At Odds with the Midwife

by Patricia Forsythe

  When the music started, the group moved outside, where someone—probably Frances and Tom—had set up tables and chairs under the wide porch roof and provided citronella candles to help ward off mosquitoes. At one point, she heard an engine start up and twisted around to see Cole Burleigh’s truck leave the parking lot. Relieved, she settled back in her chair and gratefully accepted a glass of lemonade from someone passing by with a tray of drinks.

  Lisa was sitting nearby, deep in conversation with Ben McAdams—a conversation neither of them seemed to be enjoying. If they were having another argument, she knew she’d hear about it later, but as with Carly a few minutes ago, her first instinct was to rush to her friend’s aid.

  The door to the gym opened and a group of people surged out, including Reta Bunker. She was a short, plump woman who usually had a sweet smile for everyone. Right now, she looked worried. When she spotted Gemma, she darted over, swiped the glass of lemonade from her hand, set it on the tabletop and spoke urgently as she tried to haul Gemma to her feet. Everyone at the table fell silent as the drama began playing out.

  “You need to hide, honey. Bunky is looking for you.”

  Gemma’s toes had their usual reaction of curling into her sandals. When was she going to learn to wear steel-toed boots when there was even the possibility of dance music being played? Even when he was all the way on the other side of town, Bunky always seemed to hear dance music.

  “Oh, no. Where is he?”

  “Right behind me. It was pure luck that I spotted you before he did.” Reta patted her arm. “I’m sorry, but you know he’s like a bloodhound when it comes to finding his favorite dance partner.”

  Gemma looked around frantically. “I probably shouldn’t try to hide, then. He’ll find me.”

  “Um, you’re right.” Reta looked around, as well. Spying someone over Gemma’s shoulder, she said, “You need to dance with another man.” Reaching out, she snagged someone’s arm and hauled him closer. “Come on, you need to dance with Gemma so my husband won’t permanently cripple her feet.”

  Laughing, Gemma glanced up. Of course, it was Nate. Her smile collapsed.

  She started to pull away. “That’s okay, Reta. I’ll go on home, and—”

  “Too late. Save yourself.” She gave Gemma a shove that sent her stumbling into Nate, who shot out an arm to keep her from falling.

  Turning and squaring her shoulders, Reta’s voice broke as she said, “Sometimes a wife has to do what a wife has to do. I’ll dance with him.” Marching forward, she grabbed her husband’s arm and pulled him back inside.

  The people Gemma had been sitting with waited in breathless anticipation as she looked at Nate. Unobtrusively, she tried to scoot away from him. The corner of his mouth kicked up as he said, “Shall we?” and held out a hand to her.

  She was still mad at him, furious, in fact. But it was only one dance, and a tableful of their fellow townspeople were watching her.

  Gemma put her hand in his. “As long as you don’t murder my toes.”

  “I wouldn’t think of it. I’m a pretty good dancer.” His voice caught, but he smiled. “Mandy taught me.”

  They went inside the gym, where the crowd was beginning to thin out as parents scooped up cranky, ice-cream-smeared toddlers and urged their older children toward the door.

  Before Nate took her into his arms, he said, “I owe you an apology, though.”

  Shaking her head, Gemma held him off. “One more thing. This has been a hard day. I can’t handle another thing. No apologies, no arguments, no conflicts, nothing but the questionable beauty of the Rocket Boys and their music.”

  Nate gazed at her for a second as if he wanted to argue the point. She was beginning to understand that he didn’t necessarily want the last word, he wanted to finish one issue before moving on to the next. The problem was that their issues never seemed to get resolved.

  Finally, he said, “Agreed,” and pulled her closer. Relieved, she rested her hand on his shoulder. He had showered, too, since their last encounter and was now dressed in jeans and a crisp white shirt, unbuttoned at the cuffs and rolled back a couple of turns. His subtle cologne teased her senses. She was becoming a big fan of that scent.

  After a couple of minutes, she said, “This is going to get really awkward if we don’t think of something to talk about—other than medical, or personal or...”

  “Almost everything else.”

  This close, she could see the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he was amused. “There’s always town gossip,” he said.

  That startled a laugh out of her. “You’ve been gone from Reston as long as I have. Longer. Where would you hear gossip?”

  “Brantley Clegg. He’s a real busybody and bankers know almost everything that goes on in town.”

  “But should they tell everything?”

  “Only if it’s really juicy.”

  She lifted an eyebrow at him. “For example?”

  Nate nodded toward the band. “The time Ron Jett locked his wife in a closet so he and his band could go play a gig in McAlester.”

  “No. Really?” She looked over at the band, where Ron was happily picking out a tune on his guitar and singing an old country classic. “What happened?”

  “She got loose, headed straight for the bank, cleaned out their joint account and filed for divorce.”

  “Wow, she was really mad.”

  “It was their anniversary.”

  “Then good for her. I guess the moral of the story is don’t ever come between a man and his music.”

  “I’m not sure locking up his wife was the best solution.”

  “It’s hard to say. He and his band do sound a little better than they used to,” she admitted.

