She inhaled a deep, supportive breath. “There’s no need to find another place, Tucker. You’re ... welcome here. I’m gone quite a bit of the time, and if you’ve decided to spend a few days in Maple Ridge, you may as well stay with me.”
“Thank you, I believe I will.”
Her gaze locked with his in a moment of wary alert, but he returned her searching look with unguarded candor. She couldn’t be sure what he was telling her in the silence, but she knew he was gradually tightening his hold on her heart, testing the strength of her resolve, and tempting her to forget the very thing she must remember.
Tucker smiled easily and stood to extend his hand to Kristina. “It’s late, and I’ll confess that I’m a little tired.”
She knew she should restate her position again, make certain he understood that their relationship wasn’t going to progress any further.
Yet her hand was reaching for the pleasure of his touch. It was another mistake to add to a growing list, but as she walked beside him across the porch and into the house, Kris couldn’t find the courage to correct it.
* * * *
Jena and Matt Saradon lived on a rambling farm that was a little farther than the hop, skip and jump that Tucker had imagined. Three miles from Kristina’s front door to the Saradons’ mailbox was Tucker’s best guess, but he didn’t think anyone cared enough to measure. Distance was a relative term in Maple Ridge, just as “neighbor” was gauged more by a communal affection than close proximity.
The community was well represented in the Saradon’s backyard on Saturday night when Tucker and Kristina arrived. The drive to the farm had been the closest he’d been to Kris for more than two days, two busy days in which he’d learned a lot about the community and very little about the woman who was temporarily sharing her home with him.
It was discouraging, Tucker decided as he swallowed the last of his iced drink and set the glass aside. Across the bricked patio Kristina chatted with a laughing group of her peers. He was surrounded by a more serious group and a conversational topic of deep importance to the men discussing it. Tucker had little concentration or advice when it came to the subject of a community hospital. The only subject that aroused his interest at the moment was Kristina and her subtle aloofness.
She caught his gaze and smiled, lifting her glass in a silent gesture of acknowledgment. The last rays of the sunset brushed her hair with amber and tinted her complexion a honeyed rose. His throat tightened at the delicate features, the softly arched brows over eyes that veiled her thoughts and feelings the way a mist conceals the morning. She was dressed in lightweight cotton slacks and a blouse that was knotted intriguingly at her waist. Her lips formed a warmly sensuous curve, and he could see little sign of aloofness. But he knew it was there, waiting, maintaining a distance that he simply couldn’t understand.
At least she hadn’t asked him to leave again, and she didn’t seem to mind the energetic welcome extended by her friends. Tucker realized that his supposed relationship with Kris was responsible for the warm acceptance bestowed on him, but he saw no point in trying to set the record straight. Who would believe him anyway? Anyone with a remnant of romanticism could tell he was in love with her.
Tucker reached blindly for the glass he’d set on a nearby table and closed his fingers around the sweaty sides. It was too early for an admission like that, especially when she tried to discourage him at every turn. Yet he knew that time would only prove it true, and even then convincing Kristina that he knew his own heart would be a formidable task.
Still, time was on his side, he reasoned, and he could legitimately find a number of good excuses to prolong his stay in Maple Ridge ... and in Kris’s home. The main possibility was being debated at that very moment by the three men standing with him. The subject of building a hospital was near and dear to the heart of every citizen in town.
Tucker wasn’t sure what he had to offer other than a professional viewpoint, but Matt had asked him to help, and he’d agreed to do so. Getting involved in the community had not been in his original plans, but it now seemed tantamount to being involved in Kris’s life. And one way or another he meant to accomplish that.
“Would you like something else to drink, Tucker?” The husky feminine voice drew his gaze and his attention. Jena Saradon, petite, dark, and engaging, smiled up at him.
“That would be great.” Tucker stepped back to let the continuing conversation close ranks. He’d been listening only peripherally to the men anyway, and he wasn’t sorry for the interruption. “I could use a little more ice, and maybe I’ll try the lemonade this time.”
