Balancing Act

by Patricia Davids

  “Thanks, cowboy.” She stared into the dark liquid of her own cup. “Sam, I want to apologize for taking my foul temper out on you last night. You’ve been more than kind to me, and I’m sorry I repaid you by acting like a spoiled child.”

  “Apology accepted. And as much as I like that outfit, I think you should change into something warmer.”

  She frowned at him. “Why?”

  “The snow’s melting fast. I think I can get you into Council Grove and have a doctor look at that foot.”

  Cheryl bit her lip in indecision. She needed to see a doctor—she suspected there was more wrong with her foot than a sprain—but could she risk running into someone in Council Grove who might recognize her?

  “Can’t you get me to Manhattan or Kansas City?” she asked hopefully. “I could see a doctor there.”

  He shook his head. “Sorry. They had more snow north of here. The roads aren’t open in that direction yet.”

  “I hate to put you to more trouble, Sam. I’ll be fine for another day.”

  “No, you won’t. You need to get that foot looked at. I’m taking you and that’s final.”

  She couldn’t think of a good reason to argue with him.

  Thirty minutes later, they were bumping along the lane and out onto the highway. The ride was rough, but Sam handled the truck with a skill she had to admire. They arrived in Council Grove a little battered but none the worse for the trip.

  She reluctantly agreed to let Sam cover the cost of the E.R. visit until she found her wallet and could send the hospital a copy of her insurance card. It was not an arrangement she liked, but she couldn’t see any alternative.

  Through her wide, round sunglasses, she studied the occupants of the small hospital’s waiting room as she waited for her turn to see the doctor, noting thankfully that none of the faces looked familiar. Cowboys, farmers and housewives discussed cattle, crop losses and sick kids. The weather dominated the conversations going on around her. Nothing had changed much in the years she’d been gone.

  She studied the worn linoleum on the floor and tried to decide what she would do if her foot were broken. She reviewed the list of friends she could stay with until her apartment was available again, but it was a pretty short list. Even getting back to New York would be difficult without money or credit cards. Her sister would be home in a few weeks. Cheryl didn’t want to impose on the newlyweds, but her savings wouldn’t pay the bills and the cost of a motel for a month or more. All in all, things looked pretty bleak.

  “Why, Sam! What are you doing here? You’re not sick, I hope? Is something wrong with the girls?”

  Cheryl looked up to see a tall redhead eyeing Sam as if he were a free lunch and she hadn’t had a bite all week. The woman sauntered across the room and stopped in front of him, but her gaze pinned Cheryl like a hawk.

  Cheryl knew the look—she’d been subjected to it more than once. She was being assessed as a potential rival. The redhead definitely had her sights set on Sam.

  “The girls are fine,” Sam said. “I’m here with a friend. You’re looking well, Merci. How’s the new job going?”

  “Good, thanks. We’re busier today than usual.” The woman turned her gaze on Cheryl. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Merci Slader. I’m a unit clerk here at the hospital.”

  So this was Merci, Sam’s old flame. “Cheryl Steele,” she offered her hand.

  Merci took it in a limp grip. Her smile was definitely frosty. “I don’t recall Sam mentioning you before.”

  “We’ve only just met. I’m sure he’ll have a lot to say about me later. Won’t you, cowboy?” Cheryl patted his knee.

  “What happened to your leg, dear? Did you trip and fall?” Merci’s voice was more than a little catty.

  Cheryl laughed, “No, I had a car accident in the storm. Fortunately, Sam came along in time to rescue me, and we got—stuck together!”

  “Miss Steele, the doctor can see you now,” a plump gray-haired nurse called from the doorway.

  Cheryl rose gracefully and leaned on her crutches. “It was so nice talking to you. Do keep Sam company while the doctor looks at my foot, won’t you? I know how he likes to visit with old friends.” She cast Sam an innocent smile and swung across the room.

  Half an hour later, Cheryl had lost her cheeky attitude. She sat on the exam table while Dr. Carlton pointed out the two fractured bones that put an end to her income and plans for the entire spring.

