by Laurel Greer
With nothing else to clean, she headed for the office, numb and in a daze. Who would she be if not a doctor? What the hell would she do with herself?
“Lauren!”
She jumped at the blur of sunshine-yellow movement across the room.
Zach Cardenas sat at his desk, crutches leaning next to him. The color of his moisture-wicking T-shirt was almost as cheery as his expression. Lauren’s pile of order forms fluttered in his hand. “These look good. You’re a natural.”
Not enough that she saw herself working for her brother as a career... Her gut clenched, and she hid her uncertainty behind a forced smile. “Zach. What are you doing here? Andrew told me you weren’t back for weeks.”
“Yeah, that was his opinion. Wanted me to focus entirely on my rehab. But I’m bored as hell at home. No reason I can’t come do paperwork.”
She collapsed into her brother’s chair. Having the extra help for the next week would be nice if it wouldn’t set back Zach’s recovery. And having Zach’s problems fall in her lap as a distraction from calling her dad counted as the best timing of the day. “Did you talk to Andrew about it, or are you using him being on holidays to sneak in unnoticed?”
He cringed, emphasizing the squareness of his handsome jaw. “More column B.”
Lauren tsked. “And your therapist gave you the okay? Andrew said something about you being on skis this winter being more important than you working during the summer.”
“As long as I limit my hours, I’m okay to put some work in.” His face fell. “I can’t stand sitting on my butt with nothing to do. I’ll be able to work a half day and put in enough hours of physio and swimming and stationary biking to be healthy by October. I know it.”
Tavish appeared in the doorway. “Zach. G’morning.”
Zach gave him a cursory nod. His gaze lingered on Tavish’s shirt. Oh, crap. He’d put it on inside out.
“I think if you can take more time off, you should take it,” Lauren said, trying to distract Andrew’s assistant from deciphering what she’d been doing with her ex-husband while technically on the clock. “I have things under control.”
Zach smacked his palm against his desk. Lauren jumped, along with Tavish. “I’ve been living off your dad’s generosity for long enough.”
Tavish started to sift through a tangle of carabiners on a far shelf. “Drew’s going to be pissed if you come back early. I’m not going anywhere. I can keep filling in for you.”
Yet another confirmation that Tavish intended to stick to his promise of staying around for the summer... It soothed like aloe vera on a sunburn. More solid, more real, more a guarantee rather than a desperate wish.
Zach grimaced. “Yeah, tell you what. Don’t tell Dawson I’m back, and I’ll take all the flack when he inevitably loses it. So fill me in. What’ve you guys been up to for the last week?”
Lauren and Tavish spent a full half hour answering Zach’s multitude of questions concerning work.
“Have you guys taken any time to breathe since the wedding?” Zach asked.
“No,” she said in sync with Tavish’s, “Nope.”
Zach glanced between them. “You should take the rest of today, then. I’ll hold down the office, and I’ll get Garnet to stand in as field supervisor.”
“But we already have the weekend off,” Lauren protested. “I like being busy.”
It gave her an excuse not to quit her job or to call her dad right away.
“Don’t listen to her,” Tavish said. “We’d love the extra time. We could get out of town for a couple of nights. Go for a canoe in Yellowstone, maybe.”
“Yellowstone,” she croaked, a fist slowly clamping around her windpipe.
Tavish glanced at her, gaze evaluating. “Never mind. We’ll stay local.”
Zach looked at them funny. “What’s the excitement in that?”
“Well, you might need us,” she fudged.
Reaching over, Tavish covered her clasped hands. “And Moosehorn’s good enough.”
She let out a shaky breath. Yellowstone wasn’t that far. But still. She hadn’t been farther than Bozeman since she returned from Vegas. The idea of crossing state lines, the possibility that something could happen to her family while she was gone, made it feel like the marrow was shrinking in her bones.
“No one will need us if we take off for an overnight,” Tavish promised. “But we can hold off on that.”
“Or go. We’ll be fine without you,” Zach agreed, no doubt assuming Tavish meant something at work.
He didn’t. She got the message, loud as a cracking avalanche. But for some reason he was giving her a pass, even though he thought she was irrational for being afraid to leave her family. Respecting the need for baby steps, maybe?
Baby. Right. She closed her eyes. She didn’t have time to dawdle. She needed to address the paranoia she’d developed when her mom died. She’d challenged it once. Had completed her residency in Billings, then headed for Las Vegas. And her grandparents had been in their car accident. Not being able to say goodbye to Grammy, or to stand at her dad’s side when he’d decided to have the ventilator unplugged had been unbearable. She didn’t think she was responsible for any of her family members’ deaths. But she’d always considered herself responsible for not having been able to support her dad and her siblings.
And she could no longer pretend she was acting like a healthy person.
Her breath hitched as her heart started to gallop. Only one way to move forward. After hitting the water with Tavish, she’d assemble the dregs of her courage, talk to her dad and go quit her job.
