“And I don’t want anything happening to you. Call me, no matter how late. Promise?”
She couldn’t resist his plea. “Promise.” She jotted down the number.
“See you at one tomorrow.” The line clicked as he hung up.
Becca replaced the receiver and leaned her forehead against the paneled wood of the hallway. “Oh, Granny, I think I’m in big trouble.”
What kind of trouble, child?
Becca was beginning to realize just how wonderful Dr. Wonderful really was.
* * *
MATT HUNG UP the phone. Just the sound of Becca’s voice had made him ache to hold her again. Never had a woman fit in his arms as if he and she had been made for each other. Never had a mere kiss left him sleepless. Mere? Hardly. That kiss had been the stuff of legends. The contact had generated fireworks and rung bells. More than anything, he wanted to jump in his car this minute, drive straight to the Warwick farm and kiss her again.
He had promises to keep, however, so he forced himself to fasten his tool belt and return to the front room to install the last sheet of drywall.
As he crossed the threshold, the sight of a stranger perched on one of his sawhorses stopped him in his tracks.
“Dr. Tyler?” The man stood to face him.
The stranger had to be one of the locals, Matt realized. At least mid-seventies with weather-beaten skin, thick white hair and a tall lanky frame, he was dressed in denim overalls, a faded shirt and scuffed work boots. His hazel eyes seemed to spark with wisdom.
And guilt.
The stranger glanced toward the door as if afraid someone might spot him from outside.
“I’m Dr. Tyler. What can I do for you?”
“My name’s Jake Bennett,” the man said with a scowl. “I’m here about my sister, Lydia.”
CHAPTER TEN
MATT SUPPRESSED HIS irritation, realizing the cat was apparently out of the bag about his sneak visit tomorrow. He wondered how Jake Bennett had found out.
Before Matt could say a word, however, Jake spoke again. “I could really use your help.”
The man had him thoroughly confused. Was Bennett here about his sister or himself? “You need a doctor?”
“Right,” Jack answered. “For my sister.”
Matt quickly surmised that Jake didn’t know about his wife’s plans for Lydia after all, so he pretended ignorance as well. “What’s her problem?”
“Sciatica.”
“I can come now if you like.” Matt reached to unfasten his tool belt.
Jake looked panicked and held up his hands. “Not so fast.”
“Or we could pick a time that’s more convenient,” Matt suggested easily.
“It’ll have to be when my wife’s not home.”
“She doesn’t want your sister to have medical attention?” Matt asked, continuing to pretend unawareness of the dynamics in the Bennett household.
Jake said, “I’m not sure she’d want you in the house.”
“She have something against doctors?” Matt found himself appreciating the irony of the situation. Both husband and wife wanted the same thing, without each other knowing.
“She doesn’t hold with men carousing with wild women,” Jake said. “Not that I do, either,” he added hurriedly, “but Lydia’s problem is an emergency.”
“What’s carousing with wild women got to do with me?” Matt asked in fake innocence while tamping down his annoyance at the legend with which the magazine writer had saddled him.
“Delilah read about you in some news article,” Jake said.
“You can’t believe everything you read,” Matt said mildly.
“Then it isn’t true?”
“What isn’t true?”
“That you dated all them movie actresses out there in Hollywood.”
“I definitely,” Matt said with a straight face, “did not date all of them.”
Jake Bennett was obviously no dummy and recognized when his leg was being pulled. His narrowed eyes accosted Matt with an accusing glance. “How many?” he demanded.
“None of your business.”
“It is if my sister’s going to be your patient.”
“Patient is the operative word,” Matt said hotly. “I want to cure her, not date her.”
Jake gazed at him with a glimmer of respect. “You stand your ground, don’t you, young feller?”
“I’m not a lecher, Mr. Bennett, and if your sister’s in pain, I’d like to help.”
“Lydia’s not the only one in pain,” Jake admitted. He sank onto the sawhorse, shoulders slumped. “She’s a terrible patient and driving Delilah stark staring mad. But she’s my own flesh and blood, so I can’t turn her out of my house. Not while she’s ill.”
“I see your dilemma.”
Jack scratched his head. “Problem is, how do we get you in without Delilah knowing about it?”
Matt took a moment to pretend to ponder the situation. “I may have a solution. Your niece Rebecca has invited me to visit Delilah with her tomorrow.”
“She has?” Jake looked surprised. “And Delilah agreed?”
“Becca assures me that your wife is one of the most gracious and hospitable women in Warwick Mountain.”
“That’s my Delilah, all right,” Jake said with a glow of pride. “She’ll accept you if you’re Becca’s guest.” Then his expression sobered. “Do you think you can cure Lydia’s sciatica? Nothing the Blairsville doctor prescribed has worked, and if I don’t send her home soon, Delilah won’t be speaking to me.”
“While I’m at your house tomorrow, I’ll talk to your sister and examine her and see what I can do,” Matt promised.
“But not a word to Delilah or anyone else that I’ve talked to you,” Jake demanded. “She’d nail my hide to the barn door.”
“This will be our secret.”
