“Ginger.” He said her name to calm her. He was watching her face. She was so upset. Naturally. Who wouldn’t be, to suddenly find out someone you loved had a fragile health issue? But there was something more going on. He’d seen her take a sip of coffee, and then immediately put the mug down. She’d had peach-healthy color in her cheeks when she came in, but that color was fading, her face turning pale.
Still, he answered her questions. “Yes, Cashner’s been prescribed some medications that help a lot of people. There’s no perfect medicine for this. I sent him to Greenville for tests, put him in the hands of two physicians I know personally. He’s been tested and evaluated and retested.”
“Don’t you say it,” she warned him.
He got it. She wasn’t ready to hear the words Alzheimer’s or dementia. “I’ll give you the other answer,” he said patiently. “Old age.”
“He’s not that old!”
Ike nodded. “I think it’s possible he had some mini strokes a while back. He’s been on high blood pressure meds from long before I came here. But he’s at a point where I’m not certain if he remembers to take them. I set up a schedule for him, to help him remember, conveyed the same information to Cornelius. But sometimes—”
Ruby showed up in the doorway. “Doc. Mr. Robards is here. It’ll take me a few minutes to get him weighed in and BP done and then into a gown, but then he’s ready.”
Ike started to say, “I’ll be there in a minute,” then noticed Ginger jump to her feet faster than a firecracker. Ruby’s interruption had given her the perfect excuse to take off. She either wanted to get away from him, a depressing thought, or she needed to absorb what he’d told her about her grandfather. Alone.
Whatever her reasons, she stood up damned fast. The last pinch of color bleached from her face, and down she went. He barely had time to jerk forward, protect her head and help ease her to the ground. The porch only had matting for a rug.
Ruby rushed through the door, muttering, “Well, I’ll be” and “What the sam hill is this about?” and then Pansy pushed through the door. Pansy invariably liked commotion. She jutted her jowly head under Ike’s arm, trailing a small amount of drool on Ginger’s hair. Ruby hunkered down just as intrusively.
“Ruby. Pansy. She needs air. And I need space.”
Ruby took several creaking moments to get back to her feet. “I’ll get a damp washcloth. And a BP unit.”
“Good thinking. Thanks.” He nudged Pansy out of the way, thinking that he’d been hoping to get his hands on Ginger—but not in this context. She was already coming to. Her eyes opened, dazed, closed again. She frowned in confusion—another sign that she was regaining full consciousness—and then she raised a hand, as if her first instinct was to sit up.
“You’re fine, Ginger. Just stay where you are for a minute. It’s just me. Ike.”
No temp. He didn’t need a thermometer to be certain. Normal color was flushing back into her face. He brushed his hands through her hair, feeling for bumps or lumps, any injury that might have caused the faint. He pressed two fingers on her carotid artery.
Accidentally, he noticed the rapid rise and fall of her breasts. The softness of her. The scent on her skin—not flowers, not for this one. Some sassy, citrusy perfume. It suited her.
Ruby hustled back with the BP unit. He took it, finding what he expected, that it was slightly on the low side. Again, he took her pulse as he studied her face. Her pulse rate was coming back to normal. And then, when her eyes suddenly met his, that pulse rate zoomed way out of the stratosphere.
Yeah. That was how he felt around her, too.
“If you need me...” Ruby said from the doorway.
“No. She’s fine. Or she will be in a minute. Just give Mr. Robards a magazine and tell him I’ll just be a few minutes, not long.” He never turned his head. Focused his gaze only on her, tight as glue.
He knew a ton of women...but few with the fire of this one. Loyal. Passionate.
Interesting.
Her forehead crinkled in one last confused frown, and then she seemed to recover herself altogether. She muttered something akin to “Good grief” and pushed off the porch matting—or tried to.
He didn’t forcibly hold her down, just put one hand on her shoulder. “I know you’re getting up, but let’s keep it slow.”
“I’m fine.”
“Uh-huh. You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” It was the doctor asking the question, but the man listening for the answer. Most of the time Ike didn’t have to separate the two, but for this question, for this woman, he definitely did.
“Say what?” Wow. Those soft, sensual blue eyes abruptly turned glacier blue. Color slammed into her face. “What on earth made you ask that!”
He’d like her to think he was naturally brilliant, but the truth was it had just been a gut call, a wild guess. It was her response that gave away the truth of it. He answered slowly, “Just a short list of clues. Everything about you looks healthy and fit. You asked for coffee, but your hand shot to your stomach when you took a sip. Then you fainted out of the blue.”
This time she pushed free and fast, got her legs under her, stood up. He watched for any other symptoms of lightheadedness, but saw nothing. “If you’re diabetic, better tell me now. And are you on prenatal vitamins? Have anything prescribed for nausea?”
Okay. He’d pressed too far, judging from the sputter. The smoke coming from her ears. Her hands fisted on her hips. “Let’s get something straight right now, Doc.”
“Go for it.” He eased to his feet.
“You’re my grandfather’s doctor. Not mine.”
“Got it.”
“My private life has nothing to do with you.”
