by Dianne Drake
Why was it that lately her life had been reduced to choosing between the lesser of two things she didn’t want? For her, one choice held the promise of mortal terror, while the other choice promised an agony like nothing she’d felt throughout her entire ordeal. Either way, she couldn’t win. But neither could James, and that’s what bothered her most.
CHAPTER EIGHT
FALLON chose dinner at the restaurant. James figured that for her the choice was the lesser all of her perceived evils. And now, thirty minutes later, they were seated at a comfortable table for two in front of the massive stone fireplace in what was unquestionably White Elk’s most romantic restaurant. The music playing in the background was a soft, sexy jazz, the chef’s special du soir was a Chateaubriand for two, and the compliments of the chef was a bottle of champagne. If there could have been anything else spelling out a cozy, romantic evening, he wasn’t sure what it was. Until…a bouquet of roses arrived at the table. From Angela, not from him. But the look on Fallon’s face when they arrived was so close to panic that he almost wished he hadn’t suggested this. Almost. Because, honestly, it was nice being out with her this way. And he hoped that somewhere during the evening she would loosen up and enjoy herself. Fallon was so tight, so full of stress and, if anything, as the days rolled by, it seemed to be getting worse.
“Are you nervous with me right now?” James asked. He knew she was. Anyone looking at her could see it—the way she clasped her hands so tightly, the way she frowned. But she’d have been nervous spending the evening alone with him in the cabin, too. Or nervous if they’d gone to have pizza. Or if she’d spent her evening locked in her office and he’d spent his shut behind the door in the den. Truth was, any close proximity to him, whether it was across the table, the next room, or the next block over, and she would be nervous. He did that to her now. He hated it that he did that. Wanted to change it. But so far he was failing miserably.
“No. Well…maybe, a little.”
Her head was tilted down and he desperately wanted her to hold her head high, to look at him eye to eye the way she used to. But she was afraid to, and he’d seen that fear in her. That’s what he didn’t understand, couldn’t figure out. They had differences, that much was painfully obvious. But this fear he kept sensing? What did she think she had to fear from him? It put him on edge. Made him nervous because he had to choose careful words, had to look at her carefully, had to adopt careful gestures. And he was also nervous for fear he’d slip. It was an onerous task and he hated always having to be on his guard with her. Hurting Fallon in any way, though…he wouldn’t do it. Which meant that if he wanted her company, he’d have to continue being careful. “It’s just dinner, Fallon. Two people eating together. No pressure from me, I promise.”
“It’s a candlelit dinner, James. With champagne. And have you listened to the music in the background? If that’s not meant to seduce some man’s lady love into bed this evening, I don’t know what is.”
“I’m not trying to seduce you, if that what you think I’m doing.”
“Aren’t you?” she asked pointedly.
“If you could see the way you look right now, with your arms folded across your chest, your shoulders so rigid, sitting on the edge of the chair, looking like you’re ready to run at the first little provocation…believe me, even the most insensitive of men would pick up those clues. And I have picked them up, so you don’t have to worry. I’m only here to eat.”
“If I make your evening so miserable, why do you want to spend it with me?”
“Because I’m hoping that at some point during the evening you’ll relax. We used to have a good time together, even when the intention was not to run home and make love. And I want that again for us. Even if we can’t be one of the romantic couples, I’d like to be one of the friendly couples. Or at least make people believe you can tolerate my company for a few hours.”
“You know I can tolerate your company, James,” she whispered.
“Sometimes I don’t know that any more,” he said, wishing they could move on past this. That wasn’t going to happen, though. Not tonight. No time in the foreseeable future either. “I mean, I know what we had at first happened like a tornado—fast, with so much passion. In retrospect, maybe it was too intense for something so new. I honestly don’t know, because I was just so into falling in love with you that I didn’t see anything else. But that’s just the way we came together, Fallon. Right or wrong, that’s what we did to each other. Now I wish—”
“That we hadn’t?” she interrupted.