“Then, by all means, follow me.” Jena started toward the house. Tucker fell into step beside her, shortening his strides to match her unhurried seven-month-pregnant walk. The pregnancy didn’t seem to slow the light, inconsequential chatter that she utilized, as a hostess often does, to put a newcomer at ease. Tucker saw no reason to tell her he already felt more than comfortable. He enjoyed talking with her, liked to watch the sparkle of contentment in her brown eyes.
It was hard to believe those eyes had known tragedy, but Kristina had told him that their first child had died. An accident had happened here on their farm, too far from the nearest medical facilities. Little wonder that Jena and Matt were determined to get a hospital built in Maple Ridge. The wonder was that they actually thought he could help.
In the neat kitchen Jena refilled his glass and handed it to him with a statement that sounded oddly like a question. “I asked Kris how long you were planning to stay in town.”
“Oh?” Tucker sipped at the tart lemonade. “And what did she tell you?”
“That you’d be leaving in a couple of days.” With a frown Jena leaned against the Formica countertop. “Matt thinks you’ll be in Maple Ridge until the new hospital is dedicated.” Brown eyes settled on him with disquieting regard. “Would you like to know my opinion?”
He acknowledged his interest by a slight arching of his brows and hid the sudden caution filtering through his body.
“I think you could be happy here indefinitely. I know it’s presumptuous to hope you might prefer practicing medicine in our small community over a larger, more well-endowed position somewhere else.”
“Well-endowed?”
His smile couldn’t be camouflaged, and Jena responded with a laugh. “You know what I meant. Besides, that isn’t the point. Staying in Maple Ridge is.” Her hands laced together as her voice softened in earnest. “We need you here, Tucker. We need your help in building the hospital, and we need dedicated professionals like you to staff it.”
“Jena, is there any lemonade left?” Kristina’s question preceded her into the room, but thirst became of secondary importance as her gaze met Jena’s determined expression and then drifted to Tucker. A shaky sensation threatened the backs of her knees as his lips curved in a welcome.
“Come in, Kris,” Jena said. “There’s plenty of lemonade. Help yourself; then you can help me persuade this doctor of yours to consider the career potential our community has to offer.”
Her whole body stilled in quick discretion, and then Kris managed a casual laugh as she moved to replenish the liquid in her glass. “I’m sure Dr. McCain has heard enough persuasive arguments for one night.” An ice cube clinked against the crystal. It had a false ring, just as her unconcern rang falsely in the words she said. “Nothing I have to say would add to your cause, Jena. Tucker is a surgeon. It’s understandable that he would prefer to have a larger practice in the city.”
Jena’s eyes widened in surprise, and Kris turned her back and her attention from the two other occupants of the kitchen. She wished she hadn’t offered a comment. Already she knew the direction of Jena’s thoughts; already she could imagine the whispers that would circulate before the evening ended: A lover’s tiff. She wants him to stay. He won’t leave the city. It’ll work itself out. Kristina has good sense.
The pitcher of lemonade tilted dangerously with the thoughts, and Kris frowned as the cool drink spilled ove
r the rim of her glass.
She reached for a towel only to discover that Tucker already had one in his hand. As he dried the wetness from the counter, she wondered why she believed small-town life was so great.
“Don’t listen to her, Jena.” He rubbed briskly, his tone easy, self-assured, and unthreatened. “Kristina’s being modest. I think she might be able to persuade me ... if she set her mind to it.”
“Well, then I can only hope she sets her mind to it.” Jena straightened and brushed a maternal hand across her extended waistline. “Now maybe I should rejoin the party and see if anyone else is dying of thirst.” She started for the door and glanced back. “Are you two coming with me?”
“Yes.” Agreement came swiftly on the heels of the question, and Kris noted the subtle arching of dark brows — both Jena’s and Tucker’s.