  “I’ve spoken to your physician in New York. He has made a few recommendations, but I’m not sure I can carry them out.” The middle-aged doctor was a comical figure, short, bald and rotund, but he spoke with professional politeness.

  Cheryl chewed her lip a moment. “What did Dr. Fuller have to say?”

  “He recommended I put you in an extra-heavy cast, then add a ball and chain to see if that’d slow you down.” He peered at her from over the edge of his reading glasses. “Seems he’s had a mite of trouble keeping you off an injury in the past.”

  Cheryl had the grace to look shamefaced.

  “I see evidence of an old fracture here, but it’s healed well.” He pointed it out on the black-and-white X-ray film as he held it up to the light.

  “Isn’t there something else we can do besides cast it, Dr. Carlton? I’ve got to be able to work again soon.”

  He lowered the film and faced her. “I think you know the answer to that. Do you want to continue to dance?”

  “More than I want to breathe.”

  “I believe that. Now, if you want to dance the way Dr. Fuller tells me you can, you will let me set these bones, cast your foot and you’ll keep off it for six to eight weeks.”

  “But—”

  “No, don’t interrupt me, young lady. You have had a crushing injury. Your tendons and muscles, as well as your bones, need time to heal. Your other choice is surgery to pin the bones. I’d send you back to Dr. Fuller for that, but you would still be off that foot for at least six weeks.”

  “Those are my choices?”

  “If you want this foot to heal well enough to continue your career, yes.”

  She nodded in resignation.

  “Good. By the way, Dr. Fuller is having his office fax over your insurance information. At least that will be one less worry for you.” He stood and opened the door of the small room, then paused. “Have we met before? You look familiar somehow.”

  She glanced up in surprise. Why would he think that? She was sure she’d never met him. Her infrequent visits to the doctor as a child had been to an elderly physician in the neighboring town of Herington more than thirty miles away.

  “No, I don’t believe we have,” she said. “Unless you’ve been to New York lately.”

  He shook his head. “It’ll come to me. I never forget a face. I’ll have the nurse give you a sedative before I set that foot. I’m afraid this won’t be fun.”

  Dr. Carlton was a master at understatements. It was not fun.

  An hour later, Sam half carried her to his truck and settled her with care on the seat. “Are you all right?”

  “Everything’s spinning like a top. My foot’s throbbing like a wild thing. This cast weighs a ton, and whatever medicine they gave me is making me sick. Other than that, cowboy, I’m peachy.”

  She sat up straight, determined to prove she was all right. She noticed Merci Slader watching them from the front of the hospital. The woman didn’t look happy. Merci shouldn’t worry. Cheryl had no designs on Sam.

  Someone else was watching them. Cheryl could just make out a face in the frost-covered window beside the door. There was something familiar about it. A chill ran up her spine.

  “Are you ready to go?”

  Sam was beside her waiting to close the truck door. She glanced at him, then back to the hospital. The face in the window was gone.

  Had she imagined it? The painkillers the doctor had given her were certainly making her feel weird. She closed her eyes, leaned her head back. “I’m ready. I think.”

&
nbsp; Sam kept a close eye on her as they bounced along the highway through deep tire ruts in the snow. He could see she was in pain, but she wasn’t one to complain.

  “Sam, stop the truck,” she insisted suddenly.

  “What for?”

  “Stop now!”

  He stepped on the brake and the pickup slid to an abrupt halt. She opened the door, stepped out and was thoroughly sick at the side of the road.

  Sam hurried around the truck, dropped to one knee at her side, and held her as she retched. Carefully, he gathered her hair back and held it away from her face. It felt like soft strands of the finest silk as it curled around his hand.

  What was there about this woman that got under his skin so easily? She could talk and act like the most independent woman in the world, but he couldn’t shake the feeling she needed someone to take care of her. Someone like him.

  He marveled at his own foolishness. He was in deep trouble if holding a woman while she was being sick struck him as romantic. The realization that she would be gone from his life in a day or two brought a sharp twist of regret.

