LOVE in a Small Town

by Janet Eaves

  “Oh. I should put something else on.”

  Mike straightened. Women. “Hell no, you’re not gonna put something else on. We’re going to see Old Doc, and he won’t care if your tank top matches your boxers.” He bent and put one arm under her silky knees and the other around her waist. The top slipped up and he got bare skin there too. He gritted his teeth, refusing to care.

  “Mike! I need a jacket or sweater, at least.” He was almost to the bedroom door. “Please. It’s—it’s cold in places like that.” She crossed her arms over her chest as he’d seen her do downstairs a short while ago. Oh. A minute later they’d jerked a denim jacket off a hanger in the closet, and Betsy clung to it for dear life. The trip back down the stairs seemed to hurt her worse than the one up, and it pained him to see her reaction each time he took a step.

  “I don’t know. The car seat…” he began

  “Take my car. LizBeth Ann, get in your seat, honey.” She scrambled in as Mike rounded the car. It was much more trouble to get the mother settled than the child. He put her purse and jacket under the ankle to prop it a little, but it wouldn’t be a comfortable ride. He handed Betsy her seat belt and then went to the driver’s side, squeezed his shoulders in and buckled LizBeth Ann in the back seat.

  He was exhausted.

  “Keys,” he said, and they both looked at the purse under her foot. Betsy groaned. He leaned over, lifted her foot as gently as he could manage, and she sucked in a noisy breath.

  “Sorry.” He handed her the purse. She nabbed the keys on their flower power fob and gave them to him, keeping the purse clutched in her grasp.

  “Let’s just go,” she said through gritted teeth.

  He started the Bug, and said a silent prayer of thanks that they’d ended up with the automatic instead of the manual he’d tried to talk her into when they’d car-shopped. Maybe this would be a smoother ride.

  A few miles down the road, he thought maybe she had fallen asleep. Even LizBeth Ann was silent, though he could see in the rear view mirror that she was wide awake and looking toward her mother.

  The trip to Dr. Parker’s took way too long, but eventually they pulled into the small parking area. The doctor’s office, at the crossroads of Legend Lane and Lake Road, was a compact six room building. It sat near his home, in an immaculate garden at the southwestern corner of Old Doc’s forested land. Old Doc—Garret Parker, Jr.—was getting ready to retire, and word around town was that his grandson would soon take over the practice. Old Doc would leave Legend and move to Florida, and new Doc—Jake—would take care of Legend’s citizens.

  Mike got out and started around the car, but Betsy called out to him. “Get LizBeth Ann first.” Of course. He did that, had her by his side when he picked up Betsy, purse and jacket, and headed to the clinic door.

  Just a couple of people were in the waiting room. They looked familiar, of course, but nobody he could put names to. He walked to the registration window, and rolled his eyes when he saw the usual receptionist, Mrs. Huff, wasn’t there. He vaguely remembered his mother mention taking a casserole to Mrs. Huff who’d had cataract surgery and was off work this week. Too bad they couldn’t get good help in her absence.

  “Hey, Julie.”

  “Well, hey—” Julie Stearns stopped when she turned around and saw Betsy in Mike’s arms. What had she intended to say when she recognized Mike’s voice? Probably something embarrassing. She was good at that, and not so good at keeping her mouth closed.

  She slid a look to the woman in Mike’s arms. “Hey Betsy.”

  “Julie.”

  So this is what they mean when they say there’s so much tension in the air you could cut it with a knife. “Listen, I need to get her back into an exam room.”

  “There’s paperwork—”

  “I need to get her into an exam room now.”

  Julie frowned, not a good look for her even though she had a pretty enough face most of the time.

  “Fine. Bring her back.”

  “Great. Thanks. Open the door, will you? I’ve got my hands full.”

  “Yes, I can see that.”

  “How hard are you going to make this? Shut up and open the door.”

  His voice was so low, the patients in the waiting room probably couldn’t hear him. But he knew Julie could. She could hear his anger, too. She’d heard it before when he’d told her he wouldn’t be calling her anymore. He’d just wanted some companionship. Couldn’t have more, because the fact was, he was still married. Julie had more than companionship in mind, and graphically told him exactly what it was. His wife wasn’t an issue to her. At that moment he’d seen Julie for what she was, spun on his heel at her front porch stoop and never looked back.

