed hair floated in slight disarray around her face as if she’d come in from a breeze, a pretty red top hugged her breasts. It had been barely ten days since he’d seen her, but it felt like a year, and though he tried to tell her she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, he couldn’t say a word.

  “Hey. What’s up, Doc?”

  The horrible line literally brought tears to his eyes, and he choked on a laugh. Jill took a first hesitant step. He met her halfway across the floor.

  “Aw, honey,” he said when she was muffled in his arms. “What are you doing here?”

  Before she could answer, something knocked into his knee. Frowning he looked to find Angel, on her haunches, with one paw braced against his leg. He hadn’t noticed her. Words had no chance against the enormous lump that materialized in his throat. His arms tightened around Jill, desperate not to let her go. But his dog …

  “Go.” Jill disengaged herself. “Say hello. She’s missed you almost as much as I have.”

  He squatted and let Angel wiggle into his arms. She whined and slathered his ear and neck with rapid, fervent swipes of her tongue. “Silly dog,” he managed. “I missed you, too, girl.”

  When he finally stood, Jill smiled, and the sense of home and calm she’d always generated flowed from her like a hot springs, melting the cold exhaustion from his body.

  “I’m here to rescue us. I owe you a rescue from weeks ago in case you’ve forgotten. And, I came to apologize with all my heart.”

  “You didn’t need to come all this way. You could have called.”

  Her fingertip lit against his lips like a whisper. “I absolutely could not have. It needed to be done exactly like this.”

  “There’s nothing—”

  “Don’t.” She stopped him again. “Let me finally do something I want to do, not what anybody else, even you, thinks I should do. Chase, I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I love you, but I know I didn’t show you how much I meant it when you needed it the most. It’s never mattered what you are. But I made everything about me. I was mad—little-kid-having-a-tantrum mad. My feelings were hurt, and I didn’t bother to ask you about yours.”

  He grabbed her hand and nearly yanked her into his arms, tucking her head against his chest. Swiftly and unapologetically, his bod
y reacted the way it had from the first time he’d held her against him. She’d done it. She’d said the only thing he’d ever wanted her to say. But while his pleasure surged, and she snuggled her soft curves against him causing deeper, sharper shots of desire, his heart remained a lead weight in his chest. His old fear did not magically disappear.

  “Honey.” He pushed her gently, reluctantly away. “I am happier to see you than I know how to say. But I’m not sure you did the best thing coming to find me.”

  She wrested herself fully from his hold, and switched their positions, grasping the lapels of his lab coat with fingers that clamped into fists around the fabric. Fire flared in her eyes.

  “Look, buster. I’ve not only done the best thing, I’ve done the right thing. And I didn’t do it to spend three minutes hearing more evasions. Now you’re back to owing me.”

  His heart finally loosed a few of its stubborn bindings, and he almost smiled at her sexy magnificence. Then she tugged, hard, on his coat and pulled his mouth to hers. Their lips collided and, shocked, he lost his equilibrium to the unequivocal claim she staked. All summer her kisses had never ceased to amaze him with their expert intimacy, but this one reached into his soul and twisted it into surrender.

  She gave him no choice but to set aside his fear and let her conduct the kiss like a virtuoso, showing him when to play quietly, and when to surge forward. He followed her lead and kissed her back, softly bitten lip to searching thrust, and tongue to willing tongue. Her mouth finally gentled and then she played, kissing his kisses, tracing his lip with the tip of her tongue and drawing shards of pleasure from the heart he’d thought had been broken.

  At last she interrupted the kiss with a sweet succulent sound. “Now. What were you saying about this not being the best thing?”

  “Jill. I …” His breathlessness took him aback. “I love you, but there’s so much—”

  “So much you’re going to tell me. I know. Tonight. Let’s recreate what you were going to do back home.”

  At last he laughed. He had no choice. “You’re about as stoppable as a freight train with reins, aren’t you?”