“It’s not easy being an only child. Ask Cole. I couldn’t have any more babies or we would have filled the house up.” Margery seemed to recall something and fixed her piercing, critical gaze on Yvette. “You do already know that. You’re an only child, right?”
“Yes, I am.”
“That settles it, then,” Margery exclaimed as if they’d been having a heated argument. “You’ll want a big family.”
Yvette wondered how Margery could possibly know that. She never asked what Yvette wanted or thought, or hoped for. She simply made ironclad statements and stared down anyone who tried to argue with her. Bob went along with whatever she said and backed her up. Cole was intimidated by them, although he could be exactly like Margery.
Margery turned her attention to her husband. “Go ahead, Bob. What are you waiting for?”
“For you to quit flapping your gums,” he answered.
Dismayed, Yvette watched him wheel the latest monstrosity down the hall and into the nursery with his wife sailing along behind, handing out orders.
Cole had disappeared somewhere, probably because he knew his parents were coming over. No doubt, he was steeling himself for their upcoming trip to a rodeo in Tulsa—just him and his parents. Yvette was expected to stay home and represent the family—and Burleigh Livestock Sales—at the Sandersons’ barbecue.
She wasn’t quite sure why Bob and Margery weren’t on the hospital committee, or part of the fund-raising campaign, except that if Margery couldn’t be in charge, she wouldn’t want to be involved. From what Yvette had seen, Frances Sanderson was far more likely to charm people into giving than Margery, who’d try to bully people’s wallets out of their pockets.
Yvette had liked what she’d seen of Frances and Tom, and was eager for the weekend. She was also looking forward to peace and quiet in the house and not having another baby item foisted on her.
She wished she was brave enough to tell them no, she didn’t want all the items Margery was buying, but she wasn’t.
* * *
THE MUSTANG SUPERMARKET had recently reopened under new management. The outside looked great, if orange and brown were a person’s favorite colors, Nate thought. At least it was clean with shining windows and a freshly resurfaced parking lot—which had a puddle in the middle big enough to swallow a compact car.
The puddle had always been there, filling up with every rainfall for as long as he could remember. He didn’t know why they hadn’t graded the lot before refinishing it. Maybe someone had objected. The puddle was as much a part of Reston as the First Baptist Church, the Elks Club and the high school gym.
Nate stepped out of his car, slammed the door and stared at the puddle, recalling a time when he’d spied the water, made a break for it and jumped in, feet first. He’d been about five. His mother had been horrified. Since she didn’t want to get drenched in dirty, sloppy water, she’d sent Mandy in to get him. Mandy had been giggling uncontrollably, which he now saw had been equally humiliating for his mother. She didn’t like the attention a muddy little boy and a laughing teenager would bring. She had hustled them back into the car and hurried home without getting the groceries they’d come to buy.
Glancing up, he saw that all movement in the parking lot seemed to have slowed. People who had been walking in to the store, or out to their cars, had paused, their faces turned toward him, watching as he pocketed his keys and started toward the entrance. He nodded to people as he went along and that seemed to break the spell as everyone went back to their own business.
He wondered what his mom would think of this kind of attention.
At the sound of hurrying footsteps, he looked back to see Gemma bearing down on him.
“Good morning, Nate,” she sang out, giving him a big smile.
With her red hair flying around her face, and her lemon-yellow summer dress, she looked like a burst of sunshine—a good match for the name of her birthing center. All eyes were on her as she walked quickly toward him—as were his. It wasn’t simply that she was attractive. She was absolutely full of life.
“How are things going?” she asked when she caught up to him.
“Um, fine.” He realized he needed to quit staring at her, so he pulled a shopping cart out of the lineup and went inside, taking a moment to appreciate the scents of new paint and the pine cleaner used to wash the floors.
Gemma grabbed a carry basket and looped it over her arm as she fell into step with him. “I only came in for a couple of things,” she informed him as if he’d asked. “You should try the deli. They make excellent sandwiches. Carlin Houck runs it. You remember her, right?”
He gave her a dry look. “Well, I’ve known her since kindergarten, so I think so. I may have been gone a long time, but I don’t suffer from amnesia.”
When her cheeks reddened, he softened his tone. “I’ll try the deli.”
People were giving them sidelong looks or outright stares, obviously eavesdropping as she continued to chatter on about the wonders of the Mustang Supermarket. A number of people smiled at her enthusiasm.
When Mrs. Arnstein, their high school math teacher, saw them, she hurried up and gave them each a hug, then stood back to look at Nate.
“It’s wonderful to see you. I’m glad you’re back.” She beamed approval at him.
“I’m glad to see you, too, Mrs. Arnstein,” he said, and meant it, touched by how happy she was to see him, unlike nearly everyone else in town. If it hadn’t been for her patient tutoring, he never would have passed his junior year. They chatted for a few minutes and when she left, he felt a warmth he’d barely known since he’d returned to Reston. He looked at Gemma, who was watching him as if he’d done something brilliant.
They continued on, with Gemma waving to people or stopping to speak with them as she accompanied him up and down the aisles. It was almost as if she was acting as his... What? Bodyguard?