But she didn’t care.
The community she loved, the friends she trusted, were backing her helplessly into a corner, taking Tucker’s side in the mistaken belief that it was her side as well. “Let’s go,” she said brightly, and proceeded to follow her hostess from the house.
Jena stepped outside, but Tucker caught up to Kris just before she walked out the doorway. “You’re in a terrific hurry, Kris. Planning to scotch the rumors about us before they have a chance to circulate? It’s a lost cause, you know. Half the people here think I’m courting you and the other half believe you’re courting me, and they’re all hoping one of us succeeds.”
She looked up, wishing the underlying vein of seriousness were merely his way of teasing. “Because they want a doctor for the hospital, Tucker.”
He shook his head in dispute. “It’s because they want you to be happy, Kris. And as best I can tell, you’re the only one present who doesn’t believe I can make you happy.”
“You’re very arrogant to suggest that, Tucker.”
“Aren’t you being a little arrogant in denying that the possibility exists?”
She tipped her chin in cool restraint. “We’re wasting time, Tucker. Let’s join the party.”
He reached past her to push open the back door. “All right. We’ll drop the discussion, but remember that simply because something has ended doesn’t mean it’s over.”
No, she decided as she moved onto the patio with Tucker’s warmth right behind her. It wasn’t over. And if tonight was any indication, the best she could hope for was a postponement. Her feet seemed to be planted in the wrong direction, and even if they weren’t, there would be a crowd of Maple Ridge residents ready and eager to give her a push in Tucker’s direction.
Over? She had a feeling the tug-of-war had just begun.
Chapter Seven
July scorched into August with record-breaking temperatures and monotonously clear skies. Summer, always a slow season for the Gazette, was almost bereft of newsworthy events. Deadlines came and went with very little urgency or excitement. It was simply too hot to generate interest in anything other than the weather forecast—with one notable exception.
The community hospital made the front page of every issue of the biweekly newspaper during those long, hot weeks. For some reason that no one could explain, the disputed issues began to resolve themselves into progress. Final plans were made and approved; financing became available through a private endowment and a federally funded loan. Maple Ridge residents rallied, despite the heat, to borrow, beg, or steal the rest of the money needed. And through the sometimes arduous process, Tucker was given credit for every success.
He was quick to deny that his “opinions” had any real significance in resolving the problems, but no one doubted the value of his counsel or his ability to unite factions. It had been slightly less than two months since he’d taken up residence, yet there already were indications that Tucker was becoming a part of the community, a valued member in his own right. And he was becoming a part of Kris’s life as well.
Quietly, one day, one evening at a time, he fitted himself into her routine. He was there in the mornings to share with her a companionable silence and a cup of coffee before she left for work. Occasionally he dropped by the office to sit amiably chatting with Gary or Effie while his smile warmed Kris from a distance. Some evenings, when nightfall produced a cooling breeze, they sat side by side on the old porch swing, talking or not saying a word, close in thought or thinking of things a world apart, never touching in even the most casual way and yet aware, completely aware of the pleasure touching would bring.
If Tucker was discouraged with the platonic nature of their relationship, he kept the feeling well hidden. Kris knew she didn’t fare as well when it came to concealing an inner conflict that grew more serious for her with each day. Torn between wanting to keep her heart safely out of his reach and enjoying and beginning to need the serenity of his company, she couldn’t convince him that she wanted him to leave Maple Ridge. She often mentioned his imminent return to Denver, but Tucker ignored the hints and kept his own counsel, giving no indication of when or if he meant to leave.
There wasn’t a doubt, however, in the minds of Kristina’s neighbors and friends. Tucker McCain was proving himself to be a worthy member of the community and, of course, he would stay. It was time that Kristina settled down with a good man, and Tucker was certainly that. Besides, he was a doctor, a surgeon, and he was helping build the hospital. It was obviously a match made in heaven — for Kris and the community.
