Ten minutes later, she poured his coffee and served his eggs.
"You probably ought to call Dr. MacAllister," she suggested as she sat down herself.
"I already did. And I managed to catch him, too. He says not to worry. He'll find people to cover for me for as long as I need to be off my feet."
"I told you it would all work out."
He looked at his outstretched ankle with obvious displeasure. "I hate hobbling around. And I don't like it when someone else does my work for me. I have certain procedures I like to see followed. And no matter how conscientious another doctor is, things tend to become … unorganized."
She licked the frosting off the top of a cinnamon roll. "Well, now. What are you worried about? I'll be there, won't I?"
He grunted at her. "Exactly."
She drew in a breath and straightened her shoulders. "Excuse me, Doctor, but I do believe you just implied that I am not organized."
He lifted his right hand, very carefully, and scratched his bruised forehead with some effort, due to his immobilized wrist. "Would I imply something like that about you?"
She made a face at him, then got up to fetch the coffeepot.
Naturally he wanted to help with the dishes. She shooed him into the other room with clear instructions to sit down and elevate his ankle. Then she loaded the dishwasher herself. When she joined him, he was seated on the sofa with his leg up on the coffee table, talking on the phone to a towing service. When he hung up, he told her that the Suburban would be towed to a local garage.
Lee left around noon, to visit the gym and buy groceries. And it just seemed natural that she might as well go ahead and pick up something she could cook for Derek's dinner.
They had chicken with saffron rice and a salad. And afterward, she hung around and watched an old movie with him on the Classics channel. It was fun and relaxing.
She supposed Dana had been right. There was no reason in the world why she couldn't be friends with Derek Taylor. In fact, when she found a message from Dana on her machine that night, she called her friend back and told her just that.
Dana said, "Well, I think we're getting somewhere here."
"And where's that?" Lee asked suspiciously. Dana only laughed and told Lee to have a good time.
During the week that followed, Lee stopped in at Derek's condo after work every day. He always seemed so glad to see her. He'd only been in Honeygrove for six months, after all. He hadn't had time to make many friends.
While she was there, she would run a load of laundry for him, or straighten up the kitchen, or take care of any errands that couldn't wait. And then they'd inevitably end up either ordering takeout or throwing something together from what he had on hand.
True, sometimes she couldn't help thinking how attractive Derek was, couldn't stop the occasional bone-melting fantasy from rising up out of nowhere. But he was such a hunk. Even a friend had a right to a secret daydream or two.
Twice, he got calls from other women while she was there. That didn't bother Lee. His romantic life was his own concern. And he didn't really seem all that interested in those phone calls, anyway. He'd exchange pleasantries for a moment or two and then say he had to go.
On Wednesday night, he told her a little about his childhood. They were sitting on his sofa, side by side. He had his bad ankle propped on the coffee table with a pillow beneath it. He told her that he'd been a skinny, unpopular kid.
She laughed. "Oh, no. Not you. I don't believe it."
He didn't argue, only bent forward and pulled open a drawer in the coffee table. He brought out a stack of old photos and filed through them until he found the one he sought. "Look at that." He gave her the picture, then put the rest back into the drawer and pushed it shut.
Lee stared at the thin, pale-haired boy with the deep-set, haunted looking eyes. The boy appeared to be around eight or nine. He stood in a weed-ridden yard in front of a run-down clapboard house. He looked nothing at all like the man sitting beside her. And yet Lee did recognize him. There was something in those eyes, in the stubborn set to that small, strong jaw.
"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" she asked, as she bent forward to set the picture on the coffee table.
"An older brother. His name's Larry."
"What's he like?"
He gave her a vague answer, and seemed reluctant to say more. She asked about his parents and he told her that they were both dead.
Again, she glanced at the photo that lay faceup on the coffee table. "I still can't believe that's you. You look so…" She sought the right word.
He supplied it. "Scared. And shy. To tell you the truth, I still find myself fighting shyness all the time. I guess it's a lifelong battle, if you're cursed with it." Her disbelief must have shown on her face, because he insisted, "It's true. I'm shy."
"Derek, come on. You want things done your way and you make no secret of it. And you certainly don't seem to have any problem getting dates."
"A naturally shy man can be quite capable of giving instructions. And as for dates, well, most women find me attractive. Or they have since high school, anyway, when I started working out and discovered the big secret of getting women to go out with me."