“Thank you.” Jake rose, straightened his shoulders and extended his hand. Matt grasped it firmly.
As the old man was leaving, Jake turned in the doorway. “But no shenanigans,” he warned, “or it’ll be your hide nailed to the barn door.”
Unable to decide whether he was more irritated or amused, Matt merely nodded, and Jake slipped away.
Matt looked at the drywall that needed hanging, but went instead to the phone in the back room to place a call to Steve Williams, his friend and colleague who specialized in back problems. Matt was caught dead in the middle of a family intrigue, but he also had his first patient in Warwick Mountain. Perhaps if he could alleviate Jake’s sister’s back pain, the Dickens and McClain families would be open to his treating their children.
He dialed Steve’s number, hoping the neurologist would give him the knowledge he needed to ease Lydia’s sciatica. Matt had to admit that curing her might also raise his stock a notch or two with Becca. If he intended to win the schoolmarm’s approval, he would need all the help he could muster.
* * *
LATE THE FOLLOWING afternoon, Becca gazed with mixed emotions at the pile of shipping crates and packing boxes the UPS driver had just deposited on her porch.
“Dwight had promised us some supplies,” she said to Matt, who climbed the steps behind her as they returned from their afternoon of visiting, “but I had no idea he’d be so generous.”
“Not that you’re likely to need them before next summer when Dwight returns.” Matt sank into a rocker, clearly disappointed by the lack of progress the afternoon had yielded.
Becca feared he was right, but she tried to put a positive spin on the day’s events. “At least you were able to help Lydia.”
“We won’t know that for a while,” Matt said with a weariness she hadn’t noted in him before. “After talking with the specialist and then examining Lydia, I’m almost certain she ha
s a bacterial infection of the sciatic nerve. Even if my diagnosis is correct, the antibiotic I gave her won’t take effect for a few days.”
Determined to raise his spirits, Becca perched on the porch rail in front of him. “But once it does, when folks see how you’ve helped her, maybe they’ll give you a chance.”
With a dubious expression, Matt tugged his fingers through his hair. “Maybe. But I doubt a sciatica cure will be enough to persuade Lizzie’s or Jimmy’s parents. You were there. You saw how adamant they were.”
Matt’s disappointment was palpable, and Becca fought the urge to wrap her arms around him and comfort him. Their visits with the two families had been polite but strained, and neither couple had budged an inch on allowing Matt to treat their children.
“Their conditions aren’t life-threatening,” Matt said, “so their parents are willing to wait until next summer for Dwight. They don’t want a reprobate touching their precious little ones.” Anger filled his voice and caused the chiseled planes of his face to darken. “What kind of monster do they think I am?”
“They don’t think you’re a monster,” Becca said quickly. “But you have to remember where you are. Folks around here take womanizing seriously.”
“Womanizing?” Matt snapped with annoyance. “Is that what I am, a womanizer? Just for dating beautiful women?”
Becca shrugged, fighting the jealousy that bubbled inside her and regretful that she’d stirred his anger, but she’d opened this can of worms and had to deal with it. “That magazine article implied a great deal more than dating.”
“Okay,” Matt admitted, his temper flaring. “But I’ve always been clear about my intentions, and that there were no strings attached.”
Becca sighed. “That’s the problem. You’re in a different world here, caught in a clash of cultures.”
He shook his head. “These people are human, too, with the same wants we all share.”
Becca felt her own face redden. “I’m walking proof of that.”
“I’m sorry,” Matt said instantly, “I didn’t mean to imply—”
“I concede your point,” Becca said quickly with more calm that she felt. “And it’s true these people aren’t saints. Everyone falls short of the mark now and then. The difference,” she added gently, “is that when we ordinary folks do, it isn’t overblown and published in a national magazine.”
“What about forgiveness?” Matt demanded with obvious frustration. “Isn’t that important, too?”
“You just said how human these folks are. Forgiving doesn’t come easy for most of us.” Becca thought for a moment. “Folks, too, are afraid.”
“Of me?”
If the topic hadn’t been so serious, Becca would have laughed at the astonishment on his face. “No, not of you. They’re afraid of being ostracized. Accused of guilt by association.”
“But if I can help their children—”
“They don’t see it that way. As you said, Lizzie and Jimmy aren’t in danger, although both children are suffering emotionally from their disfigurements. They bear the taunts and teasing of the other children, the knowledge that they’re different. Maybe their parents don’t want to add to their embarrassment by having them treated by a man with a questionable reputation.”
“I’m a doctor,” Matt said, his anger at defeat evident, “not a sociologist. I don’t have the skills to deal with a culture clash. I might as well take the next plane back to L.A.”
Becca’s heart stuttered at the possibility. “Your being here still helps.”
“I don’t know how.”
She poked the nearest packing crate with her toe. “Look at all the work you’ve done at the feed store. If you set up this equipment and inventory these supplies, Dwight will be able to go straight to work when he arrives next summer.”
She tried not to think of her neighbors who might be spared complications of serious illnesses if they’d allow Matt to examine and treat them now. Or of Lizzie and Jimmy enduring another year of cruel taunts.