  He continued to hold her, talking soothing nonsense until her spasms passed. After a few minutes he was able to get her back in the truck, but she was shaking like a leaf, and her face was pasty pale.

  “I’m sorry,” she moaned.

  Sam wet his bandanna in the melting snow and used it to wipe her face. Her eyes flew open at the touch of the cold cloth. She gave him a limp little half smile, but it didn’t ease his mind.

  “Do I need to take you back to the hospital?” he asked.

  “No, I’ll live. That cold cloth feels wonderful. I’ve always wondered why cowboys wore bandannas, now I know. They’re great for first aid.”

  Her voice sounded so forlorn Sam couldn’t help himself. He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “You women gave up wearing petticoats, so someone had to carry the bandages. Are you ready to go?”

  She nodded, leaned her head back and closed her eyes. She was asleep before Sam got around to the driver’s seat. He shifted her until she was lying along the seat with her head on his leg. He sat for a moment and let his fingers linger on her cheek. Yes, he would be sorry to see her go. He put the truck in gear and drove slowly home.

  At the ranch, she stirred as he lifted her out of the pickup, but she didn’t wake. He carried her into the house and laid her gently on his bed, then he stood back and watched her as she slept. She was a tough little character. He reached down to smooth a lock of hair from her face, and she smiled in her sleep at his touch.

  He liked her, Sam realized. He liked this tough, sassy, graceful-as-a-willow young woman. She stirred him in so many ways. She was beautiful, true, but her quick mind drew him more than her pretty face. She made him laugh, but at the same time she made him feel strong and protective. He tried to be objective about his feelings toward her, but she gave a soft snore, and it chased his objectivity away. He smiled but it was touched with sadness. She wasn’t for him.

  She wouldn’t stay, he knew that even as he found himself wishing for a way to keep her here longer. He wanted time to sort out his feelings. To see if this was an infatuation or something deeper. He’d tried to harden his heart against her, but in spite of his best efforts, she’d hobbled right into the one spot that had been lonely and empty too long.

  Why was she here? To test him, or to heal him? He might never learn the answer. He simply had to have faith that there was a reason. He closed the bedroom door and headed for his office.

  Bonkers lay stretched out along the back of the sofa in his favorite spot, but suddenly, he jumped up and took off for the front door. An explosion of sound came from the entryway. Squeals, giggles and the sound of running feet.

  A pair of identical five-year-old girls flew into the room and wrapped themselves around Sam’s legs.

  “Did you—” one girl began.

  “—miss us?” the other finished.

  Sam shook his head. “Nope.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “You missed us.”

  Sam looked up to see his mother smiling indulgently from the doorway. “Okay, maybe a little.”

  “We had lots of fun at Grandma’s,” Lindy said, clearly excited by her time away from home.

  “Can we go outside and play now?” Kayla asked.

  “Can we get—” Lindy began.

  “—our sled out?” Kayla finished her sister’s sentence as the twins often did, much to the bemusement of those who knew them.

  Sam lifted them up, one in each arm, and looked into the two most important faces in his life. “Kisses first,” he said. Two sturdy sets of arms circled his neck, and smacking kisses covered his cheeks. His heart expanded in his chest until he thought it might burst.

  Eleanor Hardin walked in and began pulling off her gloves. “If I had known they were going to be snowed in with me, I would have been busy when you called and asked me to watch them.”

  He smiled and shook his head. “No, you wouldn’t have. You loved every minute of it. Come in.”

  “I can’t stay. I’ve got to get on the road.”

  “You’re driving to Denver now? Is I-70 open already?”

  “Yes, to both questions.”

  He could see her searching the room with her eyes. “Cheryl is resting right now,” he said. “The doctor set her broken foot this morning, and she’s sleeping off the sedation.”

  Eleanor looked perplexed. “I thought her name was Cheri.”

  “Who’s Cheri?” the twins asked simultaneously.

  “It’s Cheryl,” Sam answered.

