Love's Sporting Chance: Volume 2: 5 Romantic Sporting Novellas

by Cynthia Hickey

“What are you still doing here?”

  A knock sounded on the door and she rose. “Waiting for that,” she gestured toward the door. Warren, who was closer, opened it, expecting another patient, only to find a gangly ginger-haired young man holding a jug.

  “I asked Arthur to bring up some cider from the basement for Alex,” she explained.

  “Good idea,” Warren said. She followed Arthur to the back room and retrieved cups from a cabinet. Warren followed her into the sickroom. She poured cider for Alex and his parents, who looked exhausted. Alex sat up and reached for the cup with both hands. Warren shook hands with the parents again, checked the boy’s temperature, and thanked God. The fever had not recurred. It appeared they’d brought the child in during the very worst of the crisis.

  The gangly young man, well over six feet tall, was waiting in the office.

  “Dr. Kelly, this is Arthur. He works for us in the store, and his father is the pastor of the community church,” Ruby said, by way of introduction.

  Warren shook the young man’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Arthur. My father was a pastor, as well,” Warren said, wondering if the boy’s relationship with his father was as strained and unpleasant as his own. Surely all preachers weren’t like his own strict, unyielding, perfectionistic, bullying father.

  “I told my dad I’d extend an invitation. He’s out visiting some of our elderly members who live out of town and can’t get in to town so much during the winter months.”

  Warren’s father never visited anyone, unless he thought he could get a bigger offering. He certainly never visited the elderly.

  “What time does the service start?”

  “Nine o’clock sharp. And don’t sit in the back pew.”

  “Why not?”

  “It squeaks.”

  Warren laughed. Leave it to a preacher’s kid to know which pew squeaked. “Thanks for the tip.”

  “I’m headed out, Dr. Kelly. Good night,” Ruby said, slipping past Arthur, who shook his hand again and then shambled down the stairs on Ruby’s heels.

  Warren closed the door after them. He didn’t like thinking about his father. He could hear Alex’s mother humming a Greek lullaby in the other room, reminding him of his mother. She’d loved him, at least, even if his father hadn’t.

  He shuddered slightly, willing the unpleasant thoughts away. His stomach growled. A reminder that he needed sustenance. He’d go to the hotel restaurant, he decided, and take the message to Miss Logan that the boy was going to be all right. Warren gathered his hat, heavy new coat, gloves, and his medical bag—just in case—and headed out.

  The Logan Hotel was a few blocks away, a hefty brick building with high arched windows across the front lobby. As he crossed the treacherously icy street, he found himself again thankful for the new boots with their hefty soles. A sign beside the door indicated a separate entrance for the restaurant.

  When he opened the door, Millie Logan looked up from where she conferred with a black and white clad waitress over a menu.

  “Oh, Dr. Kelly! It’s so nice to see you again!” She gushed, as if she hadn’t seen him just a few hours earlier under less than pleasant circumstances. He smiled without feeling.

  “Miss Logan. Is there a table available for one?”

  “But you can’t eat alone, that would be mortifying.” She shoved the menu at the waitress. “I’m just filling in for one of our hostesses…” Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, you know. How is Maria’s son?”

  “I believe he’s on the road to recovery.”

  “Is he contagious? Should we be concerned?”

  Warren suppressed a sigh. “He’s safely ensconced in my office for the night. Tomorrow I expect to send him home.”

  She chewed her lip. “What about his mother? Will she be all right to return to work?”

  Warren’s brows drew together. He didn’t like the direction the conversation was taking. “I assure you, if I felt there was a health risk to the community, I would quarantine the family, and probably the entire hotel.”

  Millie blanched. “Oh my. That would be dreadful.”

  “I don’t see that as necessary.”

  “Thank goodness.” Her relief was tangible. “Let me get you a table.”

  “Really, I don’t want to interrupt your work.”

  She motioned for him to follow her, talking as she went. “My father would never forgive me if I allowed our town’s new physician to dine alone on his first visit to our establishment.”

  She stopped at a cozy table for two next to one of the front windows. “Will this do?”

