At Odds with the Midwife

by Patricia Forsythe

  “I’m going to have to go to jail first. Don’t worry. You won’t have to call the sheriff and turn in your old man. I already did that. A couple of deputies just walked in the door. I wasn’t sure you’d come find me, but I knew you were smart enough to figure out where I was, and I wanted a chance to talk to you before I go to jail.” He looked past Nate and nodded at someone.

  Nate and Gemma turned to see Junior Fedder and another deputy walking toward them. Nate stumbled to his feet, pulling Gemma with him. He felt the color wash out of his face, and then rush back in when Junior gave him a regretful look. Solemnly, the deputy unhooked his handcuffs and snapped them onto George Smith’s skinny wrists.

  The entire room had gone silent so when George spoke, his voice rang out loudly. “I’m sorry about this, Nathan. I’m sorry for what I did to you and to the whole town of Reston. When—if—you want to talk, you’ll know where to find me. I’m broke now, and I don’t expect anyone, not even you, to post my bail.”

  As the authorities marched George out, the silence lasted a moment longer, and then all the gamblers in the place seemed to be talking at once. Gemma stepped close and slipped her arm around his waist.

  “Come on, Nate. Let’s get out of here.”

  When he lowered his head, she tightened her arm to make him stand straighter and urged him toward the door. Once outside, they saw the Reston County Sheriff’s Department cruiser they hadn’t noticed on their way inside. Junior was holding the door while George slid into the backseat.

  Nate wanted to pull her away from the scene, but Gemma said, “No, Nate, from here on, you need to know everything that’s going on with your dad. People will ask, and you’ve got to have an answer.”

  He watched the deputies drive away with his father. Even though they were taking in the biggest criminal Reston County had ever known, they didn’t feel it was necessary to pull out with lights flashing and sirens blaring. He appreciated that.

  “You’re right.” He rubbed his hand across his forehead, trying to clear his mind. With his arm still around Gemma’s shoulders, he started walking toward his car. “I have to admit that I hope he pleads guilty and...wait...”

  “What, Nate?”

  “It’s been eight years. Hasn’t the statute of limitations run out by now?”

  “I don’t know. The law isn’t my area of expertise. Maybe it’s different if he turns himself in.”

  “Or maybe he knows he got away with it, and...”

  “Nate, did you get a good look at him? He hasn’t gotten away with anything. He’s been miserable. He’s paid the price for what he did and paid back a little of what he stole.”

  “And now he’s broke, or so he says.” Nate rubbed his forehead again. “I’m too tired to think. I don’t know if being broke is some kind of justice or not.”

  Gemma held out her hand. “Why don’t you let me drive home? I’ve got to pick up my car at your house, anyway.”

  Nate handed over his keys, grateful to be in charge of nothing for a while and to sit, thinking things over, while Gemma drove back to Reston. He’d experienced a number of shocks and surprises in the past two days. He needed to make some decisions about his future, but one of them had suddenly become remarkably clear.

  He looked over at Gemma. Her hair fell to her shoulders but was brushed back by the blast from the air-conditioning. With that red hair, he thought once again, and in her yellow dress, she looks like a burst of sunshine. He dozed off with that thought in mind, and woke when she pulled into his driveway.

  “Nate, we’re home.”

  He sat up and yawned. “Yes. Yes we are.” He hurried around the car to hold the door for her. “Gemma, thanks for coming with me.”

  She dropped his keys into his hand and smiled. “You’re welcome. I would say ‘anytime,’ but I’m hoping this is the only time we’ll have to do this.”

  “Me, too.” When she started to walk away, he said, “Gemma, okay if I come over later?”

  “Of course, but...”

  “I’ll bring a picnic for dinner.”

  “Seriously?”

  “It’s a campground, isn’t it? Picnic tables, and so forth.”

  Gemma gave him a puzzled smile, but she nodded. “Well, yes. If you’re bringing the food, I’ll provide the mosquito repellent.”

  “Sounds fair.”

  With a wave, she climbed into her Rover and drove away. Nate hurried into the house. He had plans to make. Things to do.

  * * *

  GEMMA DRESSED IN linen slacks and top, and pulled her hair up off her neck, hoping she could remain cool in the evening’s lingering heat and humidity. Her preference would be to stay in the house with the air-conditioning blasting, but Nate seemed set on having a picnic.

  Nate arrived at six and when she opened her front door, presented a big basket with a flourish and said, “Let’s go.”

  “Um, okay,” she said. “But wouldn’t you rather eat inside?”

  He shook his head. “No. We’re having a picnic. I’ve never been on a picnic.”

  “Never?”

  “My family wasn’t the picnicking type.”