  “More time to practice since he doesn’t have a wife to worry about anymore.”

  They laughed together and Gemma tilted her head as she asked, “What other gossip do you know?”

  “Old Jesse Nevis, Marlene Fedder’s dad, finally quit driving.”

  “Thank God,” she said fervently. “He must be ninety years old.”

  “Ninety-two.”

  “How did they get him to stop?”

  “His grandson had to arrest him for car theft.”

  Gemma laughed. “Jesse stole a car and Junior arrested him?”

  “Yup. Seems the old man climbed into a truck that he thought was his when he came out of the Mustang Supermarket.”

  “Only it wasn’t?”

  “No. He couldn’t find the key, thought he’d lost it, probably dropped it in that big puddle, so instead of getting out and looking for it, he hot-wired the truck and took off. The real owner took exception to that and called the sheriff’s office. Junior had to chase Jesse down with lights and sirens—which, apparently, Jesse couldn’t hear. Junior followed him all the way home before he could get him to stop.”

  “At least the old guy didn’t try to make a run for it.”

  “Even if he had, Junior would have known where to find him.”

  Gemma smiled, glad this hard day was ending on a happier note. They clapped when the song finished and she said, “Thanks for the dance, Nate, and for the gossip.”

  “Anytime.” Nate gave her a critical look as he held her away from him. “To use a strictly nonmedical term, you look dead on your feet. I know a lot of it’s my fault, and I also know you don’t want to talk about it right now. Can I drive you home?”

  Gemma shook her head. “I’ve got my car.”

  “With four new tires and a decent spare, right?”

  They both smiled at the memory. “That’s right.”

  Nate stepped back, rubbed his earlobe, glanced away and then back at her. “Okay if I come by in the morning?”

  “Sure. I’ll be up early.” She lifted her chin. “
I have lots to do and a class on breast-feeding to teach at ten.”

  He blinked. “On Sunday morning?”

  “It was the only time two of the moms could come.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “See you early, then.”

  Gemma turned away, congratulated Frances on another successful fund-raising evening, told Carly and Lisa good-night, and then headed home. All the while, she thought about the day’s exhausting events, from her satisfaction with the mural she’d helped create, to the exhilaration of the safe birth of Misty’s daughter, to her conflicts with Nathan and what he’d told her about Mandy’s death, to the sweetness of the dance they’d shared. It was going to take her a long time to process all of this, but if she and Nathan could have one adult, professional, nonemotional conversation, she felt they could finally begin moving forward.

  Satisfied with that conclusion, she pulled into her driveway, splashed through puddles and shuddered over the ruts that marred the surface. Reminding herself to have it graded and graveled after the rains let up, she realized with a start that the big yard light high on a pole by the back door was out.

  Shoulders slumping with exhaustion, she told herself to let it go. She couldn’t fix it tonight even if she wanted to. The ground was too soft from the rain to hold a ladder safely. Besides, she was sure she didn’t have a bulb to replace the one that had burned out. Clouds were moving in, obscuring the faint moonlight, and rain was beginning to fall again.

  She parked her Rover and felt in the glove compartment for the flashlight she usually kept there, but she couldn’t find it. Annoyed, she carefully picked her way to the back door and fumbled with the key. Safely inside, she dumped her belongings on the kitchen table and headed toward her bed.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THAT WOULD TEACH HER, Cole thought. Miss High-and-Mighty Gemma wouldn’t like coming home to what he’d prepared for her. Good. Maybe she’d learn to mind her own business. She needed to know what it felt like to have someone interfering in her life like she’d interfered with his and Yvette’s.

  He sped down the highway, water from puddles arcing away beneath his tires. The rain was starting again, but he didn’t slow down, too excited by the surprise he’d prepared for Gemma to pay attention to the weather.

  Things had been fine between him and his wife before Gemma had started sticking her nose into their marriage and wrecking the life they had together. He was determined to get that life back. Yvette was upset right now, but time was all she needed. Time to think and appreciate everything he’d done for her.

  Maybe he wasn’t great at painting, but he could hire someone to do it for him. He could let his wife have what she wanted as long as she understood it came from him, that she would have nothing and no one if not for him.

  Yvette wanted him to leave her alone, to not touch her. Fine. That’s exactly what she would get. He’d leave her alone tonight, wouldn’t call or answer her if she tried to call him. A flush of shame darkened his face when he thought of how he’d raised his fist to her, but he shoved the feeling down. He wouldn’t have really hit her. He’d only wanted to scare her, remind her who was the boss, the provider in the family.

  He eased to a halt at the four-way stop where Highway 6 crossed County Road 1282. The open sign of the Crossroads Tavern caught his eye. They had good burgers there, and cold beer.

  Thanks to the interference from Gemma and Nate, Cole hadn’t had any dinner. He was hungry and decided he deserved a treat. After crossing the intersection, he pulled into the tavern’s parking lot. He’d stay gone for a while, he decided, as he stepped out of the truck. In fact, he’d stay gone all night if he wanted to. Maybe two nights. He hadn’t liked it when he’d come home half-starved and tired only to find that Yvette was gone. It was long past time for her to learn a lesson, learn what if felt like to wonder where someone was.

