by Gina Wilkins
“What—” His voice cracked, and he had to stop to clear it before continuing. “What was that for?”
“For the rocker,” she said, her eyes glowing as she smiled up at him.
“You already thanked me for the rocker, on the phone.”
“Now you’ve been thanked in person.”
“In person is definitely better,” he murmured, and pulled her into his arms again.
He managed to end the kiss this time before it flared completely out of control. He was within a heartbeat of taking her right there on the entryway floor. His arms were around her, their bodies plastered together. He’d have sworn he was holding something else when he came in….
Clearing his thoughts with a slight shake of his head, he reached down to scoop up the package he had dropped sometime during the first kiss. “I forgot. I brought you something.”
Suddenly she was frowning. “Another gift? Really, Geoff, that wasn’t necessary. I mean, the rocker was already too much. You mustn’t keep—”
“Maybe you should see what it is before you start fussing.”
Looking decidedly wary, she accepted the bag and peered into it. And then she smiled and pulled out a small, colorful tin. “It’s tea.”
“Herbal. It’s made of rose leaves and some other stuff from the garden that’s supposed to taste good when you steep it all in boiling water. My grandmother loves it—and its caffeine free. Much better for you than all that coffee you drink.”
Her smile was just a bit embarrassed by her automatic assumption that he had brought her something expensive. “It looks good. I’ll try a cup tonight. Thank you.”
“Something smells delicious.”
“Dinner’s almost ready.”
“Need any help?”
“You can stand there and look pretty while I finish up.”
“Very funny.” But he was smiling when he followed her into the kitchen.
Cecilia had just set the food on the table when Geoff suddenly smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand. “I almost forgot.”
“What?”
“Your neighbor. Brandy.” He quickly told her what he had overheard when he’d arrived at her house. “Your, um, warm welcome sent it completely out of my head. She’s over there by herself now, if you think you should check on her.”
Concerned, Cecilia moved to the kitchen window and peered out. “Her grandparents must have just gotten home. I see their car in the carport now.”
“Good. Then they can talk to her.”
“Oh, they’ll talk to her. They’ll tell her what a loser Marlin is, and she’ll get mad and yell back at them. Then she’ll storm out to the backyard and sulk for a while. And tomorrow she’ll be with Marlin again, letting him treat her like dirt because she has convinced herself he’s her soul mate.”
Geoff scowled. “I’ve got to tell you, Cecilia, I think the guy’s doing worse than treating her badly. I think he’s physically abusing her.”
Her stomach muscles clenched. “You mean—”
“I mean, I don’t believe for a minute that she was hit in the face by a softball. I think she was hit by a fist. And I’m pretty sure he either hit her or shoved her again tonight before I could get over there.”
“Surely Brandy wouldn’t keep excusing Marlin if he was actually hitting her.”
“You haven’t seen any other bruises or injuries?”
Cecilia thought about the question for a moment and then grimaced. “There have been a couple of bruises. And she sprained her wrist last month. She said she fell. But she’s the active type who’s always doing something physical like roller skating and climbing and swimming at the lake. I thought she was just a bit accident-prone.”
She stopped and sighed. “I guess I wasn’t really thinking at all. If I had been, I would have recognized the signs.”
“From what I’ve read, abused women are very adept at hiding the truth from their friends and family. Covering, making excuses, taking the blame.”
Cecilia still felt like an idiot. “I’ve seen it more than a few times in my job. You would be surprised and disgusted by the number of men who don’t stop punching their wives or girlfriends even during pregnancy. And the women almost always have a cover story—running into a door or falling off a porch or, well, getting hit by a softball. Or if they’re confronted by the truth, they make excuses for the jerks. The poor guy was just under stress or worried about money or being treated badly at work. Or maybe he’d had a little too much to drink and he wasn’t really in control of his actions, but he’s always so sorry later.”
“Brandy claimed this quarrel was all her fault. She said things she shouldn’t have and Marlin got mad. She was obviously ready to crawl to keep him from leaving.”
“I just can’t understand why she’s so desperate to hang on to him. I’ve tried to convince her that she doesn’t have to have a boyfriend to make her happy, but she has an almost neurotic fear of losing him.”
“From what you’ve told me of her background, she’s looking for someone to belong to. Someone who puts her first. It’s a shame she can’t find that with her grandparents rather than with some boy who doesn’t appreciate her.”
“I’ll talk to her grandmother tomorrow. Maybe a family counselor can help them. And I’ll try talking to Brandy again, though I’m not sure it would do any good. She thinks of me as her grandmother’s unmarried neighbor. She likes me well enough, but she thinks I’m too old to understand teenage love affairs. Nor is she interested in modeling herself after me. According to her, my life is boring—all work and very little play, in her opinion. She doesn’t understand when I tell her how much I love my work.”
“Maybe you should take her to work with you someday. Let her see what a vital and fascinating job you have.”
“If I thought it would accomplish anything, I would do that. But I’m not sure showing her my work would convince her that she should listen to me rather than Marlin.”
“It couldn’t hurt for her to watch a woman who’s competent, highly respected and fully in charge of vitally important situations.”