"What big secret?"
"I ask them."
She knew she shouldn't, but she found herself teasing, "You said most women find you attractive. Why the emphasis on the word 'most'?"
He laid his left arm along the back of the couch and leaned toward her a little. "You know damn well why. When I asked you, I got nowhere."
"I wouldn't say you asked, exactly."
"Okay, I was a jerk."
She just couldn't let it go at that. "And then, for almost two weeks, you tormented me."
"I said I was a jerk. But I've learned my lesson. I'm a very intelligent man, in all modesty."
"Yeah. Right. Modesty. Hah."
"All right. Maybe I'm not exactly the most humble man in town. But I can admit my mistakes and take steps to change my negative behavior. And that's what I've done when it comes to you—just in case you didn't notice."
"I noticed." She spoke more gently. "You're doing very well."
He leaned closer still. "How well is very well?"
All of a sudden, she could have sworn she heard warning buzzers going off somewhere nearby. She slid a few inches toward her end of the sofa—and away from him. "What do you mean?"
He only leaned in even closer than before. "I mean, when are we going to get past this 'just friends' routine?"
"Well, I … um…"
"Yes?"
"Derek. It's not a routine. It's…"
His gaze scanned her face as he finished her sentence for her. "…all you want from me?"
"Well, yes. I mean, I like being your friend. And I hope you like being my friend."
He stared at her intently for a moment more. Then he retreated to his own side of the couch.
"Derek, I—"
He waved his cast at her. "Never mind. Let it go."
She was only too glad to do that. They sat for a few moments in silence and then she found herself talking about her own childhood. About her unhappy mother and the father she never knew at all.
"He was a doctor, actually," she heard herself confessing. "A plastic surgeon."
"Was? Is he dead now?"
"No. He's still very much alive, as far as I know. I suppose I just enjoy thinking of him in the past tense."
"Why?"
Lee shrugged. "He lives back east now. He's in private practice, repairing the ravages of time on the faces of Philadelphia society matrons. Or at least, he was living in Philadelphia the last my mother heard."
"Your mother's still alive, then?"
Lee nodded. "She lives pretty close. In Salem. She manages a dry cleaners there." That more than answered his question. She should have let it go at that. But she didn't. Her mouth opened and she heard herself volunteering more. "My mother's still carrying a torch for my father. It's pitiful. He used her. Used her
and then just walked away. And she doesn't even blame him for it. She only thinks she wasn't good enough for him."
Derek asked gently, "How did your mother meet your father?"
Lee had made herself a cup of peppermint tea a little while before. She picked up the cup from the side table and sipped, wondering what had come over her, to reveal so much. Now she wouldn't be able to drop the subject without making a big deal out of her own reluctance to continue.
"Lee? Are you going to answer me?"
Carefully she set the cup down. "My father did his residency here, at Memorial. My grandmother had fallen and broken her hip, and my mom took her into the ER. And there was my father-to-be. My mother thought he was the handsomest man she'd ever seen. And she couldn't believe it when he asked her out. Pretty soon, they were living together. She gave him everything. Love, sex. Total adoration. She always considered him way above her. He came from a well-to-do family, he was a professional. The Murphys never had much, and my mother never went beyond high school."
"So she adored him and they lived together. Then what?"
"She got pregnant—about the time he finished his residency. He immediately took a job at a hospital in San Francisco. He did not invite my mother to go along. She had me and we waited for him to come back. Then she learned that he'd married someone else."
Derek winced. "He does sound like a complete rat."
"When it came to my mother and me, he certainly was."
Derek's left arm still rested on the back of the sofa. He caught a swatch of Lee's hair and gave it a tug. "So you don't trust doctors, is that the message I should be getting here?"
She tipped her head away from him, so that her hair slid free of his gentle grip. "That's not so. I'd trust a good doctor with my life. And I know very well that not all doctors are like the one who fathered me."
"Then what are they like?"
Again, the truth just seemed to slip out. "Like Katie's father."
"Katie? That's your friend in the telemetry unit?"
"Right. But I shouldn't have said that."
"Why not?"
"It's Katie's private business."
"Come on. I can keep a confidence. And I'm only trying to understand."
"Understand what?"
"This hang-up you have about doctors."
She shifted uncomfortably against the couch cushions. "It's not a hang-up."
"Tell me about Katie's father."
Their eyes met. Locked. Lee was the first to glance away.