“No, I’ll never wish that. But I do wish I’d found a better way to handle things after you were injured. Because maybe if I had, we might not be at this point now.” He shook his head. “And I can’t figure out why you’re always resisting me, Fallon. If I thought that by backing off a few weeks, or even a few months, things would be better at the end of it, I would. But I know that if I do back off, you’ll slip away altogether.”
“That’s what I want to do, James. What I’ve been telling you all along.”
“Is it really, Fallon? Because one minute you’re telling me to leave you alone, and the next you’re falling into my arms. Oh, I know you’re fighting it when you do. I can see it, feel it. But you do fall. Which makes me wonder why you push yourself away then fall right back.”
“We have this attraction level,” she started to explain, then stopped. “I won’t deny that because we both know it’s there. But why isn’t it enough that when I tell you that what’s in the past is in the past, you won’t believe me? That when I say I don’t want to get involved with you again, you keep pushing me?”
“Because you haven’t put the past in the past, Fallon. I don’t even know why I believe that, but I do. Something there happened. Maybe it was when I had to choose Tyler over you, maybe it wasn’t. But there’s something in the past, and I just don’t understand what it is, because I truly believe that you would never hold my decision to be with Tyler against me. That’s not the kind of person you are.”
“I don’t hold it against you, never have. But there’s nothing to understand,” she said. “Nothing at all.”
“Fallon, I just want…” He stopped. This was pointless. She looked miserable, he felt totally drained. And all he’d wanted was a nice evening out. Nice dinner, nice conversation. And look what he’d turned it into. “Do you remember that night we went to Ming’s? You ordered the dumplings, I ordered the scallops, and we both got…”
“Chicken nuggets,” she said, the smile creeping back to her face. “Mine in a clear broth, yours in a lemon sauce. And Ming kept insisting we had what we’d ordered. And the rice was…”
“Crunchy.”
“Ming said it was supposed to be crunchy.”
“I was on call. It was the only place close to the hospital. I mean, this was our first date. I’d have loved taking you out to a nice restaurant, but…”
“But duty called, and you left me sitting there alone, with Ming watching over me like a hawk, getting insulted when I slowed down my eating. And the food was horrible. It tasted like dirty dishwater, not that I’ve ever tasted dirty dishwater. But if I had, I think that’s what Ming’s food tasted like.”
James laughed. “I did come back, though.”
“An hour later. I sat there one whole hour, and Ming got so worried that I was alone he sent his teenage nephew over to keep me company…a kid who was plugged into his music, who spent most of that hour drumming rhythms on the table and droning the words to whatever he was listening to. It wasn’t the best first date I’ve ever had.”
“But the most original. And I did make it up to you the next night, when I wasn’t on call.” He’d cooked, they’d stayed in, listened to good music, danced, watched the dawn come up together, surprised that the night had escaped them so quickly. A night like he’d hoped for tonight. But he’d been wrong, and maybe it was time to quit pushing her. Maybe it was time to simply stand back and see what happened. For the life of him, though
, he wasn’t sure he could. Wasn’t sure he knew how.
“That was a nice night,” she agreed.
The night he’d known he loved her. Oh, he’d thought that at first sight, had been pretty sure of it after she’d been so good about the awful debacle at Ming’s. But on their second night he’d known for sure, and hadn’t even been surprised how hard he’d fallen, and how fast. Because it was Fallon and she was…everything.
Later, when he’d dropped her off at the bus station to send her back to White Elk, it had felt like someone was kicking him in the gut. Seeing her step up on the bus, her hesitant little stop on the top step, turning around and smiling at him…her face in the window as the bus had pulled away… Damn, he loved her. Loved her then, loved her more now, even though she was fighting him. Because she still was everything. And he missed her so badly, even when she was sitting right across the table from him, he ached. There was such a distance now. “Would you dance with me, Fallon?” he asked impulsively. “Nothing intended but a dance.” Truth was, he wanted her in his arms, needed her there, needed to close that distance. Any way would do.