  “Right.” Gemma looked at him for a second, saw hope and happiness in his eyes that she’d never seen before. “Picnic it is. I’ll get the mosquito repellent.”

  Their walk through the humid evening was worth it when they reached the picnic table near the pavilion and a breeze kicked up.

  Nate told Gemma to sit and relax while he spread out their feast of sandwiches, salads and wine. They ate and talked about all that had happened in the past couple of days as the shadows grew long.

  “You seem happy, Nate. I’ve never seen you like this.”

  “I’ve never felt like this. I’m ready to leave the past behind.”

  Gemma sighed and looked down. “I know, and you’ll be leaving Reston as soon as...”

  “No.” Nate took her glass from her fingers and set it down, then clasped both of her hands in his. “No. I’m not leaving Reston. In spite of everything, it’s my hometown, and...I’m needed here.” He said it slowly as if he was becoming used to the idea.

  Joy filled Gemma’s heart. “Yes, you are. The town needs you.” I need you, she added silently.

  “I don’t know what I was thinking. It would be crazy to do all the work to reopen the hospital and establish a medical practice, then leave it behind.”

  “You were thinking you would be able to make a clean break with the past.” Gemma smiled. “But it’s always with you. The trick is to not let it control you, ruin your future.”

  “You’re right.” Nate leaned over and kissed her, his lips meeting hers in lingering sweetness. “Speaking of the future—would you like to share mine?”

  She blinked at him. “What?”

  “I love you, Gemma. I think I started falling in love with you when I came across you planting herbs by moonlight.”

  “You did a good job of hiding it all this time.”

  “I had things to work out. How about it? Will you marry me?” He gave her a wicked grin. “I mean, after all, you’ve had a crush on me for a long time.”

  “I never should have told you that. It’s gone straight to your head. In spite of that, yes, I’ll marry you. I love you, too.”

  Nate kissed her again and Gemma responded by putting her arms around his shoulders and running her hands through his hair. Love for him filled her, along with gratitude that he had conquered the demons from his past.

  EPILOGUE

  GEMMA STOOD WITH her hand resting in the crook of Nate’s elbow as she waited for the music to begin for their first dance as husband and wife. He looked incredibly handsome in his black suit with a silver-gray shirt and tie.

  Nate looked down at her. “Have I mentioned how beautiful you
are today?”

  “A few times, but I can always hear it again. I have to admit, I love this dress.” She smoothed a hand over the lace-covered, strapless bodice, and straightened the satin ribbon that encircled her waist above the full skirt. Her bridesmaids had similar dresses, Carly’s in a soft yellow, and Lisa’s in blue.

  He leaned down to kiss her. “You look beautiful, and I can’t believe you pulled this wedding together in less than a month.”

  When he tried for a second kiss, she held him off. “You were the one who insisted on speed.”

  “No reason to wait, and we’re not getting any younger.”

  She laughed, but she knew the real reason. Everyone in town had been upset when it was announced that George Smith wouldn’t be prosecuted for his crime. The restitution he’d made had helped calm some of the anger, but most people thought he’d been let off too easy. They were right, and the fact that he lived only fifty miles away didn’t help. Nate had been to visit his dad a couple of times, arranged medical care for him, but she knew they hadn’t yet talked about Virginia and her battles with anxiety. She thought it would probably be a long time before that happened, but Nate had begun to forgive himself for not being more understanding and compassionate toward his mother.

  The people of Reston no longer blamed Nathan for his father’s wrongdoing, and the number of citizens who had stepped up to help with wedding preparations was proof of their forgiveness.

  This was one of the reasons she’d moved home, Gemma thought, proud of her hometown. And she was glad that Nathan had a reason to be proud, too. She hoped he would be able to form some kind of relationship with his dad, but she knew it would take a while.

  Even Cole Burleigh had changed completely and had fulfilled his promise to replant her garden. She and Yvette had spent a wonderful evening chatting, sipping iced tea and holding Davy while Cole sweated and strained, planting herbs by the light of a full moon. He had also paid to have her yard light repaired, and, still feeling guilty, had graded her driveway and covered it with new gravel.

  Smiling at the memory, Gemma looked across the expanse of the pavilion to where Yvette and Misty Summers were talking and laughing together while they ladled out punch and their husbands held their babies.

  The musicians finally started, hit a few sour notes, laughed at themselves and started again.

  Gemma shook her head. “I can’t believe you hired Ron Jett and the Rocket Boys to play at our reception.”

  “It seemed like the most appropriate choice, and—”

  “They were the only ones available, weren’t they?”

  “You guessed it,” Nate answered, turning her into his arms as the music finally started on the correct note. “I even paid them to put in some extra practices.”

  “That was money well spent. They sound better than usual.”