  But in a small town you’re never done with people. Even people you don’t like.

  She showed them into an exam room, pulled a clean cover over the table, and slammed the door as she said, “I’ll get that paperwork started.”

  Betsy had been looking from him to Julie the whole time. Now as he set her on the table, she released her hold on his neck that had felt so good. But she didn’t let go of him with her eyes.

  “So. You and Julie—”

  “Don’t go there.”

  “I didn’t. You seem to have taken me there.”

  “We spent some time together. Ball games, a movie.”

  “And?”

  “And nothing. That’s over. Has been for a while.”

  “Not because of me, surely.”

  “Of course because of you. We’re still married, after all.”

  “And whose fault is that?”

  Mike sank into a chair, pulled LizBeth Ann onto his lap.

  “Our fault. Yours and mine.” He slid down in the chair a little, leaned his head on the wall behind him. “That’s something we need to work on while you’re in town.”

  LizBeth Ann watched her parents’ conversation but didn’t seem to grasp its meaning. At least he hoped she didn’t. Poor kid was probably scarred for life because of what they’d put her through already. There’d be other times to talk about this.

  When Julie brought the clipboard and questionnaire, she handed it to Betsy, then clicked a ballpoint. “We’ll need payment before the doctor sees you. If you have insurance, we need the co-pay. I’m guessing you don’t have insurance—” her eyebrows raised, “—so we’ll need this amount.” She smacked the pen point onto the clipboard and circled the Office Visit figure. Betsy knew she didn’t have that much cash. Her face grew hot, and she glared at Julie, knowing the other woman liked seeing her at a disadvantage. She’d always had something against Betsy, though Betsy had never known what or why.

  The receptionist left again with a flourish.

  “This is really awkward, Mike, because I don’t—”

  He slid LizBeth Ann off his lap, stood and reached into his wallet.

  “I wouldn’t ask for the money. I just don’t have it right now. I hate having to ask.” She was angry with herself for getting into this predicament, physically, financially, and emotionally.

  “You’re not asking. And I’m not exactly paying for it.” He pulled a little card out of his wallet and held it out to her. “We have insurance.”

  She took the plastic coated card from him. “This has your name on it, but they won’t accept it for me.”

  “You’re on the policy. You and LizBeth Ann. I got it taken care of a couple days ago, just haven’t gotten the new cards yet.”

  “Well.” Betsy looked at the card again, then at Mike.

  “Yeah. Imagine me having a job with insurance, huh?”

  “Ummm.”

  “It’s okay. I know it’s a surprise. For me, too. It’s like I’m becoming responsible or something.”

  “Your boss knows we’re… not together, right?”

  “Yeah. He gave me some grief about adding both of you—for now, I mean—but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle.”

  Interesting. Betsy wrote the numbers into the lines on the form
and returned the card to him.

  “I’ll get your cards to you as soon as they come in the mail.”

  “Thanks, Mike. This really helps.” She finished writing on the form and set it on the table, but Mike picked it up and headed to the door.

  “I’ll just save her the effort.” He flashed the card and smiled. “And Betsy—you and I both know Old Doc wouldn’t refuse to see somebody just because they couldn’t pay.”

  A short while later the little family made its way back to the car. Betsy was awkward with the crutches, and winced when she hopped along, even though her foot was securely encased in an elastic bandage. Mike walked next to her, prepared in case she had a mishap, and LizBeth Ann walked on his other side, holding his hand. She patiently waited while he got her mother settled, then followed him to the driver’s side and climbed into the back seat, held still while he snapped her car seat belt. She smiled up at him. “You’re taking good care of Mommy.”

  “Oh. Think so?”

  “Yes.” She reached next to her and picked up a board book, preparing to “read” on the drive home. “You’re good at taking care of people.”

  “Don’t look surprised, Mike,” Betsy said when he closed his door. “You are good at taking care of people. Look how well you handled all this today. My ridiculous fall, and the whole morning was shot. Plus— Oh! You were taking pictures. You dropped the camera. I hope it didn’t break.”