He didn’t expect her to say yes, though. For a moment he wished he hadn’t asked inasmuch as he didn’t know if he could bear the rejection. Yet when he looked at her for an answer, she smiled, nodded.
“Just one,” she said. “Only a dance. Nothing else.”
He wasn’t sure why, but he knew the heavens were smiling on him as he led her to the dance floor and a fairly brisk tune turned into a mellow, slow one. She didn’t meld easily into his arms, and at first he could feel every tense muscle in her body fighting against him. Her dance flow was stiff, her breathing shallow in his ear. But she felt good in his arms. And that’s all he concentrated on for the next three minutes as the song played on, and the two of them, in an embrace, swayed to its rhythm.
About halfway through, Fallon began to relax into him. Her sway to the music mellowed. Her head dropped to his shoulder, a sigh escaped her lips, and for a moment they were the couple they’d been at the beginning. No cares, no worries. Simply two people falling in love and enjoying the moment.
It was a song and a mood that could have gone on much longer. For ever. But all too soon it was over, and he was leading her off the dance floor, grateful for one dance and quite aware he should not push his luck and ask for another.
“That was nice,” she said, but the stiffness returned to her voice the instant she sat back down. “I enjoyed it, thank you.”
It was a formal thank-you, not an easy one. And that’s when he knew that it was time to step away. For good? He didn’t know. Didn’t want it to be. But he didn’t want to burn all his bridges now, and he was afraid he was getting close to that. So, yes, it was time to move on, and hope that space would be the healer, or at least the eye-opener. Pray that when she opened her eyes she’d see him standing there, waiting for her, wanting her. Because the alternative scared him…opening her eyes and being glad he was gone. “Look, Fallon, I have some news. I thought about waiting until later, but…” He shrugged, a gesture reminiscent of Tyler’s. “I may have found a place for Tyler and me to live. It was offered, I have the keys so I can look at it whenever I want.”
“Really?” She nearly choked with surprise.
“Even if I take the place, Tyler needs some balance for the holidays, so I wouldn’t do anything until after New Year. And if we leave, you’ll get your life back. I know we’ve been disruptive, and you’ve hated it. So this way—”
“I haven’t hated it,” she interrupted. “And it’s only been a few days. I thought…” She paused, seemed to rethink what she was about to say then forced a smile. “I hope Tyler will find some children to play with. He needs them.”
For an instant she’d seemed like she wanted to stop them leaving. At least, that’s what he’d been hoping for. But Fallon, true to who she was now, simply built the wall a little higher around herself, and stayed there through the dinner’s main course and halfway through the dessert. Stiff conversation, and very little of it, took up the space between them. Until a commotion at one of the tables near the window caught their attention.
Fallon whirled around to look, knew immediately what it was. So did James, who launched himself from his chair without a thought. Like well-trained sprinters, they were across the room in a second, with James going into action first and Fallon doing what she always did, what she was born to do—taking control of the situation. “Please, everybody, move back. We need some room here.”
She looked down at the man who was sprawled on the floor, and gasped. Walt Graham. Former obstetrician at the hospital, someone she knew well. “Aspirating?” she asked James.
He shook his head gravely. “Don’t think so.”
Bracing herself for the worst, Fallon flagged over a man she recognized. “We’re in a white pick-up truck, parked in the last row.” She bent, grabbed the keys from James’s pants pockets then tossed them to the man. “There’s a medical bag behind the seat. We need it urgently.”
The man didn’t question her. Didn’t even blink. He simply turned and ran from the restaurant as Fallon pushed the line of observers even farther back from Walt. For his sake, she didn’t want them witnessing this. He deserved his privacy, and dignity. And there was nothing dignified about collapsing in public this way.
“What do you need?” Angela Blanchard called, running up to her.
“More privacy?”
“I can do that. Anything else?” Angela, sister of Dinah Ramsey, looked down at Walt and gasped. In the early days of her pregnancy he’d been her doctor. “Did he choke on the food?” she asked.