  He’d eat his hamburger, drink a couple more beers and then keep driving before he called to check on her and the baby. She needed to know what worry felt like.

  * * *

  GEMMA WOKE SLOWLY in the bedroom that had belonged to her parents. She was grateful for the extra thick curtains she’d put up to block the sun coming in the east-facing windows. She wasn’t ready to confront the sunlight yet. But she had to. Sitting up, she swung her legs over the side of the mattress.

  Once she was dressed in slacks, a shirt and sneakers, she wound her hair into a loose bun and secured it with a couple of small chopsticks her mother had sent her from Thailand.

  She was heading into the kitchen to make coffee when a knock on the front door rerouted her. Pulling it open, she found Nate standing back to admire her house and front yard. He was dressed in what she had come to think of as his work clothes—khaki slacks and a shirt with the sleeves rolled up. This one was pearl gray.

  He was freshly shaven and the faint scent of his cologne drifted toward her. Her stomach fluttered. This would all be so much easier if she didn’t find him so appealing.

  “I haven’t really looked at this yet,” he said, indicating the aloe vera plants in the abandoned car tires, and the bright paint on the door and trim. “It’s...welcoming.”

  “Thanks. Blue is my favorite color.”

  He looked down and smiled. “I’ll remember that. Okay if I come in?”

  She stepped back. “Of course.”

  He came inside and when Gemma nodded toward the sofa, he sat, but scooted forward with his hands clasped loosely between his knees. “I won’t stay long. I came to apologize—again.”

  “For?” she asked cautiously as she took the chair opposite him. There had been enough misunderstandings between them. She wanted to be sure she knew where they were going with this conversation.

  “For what I said yesterday—and every other time. I need to explain.” He grimaced. “Like most men, I’m no good at the whole idea of getting in touch with my feelings.”

  “What are your feelings?”

  “Confused,” he said on a sigh, then paused as if pulling his thoughts together. “And the confusion goes back years, to my childhood, to Mandy’s death, my mother’s depression and her death, but those were occurrences—tragedies, really—that I couldn’t change.”

  Gemma sat still, unable to believe he was opening up about something so painful. He stared at the braided rug beneath his feet, probably not even seeing the pattern.

  “I realized pretty early on that I wanted a different life than what my family had, what most people in Reston had.”

  “Which is why you won’t be staying here.” That knowledge hurt her deeply, but it also made her admit how attracted she was to him. His leaving wouldn’t bother her if she wasn’t so attracted to him and if he wasn’t so in need of someone to love him.

  “That’s right.”

  The certainty in his tone made her heart sink.

  He looked up. “Believe it or not, I wanted what your family had, even though I thought your parents were a little crazy.”

  Gemma smiled. “They’re proud of the fact that they’re unique and don’t fit into any mold, and most people in town accepted that. When I went off to college, I had to learn to be like everyone else in order to fit in.” She shook her head. “Looking back, I’m not sure that was the best idea.”

  “I envied the way you, and your mom and dad, were so comfortable in your own skins, so at home in the world. There were times when I’d stay away from my house because the tension between my parents was so bad I couldn’t stand to stay there. I used to sneak over to your lake, watch people fish, see kids playing in the water.”

  The starkness of his words was like a knife to Gemma’s heart. She imagined the lonely boy he’d been, watching and listening, wishing he was part of a happy family, a carefree group.

  “Oh,” she said, sitting up suddenly and staring at him. “That’s what you were doing the day
Cole tried to grab me.”

  “Yeah.” His lips twisted. “Pitiful, huh? I promise I wasn’t stalking you. I saw him sneak up on you and I didn’t like the look on his face. I knew I had to get between the two of you. I don’t think I’d ever run that fast in my life. Still haven’t.”

  Gemma thought about the boy he’d been then—shorter, skinnier, not nearly as big as Cole, who was almost a year older. If he’d thought about what he was going to do, he probably wouldn’t have done it. But he hadn’t thought. He’d simply acted to save her. She’d been right to be so crazy about him in high school, even though he’d barely given her the time of day.

  “I’m glad you did. He scared me to death coming at me like that, announcing he wanted me to be his girlfriend.”

  “He said that? I didn’t hear what he said. I only saw that you looked scared.”

  “Believe me, I was—and then he denied he’d been anywhere near me, the jerk.” She paused. “Something’s always bothered me, though. When I saw you at school, and tried to say thanks, you brushed me off as if it didn’t matter.”

  Nate grimaced. “It mattered, but I was afraid of getting too close to you because then I might never get away from here, and that was the most important thing back then.”

  That hurt, but Gemma reminded herself that she’d been the one with the massive crush and he’d been trying to do what was best for his future.

  Still, things must have improved for him once he was on his own. He’d gained an education and probably friends, including the one whose practice he was joining in Houston.

  Gemma looked up and asked the question she’d had for weeks. “Nate, have you ever been in love?”

  His head jerked back in surprise. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because I want to know if you’ve ever been truly happy, been completely at ease with anyone. Have you ever been able to say what’s on your mind, been loved unconditionally?”