  “Like I said, it was a hand-me-down. No picture on it I can’t replace anyway. Except maybe one.” He looked over at Betsy, gave her a quick wink, and pulled onto the road. “Not that I’d mind trying, you know.”

  She swatted at him gently, and smiled. It could have been a moment from a few years ago, when they’d been carefree.

  “I hope you didn’t have other plans for the morning that all this has ruined, Mike.”

  “Nope. Not really. Hey, why not have an early lunch while we’re out? You’re not gonna be walking around in the kitchen right away.”

  “Well. I’d hate to make a fool of myself with these crutches in a restaurant.”

  “We could have a picnic,” said LizBeth Ann.

  “Sure,” Mike said, smiling. He caught her eye in the rear view mirror. “We like picnics, don’t we, Princess?”

  “We love picnics!”

  He drove to The Pig—the Piggly Wiggly grocery—and took LizBeth Ann in with him to choose their lunch. Then they went to Lake Legend, where he parked the Bug under a big maple tree.

  “You feel like hobbling over to the picnic table, Betsy, or you want me to drag it over to you?”

  “Drag it here, slave.” She threw her head back, closed her eyes, and gestured royally for the table to come hither.

  In a moment she heard the scrape of wood on pavement and opened her eyes to see the picnic table six inches from where she sat. He hadn’t dragged it, of course. She could see the grass was fine. He had picked it up and carried it to her. Big strong guy, this Mike McClain. She looked up at him, noticing his goofy grin. Handsome too, for an almost-ex-husband.

  “I can get to the table okay, I think.”

  “All right. You get settled on the bench, and I’ll carry it back over in the grass.”

  “Yay!” LizBeth Ann clapped her hands.

  “No he won’t, honey. He’s just kidding.” She looked up at Mike. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “I could do it.”

  Well. Maybe he could. But what was brute strength without… She forgot what it was that Mike lacked. Not consideration for others. He definitely had shown that. Not responsibility. He’d made a very noisy point of that every morning since she’d come back to town. His faults didn’t bear thinking about, of course. It was just a matter of time before they’d get the divorce papers signed.

  The sandwiches, chips, apples, and bottled drinks made for a simple picnic, but somehow the mood was festive.

  “Can I go on a boat?”

  “What?” Betsy came out of the blurry reverie she’d been enjoying, watching the pedal boats move around on the lake.

  “Can I go on a boat, Mommy?” She looked over at Mike then and batted her eyelashes. “Daddy?”

  Lord help us. Where had the child learned eyelash-batting? She was two years old for goodness’ sake!

  “Um. Probably not today, sweetie.”

  “I can take her, Betsy. If you want, I mean.”

  “Um…”

  “Of course maybe you had something else to do today.” He said. “The tea party?”

  “Omigosh! The tea party! What time is it?”

  Mike looked at his watch. “Almost twelve.”

  “Oh, we need to go home and have a bath and put her dress on. And I need clothes—smiley face boxers and a denim jacket aren’t the fashion statement I want to make at a tea party—and then…”

  “I can take her.”

  Betsy shot him a look. He was getting carried away. “We need to go back to the house and clean up.”

  His face hardened. “Back to the house it is.”

  End of festive mood. The ride was completely silent. Betsy felt bad for snapping at Mike, but of course she would be the one to take her daughter to the tea party. It was a tea party, after all. Dads didn’t take their daughters to things like that. Betsy laid her head against the door frame, as the breeze played with her hair and cooled her face.

  What did dads do, if not take their daughters to tea parties? She didn’t remember her own dad spending much time with her or her sisters. He’d done stuff with her brothers. Helped both of them learn to play baseball, football. Taught them a certain amount of disdain for females in general. That kind of thing.

  But she was tired and sore. If she insisted on going to the tea party with LizBeth Ann, she’d have to let Mike drive to town anyway, because it would hurt like fury to use the gas and brake pedals with her injured foot. A couple of aspirins and a nap would be so nice. Just by herself. Could she? Could she trust Mike to do this?