“Got it,” he repeated. “But if you haven’t been on prenatal vitamins—”
“What is it about small towns? People leap to conclusions over a breath of wind. No one said I was pregnant. No one has any reason in the universe to think that.”
“So there’s no guy.” He just wanted to slip that question in there, while she was still talking to him.
“Exactly. There’s no guy.”
“I wondered,” he admitted.
Ouch. She was shaking mad now. “For the record—” She punctuated her comments with a royal finger shake. “—I wouldn’t fall for a doctor if he were the last man in the country. On the continent. On the entire planet....”
“Got it,” he said again. “I’m sure glad we had this conversation.”
That was it. She spun around, stepped over the dog, yanked open the back porch screen door and charged down the hall. Ruby peeked her head out of exam room one—then snapped her head back, clearly alarmed at getting in Ginger’s way.
Ike followed her exit—mostly by following the swing of her fanny and bounce of her hair—all the way to the slamming of his front door.
Ruby popped her head out again. She didn’t speak. Just raised her eyebrows.
Ike shook his head. “Don’t ask me what that was.”
But Ginger lingered in his mind. He was so used to being treated like a catch.
So many single women in the area fawned over him. Played up to him. They’d been spoiling him rotten, with food and attention and God knows all kinds of subtle and less-than-subtle offers.
It was a nice change of pace to meet a shrew. She was such a breath of fresh air.
He blew out a sigh, headed inside to wash his hands and start his doctor day.
He told himself she was in trouble. That she was trouble. That she had troubles.
His head got it.
But there was still hot blood zooming up and down his veins. And a stupid smile on his face when he ambled in to greet Rupert Robards.
Rupert had prostate problems. The next patient was an older lady with a lump on her rump, followed by a
young mom with a yeast infection and, last for the morning, a sixteen-year-old kid with hot tears in his eyes and a fishing hook stuck deep in his wrist.
There was no room in the entire morning for a single romantic or sexy thought to surface.
Still. She lingered in his mind.
* * *
Ginger had parked the Civic right on Magnolia, but once she stormed out of Ike’s office, she ignored the car and kept on walking. She needed the exercise. The fresh air. The chance to think.
He’d made her lose her temper twice now.
Usually she could keep her worst flaws under wraps until she’d known a person awhile. Invariably her temper—and other character flaws, such as impulsiveness—couldn’t be kept in the closet forever. But somehow Ike had brought out the worst in her right up front.
It would help if he wasn’t a doctor. A damn good-looking, sexually appealing doctor. Scruffy. But still adorable.
Steve hadn’t been half that adorable, and she’d still been blindsided. Any inkling of attraction for Ike just seemed to work like a trigger for her. Her stay-away button started blinking red and setting off alarm instincts.
She ambled down Magnolia, crossed Oak, aimed down Cypress. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know the town like the back of her hand. The big stores like Walmart and Target were located in the new section of town, but Sweet Valley’s downtown was still vibrant, filled with shop after shop, restaurant after restaurant.
She’d shut down her life in Chicago and zoomed home so fast that she needed some things. Shampoo. Her favorite brand of toothpaste.
En route to the pharmacy, she accidentally spotted a shoe sale.
By the time she’d tried on and bought a pair of sandals, she’d put her mind off handsome, interfering doctors and had her head back where it belonged. On Gramps.
Nothing Ike told her had been reassuring. He’d only opened up more worries, more concerns. She needed to know the truth. She just didn’t know what to do about the situation.
Perhaps by instinct, she found herself standing in front of the Butter Bakery. She’d forgotten—or just hadn’t had a reason to remember before—that Gramps had an attorney. Ginger knew the name. Louella Meachams. Ginger must have met her sometime—Sweet Valley was such a small town that everyone about met everyone else at some time or another. But Ginger couldn’t recall anything about her, until she spotted the sign for Louella Meachams, Esq., just above the stairwell from the bakery.
She couldn’t imagine the attorney would be able to see her without an appointment, but she could at least stop by while she was right there in town, set up something.
The old-fashioned stairwell was airless and dark, with steep steps leading to the upstairs offices. Her stomach churned in protest, partly because she’d always been claustrophobic, and partly because she needed to eat something, and soon. She’d planned to have breakfast right after seeing Ike, but that stupid fainting business had stolen her appetite. Still, she’d immediately started to feel better once she’d gotten out in the fresh air. As soon as she made contact with the attorney, she’d stop and get some serious food before heading home.
Upstairs, she found an old-fashioned oak door with the attorney’s name on a brass sign. She turned the knob without knocking, assuming she’d be entering a receptionist and lobby area, not the lawyer’s specific office.
“Oh. Excuse me. I was hoping to make an appointment with Mrs. Meachams—”
“I’m Louella Meachams. And just Louella would do. Come in. Sit yourself.”
The lady had to be around fifty, had a wash-and-wear hairstyle and a general bucket build. She wore men’s pants, a starched shirt, no makeup. Hunting dog pictures graced the walls. The sturdy oak chairs facing the desk had no cushions. Windows overlooking the street below had blinds, but no curtains. The whole office looked like a male lawyer’s lair, rather than a woman’s. And Louella looked a little—maybe even a lot—like a man herself. She peered at her over half-rim glasses.