  “Her foot really is broken? The poor dear.” A slender woman with a short gray bob, Eleanor was dressed in jeans and a bulky green sweater. She swooped in and took charge as usual.

  She plucked the girls out of his arms and set them down. “Go change into your snowsuits. Daddy will take you outside, but not until you’re dressed, including mittens.”

  “Who’s Cheryl?” the twins insisted, jumping up and down.

  “Girls, listen,” Sam said sternly. “Cheryl is our guest and she’s sleeping in my room, so you’ll have to be quiet.”

  An identical mulish look appeared on their faces so he knelt in front of them. “You can’t wake her up. Understand?”

  “Yes, Daddy,” they replied together.

  “Good. Now, go get dressed for sledding while I walk Grandma out to the car.”

  The twins took off for the stairs. Picking up Bonkers, Kayla said, “You can ride—”

  “—on the sled, too,” Lindy told the cat.

  Eleanor turned back to Sam. “Bonkers doesn’t look thrilled, does he? Son, I’m sorry to leave you in such a fix.”

  He could see she was genuinely torn about leaving. He draped his arm over her shoulder and gave her a squeeze. “Now, Mom, Becky needs you. Tell her the girls and I will keep her in our thoughts. Go. Don’t worry about us. We’ll be okay.”

  She reached up and pulled his head down to give him a quick peck on the cheek. “I know you will—you always are. I wish I could meet your Cheri.”

  “Cheryl, Mom, and she isn’t mine. I told you, she’s a ballet dancer touring the country with her company. She’s been stranded here for a couple of days by the storm, that’s all. If I-70’s open, she’ll be able to get to Kansas City tomorrow and rejoin her friends.”

  “If her foot is broken, she certainly can’t dance.”

  “I know. I’ve been thinking about that. Maybe she could stay and help take care of the girls until you get back? If she can’t work, she might be happy to take the job.”

  “Are you certain you want to ask a stranger to watch the girls, Sam? That isn’t like you. What do you know about her?”

  Not as much as he would like to know, he realized. “It was just an idea.”

  “I’m not sure someone on crutches would be able to keep up with your two little whirlwinds.”

  “The girls can entertain themselves. Even with her leg in a cast, she should be abl
e to manage them with Gramps to help.”

  “I know I’m leaving you in a lurch, but please think this over carefully.”

  “I will. You know me, I never do anything without a lot of thought.”

  “True. Now, walk me out to my car. There are some things I’ll need you to take care of while I’m gone. I have a small list of things for you to do.”

  “Small? Knowing you, it’s as long as my leg.”

  “Nonsense. It’s only as long as your arm.”

  With a laugh, Sam followed his mother out the door.

  At the stairwell, two little girls stuck their heads up and checked to see if the coast was clear, then they crossed to their father’s bedroom still lugging the enormous cat.

  Chapter Six

  Cheryl woke to a nagging ache in her foot and trouble breathing. It felt like a twenty-pound weight pressing down on her chest. She opened her eyes and found herself staring into the cat’s broad face. A yellow twenty-pound, fur-covered weight.

  “Bonkers, get off.” She gave him a not-so-gentle shove.

  She was in Sam’s room again, she realized, yet she couldn’t remember how she’d gotten here. A slight noise caught her attention, and she turned her head.

  Two identical little girls peered at her over the edge of the mattress. Their chins were propped on chubby hands and their elbows rested on the bed. The cat sat between them watching her with an unblinking stare.

  Cheryl closed her eyes. “Let me guess. Tweedledee and Tweedledum?”

  She opened one eye slowly. The pair remained. They watched her with solemn brown eyes, much darker than their father’s, but their short chestnut hair held a multitude of curls like his. It seemed she was going to meet Sam’s children, after all.

  “Hi.” Cheryl spoke slowly—her mouth felt as if it had been stuffed with cotton. “You must be Lindy and Kayla.” They nodded.

  “I’m Cheryl.” Coming fully awake, she sat up and cast a fearful glance toward the door. “Is your grandmother here?”