Close To Home (Westen Series)

by Ferrell, Suzanne

  Emma studied the pamphlet a few minutes. “And the cost?”

  “It’s a sliding scale fee, Emma. They get some federal funding and charity donations, so the cost in our county is fairly low.”

  “I see they provide some transportation.”

  “They do, but let me put in my two cents worth here. You already have people willing to help you care for your mother. Instead of them spending the whole day, perhaps you could ask the ladies to pick a day to drive your mother back and forth to the day care. Or even do one or the other. Several of the ladies on your list probably find pleasure and self-esteem in helping.”

  “I’d hate to take that away. Especially since Mama and I benefit so much from their efforts.”

  They both laughed.

  “Would they mind if Mama and I visited one day just to see what it’s like?”

  “I’m sure that can be arranged. Why don’t we set it up for next Monday. I’ll be in this part of the county, so I can go with you. We’ll make it a fun trip for the three of us.”

  “Then we’ll make it a date.” Her decision made, Emma took another healthy bite out of her sandwich. For the first time in a long time, things seemed to be getting easier in her life.

  * * *

  With a final tug on the suture, Clint finished stitching the deep laceration John Haggerty’s tractor had ripped into his shoulder. If that blade had gone any further, the stalwart farmer might’ve found himself in need of both tendon and nerve repair instead of just detailed suturing. Clint wrapped a bandage around his patient’s shoulder and upper arm.

  “There you go, John. You’re going to have to take it easy for the next six weeks. How soon until the harvest is finished?” Clint asked, as he helped the older man on with his shirt.

  “Corn’s ’bout half in, Doc. My sons can see to the last of it. If you’re sure I can’t be helping any.”

  “I’d hate to have to do all this sewing again, John. Your shoulder will start to resemble that blue-ribbon quilt your wife made for the fair this year.”

  The farmer chuckled and eased his arm into the sling Clint adjusted to help immobilize his shoulder. “Then I’ll do as you say, Doc. My Teresa wouldn’t want anything to compete with that quilt of hers. Now let me fish out that insurance card from my wallet so you can get paid for this. Ain’t nothing like waitin’ for your pay. That’s something we farmers know all about.”

  “Don’t worry about it today, John.” With a hand on his arm, Clint stilled the other man’s efforts. “Uncle Ray has your insurance on file. I’ll just bill them.”

  A broad smile spread across the farmer’s sun-weathered face, his skin wrinkling like old leather with furrows at the corner of his eyes and in his cheeks. “Your uncle did all us farmers a favor when he got us that insurance, Doc. Best thing that happened for everyone. And being a limited group really cut our costs.”

  Clint nodded. He couldn’t agree with him more. His uncle fought long and hard with several insurance groups until he found one willing to make good health and accident insurance available to the area’s independent farmers. Without it, one good accident, like John’s injury today, could cause great hardship for the small farms. His uncle truly cared about the people in his practice.

  So did he.

  The thought surprised Clint. He really did care about these people. Each family he helped became more than just patients to him. They were friends and neighbors.

  Harriett bustled into the room, quickly straightening the mess. “Now, you get on home and rest that arm, John Haggerty. Teresa doesn’t need to be sitting at home worrying about you. Not with her heart condition.”

  “Yes, ma’am, Miz Harriett.” The farmer winked at Clint behind the nurse.

  “You just quit winking at the Doc like some silly schoolboy,” she said without turning. “I’ll be by in the morning to check that bandage, you hear? And I better not hear that you were out doing one bit of harvesting this afternoon.”

  John straightened and nodded once. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She smiled, then turned and ushered him out of the room. Clint laughed to himself as he listened to the little nurse giving the giant man a list of instructions, each one sounding like an order from a drill sergeant. Poor John didn’t stand a chance against Harriett.

  Clint gathered his patient file on John and wandered to his desk. When he passed the window in his office, he caught sight of Emma’s car pulling in across the street. It had been two weeks since Naomi and little Isaac had gone home. While they were there, he’d gotten used to having Emma close by each day. The more time he spent around her, the more he wanted to.