  “Of course. Thank you.” He pulled out her chair and she sat down, smoothing her skirt over her lap. He seated himself across from her.

  “I recommend the elk steak with mushroom gravy, mashed potatoes and green beans amandine. It’s a house favorite.”

  “All right. That sounds good.” At this hour, anything sounded good. He’d scarfed down half a sandwich earlier, then left the rest of what Nona had brought upstairs for Alex’s parents.

  She gestured to one of the wait staff. Warren ordered what she’d suggested, and Millie ordered a bowl of soup.

  “Tell my father the town’s new doctor is here,” she added. Warren saw the same chill to her eyes he’d seen that morning when she spoke to the waitress, but she was all sweetness and light when she faced him. Oh, he’d met this type of woman, many times.

  “Where is your family from, Miss Logan?”

  “We’ve been here in Steamboat since 1900, but before that we lived in Missouri. I hear you’re from Iowa originally?”

  He wondered where she’d gotten that information. “Yes, ma’am. Born and raised.”

  “That practically makes us neighbors.” She batted her eyelashes. “Don’t you just long to return? I miss the warm weather.”

  “I can see how the cold could be tiresome,” he replied, privately thinking, “If I ever return to Iowa it will be in a pine box, not by my choice.”

  “Now, Millicent, what do you mean, having dinner with the new doctor without inviting me?” The male voice that boomed into the room grated on Warren’s nerves. He glanced up to see a portly gentleman in an expensive three-piece suit ambling across the dining room. A jewel-encrusted pocket watch bounced off his massive belly, and multiple rings glittered on several of his pudgy fingers. Warren rose.

  “Father, this is Doctor Warren Kelly, lately of Iowa. Dr. Kelly, my father, Reginald Logan the third.”

  “Mr. Logan.”

  “Dinner’s on the house, son. And dessert, too.”

  “I appreciate that, sir.”

  “You can pay me back the next time my gout flares up.” Reginald Logan clapped Warren on the back with a meaty hand.

  “Daddy, you’re embarrassing me!” Millie giggled and blushed.

  The waitress returned with a laden tray. “I’ll let you two have your supper. And Doc, if you want a better place to stay than that flea-trap apartment over the general store, just say the word. I can set you up with an office, too. Right downtown, give you a real storefront to hang your shingle on.”

  “I’ll keep that under consideration.” Warren replied. Like daughter, like father. The two shared that cold look to their eyes, he thought. And Reginald reminded him all too much of his own father, whose gestures of kindness were never without strings.

  He sat back down after Reginald Logan left the dining room and placed the snowy linen napkin in his lap.

  “Well, let me tell you everything you need to know about our little town…” Millie opened her mouth and began to gossip. She didn’t stop until Warren put down his fork, reached across the table, and covered her hand with his.

  “Miss Logan, please. As a physician, it’s better if I don’t have preconceived notions about any of the people who might come through my office.”

  Affronted, she jerked her hand back. “I’m sorry. I thought it might interest you. And I know Miss St. John won’t tell you anything about anyone. As if she knew anything. All
her time and interest is in skiing and ski jumping.” Millie shuddered. “So unladylike.”

  Warren inhaled. He could imagine Ruby flying off a ski jump with perfect clarity, but he couldn’t imagine her gossiping about her neighbors the way Millie had done for the last quarter hour.

  “Did you go to school here in Steamboat?”

  The lines between her brows smoothed. “When I was a little girl I did, but once I turned ten Daddy sent me back to Missouri every year to stay with my grandmother. He wanted me to be brought up like a proper lady. There aren’t very many proper ladies out West, you see.”

  No, there weren’t, he thought. They wouldn’t have survived.

  “What about your mother?” He asked.

  Her face went blank, completely devoid of emotion. “She left us, not long after we moved out here. I don’t know where she is.”

  Warren was taken aback by the change in her expression. “I’m sorry. That must have been difficult.”

  She dabbed at her eyes with the corner of her napkin, though she didn’t seem to be tearing up. “Oh yes, it was. It still is, sometimes.”

  He tried a change of subject. “Do you have plans for a career?”

  “I just want to get married and be a wife and a mother.” She looked up at him and smiled.

