by Mindy Neff
He gently stroked the backs of his fingers over her cheeks. “You’re welcome.”
Yes, she thought, terrified. She’d definitely lost her heart.
KELLY MADE IT through church the next day, but it was getting more difficult with each passing hour to ignore her headache. She needed a dark room. And a bed. And some major drugs.
None of which she could indulge in at the moment. They were expected at the Malones’ for Sunday dinner, and she had the girls to think about.
She hated to shush Jessica, but her daughter’s exuberant voice was pulsing behind her eyeballs and radiating outward with each syllable.
“Why don’t you go on to the Malones’ without us,” she said to Chance when they got home.
He laid the backs of his fingers on her forehead, studied her. “This headache’s been building since yesterday. Are you prone to migraines?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“On a scale of one to ten, how bad is this one?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“One to ten, Kel.”
“Eight…and a half, maybe.” A twelve.
“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” He gently turned her by the shoulders and headed her toward the hall. “Let’s get you to bed.”
“I don’t have time—”
“Yes, you have plenty of time. I’m in charge.”
“The girls—”
“Will be fine with me. Jess? Flip on the television for a bit, okay?”
“But aren’t we going to Ian’s? Hannah’s makin’ Sunday supper, and me and Kimmy and Nikki are s’posed to sleep over with Ian. Mommy said it was okay. Ian’s got a goat! And new puppies!”
“Don’t worry. The plans are only going to change a little. Give me a couple of minutes to take care of your mom. She’s got a king-size headache.”
“Oh, no,” Jessica crooned, just now learning something was amiss. “Are you okay, Mommy?”
“She’ll be fine,” Chance answered for her. He waited until Jessica took Kimberly’s hand and led her into the den, then turned to Kelly once more and ushered her down the hall.
“If I had the energy, I’d object to your high-handed bossiness.”
“Mmm, I’ll give you a rain check, how’s that? Now, we need to get you out of these clothes.”
“I’ve got a headache, Chance. I think I can still manage to undress on my own.”
He grinned. “That was one of those royal we’s. If you want to strip here, that’s fine by me. I figured you’d prefer the bathroom, though.”
She managed a wan smile, then grabbed a pair of sweats and disappeared into the bathroom. He wondered if the sweats normally doubled as pajamas. Probably. She was always cold.
But she was a trouper about it and most of the time hid her discomfort. As she’d done with this migraine. She was a damned good actress. And for some reason, that saddened him. How much of her life had been spent pretending?
He roamed the room, noticing how she’d put her stamp on it. Two books lay on the nightstand, one women’s fiction, the other a psychology study on children and trauma. The roses he’d given her were on the dresser in an opaque green vase, the reflection in the mirror making them look like two dozen, instead of one.
He picked up a bottle of perfume that rested on a crocheted doily, sniffed, then noted the name on the label, filing it away for future reference. It was the only scent he’d ever known her to wear, one that had invaded his dreams for the past month.
She came out of the bathroom, and he set the perfume bottle back on the dresser. He knew she’d caught him snooping, but he wasn’t going to apologize. He planned to know a lot more about her, very soon. And he’d use whatever means he needed.
She stopped by the side of the bed. “I feel weird, um…with you standing there and me going to bed in the middle of the day.”
“Well, get over it.” He pulled back the blankets and quilt, and waited until she sat on the side of the bed. Her eyeballs were actually shaking, a clear indication that she was beyond the moderate pain stage and holding on by sheer stubbornness and willpower.
How the hell had she hidden this from him? From everyone at church, for that matter?
“What do you usually take?”
“Midrin. Then Fiorinal or Anaprox. I’m allergic to codeine. When I can’t get the pain to respond to the regular meds, I invariably end up getting a shot of Demerol—as long as my dad’s available to keep the kids.”
Not husband, he noted. Her father. Interesting.
“Well, I’m here to watch them. If they still want to go to the Malones, I’ll see that they get there. Then I’ll go over to the clinic and get the pain medication.” He stroked her temple, brushed her hair back. “Will you be okay?”
“Of course. I’m always okay.”
He doubted that. “Lie back and close your eyes, Hollywood. I’ll try to hurry.”
On his return to the girls, he stopped in the kitchen and called Wyatt’s cell phone. The Malones had stayed longer after church, and as it turned out, they were just heading home.
“I’m coming up on your place now,” Wyatt said. “Why don’t I stop by and pick up the kids, save you the trip?”
“Thanks, buddy. I appreciate it. Though I need to see if they still want to go, since their mom won’t be coming.”
“No problem. Won’t lose anything by stopping in to check.”
Chance disconnected and went to the den where the kids had managed to find an old black-and-white slapstick comedy on television.
Jessica looked up. “Is Mommy okay?”
“She will be as soon as we get some medicine for her.”
Jess nodded. “She likes to have the room dark. The light hurts her eyes. Sometimes Grandpa comes cuz Mommy sleeps a long time.”
“That’s the best thing for her.” He heard a knock on the front door and knew that Wyatt and Hannah would let themselves in. Good thing Kelly wasn’t in the room to see that he’d left the door unlocked.