* * *
The only thing quieter than being out on the lake was being out on the lake with Lauren. Tavish was happy to enjoy the rustle of the wind in the trees and the slap of water against the canoe and their paddles without conversation. But he’d been staring at her back for over an hour and her shoulders looked tight enough to use as a springboard. Made him feel guilty for appreciating the stretchy mauve fabric shifting across her upper back as she paddled in the front seat. One of those built-in-bra, yoga situations that were invented to torture people who made a study of the female form. The shirt exposed tantalizing triangles of skin. The streamlined lifejacket she wore did little to cover up her sexy shoulders. He’d spent a good portion of their expedition plotting a route of the freckles he planned to kiss.
As much as his groin loved the view, the coffee and toast he’d had for breakfast churned in his stomach whenever his mind drifted to their earlier conversation. She’d made some major decisions today. And, yeah, he truly believed her quitting would make her happier. But would their compromises, their attempts to cobble together a life, make her happy, too? Being home this time felt different, for sure. Almost...right.
An aftershock of disbelief rolled through him, and he exhaled into a firm paddle stroke. Home had never been right, but he liked that it was starting to feel that way. Hope glimmered, a promise he’d be able to be the man Lauren and the baby deserved.
The midday sun glinted off her blond ponytail. Had he been able to reach it he’d have tugged it to get her attention. “Keep it down up there. You’re drowning out the birds.”
She laid her paddle across her lap and scratched the back of her head with her middle finger.
“Aw. The romance is overwhelming, sweetheart.”
Her other middle finger joined the first, the pair of profane gestures framing her ponytail.
He adjusted the angle of his paddle to make sure they didn’t veer off course with her taking a break from her steady strokes. “Want to talk about it?”
“It’s more a matter of doing it, Tav.” Her brief over-the-shoulder glance gave him a glimpse of her pale skin and stress-widened eyes.
“It meaning...?”
“Going in and talking to Frank. And my dad. I should do it this afternoon. But I think
I might need to give myself a day.” With a wide grip, she clutched her paddle.
He flicked a small spray of water at her right arm. “You’re going to break that shaft if you don’t ease up.”
Shaking the droplets of lake water from her forearm, she pivoted on her seat, bringing her feet around and facing him. She slid her paddle under the bow thwart and let go. It landed in the bottom of the canoe with a thunk. Twisting her hands in her lap for a few seconds, she made a face and then held on to the gunwales, tapping her fingers against the fiberglass hull. “One could say I’m having a hard time relaxing.”
“Noticed that.” He stilled his strokes and let the boat glide. Wanting to get a smile on her face, or at least earn a protest, he positioned the blade of his paddle over the water in an obvious I’m-going-to-spray-you angle.
“Peril awaits down that trail, Fitzgerald.”
He raised a teasing eyebrow. “Peril?”
“Of the worst sort.”
Resuming his stroke rhythm, he grinned. “Then I’ll have to behave. I need a replay of our morning mischief.” She smiled back, dipped her cupped hand in the water and showered him in the face, chilling his skin. “You need to cool off.”
He dragged the back of his hand across the rivulets dripping from his jaw to his T-shirt. “Good aim.” Though she’d thrown a lot more at him lately than just a palmful of lake water. “Would you rather head for shore and go deal with it? Then we’d have the rest of the weekend to relax.”
The shake of her head sent her ponytail swaying. “I’ll talk to Frank tomorrow morning. He usually does paperwork for a few hours on Saturday before he heads off golfing.”
“What about your family?”
She blinked long, as if her indecision was weighing down her eyelids. “Soon.”
Soon. Talk about a word that defined his life. Soon he’d be spending the winter in Sutter Creek. Soon Lauren would start to show.
Soon they’d be a family of three.
If living together for half the year counted as being a family. Tension gripped his chest. After they’d tried him being home for a few months, he could reassess. Rubbing his palm against his aching sternum, he sent her a lopsided smile. “Uh, speaking of telling people things—when are we going to make our sprout public knowledge?”
The birds on the shore had enough time to sing a symphony as she chewed on her lip. “Three months is pretty usual, and I’m eight weeks along by medical standards. Though Cadie already knows.”
He tried not to narrow his eyes, but alarm bells rang in his skull. “I’d like to at least tell our parents.”
“I’d like to wait.”
“Why?”
“It’s still early.” Her voice went achingly quiet. “I could miscarry.”
Miscarry. His throat closed over and he had to cough. “Yeah, but... Would it be so bad if our families knew about a miscarriage?”
By the way she stared at the tree line, pine boughs must have become the most fascinating view on the planet. When she finally looked at him, the green in her irises had swallowed any golden light. “If I miscarried, would you still stay?”
“I—” Would he? The baby had been the push to get him to commit to living at home half time, but... “Lauren. I’m staying for you just as much as the baby.”
“Right.” She dropped her gaze to her knees.
Which was a relief because the lack of trust on her face made him feel like he was hanging from the Peak Chair by his fingernails.
Time. Time would convince her. And could maybe help her see that he was stepping out on an emotional limb, too. “You know, you aren’t the only person who’s been hurt in this relationship. The first time we broke up, you were the one who cut and ran.”
She made a dismissive noise. “A high school break-up is on a different continent from a divorce.”
“Tell that to my nineteen-year-old self. I was devastated.”