She couldn’t help but be pleased, of course, by the way he described her. “Maybe I will see if she’s interested in shadowing me one day. She’ll be a senior in high school in the fall and she really should be considering her career choices. Whenever I’ve asked, she’s merely shrugged and said she was still thinking about possibilities, but it couldn’t hurt for me to give her an up-close look at one option.”
“There’s always a need for young people to train for health care careers. Especially in nursing, I understand.”
Cecilia nodded. “In some areas of the country, nurses are in critically short supply. And there’s a growing demand for midwives, with so many doctors shying away from obstetrics practices.”
“It will be good for her to see that work can be challenging and enjoyable. From what I’ve always heard, the clinic is a pleasant place to work. Friendly co-workers, happy new parents, lots of cute babies.”
Cecilia lifted her eyebrows as she studied him across the table. “Maybe you should shadow me at work one day. Have you ever actually spent any time in the birthing center?”
“Well…no, not much. My job has always been in other areas, so when I’m in town I’m usually in my office at Bingham Enterprises. Are you telling me it’s not a happy place to work?”
“Obviously, I enjoy working there, but it isn’t a theme park. In any medical setting, you’ll find stress and tension and an occasional tragedy. Especially lately, we’ve—”
Realizing abruptly that she was being somewhat too candid with a man whose family controlled the workplace she was describing, she decided a bit more discretion was probably in order. “All in all, it’s a wonderful place to work. I wouldn’t want to go anywhere else.”
His gaze was locked on her face. “What did you start to say about the clinic before you suddenly remembered that I’m a Bingham?”
She sighed lightly. Was she really s
o transparent that anyone could read her thoughts or had Geoff gotten to know her a bit too well during the past few days? Six days, to be precise, she thought with a vague sense of wonder that a week ago she hadn’t even known him.
“Cecilia?”
“I’ve told you it’s been a particularly tense time lately,” she reminded him. “Everyone’s nervous about the lawsuit—we can’t help but think about how vulnerable we all are to such actions as we go about our work. It’s a busy time, deliverywise, so we’re all working pretty long hours. The drug crisis affects all of us in one way or another as we deal with addicted mothers and affected newborns. Detective Collins watching our every move doesn’t help. One of our nurses is going through some sort of personal crisis, and she has been so jittery and tearful that it can’t help but affect the people around her.”
“And the stress Mari’s been under can’t help but affect everyone, either. Tension always seems to work its way down from the top.”
“We all understand that Mari has a lot to deal with.”
“Maybe I should talk with her. See if there’s anything I can do to help her out.”
“I wouldn’t want her to think anyone in the clinic has been talking about her.”
“Give me some credit for discretion, will you? I’ll simply say that I’ve noticed she seems stressed. Your name will never come up.”
“Thanks. I, um, guess your family’s beginning to wonder where you’ve been for the past week?”
He shrugged and reached for his water glass. “I doubt it. Everyone’s busy, and I usually entertain myself when I’m in town.”
“So they don’t know about…”
“Us?” he inserted smoothly when she hesitated. “I haven’t said anything in particular, but Dad and Mari both know I was with you Sunday evening when you delivered that baby at the movie theater. Word of that sure got around.”
“Especially after the article appeared in the Merlyn Mage,” she muttered.
“Well, don’t worry. No one’s making a big thing of our seeing each other. My family likes you. They aren’t surprised I enjoy spending time with you. That’s why I wanted you to join us last night at my grandmother’s. We’d have had a pleasant dinner together, and you’d have spared me another evening of my grandmother trying to fix me up. This time she was pushing me to meet the granddaughter of one of her friends.”
Cecilia found it difficult to smile in response to the ironic humor in his voice. She didn’t find his grandmother’s matchmaking efforts nearly as amusing as Geoff did. Maybe because she strongly suspected that Myrtle Bingham would never include Cecilia’s name on her list of desirable brides for her beloved grandson.
Not that she wanted to be on the list, she assured herself. Hadn’t she just asserted that she was perfectly content without a man in her life? That she was not like Brandy, so needy and insecure that she would sacrifice her own dignity to obtain the illusion of love? Though she longed for a child, she was content in every other way with her own company, her own accomplishments.
As for Geoff, he couldn’t have made it more clear that he had no interest in settling down. In his own words, he saw a wife as someone else to answer to, someone else he would be obliged to keep satisfied and content.
He didn’t seem to view a child in the same way, which reinforced Cecilia’s suspicion that he thought of a child as a novelty. A form of slightly rebellious entertainment—like his motorcycle. Or an outlet for his creativity and self-expression—like his guitar.
She envisioned his role in their child’s life as the noncustodial parent who made grand appearances with gifts and play dates and out-of-the-ordinary fun, while she would be the full-time nurturer, caregiver and disciplinarian. She could live with those roles. She knew plenty of people who had grown up under similar parental circumstances and had turned out just fine. If she didn’t think Geoff would be a good part-time father, she would never have agreed to his terms in this partnership.
It would all work out, she promised herself. But in the meantime, she would just as soon not talk about his family’s efforts to arrange a suitable marriage for him.