“You could have hired a carpenter for building the office,” Matt said glumly. “Doesn’t take a medical degree to frame a few walls.”
“But I couldn’t hire a carpenter,” Becca said with sincerity and more warmth than she’d intended. She glanced at her hands, clasped in her lap, to hide her feelings from him. “Couldn’t afford one. I want you to know how much I appreciate all you’ve done.”
She lifted her head again, and his eyes met hers. An unmistakable current flowed between them. His glum expression disappeared, replaced by a soft smile that made her weak.
“If you’re trying to make me feel better,” he said lightly, “it’s working.”
“Stay for supper?” Becca was reluctant for him to leave, yet she was afraid of her own reactions if he remained. She made the offer, almost hoping he’d turn her down. “It’s the least I can do to make up for your dismal afternoon.”
“You keep feeding me wonderful meals,” he said jokingly, “and I’ll grow so accustomed to great cooking, you’ll have to marry me.”
“You keep asking,” Becca replied in the same bantering tone, “and I’ll have to say yes.”
A look of surprise seemed to jolt through him, and she wondered if she’d crossed the line in her teasing.
“I’d better get supper started,” she said quickly and hopped from the porch rail. “You might want to load these boxes in your car while it’s still light.”
Without a backward glance, she escaped to the kitchen before she said or did anything else foolish.
Talk about a clash of cultures.
How could she allow herself to be so deeply affected by a man whose world was so different from her own? She had no future with Matt Tyler. And unless she wanted to end up with her heart broken, she’d better etch that fact in her mind and use it as a shield against Matt’s appeal.
* * *
THREE DAYS LATER, Becca parked in front of the feed store and steeled herself for seeing Matt again for the first time since the evening of their unsuccessful visits. She’d enjoyed too much having him at her table that night. Had appreciated too much his easy interaction with Emily, his sense of humor, his insistence on clearing the table and washing the dishes. To her dismay, Becca had found herself fantasizing about Matt as a permanent fixture in their lives—until the cold, hard reality of their situations had kicked in again.
Different worlds, different values.
No future in that.
“What did you say, Mama?” Emily asked beside her.
Great, Becca thought, the man had her crazy, talking out loud to herself. “Nothing, sweetie. Let’s go see what Dr. Tyler’s been doing to the feed store.”
“What about the picnic?” Emily asked.
“This won’t take long.”
Becca left the car, unbuckled Emily from her seat in the back and held the girl’s hand as they climbed the stairs. The double doors stood open to the morning breeze, but no sounds emanated from the building.
When they stepped across the threshold, Becca gasped in surprise.
“Wow!” Emily said. “Dr. Matt did all this?”
“He’s a miracle worker.” Becca took in the waiting area Matt had set up in the front half of the store. An attractive, brightly colored area rug delineated the space on which chairs, sofas, tables and lamps had been arranged. One corner held a low table covered with books and toys and surrounded by chairs designed for children.
Beside the door to the doctor’s office sat a desk, topped with a telephone, an appointment book and a sign that read Receptionist.
“What do you think?” Matt’s deep voice asked beside her.
“Hi, Dr. Matt,” Emily said.
“Hey, short stuff,” Matt answered.
Becca had been so enthralled by the store’s tran
sformation, she hadn’t heard him enter the waiting room. “I can’t believe how much you’ve accomplished. This is wonderful.”
Matt’s shrug emphasized his broad shoulders, but disappointment, not nonchalance, glimmered in his eyes. “Amazing what you can do when nothing else claims your time.”
“Emily.” Becca pointed to the table in the corner. “Why don’t you see what books Dr. Tyler bought.”
“Okay.” The little girl skipped across the room, settled in one of the petite chairs and selected the largest picture book from the pile.
Becca turned back to Matt, giving herself a strong silent reprimand not to be taken in by his warm brown eyes and heart-stopping good looks.
“I’m sorry I haven’t had better luck at recruiting patients,” she said. “I’ve called on several families to encourage them to see you, but no luck. I’m hoping when more of them meet you at the picnic today, they’ll change their minds.”
“Swayed by Dr. Wonderful’s irresistible charm?” Matt asked with a grimace.
“Stranger things have happened.” Becca knew she was counting on nothing short of a miracle.
The folks of Warwick Mountain were good people, but stubborn and clannish. So far, no one had proved willing to break from the herd and step forward to accept Matt’s medical treatment. In a sense, they were cutting off their noses to spite their own faces—since most would profit from a medical exam—but they saw themselves instead as banding together to keep out a bad influence.
Becca hoped that meeting Matt and seeing him as a real person instead of some Hollywood fantasy might change some minds. He would only be in Warwick Mountain three more weeks before returning to his practice, and she was running out of time.
She thrust away the thought of how empty her life would seem with Matt on the other side of the country instead of just down the road.
“I’ve talked with Dwight,” Matt said, “and explained the stone wall I’ve run into.”
“Did he have any advice?”
“Just to keep on as I have been. He agreed, like you said, that at least the clinic will be up and running when he arrives next summer.”
For the Sake of Warwick Mountain (Harlequin Heartwarming) Page 12