“And since your grandpa isn’t here, I need to stay and watch over her. Do you still want to go home with Ian?”
“Yes,” Jessica said, popping up off the couch when she saw that Nikki had come in with Ian and his parents. She grabbed her sunflowers and scooted right around him. “See my flowers? Chance got them for me. And Kimmy got daisies and my mom got roses.”
While the other kids hovered and exclaimed over the flowers, Chance bent down to Kimmy, stroked a palm over her chubby cheek and gave a playful tug to one of the pigtails that sprouted out of the side of her head like floppy puppy dog ears. Her eyes were solemn as she gazed back at him.
Man alive, this little girl tugged at his heart. He remembered how she’d gotten homesick the last time she’d slept over with Nikki. But she was more used to them now.
“What do you say, princess? Do you want to go?”
She nodded.
“It’s okay if you want to stay with me.”
She hesitated, glanced at the bouquet of daisies she’d wanted to take to church with her that morning, then shook her head.
“Okay.” He slid his wallet out of his pocket and took out a card. “I’m going to write my telephone number right here. See? If you feel sad you can call.” Though he didn’t think she knew how to use the telephone. “Well, if you don’t want to mess with the phone yourself, Hannah or Wyatt will call me. You just show ’em this card with the number on it and they’ll know what to do, and I’ll be right there to get you.”
She slipped between his knees and wrapped her arms around his neck. For a tiny four-year-old, she had a lot of strength in that squeeze.
And with her arms around him and her face buried in his neck, she climbed the rest of the way into his heart.
My God. He was headed on a course where there was a real possibility his heart was going to get broken three times over.
She kissed his cheek, then snatched up her flowers from the table and ran off to join the other kids.
Chance stood and cle
ared the emotion from his throat. “Guess I lost out to the goat and puppies.”
“Stiff competition,” Wyatt commented.
“Yeah.” He shook hands with Wyatt and kissed Hannah. “If Jessica gets anxious, show her how to raise us on the radio. Sometimes the girls just need to hear their mother’s voice.”
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Hannah said. “Don’t worry. I’m happy to keep them for as long as you need. I’m sure they’ll be fine.”
Yes, but would he be fine?
Chapter Ten
When Chance got back from the clinic with the pain medication, Kelly was rolled in a ball on top of the blankets. She hadn’t even had enough energy to crawl beneath the sheets and had slumped right where he’d left her.
She flexed her fingers on her skull in a futile attempt at massage. If she’d been a horse, someone would surely have had enough compassion to shoot her and put her out of her misery. But she wasn’t a horse, a fact she greatly lamented at the moment.
“Kel,” Chance said softly to let her know he was there.
“I’m awake,” she whispered, and rolled to her back. “The girls?” she asked.
“They’re staying the night at the Malones. I’ll call and check on them later. If they want to come home, I’ll pick them up.”
“Thank you.” She saw him uncap a syringe and nearly whimpered because relief was within sight now.
“You know this is best given in the hip.”
Yes, she did. And she hadn’t considered that. It was ridiculous to be apprehensive—if that was what she was feeling. She was having trouble defining the turmoil inside her. Under any other circumstances, with any other doctor, she wouldn’t think twice about letting him give her a shot in her rear end.
Damn it. She hated like mad for anyone to see her weak.
Pain overruled embarrassment, though. She rolled to her side and lowered the waistband of her sweatpants far enough for him to give the injection.
“It’ll burn,” he said.
“I know.” She appreciated the warning, though. This wasn’t one of those shots that was a quick pop and over before you’d ever realized you’d been pricked. This one went in slowly. The burn gave her something else to focus on besides the pain in her head.
“All done.”
“Thanks.” She expected him to leave the room and was surprised when she felt the mattress dip, felt his arms slip beneath her and scoop her up.
“What…?”
“Easy, Hollywood.” He gathered her close, stroked her hair, massaged her head.
She moaned. The massage felt good—or maybe it was simply human touch—but the pain still held her head like a vice.
“Hang in there a little longer. The medicine will kick in soon.” He pressed his lips to her forehead, gently massaged her temples, her scalp, stroked his fingers over her closed eyelids and cheeks. Over and over again. He stroked and petted as though determined to telegraph with his touch that it was okay to give a little, to let him carry the ball for a while.
“Relax, sweetheart. Let me take care of you.”
She curled into him. “It hurts. I hate to be such a baby.”
“Shh. You can be anything you want to be with me.” He shifted against the headboard, held her curled against him, her knees to her chest, her head on his shoulder.
The last person to take care of her was her mother, and that was ages ago. Steve had never even offered, which had continually surprised her, given that he was a doctor. She remembered him poking his head around the corner of their bedroom. “Headache, huh? Sorry about that, babe. I’ll be out late. Poker with the guys.” He never volunteered to even get her an aspirin or pull the shade.
And he certainly hadn’t climbed in bed and held her as though she were a fragile figurine. As Chance was doing.
The care alone went a long way toward easing her, and Kelly could feel the drug pulling her into the healing sleep she desperately needed.