Kris hated hearing the rumors that ran rampant through the town and inevitably found their way to her as thinly veiled, good-natured teasing. She hated even more the thought that Tucker was hearing the same rumors, but no amount of denial could slow the friendly speculation. She and Tucker were a “couple,” a team working together for the betterment of Maple Ridge. Although no one had as yet brought up the subject of a wedding, Kris knew the question was heading in her direction.
As the days edged toward September, it became evident that she’d waited much too long to correct the situation. No one believed her when she insisted she and Tucker were just friends. No one even listened when she stated that he wasn’t going to stay in town and take charge of the new hospital upon its completion. Kristina realized it was pointless to argue. There was only one person who could negate the rising expectations and restore a sense of perspective to an increasingly awkward situation. And somehow she would convince Tucker that he had to do just that.
It wasn’t the best way to begin a weekend — especially when it was the first one she’d had free in weeks — but then there wasn’t going to be a perfect time to confront him with the rumors. Still, maybe Sunday afternoon would be better.
No, she had delayed too long already.
Kris tossed aside the tangled sheets on her bed and decided to face Saturday morning and Tucker all in one brave sweep. He would be in the kitchen now, with a mug of steaming coffee and the Little Rock daily paper. He always awakened early, before her alarm shrilled the beginning of another day. It was a habit born during med school and strengthened by the hospital’s surgery schedule, he’d admitted once. It was one of the few references he’d made to his career during his stay in her home. She had learned very little about Dr. McCain, but she had learned much about Tucker, the man.
She knew, for instance, that he read the newspaper from page one to the end, skimming at times but never skipping an article. He liked his coffee hot and black and at leisurely intervals throughout the morning. He enjoyed quiet times and being with her; to her memory no one had ever seemed so happy or so content simply to have her nearby. Kristina touched her lips as she thought of the way he smiled each time he saw her, a soft, secret smile that made her heart feel like a kite tripping foolishly over a cloud.
With a sigh, Kristina pushed herself into a sitting position and ran lazy fingers through her tousled hair. Tucker was too much at home here, and she, well, she was too much at home with him. It was going to be lonely when he left. Her house would never feel the same again; it would never belong totally to her anymore.
Not
hing would be the same, not her home or the community or her friends ... or herself.
But this wasn’t the time for such melancholy thoughts. She needed a cool, brisk shower to clear her head and focus the words she wanted to say. She needed to wash and dry her hair, and she really should take a few extra minutes to dress in something more formal than her usual shorts and top.
Oh, what difference did it make what she wore? That would only be postponing the inevitable.
Pushing her feet to the floor, she made herself stand beside the bed. The shower was essential for her composure, but everything else could wait.
Tucker was not in the kitchen, she discovered some twenty minutes later. He wasn’t even in the house, and with a frown she wished she had taken time to wash her hair. There was a sense of anticlimax as she sat drinking a cup of coffee alone, and she couldn’t help wondering where he’d gone and how soon he’d return.
The questions stayed with her throughout the day along with a mounting frustration. When he finally arrived just after dusk with a freshly filleted bass and a big grin, Kris wasn’t in the mood to hear a recount of his fishing trip. For some reason she couldn’t quite define, she was edgy, wanting the situation settled but not knowing where to start. For hours she had imagined the conversation, and now, when he was finally facing her, the words were tangled and elusive in her mind.
“You’ll have to come with us next time, Kris.” He walked from the back door to the refrigerator and placed the catch of the day inside. “Gary has a cabin not ten yards from the creek where we fished. It was unbelievable.” As he straightened, his grin flashed briefly toward the kitchen doorway where she stood. “I wish you could have been there today.”
“I wish you’d left a note. I had no idea where you were, Tucker.”
The refrigerator door closed slowly, and his eyebrows rose in careful question. “Were you worried?”
“No. I just wanted to ... talk.”
A Distant Summer Page 9