“And did you know that Lisa was instrumental in getting it reopened? Even provided the mayor with names of potential buyers.”
Nate stopped with a package of pasta in his hand and treated her to a suspicious look. “Are you trying to sell me on the community, or the community on me?”
Gemma blinked. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t need you to escort me through the grocery store so people won’t be mean to me.”
Heat rushed into her face again. “I—I wasn’t...”
“Yes, you were and I don’t think you can help it. You’re a born rescuer, but I don’t need your help.”
“As—as a medical professional, I naturally see the need to...help people.” She floundered.
“I’m not in need of medical help and I don’t need you to inject yourself into my life, shield me, or stand between me and trouble.”
Gemma looked away, then back at him. “In that case, goodbye and have a nice day.” Turning, she marched away, back straight, head up.
* * *
THE SUDDEN JERK of the steering wheel and the ominous thunk-thunk-thunk noise coming from the front right tire told Gemma she had a flat. She pulled off the road and climbed out to take a look. It wasn’t simply flat. It was pancaked.
Rolling her eyes, she bent close to inspect a ragged split on the sidewall, then looked down at the turquoise full-skirted sundress she had put on for the Sandersons’ barbecue. The chances of keeping it clean while she changed the tire were nonexistent. She could wait for some Good Samaritan to happen by, but she’d been driving on this road for ten minutes and hadn’t seen another car.
Hands on hips, she stared at the tire and considered her options. She could call Lisa or Carly, but they both had things to do before going to the party—Carly was delivering some freshly harvested produce, and Lisa was holding an open house on the other side of the county. There wasn’t a garage in Reston and getting someone out from Toncaville would
take too long. Besides, she knew how to change a tire. She simply wasn’t dressed for it.
“When am I going to learn to always carry a change of clothes?” she muttered as she opened the back of the well-worn Land Rover and began rummaging around for the jack. After setting it on the ground, she began working on removing the spare. Even after using an old scrap of T-shirt to wipe the bumper, her chore was made more difficult because she had to arch her body away from the vehicle in an effort to keep her dress clean.
When she heard a car pulling up behind her, she turned with a relieved smile to see Nathan Smith behind the wheel. Her smile froze in place, then collapsed altogether as he leaned over the steering wheel and grinned at her.
* * *
NATE HAD KNOWN whose vehicle it was as soon as he’d spotted it. He’d seen it around town with Gemma behind the wheel, hurrying from one place to another.
But she wasn’t rushing around now. In fact, she needed his help. The way her smile faded when she spotted him brought out a puckish sense of humor he hadn’t exercised in a long time. He shut off the engine and stepped out of the car.
“Need some help?’ he asked as his gaze took in the flat tire, the jack and the open back of the Rover.
She gave a careless wave. “Oh, no, thanks. I can handle it. I’ve changed many tires.”
“In a dress?”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine. I can keep my dress clean, and—”
“How? By taking it off?” he asked, nodding toward a herd of cattle grazing in an enclosed pasture by the road. “You’d give those cows quite a show.”
That startled a laugh out of her, but he knew she wouldn’t give in. He could almost hear her thinking... Of all the people in the world to happen by, it had to be Nate.
“I don’t want to hold you up. You’re probably on your way to the Sandersons’, too, and—”
“I’ve got plenty of time.” Before Gemma could say anything else, he gently placed his hands on her shoulders and moved her aside.
“Wait. Aren’t you afraid of getting dirty?”
Nate gave her a considering look. “You’re right,” he said, then began unbuttoning his dark blue shirt.
* * *
GEMMA’S HEART FLUTTERED and her mouth went dry when he flipped the shirt around and settled it on her shoulders as if she was a human clothes hanger. The faint spicy scent of his cologne lifted to her nose—and weakened her knees. Determined to be strong, she grasped the door frame and breathed in a gulp of air.
Three cars passed in quick succession, their occupants whipping their heads around to see what was going on.
Now someone shows up, she thought. The news about the two of them beside the road—him with no shirt—would be all over the county within minutes.
Her voice croaked a little as she said, “Aren’t—aren’t you afraid you’ll shock the cows?”
“Gemma, you seem to think fears rule my life. I’m sure they’re not bothered by half-naked men.” He smiled—the happiest expression she’d seen from him. “You’re a nurse. I’m sure you’ve seen men more than half-naked.”
Heat washed up her face and he chuckled as he turned to examine the flat and then continue the struggle with the spare tire.
Dumbfounded, Gemma stared at him. She hadn’t seen him since they’d met at the Mustang a few days ago and he’d accused her of injecting herself into his life. What had happened since then? She wasn’t quite prepared to question his change in attitude. She was simply going to enjoy it.
Nate removed the spare and bounced it on the ground. Only it didn’t bounce. It went as flat as the right front one. He glanced up. “Gemma, when did you last check this tire?”
She tucked her hair behind her ears and slanted her gaze away from his. “Oh, not that long ago. Maybe a year or two.”
That brought a snort of laughter as he slung the tire back into the Rover, replaced the jack, found a rag to wipe his hands and slammed the hatch. “Gemma, it’s time for you to pay attention to your tires. You’ll have to call a tow truck, but since it’s a holiday weekend, it might be a while before anyone can get here.”