  She sounded like all the women in his father’s congregation. “That’s admirable.” It was, of course, but her saying so made him feel very much like a mouse under the baleful gaze of a hungry house cat.

  He wiped his mouth and placed the napkin next to his nearly empty plate.

  “Wait, aren’t you going to have dessert?” She queried.

  “I should get back and get some sleep. It’s been a long couple of days.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  “Thank you for dinner, and your company.” He rose to his feet, and she followed suit.

  “We’ll have to do it again.”

  “I’m going to be very busy for awhile, getting to know my patients.” On the spur of the moment, he took her hand and raised it to his lips. “Thank you, again.”

  He felt sorry for her.

  ~

  Ruby stopped on the street to adjust her scarf. The warm glow of candlelight spilled from the arched windows of the Logan Hotel’s dining room, illuminating a handful of diners within.

  She watched a man rise from his seat at a window table, lean over, and kiss the hand of the woman he was with. A tall, dark-haired man. She sidestepped closer to the window.

  Warren Kelly and Millie Logan were having a cozy tete-a-tete in her father’s hotel. Ruby felt hot, and then cold, and then she wanted to cry. Furious with herself, she scrubbed her rough mitten over her face. She had no claim on the man’s time or attention.

  Nor did she want to. She had plans. Plans that didn’t involve a man. Especially a staid, conservative, old-fashioned, uptight…

  “Ruby?”

  She whirled, forgot she was still strapped to her skis, and nearly toppled over.

  “Dr. Warren.”

  “I thought you left hours ago.”

  “I went skiing.” Instead of having dinner with him. She was glad the dim light hid her flushed face.

  “I see. Are you going to be all right getting home?” She heard genuine concern in his voice. The kind he showed his patients, she reminded herself.

  “Of course. It’s my usual route.” She didn’t know why she wasn’t skiing away as fast as she could, but her legs felt wooden.

  “Will I see you tomorrow? At Arthur’s father’s church?”

  “Probably. We’re there most weeks.”

  He shuffled his boots in the snow. “You be safe going home.”

  “I’ll try.”

  She jabbed her poles into the snow, snapped on her headlamp, and plunged into the night, hot tears leaving icy tracks down her cheeks.

  9

  “Ruby? Are you coming with us?”

  “I’ll be right there.” Ruby replied, settling the smart wool cloche—the color of ripe purple grapes—she’d ordered from Denver over her hair.

  “We’re driving. It might take longer,” Pappy hollered.

  Ruby darted down the stairs, caught Nona on the way out the door. “Why are we driving?”

  “Robbie’s knee,” Nona said.

  “There’s a storm coming in.” Ruby sniffed at the air. She smelled snow.

  “We’ll stay at the store if the weather gets bad.”

  “I’d rather ski in.”

  “I know, darling, but just ride in with us today. You can take your skis. Put them in the back. It makes your Pappy so happy to drive.”

  “All right.” She slid in beside her brother. Pappy grinned at them in the rearview mirror.

  “How’s your knee?” She asked Robbie.

  “Hurts. Doc’s right. It’s going to take time to heal.”

  “He’s a good doctor.”

  Robbie leaned away from her. “You like him.”

  She looked out the window. “That’s absurd.”

  “Ha! You do like him!”

  Nona closed the passenger door. “Leave your sister alone, Robert. Let’s go, Pappy, we don’t want to be late for church.”

  The car pulled out, tires spinning in the soft snow. Temperatures had warmed overnight. A front was coming in. She wondered if her order of klister wax had arrived yet. It was best suited for the kind of warmer temperatures that preceded a storm.

  They were nearly the last ones to arrive at church. Pappy dropped Robbie and Ruby off at the door and went to find a place to park with Nona. Robbie shifted his crutches under his arms and climbed the steps. His friends came out to greet him.

  Ruby stopped at the door and waited for her grandparents. She felt inexplicably nervous. Had Warren arrived? Would he be sitting with Millie Logan and her family?

  Pappy and Nona joined her.

  “What are you waiting for? Robbie already went inside.” Pappy said, pushing open the door.