  Today was the day she’d planned to meet with Libby Wilson, the county social worker about finding some help caring for her mother. He wondered how their lunch had gone.

  As he watched, the boys bounded out of the rear seat, backpacks hanging off one shoulder each. He’d removed their casts the day before, so now each wore a soft splint for some added protection and a reminder to be careful. The boys ran up the steps into the house. Emma opened the trunk turning briefly to glance at the clinic. He hoped she was looking for him. Then she leaned in and pulled out two bags of groceries from the rear of the truck.

  Clint’s heart skipped a beat and his jeans suddenly grew tighter. He loved the round curve of her bottom. The wind blew a stray lock of her hair as she straightened. With a swipe of her hand, she swept the rebellious hair behind her ear. Despite the strength of her inner core, sometimes she appeared so small and vulnerable. It made him want to protect her from everything bad in the world.

  He smiled and set aside the file, yelling to Harriett that he’d be back in a few minutes. With a determined stride he hurried out of the office and down the steps. His pace increased until he was jogging across the road. Just as Emma turned to carry her groceries to the house, he stopped in front of her.

  “Ah, my knight in shining...jeans.” She laughed.

  Scooping both bags from her arms, Clint leaned in and trapped her against the trunk of the car. He lowered his head allowing his lips to swoop down on hers, kissing her with the sudden need that filled him when he watched her through his office window. Tongue sliding in to taste her, his body pressed her tightly against her car. He let his lips command her passion to respond. When her body melted into his, he pressed in closer, tighter, firmer; claiming her for his, in the way men claimed women from the beginning of time.

  Then a raindrop fell on his neck, then another, and another. Clint pulled away, smiling into the dazed, cornflower-blue of Emma’s eyes. “We better get this stuff inside before it starts pouring.”

  She blinked once as he ran onto the porch ahead of her. Muttering to herself, she quickly dodged the rain shower and followed him. With a grin, she brushed against him where he stood with his arms full of her groceries, holding the door open.

  “Oh, ho.” He laughed. “In the mood for games?”

  She flashed him a sexy grin. “What’s the matter, Doc? You can dish it out, but can’t take it?”

  With a sultry wiggle of her hips, Emma darted down the hall with Clint in pursuit. Suddenly, she stopped, and he almost bowled her over. She wandered into the dining room where he’d been remodeling the floor to match the one in the great room. Pure pleasure filled her face.

  Clint leaned against the doorframe, enjoying the sight of Emma lovingly stroking the pine wood he’d finished laying that morning. In his opinion, she should look this happy all her life.

  “Clint, it’s so beautiful. Where did you find the matching pine?” Her fingers continued to lightly caress the wood.

  “Albert Miller was demolishing a house on the other side of the county. He let me salvage the boards we needed in exchange for his son’s high school physical.”

  The smile on her face died. “But that cost you money...”

  “Emma, don’t worry about it.” He headed to the kitchen, not wishing to discuss the finances of the remodeling with her. She took her position as foreman seriously.
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  She followed him. “But you can’t...”

  “Emma, don’t insist on paying for this, too. I had a chance to put real pine wood floors into the great room at no cost. I wanted it to be a surprise.” He turned to study her. “Can’t you let me help just a little? Just this once?”

  “I don’t want to be indebted to anyone, Clint. Especially not someone I’m close to.”

  Damn, she frustrated the hell out of him.

  “It’s a gift, Emma. From me to you. No strings attached. Can’t you just except it as such?”

  “You’re sure I can’t pay...”

  Determined to stop her protests, he cupped her face between his hands. Crushing his lips on hers, he silenced her questions with his own need to be joined with her in some way. He let his mouth claim what his heart desired.

  “Let it go, Em,” he whispered against her lips. “It’s okay to let someone help you.”