Fallon leaned over, whispered, “I don’t think so. James is trying to figure it out, and so far all I’ve done is manage to get the crowd pushed back. Call Eric, tell him we need transport up here. Helicopter, if he or Neil can manage it. Ambulance, if not. Tell him it’s Walt.”
“It’s that serious?” Angela asked, on the verge of tears.
“He’s not conscious, but James hasn’t started CPR, so that’s a good thing.”
Angela nodded, turned and ran to her staff. Within seconds the guests of the restaurant were being moved even further back, while Angela was making arrangements to have Walt taken to the hospital.
Fallon dropped to her knees alongside James. “Walt,” she whispered. “It’s Fallon. Don’t worry, I’m here to take care of you.” Her fingers went automatically to his pulse. Weak, but there.
“What?” she asked James, who was trying to assess Walt’s pupils without the proper equipment.
“Diabetic coma, I’m guessing. I can smell it on his breath, that fruitiness.”
“I’ve sent someone for your medical bag. It’ll be here in a minute. And I’ve arranged to have him transported to the hospital.”
“Already?”
She shrugged. “It’s what I do.”
“So, you know this guy? Do you know anything about his medical history?”
“He’s a part-time doctor at the hospital. Retired, mostly. But he’ll come back when we need him, if we can find him. And as far as I know, he’s very healthy. At least, that’s what I’m assuming as he’s spent the better part of the last half-year hiking around in the mountains.”
“This is Walter Graham?” James asked, unbuttoning Walt’s shirt. “I’ve heard about him.”
“He’s Santa Claus.”
“What?”
“On the Christmas train. He’s Santa Claus. That’s probably why he’s back in town. The train starts running in few days, and it has to have Santa Claus on it. Walt’s been Santa for twenty-five years now.”
“Your bag,” a winded man said, running up behind them. He looked down at Walt. “He delivered all three of my children. Is he going to be OK?”
“We’re trying,” Fallon said, more for Walt than the man. “We’re really trying.” But trying wasn’t good enough, and if this did turn out to be a diabetic problem he needed to be in an intensive care unit, with drugs they
wouldn’t have out in the field. Question was, would they be quick enough to save his life?
While James listened to Walt’s chest, Fallon took a blood-pressure reading. Choked in surprise. Took it again. “Walt,” she gasped, even though the man clearly could not hear her. “Did you know you’re hypertensive?”
“What is it?” James asked.
“Two-twenty over one-sixty.”
James let out a small whistle. “I don’t suppose you’d know if he was being treated for it?”
“Knowing Walt, he wasn’t. He’s as stubborn as they come. Good at demanding things from his patients and nagging at them until they do it, but apparently not so good when it comes to taking care of himself.”
“Well, it goes with his condition. Not unusual in diabetes, especially if he’s not been treated.”
“Look, James, you stay here. I’m going out to the parking lot and see if I can see anybody coming…an ambulance, a helicopter.” It was much too soon, she knew, but she couldn’t just kneel here doing nothing. “I’ll be right back.” She stood, and practically ran over a wall of a man standing behind her. Handsome man, sun-bronzed complexion, dark brown hair. A real breath-taker for some lucky woman. “Sorry,” she said, stepping around him.
“I’m a doctor,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “If you need some help here.”
She pointed to James. “Dr. Galbraith there might need you. Check with him, and I’ll be right back.” She wondered who the doctor was. Didn’t think he was on staff at the hospital. Pretty sure he didn’t live in White Elk. Probably one of the many here on holiday, and she was glad he was there to assist James, if necessary. Because she needed to be in the parking lot, ready to direct the rescue crew the minute they arrived. Ready to expedite that end of the emergency.
On her way out the door, her phone rang. Dinah Ramsey, according to caller ID. “Eric said his ETA is less than five minutes,” she said breathlessly. “Neil’s gone to Emergency to get things set up. Is it true, that it might be a diabetic coma?”