She promptly changed the subject, bringing up a local campaign to raise funds to spruce up some of the historic buildings in downtown Binghamton. The Merlyn County Public Library, for example, which was located in a renovated white clapboard house that provided five stories of books when the basement and attic were included in the tally. The library was always in need of upgrades and maintenance. The arts-and-crafts and bluegrass festival being discussed by community activists would became an annual event if successful and would be designated as a fund-raiser for the library and other local facilities.
“I think it’s a great idea,” Geoff said. “I’ve always said we need an annual festival of some sort to celebrate the area’s history and unique character.”
Relieved to have found a topic that interested him, Cecilia kept the remainder of their dinnertime conversation centered on community affairs, rather than their own. All in all, she decided, it was a much safer topic.
Geoff insisted on helping Cecilia clean up the kitchen after they had eaten. The task took only twice as long with his help, she thought wryly. The way he kept distracting her with increasingly lengthy kisses, it would be a miracle if they got all the dishes into the dishwasher before he dragged her off to bed. Or maybe she would be the one doing the dragging, she thought after one particularly arousing close encounter.
He lifted his head from hers with a wicked grin. Only then did she realize that both his hands were beneath her knit top, his palms warm on her back. “I think the kitchen’s clean enough, don’t you?”
Mentally consigning the rest to a later time, Cecilia smiled. “Yes, I think it is.”
Pulling her closer, he murmured, “Then maybe you and I could—”
His suggestion was cut short by the shrill ring of the telephone. Cecilia sighed deeply, tempted to let it ring. It probably wasn’t an important call, she tried to convince herself. Maybe a telemarketer.
But when the phone rang again, she gave Geoff an apologetic look, extricated herself from his grasp and moved to the kitchen extension. “Hello?”
Her expression was even more apologetic when she hung up a very short time later. “Geoff, I’m sorry, but I—”
He nodded and cut in. “I heard enough to figure out that you’ve been called to work.”
“Looks like I have a delivery to make. I saw this client earlier today, and I was pretty sure she would give birth at any time.”
“A home delivery?”
“No. I’m one of the more traditional midwives on staff. My clients tend to prefer more standard deliveries with medical facilities close at hand—and so do I. Women who choose home deliveries or water births or other nontraditional methods are generally guided to other midwives.”
“And yet you’re still available for the occasional movie-theater delivery.”
“We do what we have to do,” she replied with a smile and a shrug.
“You need a lift to the clinic?”
“I’d better take my own car. This is a first baby, and she’s in the early stages of labor. It could take several hours yet—perhaps all night. I can nap at the clinic if necessary.”
Looking a bit disappointed but resigned, Geoff nodded. “Then I’ll head on home.”
She nodded reluctantly.
“Do you have plans for the weekend?”
“Not really. I have a birthing seminar to conduct tomorrow evening, which will last until around seven, but I’m not expected back at the clinic until Monday morning.”
His smile returned with blinding intensity. “Just what I was hoping to hear. I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty. Pack light—and don’t eat dinner.”
“Pack?” She blinked. “Where are we going?”
“Not far. You’ll be less than an hour away from the clinic if you’re needed. So what do you say? Want to sneak away for a weekend?”
A weekend with Geoff. Awa
y from the clinic, the phone, the neighbors’ problems. “I would like that. What do I bring?”
“Shorts, a bathing suit and a toothbrush. I’ve got everything else covered.”
“A bathing suit?” Few women over thirty-five considered bathing suits their favorite type of leisure wear, and she was no exception.
His grin turned wicked. “Unless you prefer skinny-dipping.”
“I’ll bring a suit.”
Putting on an exaggeratedly disappointed expression, he heaved a sigh. “Okay. Then I’ll see you at seven-thirty tomorrow. I hope everything goes smoothly with your delivery tonight.”
“Thank you.”
She saw him out and then grabbed her purse and car keys. She was definitely going to have to make an effort to put Geoff and his mysterious plans for the weekend out of her mind for the next almost twenty-four hours, or she would never be able to concentrate on her work.
Chapter Eleven
Cecilia was having lunch in the atrium with Vanessa on Friday when her brother stopped by their table, looking so handsome and professional in his dark suit, white shirt and blue tie that she couldn’t help beaming with pride.
He nodded to Vanessa, then spoke to Cecilia. “I thought I might find you here.”
“Is there something you need, Eric?”
“Yeah. Hannah and I are going out to eat tonight. Someplace nice—Melinda’s, maybe. We’d like you to come with us.”
Cecilia moistened her lips. “Thanks, sweetie, but I can’t tonight. I have other plans.”
“Oh.” He wasn’t used to hearing that. After a moment he nodded and said, “Then how about if we do it tomorrow night, instead?”
Resisting an impulse to squirm in her seat, she said, “No, I can’t tomorrow night, either. Actually, I’ll be out of town for the weekend. You and Hannah go ahead and have your nice dinner. I’ll call you as soon as I get back.”
“Out of town?” Eric parroted blankly.
“For the weekend?” Vanessa murmured.