  Slowly, Emma’s arms wound around his waist. Then, and only then, with her body leaning into his, did Clint change his kisses to a kind of tasting and savoring. When she moaned, he released her, watching her lashes flutter against her lightly freckled cheeks and then open to frame two deep-blue pools of heated passion.

  “Where did the boys go, Emma?”

  “The boys?” she asked, bemused.

  He chuckled and kissed her nose. “Ben and Brian? The boys?”

  Emma blinked once, reality returning to her eyes. “The boys. Oh, uh, they’re going to Cub Scouts tonight. So they’re changing into the uniforms we bought yesterday.”

  “Cub Scouts? And are you planning on being the den mother?” When she moved to step away, he pulled her closer, his hands gripping her waist. “I once had a crush on my den mother.”

  “Oh, you did?” Emma lifted one brow in question at him. “And how old were you at the time?”

  “I was about seven, but it was a very serious crush.”

  She continued to eye him with a skeptical gleam. “And who was your den mother, may I ask?”

  “Oh, it was Tommy Marsdale’s mother. Mm, mm, she was beautiful.” He smacked his lips several times. “And boy could she bake chocolate chip cookies.”

  Emma laughed. “Ah, the true way to a seven-year-old’s heart.”

  “Speaking of mothers,” he said, moving to give her room to unload her groceries, “How did your meeting with Libby go this afternoon?”

  She paused for a moment, all teasing gone from her face. “It went well. Libby gave me some advice about making sure Mama got the care and attention she’ll need, while finding time for myself. Libby’s a very practical woman. She said I’d find it easier to deal with Mama’s bad days if I wasn’t exhausted trying to care for her all by myself.”

  Clint laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it. “She’s right. You have to give up some control on things, especially as Isabelle’s condition worsens.”

  “I know, and Libby is going to go with Mama and I next week to check on this adult day care center she recommends I enroll Mama in.” Mustering up her most positive attitude, Emma gave him a shaky smile. “If the place is half as good as the pamphlet suggests in regards to the high quality of care and patient-to-staff ratio, this could go a long way to easing some of the problems we’ve been having around here.”

  “If anyone deserves a break and some good news, it’s you, Em.” Clint pulled her around to face him, his other hand wiping away a tear that had escaped down her cheek. He started to lean toward her, when the sound of a motorcycle sounded in the driveway. He glanced out the window to see Gage climbing off his Harley. With a sound of disgust, he released Emma. “Your cousin’s here.”

  Emma slipped out of his arms. “Gage? I wonder what he wants. And why in the world would he ride out here on his bike in such a downpour?”

  Clint wanted to say that he wondered about the guy’s sanity most days. In his brief encounters with the ex-cop, the man’s belligerent attitude and gnarly temper prevented them from having any real conversation, except for their discussion of Emma. The man seemed very over-protective of her in Clint’s eyes, but he refrained from commenting. The words sounded like ridiculous and unfounded jealousy even in his own head. No use letting Emma know how much he resented her cousin’s importance in her life.

  As they walked out on the porch Gage’s face appeared more sullen and closed than usual. Tension gripped the muscles right between Clint’s shoulder blades. The other man shook the water off his leather jacket, and pulled off his baseball cap, shaking it out, too.

  “What’s wrong, Gage?” Clint moved to stand near Emma. Instincts made him want to protect her from whatever news her cousin had.

  Gage’s guarded expression met Clint’s for a moment. Whatever news he had, it wasn’t good. Then Emma’s cousin reached in his jacket and withdrew a white envelope. Two green cardboard pieces were taped to the front where the Certified card had been taped. “Wilferd at the Post Office asked me if I’d deliver this to you, Emma.”

  Emma didn’t reach for it, her color going a bit pale. “Why did Wilferd ask you to deliver this to me, Gage? Why didn’t he bring it himself?”

  “Your father asked Wilferd a long time ago to deliver any important papers that came from a lawyer in Columbus to him, not to you. You know small towns, sometimes they do things they think are better for their friends.” Gage leaned one hip against the porch rail, the envelope still in his hand. “Since your Dad isn’t here anymore, I guess Wilferd thought I was the next best thing.”