“I believe you’re my grandfather’s attorney. Cashner Gautier,” Ginger started. “I’m Ginger, his granddaughter. I just got into town a few days ago. And I was hoping you could help me clarify his situation.”
“I know who you are, just from all that red hair. You were one fiery little girl. And I’m more than willing to talk with you, but you need to understand that your grandfather’s my client. I not only can’t, but never would, break confidentiality with him.”
“I understand that. And I’d never ask you to.” Haltingly she started to explain the situation she’d found at home, how her grandfather wasn’t himself, that he seemed to have both memory and health issues, that the place looked in serious disarray compared to the last time she’d been home. Louella leaned back, stuck a leather shoe on a wastebasket for a footrest and listened until she came through with a question.
“As long as I’ve been Cashner’s attorney, I’ve never been completely clear about his family situation. I know your grandparents only had one child, a daughter—your mother. And that even when your mother married, she kept the Gautier name, which is pretty unusual in these parts. If I have it right, you’re now the only close blood kin of Cashner’s, because your mama died quite a while ago.”
“Yes. Mom was in a terrible car accident. I was barely ten. And that was when I came to live with my grandparents.”
“But are there other blood kin? Brothers, cousins? Any relatives at all on your grandfather’s side of the fence?”
“No, not that I’m aware of. The Gautiers came originally from France...there may be some distant relatives still there, but none I know of. My grandmother had some family in California, but I never met any of them. They were like second cousins or that distance.”
“What about your father?” Louella leaned over, opened a drawer, lifted a sterling silver flask. “Need a little toot?”
“Uh, no. Thank you.” She added, “My father has nothing to do with this situation. He’s not a Gautier—”
“Yes. But he’s family for you, so he could help you, couldn’t he? Advise you on options you might consider for your grandfather.”
Ginger frowned. So far she’d given more information than she’d gotten. Not that she minded telling her grandfather’s attorney the situation. Gramps trusted Louella. So Ginger did. “My dad,” she said carefully, “is about as lovable as you can get. He’s huggable, always laughing, lots of fun. I adored him when I was little. He brought me a puppy one birthday, rented a Ferris wheel for another birthday party, took me out of school—played hooky—to fly me to Disney World one year. You’d love him. Everyone does.”
“I’m sure there’s some reason you’re telling me this,” Louella said stridently.
“I’m just trying to say, as tactfully as I can, that my dad can’t be in this picture. I love him. Not loving him would be like...well, like not loving a puppy. Puppies piddle. It isn’t fun to clean up after them, but you can’t expect a puppy to behave like a grown-up. Which is to say...I don’t even know where my dad is right now. Whatever problems my grandfather has—I’m his person. His problems are mine. And there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him.”
“All right. I always heard the gossip that your father was your basic good-looking reprobate, but I never met him, didn’t know for sure. I’m glad you clarified the situation. I’m sorry that he’s out of the picture for you. That makes Cashner’s circumstances all the more awkward. But I still can’t tell you about his will—”
“I don’t give a hoot about his will. I need to know if he’s paying his bills. If he’s solvent. Can you tell me who has power of attorney? If someone has medical powers? I need to know if I have the right to look into his bank accounts, make sure that bills are being paid, what shape the business is in, whether he’s okay financially or if I need to do something.”
Louella harrumphed, looked out the window as if
she were thinking about how to phrase an answer. Ginger was more than willing to wait.
At least she thought she was. A glance at an old wall clock revealed it was well past noon. Apparently they’d been talking—and she’d been running around town—a lot longer than she’d expected. Technically time didn’t matter; it wasn’t as if she was on a schedule. But the queasiness that plagued her earlier in the morning was suddenly back. So was exhaustion. Not exhaustion from doing anything; she just had a sudden, consuming urge to curl up in a ball like a cat and close her eyes, just nap for a few minutes.
She’d never been a napper. Until eight weeks ago. Now she could suddenly get so tired she could barely stumble around. It was crazy. She felt crazy. And in a blink of a minute, she just wanted to go home.
“Well, Ginger. I don’t know how to say this but bluntly. Your grandfather needs to move out of that big old place. But he won’t. He needs to hire someone to take over the tea plantation before it’s in complete ruin. But he won’t do that, either. And the best advice I can give you is to just leave him alone. Go on about your life. It’s what I’d want, if I were in Cashner’s situation. He doesn’t need or want someone telling him what to do, where he needs to be, what rules he should be following. It won’t help. If you want to help, be a good granddaughter and love him. But then just go on with your own life.”
Ginger heard her. Alarm shot sparks straight to her bloodstream. Gramps was in trouble, in ways the attorney knew about, separate from the problems Ike knew as Gramps’s doctor. Urgency made her heart slam. She rushed to her feet—or she tried to.
For the second time that morning, the world turned green and everything in sight started spinning.
“Well, my word!”
She heard Louella’s husky voice. Heard it as if it was coming from a hundred yards away. After that, everything went smoky black.
The Baby Bump Page 3