Nate plucked his shirt from around her shoulders and said, “You’ll have to ride with me. You can try to call a tow truck on the way—if you can get a cell-phone signal.”
Gemma opened and closed her mouth a couple of times as she watched him button his shirt and tuck it in. Riding with him made perfect sense. She knew that, but the crazy reaction she was having made her wary of spending any more time with him. Still, what choice did she have? She cleared her throat. “Okay.”
She grabbed her purse and the turquoise jacket that went with her dress, then locked her Rover and walked to where Nate stood holding the car door open for her. As she sat down, she said, “Thanks for your help, Nate.”
“Always glad to rescue a lady in distress,” he answered in a jaunty tone that had her giving him an odd look. He was making a joke at her expense, she thought, recalling the way he had called her a born rescuer. She wasn’t going to deny it.
“I’m a big believer in payback,” he said. He slid behind the wheel, pulled onto the road and continued to the Sandersons’.
She eyed him skeptically. “Payback?”
“You know, someone does something good for me, like protecting me from the evil shoppers at the Mustang Supermarket, I want to help that person.”
Gemma made a point of looking out the window as if she was vitally interested in the trees they were passing. “Oh, will you please let that go?”
“Not yet,” he assured her.
She rolled her eyes and instead, she managed to get a cell-phone signal, find the number for the garage in Toncaville and make arrangements to have her car towed. To Gemma’s relief, the tension between them seemed to have disappeared and their conversation was easy and natural as they finished the drive to the barbecue.
The big two-story ranch house that Tom and Frances had built a couple of years ago stood at the curved end of a U-shaped driveway. Another house was under construction across the road. Gemma guessed it was intended for the Sandersons’ son and his family. Cars and trucks lined the edge of the drive and filled the area in the middle. Nate parked the car and once again held the door for Gemma.
As they walked toward the house, she said, “You realize that everyone will think we came together, don’t you?”
“We did come together.”
“I mean like on a date.”
“Would that be so bad?” He grinned again and took her elbow as they headed toward the back of the house and the huge covered patio, where everyone had gathered.
Gemma bit her lip, trying to keep up with his disconcerting changes in attitude. She hated feeling off balance, and the way he shifted from solemn to standoffish, from disapproving to teasing, kept her from knowing where she stood with him.
She held up a hand. “Okay, so we’re on the same page here—you don’t want to feel as though I’m rescuing you, trying to get people to like you, but it’s okay if everyone here thinks we’re on a date?”
He nodded. “Pretty much.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re teasing me, aren’t you?”
His lips formed into an ironic twist. “And I must be really bad at it if it’s taken you this long to figure it out.”
CHAPTER FIVE
GEMMA WAS TRYING to think of a response when Frances hurried up to greet them. She was wearing a brightly patterned dress and her hair was done up in the type of smooth chignon that Gemma thought was the essence of classiness, and which she could never achieve with her own curly, flyaway hair.
Their hostess gave them each a quick hug and said, “Come get something to eat. My goal is to not have any leftovers to deal with.” She pointed them toward buffet tables set up near the back door of the house and whirled away in a s
plash of color to greet the newest arrivals.
“She better be expecting lots more people if she hopes to get rid of all this food,” Gemma said, surveying the tables full of barbecued ribs, roasted corn on the cob and countless side dishes.
Nathan picked up a plate. “I’ll do my share.”
The two of them filled their plates and turned to look for seats.
“Nate, Gemma, over here,” a male voice called out.
Gemma turned and was delighted to see Trent and Mia Sanderson waving them over. They both stood to give Gemma hugs, then Trent shook hands with Nate and introduced his wife. There were two other couples at the table, people she didn’t know, who Trent also introduced.
Mia Sanderson was tall and willowy with olive skin and long, straight hair, which she tossed over her shoulder as she sat down. She wore a yellow dress that bared her shoulders and complemented her skin tone.
Gemma smiled at her. “You look a lot better than you did the first time I saw you.”
“That’s because I’m not in excruciating pain,” Mia answered, indicating the baby monitor that sat beside her plate. “Max will be awake in a few minutes, so excuse me while I wolf down my food. I haven’t finished a meal at a normal pace in six months.”
Her husband scooted her chair closer and put his arm around her shoulders. “I’d feed him if I could, honey, but I don’t have the right equipment.”
Mia batted her eyelashes at him and said, “There’s always some excuse.”
“Mia,” Gemma said, “I know you’re from Los Angeles and Trent lived in Texas and then here. How did you two meet?”
Mia and Trent looked at each other and smiled.
Mia said, “In Las Vegas—”
“I was there for a bachelor party,” Trent added.
“I was a model working at an auto show.” Mia lifted her hand in a smooth, sweeping gesture as if showing off the elegant lines of a vehicle. “My job was to stand by a new car in a tight evening dress and try to convince people that their lives wouldn’t be complete unless they owned one of those fabulously expensive status symbols. We had to memorize a script. I know more ways to describe horsepower, torque and fancy sports cars than you can imagine.”
At Odds with the Midwife Page 6