  They found seats near the front. No one had a regular seat at Community Church because Pastor—Arthur’s father—wouldn’t allow it. Robbie was positioned in back with his friends, ostensibly so he could keep his leg elevated, but more likely so they could chatter without being rebuked.

  Ruby slipped into the pew, keeping her eyes down. She didn’t want to know if Warren was there. Didn’t want to think about him. This was her time to think about God, to worship, to listen to the Holy Spirit’s guidance.

  She didn’t open the hymnal, just closed her eyes and let the music wash through her soul. It was almost like skiing. If she let herself go, let herself forget the rest of the congregation, it was even better.

  Arthur’s father, reed slim and as tall as his son, took his place behind the wooden pulpit—made in Pappy’s wood shop—after the singing.

  “Today’s verse is about who we are in Christ, from Paul’s letter to the Ephesians.”

  Ruby leaned against the hard wooden pew and heard a squeak. She glanced back, and saw Warren in the back pew. The squeaky one no one sat in.

  “God created you, designed you, and formed you as unique individuals. It’s our task in Christ to find our own individual callings, how he has gifted us to serve Him and mankind. For some, that’s an easy task. Preachers, for instance, preach the Gospel. Doctors—welcome, Dr. Kelly, we’re glad to have you with us this morning—help with the divine task to heal.”

  The back pew squeaked in response. Ruby stifled a giggle.

  “Mothers raise children in the admonition of the Lord. Fathers protect and provide for their families. Teachers educate our youngsters in knowledge and wisdom. But what about the salesman? Or the newspaperman? Or the soldier? Is there a divine purpose behind all those positions? I think there is, if the individual pursuing it has the Divine living within his heart.”

  What was her purpose? Ruby wondered. Her Divinely-ordered task? Was it in the store? Was it skiing? She considered the hours she’d spent helping Doc Eby, and the past few days with Warren. She derived sat
isfaction from those hours unlike anything else.

  But for that to be her calling, she would have to go to nursing school, leave her family behind, and conquer her dislike of studying. She liked to learn things by doing, by watching, not by reading about them. Still… she glanced at Pappy and Nona to her right, thought of Robbie behind her, sitting with his friends. At least until Robbie was grown, leaving wasn’t an option.

  “Would you open a Christmas gift in April? No, because that’s not the season for that gift. Our God-ordained gifts have different seasons. Sometimes we have to wait for the right season to open those gifts. You might be in that place today, and if you are, I’m praying for you. May you spend that waiting time developing a Christ-like character, trusting the Lord for grace.”

  Grace. Character. Would she ever measure up? Ruby’s shoulders slumped.

  After the service, she waited for her grandparents to greet their friends, waited for Robbie to hobble out of the building. And still ran into the good doctor, despite her procrastinating.

  “Miss St. John.”

  “Dr. Kelly.”

  Pappy stepped up. “It’s nice to meet you, Doctor. My wife has had good things to say about you.”

  “Thank you, sir. That’s high praise, indeed.”

  Robbie hobbled up on his crutches. “Hey Doc. My knee is better.”

  Warren waggled a finger at him. “You have at least one more week to stay off of it.”

  “I know, I know. Ruby reminds me every day.”

  “Good. Come see me in a few weeks, we’ll check it out.” He turned to Ruby. “Will you be available to help at the office tomorrow?”

  “Certainly.”

  All Ruby could see was the image of Warren kissing Millie’s hand. She swiveled around to her grandparents. “I’m going to go ski with some of the other girls from the club. I’ll be home for dinner.” She kissed her grandparents’ cheeks and took off toward Howelson. Her friends from the Ladies’ Ski Club would take her mind off Warren and Millie. She needed to ski, needed to shake off whatever this uncomfortable sensation was. Jealousy? Envy?

  Whatever it was, Warren had been kind and polite to her. That was all. And she was foolish if she tried to read anything else into it.

  ~

  In the days that followed, if they weren’t in the office with a patient, Ruby was reserved. Try as he might to cajole her into a laugh, or a smile, or even an argument, she wouldn’t respond. She took her meals downstairs in the store, and if he followed her, she disappeared into one of the storerooms.