  “Why would Daddy keep my mail from me?” Emma wrapped her arms around herself.

  Clint let his hands settle on her shoulders and she leaned against him just the slightest bit. He could feel the fine tremors shaking her body through their clothes.

  Again Gage held the letter out to her. “Your father only meant to protect you, Emma. Not hide anything from you. You know, he just wanted to be sure he was around if or when bad news came.”

  With a shaking hand, Emma took the envelope from him. For a full minute she stared at the letter. The color drained from her face. Her whole body trembled.

  Clint pulled a porch chair over and pushed her into it as gently as possible. “Do you want me to open it?”

  She shook her head. “No. I’m a big girl. Despite what my father, and the postmaster, and apparently half the town believes, I can handle a letter from—” She paused to read the return address. “—Williams, Tate and Baily, Attorneys At Law, all by myself.”

  Clint backed up against the porch rail next to Gage, watching as she tried to open the envelope with shaking fingers. She paused, took a deep breath then managed to get the letter open. Quickly she scanned the missive, her pale countenance growing ashen by the time she reached the bottom.

  “What is it, Emma?” Clint knelt in front of her.

  She shook her head. Holding the letter closer, she read it from the top again. “It’s Dwayne.”

  “The slimeball?” A need to touch her, to protect her washed over Clint. He gently squeezed both her knees. “What does he want, Em?”

  “No. Oh, no.” She raised panic-filled eyes.

  The despair and fear he saw there tore at his heart. He pulled her against his chest, his arms wrapped around her as if the simple act could ward off what new treachery her ex-husband could wield against her. Clint rocked her in his arms. “It’s okay, Emma. Whatever it is, I’m here to help.”

  “You can’t help me,” she whispered, her own hands clutching the back of his shirt.

  “What does he want, Em?” he repeated, sitting back on his heels. He held her face in his hands so he could look deep into her eyes.

  “He wants the boys.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Clint’s heart tore a bit more at Emma’s pain. With one hand he drew her to him, pulling her face onto his shoulder. He pried the paper with its devastating news from her fingers. In a concentrated effort he read each word and sentence.

  “Damn that bastard!” He drew her into his arms tighter. “It�
��s gonna be okay, Emma, I promise it will be all right.”

  A cough behind him gained his attention. He handed Gage the letter. Clint continued to hold Emma as her cousin read the paper. Rage etched Gage’s features a moment before he hid it behind a mask of calm.

  “I’m no lawyer, Emma, but this looks like a paternity suit to me.” Gage handed the letter to Clint.

  Before Clint could question Emma further, both boys barreled out onto the porch, dressed in their brand new Cub Scout uniforms.

  “How do we look?” Ben asked, pushing out his chest with pride.

  Brian looked just as proud, but as always was a little shyer in asking for praise.

  Their enthusiasm broke the spell that held Emma in shock. She opened her arms to both boys, who rushed into them. Clint stood out of their way.

  “You guys look so handsome.” Tears rolled down her face as she squeezed her sons tight.

  The urge to hit something flooded Clint. If that son-of-a-bitch were here right now, I’d kill him.

  A firm hand settled on his shoulder, drawing Clint’s attention to Gage. The other man shook his head. “Now isn’t the time.”

  Clint nodded. They would dole out punisment to the man causing Emma such anguish when the time was right. And they would do it legally, by the book, no matter how much Clint wanted to punch his face in.

  “Mommy, you’re squeezing too tight,” Ben whined.

  “You’re gonna mess up our uni-forms,” Brian complained.

  Both boys pulled away, and Emma released her hold on them, wiping at the tears streaming on her face.

  “Why’re you crying, Mommy?” Brian cocked his head to one side.

  “You just look so grown up.”

  Gage pushed himself off the porch rail. “Hey guys, how about I take you to your meeting tonight?”

  “Can we ride on your motorcycle?” Ben asked, his mother’s tears quickly forgotten.