  Well, maybe not the old Mike who’d thrust a screaming baby into her arms and stalked out into the night. But the new Mike sure seemed to be the kind of guy you could trust. He’d had them added to his health insurance, of all things. Mr. Responsibility. And he was clearly making a big effort at the daddy thing. It was quite a transformation. Shading her eyes from the sun, she sneaked a look at him. Dark, handsome, delicious, like always. At least that part hadn’t been transformed. She smiled sadly and looked back out the window again. Oh, for the days when that had been enough.

  The next forty-five minutes were a whirlwind. Mike insisted on carrying Betsy up to the room, because she moved so slowly on her crutches. He gently set her onto the bed again, but she had him take a chair into the bathroom for her. She managed to get LizBeth Ann’s bath taken care of with only minor difficulties due to her painful ankle. Mike brought the little pink frilly dress and the frilly panties that went with it. His face was the same color when he handed them to Betsy.

  “Why, LizBeth Ann McClain! I do declare, you clean up right nice!” Mike exclaimed over her when she pranced into the room. He walked over and kissed the back of her little hand. Looking at Betsy, his raised eyebrows silently asked the question.

  She stood up from her chair in the bathroom, got her crutches untangled, and took out an aspirin bottle from the medicine chest.

  “Mike, if you don’t mind to take her, I think that would be lovely. LizBeth Ann honey, Daddy can take you to the tea party, okay?” She filled a paper cup with water and took the tablets.

  “Sure! Daddy can be my date!” She whirled around and took Mike’s hand. “‘Bye, Mommy! See you in a minute!”

  “Hey. Come here and give me a kiss.” Betsy sat on the bed and lay the crutches on the floor next to her. Mother and daughter kissed and hugged, and then Betsy slid down to prepare for her nap.

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?” Mike walked over to the bed, leaned on it with one arm, and the other arm went around Betsy. He looked into her eyes, and his soft breath
touched her face.

  “Mike!”

  “Yeah? What?” Mike picked up the spare pillows and put them at the foot of the bed, then raised Betsy’s foot and lower leg so the injured ankle was elevated.

  “Don’t you remember Old Doc said to keep it elevated?”

  “Um, right. Thanks.” She let out the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.

  He cocked his head and looked at her. “No problem, and we’ll come back as soon as it’s done. We’ll take the Bug. Still have your keys, so you’re a prisoner here for the time being.”

  “Ha.” She listened to them talk as they descended the front staircase, went out and shut the door. She heard the VW’s engine start, then fade away toward town. Whether or not Mike knew it, Betsy used to feel like a prisoner in Legend, but not since returning to town. Right now, in spite of a very painful ankle, she was feeling pretty darn good.

  Chapter Nine

  “You did what on Saturday afternoon?” Greg Andrews narrowly missed pouring steaming-hot coffee on his hand instead of into his mug.

  “Hey, watch it!” Mike took the coffee pot from Greg and poured his own mug full. No way was he going to let Greg douse him. You’d think he’d learn to concentrate better instead of being put off by a little…

  “Tea party. I took my daughter to a tea party.” He couldn’t help the way one corner of his mouth turned up when he remembered it. “You know, the one they have at New Beginnings Baby Boutique.”

  Greg just stared at him, his mouth open. “New Beginnings what?”

  Mike shrugged, sat on the Naugahyde couch and slid down to his usual slouched position. “Man, you worked at Jim and Lilly Hood’s house. This is Lilly’s shop, on South Main. You know, she sells kids’ clothes?”

  “Oh. I guess I’ve seen it.” Greg took a long drink of the strong coffee, watching Mike over the rim. “So. Tea party Saturday. What’d you do Sunday? Play with dolls?”

  Mike laughed and drank his coffee, set the mug noisily on the scarred side table. He had, in fact, spent some time playing with dolls Sunday. He’d spent much of the day at Charles and Dorothy’s since Betsy still couldn’t put weight on her ankle. She said he was a big help to her, and he enjoyed the time with LizBeth Ann. They’d made a little table out of scraps of wood and set it up in the back yard, and she had a tea party for her dolls. It was the cutest thing he’d ever seen. All he really had to do was watch, and, well, make the tea and carry it outside, and tell her not to worry about it when she spilled a little on the scrap-wood table. LizBeth Ann chattered the whole time, doing voices for the dolls and stuffed animals as they talked about their tea and how good it was, and discussed the weather. He’d never realized little girls were so entertaining.