His words came out soft, but by the way her face crumbled, she hadn’t missed a syllable. “Maybe there’s too much bad history between us to make this work.”
“Not if we decide to move beyond our past.” The six or so feet separating them was too much to handle. Leaving his paddle next to Lauren’s, he crouched low. He held on to the sides of the canoe and maneuvered forward, then sat on the metal bow thwart and braced his knees against the fiberglass sides. He took her hands in his. Jesus, they were cold. And not just the one she’d dipped in the lake.
Her gaze dipped to his makeshift seat. “You’re too heavy to sit there. You’ll break the canoe.”
“I’m more worried about making sure I don’t break your heart.”
* * *
By the next morning Lauren wished she’d taken Tavish up on his advice to talk to Frank and her dad yesterday. As she walked into the clinic and waved at the receptionist, she smothered a yawn. She’d be in a better head space had she not spent the night fretfully tossing and turning.
She headed for Frank’s office before she turned on a heel and went back to her car. Three deep breaths in the corridor filled her with just enough courage to step over the threshold.
Her boss, in his usual work outfit of a lab coat over a plaid dress shirt, removed his reading glasses and slid them into the breast pocket of his white coat. He tilted his head. “You don’t look rested for someone who’s been on holidays for two weeks.”
“Yeah. I didn’t sleep well.” Declining his nodded invitation to sit, she handed him the envelope stuffed with unsigned contract papers. “I need to give you the contract back.”
“Finally.” With an outstretched hand, he took the document and shot her a satisfied smile.
All the blood in her body rushed to her head, thundering like a summer storm. “I didn’t sign it.”
He froze, but for his open, no-longer-smiling mouth and one raised, gray-speckled eyebrow. “What?”
Hands sweaty, she fiddled with the embroidered hem of her cap-sleeve blouse. “No. I’m afraid I’m going to have to give my notice. I need to...to pursue other options.”
He laid the packet on his desk blotter and sat back, linking his fingers behind his head. “I’m confused, Lauren.”
“I’ll bet. I am, too, really. But I’ve come to realize medicine isn’t as fulfilling as I’d hoped it would be. And it’s too important to only commit to halfheartedly. Which precludes me from becoming a partner, or from working here in a different capacity.”
He blew out a short burst of air. “Wow. I didn’t expect this.”
“I hope it won’t be overly difficult to replace me.”
“It’s less about struggling to find someone and more about not wanting to have to.”
She winced.
“I expect you’ll be able to work for the four weeks’ notice in your existing contract?”
“Yes, of course. Though I’ve been dealing with some, uh, queasiness lately. Might I ask to steer clear of suturing?”
“We can arrange that.” He paused, calculation whirring on his face. “And if any other health or family issues are playing into your decision, know that we can adjust for that, too.”
She shook her head. “To be blunt, I can’t keep trying to bring my mom back by trying to be her, Frank. I need to live for me.” And saying that out loud to someone other than Tavish released a buildup of pressure in her chest. Her body tingled as a sense of rightness filled her. After an awkward goodbye, Lauren headed for her car. Come mid-August, she would be free. Free to... Who knew?
Panic flooded her veins. Her polite-society vocabulary dissolved, leaving behind a selection of expletives more suited to a hockey locker room. Crawling behind the wheel, she let a few of them fly.
Her single-minded focus on medicine left her with a minimal grasp on what her other career-oriented aptitudes were. Money wasn’t an issue—her savings and her AlpinePeaks profit share would pr
ovide for her and the baby for a long while. But she wasn’t satisfied with the idea of doing nothing. Maybe she could explore a position at the new holistic health center. She could pitch in more with the opening, see if there was some sort of health management position she’d be suited to.
The possibility of working for one of the family businesses, working with Cadie, no less, took away some of the sting of quitting. Plus, long-term commitments elsewhere would be tricky with her going on maternity leave in eight months.
Holy crap. I’m actually changing careers. Something her dad should find out from her, not the Sutter Creek grapevine.
Going to see him in person would be the right thing to do, but after facing Frank, she was out of backbone. Shame rolled in her stomach as she pulled up her dad’s number on her cell, but her lungs loosened, finally allowing a full breath. She wouldn’t have to look at him when she let him down.
Giving her notice and admitting to Frank that she’d entered medicine for the wrong reasons had been easy compared to this. She itched to press the disconnect button.
He answered after two rings. “Hey, Cookie. What’s shaking?”
“Oh, I dunno, Dad.” My voice, for one. She drew in air, tried to bring her pitch down a half octave. “Got a minute?”
“I’m all ears.” Alarm erased his previously cheerful tone.
“I’ve quit my job.”
Silence.
A load of it.
“You what?” he said.
She clicked over to her hands-free device and took her time explaining her phobia, the expectations she’d always felt from him and her family, and how she’d felt she needed to make up for her mom’s shortened life.
More silence.
A lump filled her throat. She barely forced out her question. “You still there, Dad?”
“I’m here.” He coughed. “Just give me a few seconds to process.”
The few seconds clicked by slower than a year. “Um, want to tell me what you’re thinking?” She didn’t really want to know, but might as well rip off the proverbial Band-Aid.