Chance kept up the rhythm of his fingers. Her breathing was evening out and he could feel her tense muscles relaxing. She was tough, mustered every last shred of control she had, fought any weakness as though it was an epidemic.
How long had she needed to be so strong? A young girl leading with her chin through medical school, a woman suffering through the dissolution of her family, the loss of a husband and her best friend, a mother moving to an unfamiliar place, to an unfamiliar way of life in a desperate effort to help her child.
Always alone. On her own.
He leaned his head back against the headboard, wondered if he had what it took to change that. He hadn’t thought about a family of his own since that one disastrous relationship in medical school.
Now that was all he could think about.
KELLY OPENED HER EYES and glanced at the clock. Seven o’clock. She had no idea if that was morning or night.
Trying to move as little as possible, she assessed her condition and was so glad the horrible pain was gone she nearly wept.
Still a bit groggy and disoriented from the Demerol, she slipped out of bed and peeked through the blinds. The moon glowed like a spotlight against the snow-covered ground. Christmas lights strung along the eaves of the stable splashed prisms of color over the blanket of white.
Seven at night. She’d been asleep almost eight hours. How long had Chance stayed with her? Held her? Stroked her?
A funny tickle washed through her belly. He was the type of man most women only dreamed about. Strong, masculine and infinitely tender.
A man who would cherish the woman who became his.
He’d make someone a wonderful husband, and she felt a swift sting around her heart that it wouldn’t be her.
Her life wasn’t her own right now. It belonged to her children.
Even if that wasn’t a problem, their worlds still weren’t compatible. Everything she’d worked for was back in California waiting for her. She’d never planned to stay in Shotgun Ridge. She’d given herself until the end of December, a date that wasn’t far off.
She’d made it clear from the start that her stay was only temporary.
After a long hot shower, she followed the scent of food to the kitchen, her stomach growling. Chance looked up when she paused at the kitchen doorway.
“Hey,” he said softly. “How’re you doing?”
“Much better, thanks. Once I’m able to get past the pain and sleep, the other medications go to work.” She still wasn’t sure how she felt about the intimacy of him taking care of her.
“Good. You know, it’s usually customary to send flowers after someone’s under the weather. If I’d known they were going to make you sick, I’d have sent them back.”
She managed a smile. “Touch my flowers and I’ll break your fingers.”
He grinned. “At least I know you’re highly qualified to fix them. Sit. Let me feed you.”
“You’re a bossy man, Chance Hammond.” But she sat, anyway.
“Telling people what’s wrong with them and how to fix it has gone to my head. I think I’m ruined for life.”
Bossy and charming.
“Careful, this is hot,” he said as he ladled beef stew into a bowl in front of her. “You won’t find better in the county.”
“Modest, are we?”
“Hey, I’ve had plenty of practice. I’ve been a bachelor for a lot of years.”
“And why hasn’t some smart woman snapped you up?”
“Until recently I wasn’t interested.” He set crusty French bread on the table and sat down. “When I was young and idealistic, I fell in love with a city girl. I thought she shared my feelings, my vision for the future. Turned out she wasn’t willing to settle in Montana. Especially in a small town.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. We both would have been miserable. It’s a good thing we didn’t rush and make a mistake.”
She tasted the stew. It was fantastic. “It’s nice that you’re living your dream.”
“That I am. What abou
t you? You know why I do what I do. What made you choose child orthopedics?”
“I scrubbed in on a surgery that gave a little girl with cerebral palsy the ability to walk. It was incredible. She was incredible. Perhaps I gravitated toward children because I hadn’t been much of a child myself. I don’t know. Maybe deep down inside I thought I’d missed out on something.”
“I can tell you right now you probably did.”
She stopped with the spoon halfway to her mouth.
He grinned. “But that doesn’t mean it has to stay that way. You’re never too old to be a kid. Give us a little time. We’ll catch you up.”
His suggestion was so absurd she laughed.
He pushed his bowl away and leaned back in the chair. “It’s good to see you laugh. That headache you had tore me up.”
She gaped at him.
“I’ve never had a migraine, but watching you was vivid enough to have me imagining what it must be like. I hated to see you go through that.”
This was getting dangerous. She decided to ignore the intimacy of his softened tone. “I wasn’t all that happy myself.”
“You want some more stew?”
“No, I’m fine. It was wonderful.”
“Why don’t we move to the den?”
“Shouldn’t we do these dishes?”
“Later.” He came around the table and held her chair, helped her as though expecting her to still be unsteady on her feet.
“I can manage, Chance.”
He shrugged. “I’m a doctor. What can I say?”
Yes, and a doctor saw pain on a daily basis. So why had hers unnerved him? And why had his admission made her insides clench in both excitement and dread?
In the den he steered her to the sofa, eased her down as though she’d just been through major surgery and placed an afghan over her lap.
She wasn’t used to this kind of treatment, but darn it all, she liked it.
When the fire was roaring behind the mesh screen, Chance sat down beside her, brushed aside her hair and looked into her eyes.
She smiled gently. “I really am fine.”
“Have you been able to pinpoint what triggers the migraines?”
“No. It could be hormonal or stress or when my sleep cycle’s messed up.”