  As they moved around the dance floor of the campground’s repaired pavilion, Gemma saw the joyful faces of her parents. She wiggled her fingers at them as she sailed past, glad they had come from Africa to help with the wedding preparations. They planned to stay around for a while, living in the cabin while she and Nate occupied the house he was renting in town. Someday, she and Nate would build a house of their own, free of any ghosts from the past.

  “I’m amazed that Wolfchild is wearing a suit and tie,” Nate said.

  “I think he is, too. Mom insisted, said I’m their only child and this will be my only wedding, and that he needs to look civilized.”

  Nate grinned. “He got a haircut, too. Makes him look like a banker. How does your mom know this will be your only wedding?”

  “Because she’s a smart woman. She knows I’ve been crazy about you since high school. There’s no way I’ll ever let you go.”

  Nate pulled her closer and kissed her again. “That’s good to know because I’m never letting you go, either.”

  * * * * *

  Don’t miss the next book in Patricia Forsythe’s OKLAHOMA GIRLS miniseries, available February 2017!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from MARRYING THE SINGLE DAD by Melinda Curtis.

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  Marrying the Single Dad

  by Melinda Curtis

  CHAPTER ONE

  “WHAT DO YOU think you’re doing?” a deep masculine voice bellowed across the overgrown, wreck-strewn field in Harmony Valley.

  Brittany Lambridge jumped and thunked the back of her head on the hood of the ancient BMW sedan. Add headache to her list of injuries this morning.

  “I told you we’d get caught,” Regina whispered. Brit’s sister was the queen of I told you sos.

  Brit stepped back from the decaying car, rubbing her head beneath her baseball cap. The nip of early morning bit into her scraped knuckles while dewy knee-high grass hid her feet. She peered to the left, then the right, but the rusting, abandoned cars were still rusty and abandoned. No one else was in the flat patch of land with them. No one driving past on the two-lane highway bordering the field. No one stood near the thick blackberry bushes along the river. And she’d been told the car repair shop and nearby house had been empty for at least a decade. Had she imagined the voice? Or... Brit stopped rubbing her head and faced her sister.

  “Don’t look at me.” Regina rolled her artfully made-up brown eyes and said with disdain, “I’m not a ventriloquist.”

  “No, but you hate helping me with my art.”

  “I love helping you and your hobby,” Reggie corrected. “I just worry about getting bitten by angry, territorial spiders or snakes, or—” she glanced around nervously “—angry, territorial property owners.”

  “Didn’t you hear me?” An angry, territorial-looking man appeared from behind a dented gray minivan. “I said, what are you doing here?”

  Guilt, disappointment and a feeling she couldn’t name froze Brit more completely than a complicated updo with too much hair spray.

  The man strode forward. Broad shoulders, muscular arms, rumpled black hair and... Brit stopped cataloging his parts because that hair glinted almost blue in the sunlig
ht and made Brit’s fingers twitch for her hair-cutting scissors.

  “Oh, my,” her twin murmured wistfully, having already forgotten her fear of getting bitten.

  A thin boy appeared next, wearing light blue, grease-splotched coveralls like Brit’s and a preteen’s poor attempt at a sneer. He slouched against the minivan’s rear fender, thrusting his hands in his pockets. His dark brown hair stuck out from beneath a faded green baseball cap.

  Brit’s fingers twitched again even as Shaggy Man drew closer. As a licensed beautician, bad hair drove Brit crazy. As did the feeling she could now name: artistic appreciation. Shaggy Man was like a Pollock painting—a riot of energy that was perfect chaos. She couldn’t look away.

  The man stopped ten feet from her, propping hands on hips. His black T-shirt and blue jeans had seen better days, while those bladed cheekbones and ice-blue eyes had probably appealed to a fair share of women. Everything about him said he was the kind of man her mother had warned her and Reggie about while they were growing up—tempting, dangerous, a man more concerned with who warmed his sheets at night than who made his coffee in the morning.

  “That car is mine.” Those cool blue eyes of his skated across the landscape with chilly calculation. “Leave.”

  Reggie glanced at Brit.

  Who reminded herself about big-girl panties. She unwound guilt, brushed out disappointment and gripped her defenses as firmly as the socket wrench she’d been using to remove the BMW’s grille. “I was told this was Harmony Valley’s vehicle graveyard.” That the deserted cars and trucks were fair game for picking.

  “The garage over there, this land and everything on it used to belong to my father.” His stance remained as rigid as his words, at odds with that distracting, rule-breaking hair.

  “But...” Used to belong to? Shoot and darn. “It’s yours? The garage and the land?”

  His glacial gaze found hers, so cold it crackled between them like icicles on eaves before they plunged to the pavement. “Papers went through yesterday.”