She said, "Katie's father is Dr. Randall Sheppard."
Derek nodded. "I think I've met him once or twice. A pediatrician, right?"
"Yes. Dr. Sheppard is an excellent doctor. Very well respected. I'd even go so far as to say he's beloved, by the children he treats, and by their parents."
"What's so bad about that?"
"Nothing. The problem lies in his relationship with Katie—or more correctly, his lack of relationship with her. Because he never had time at all for his daughter. She spent her whole childhood longing for him to notice her. He never did. He's always been too busy playing God for his patients, making himself one hundred percent available to everyone except the members of his own family." She turned to pick up her tea, took another sip and set it down again. "What I'm telling you is that I find most doctors to be dictatorial, career obsessed and emotionally distant, at least from the people they're supposed to be close to."
"And that's how you see me?"
"Yes," she answered immediately, and then, to be fair, had to add, "at least until very recently."
One side of his mouth tipped ruefully upward. "So we're making progress, right?"
She decided she'd better drive the point home once and for all. "Derek, you're a doctor. And I really do believe that makes you a bad emotional risk."
"Well." That rueful smile had vanished. "Thanks."
"In fact, I once made a vow that I'd never marry a doctor." As soon as she said that, she wanted to grab the words and hide them behind her back. What was the matter with her? She just couldn't keep her darn mouth shut tonight.
And naturally, he had to know more. "A vow?"
"Yes. A vow."
"Explain."
"Why did I know you were going to say that?"
"Come on. Tell me more."
"Oh, all right. I made a vow. With Katie Sheppard and Dana Rowan.
"Dana Rowan. That would be the administrative nurse for Memorial's OR."
"Right."
"I suppose her father was a heartless M.D., as well."
"No, as a matter of fact, he wasn't. But he did desert her mother when Dana was pretty young."
"Men are so terrible."
"I did not say that."
"But you thought it." She only looked at him. And he prompted, "So you, Katie Sheppard and Dana Rowan made a vow…"
"That's right. On the day we finished nursing school."
"You went to nursing school together?"
"Yes. Up on the hill, U. of O. in Portland. We met in high school and there was something … special, between us, from the very first day. We all wanted to go into the medical field, too."
"But not to be doctors."
"That's right. We all chose nursing. And on the day that we graduated from college, we swore that we'd never, ever marry M.D.s."
"Oh, come. This has to be a joke. You didn't actually make a pledge."
"We did. We actually made a pledge."
"Did you sign it in blood?"
She shot him a tolerant glance. "No, just plain ink. And it was a joke. Sort of."
"I'm not following."
"Well, we all knew we'd never be foolish enough to marry M.D.s, and so it was serious in that sense. But mostly, over the years, we've just kidded each other about it."
"But I thought I heard that your friend Katie's marrying Mike Brennan, and that Dana Rowan is engaged to—"
She cut him off before he could finish rubbing it in. "Yes. All right."
"All right, what?" He looked way too smug.
She was forced to admit, "As it turns out, Katie and Dana are marrying doctors, after all."
"So they've both broken this pact of yours."
"Yes. But I won't."
He was shaking his head.
"All right," she grumbled. "Whatever you're thinking, say it."
"Well, what if you end up like those two friends of yours?"
She answered without missing a beat. "I won't."
"But speaking hypothetically—"
"No. There's no point in what-ifs here. I won't be marrying an M.D."
He leaned her way again, and his hand brushed her shoulder, so lightly it might have been completely unintentional. "Has one asked?"
"Of course not."
"Then you've got nothing to worry about, have you?"
Thursday night after work, Lee paid a short visit to Lenora and Maria Hirsch. Then she picked up some Chinese food and drove to Derek's. When she got there, she noticed his Suburban, looking like new, parked in the carport beneath the stairs.
"I see you got your wheels back," she said a few minutes later as she bustled around his kitchen getting the table set.
"Yeah." Derek sat at the table, his leg resting on a chair, watching her serve the meal. "A mechanic from the shop where I had it repaired drove it over here this morning."
She poured herself a Diet Coke. "You want a beer?"
"Sounds good. I'll get it." He started to push himself to his feet.
"Stay off that foot."
He dropped back to a sitting position, but couldn't resist arguing, "Lee, it really is getting better."
"I know. Because you've been staying off it." She returned to the fridge and found the beer. "The car looks good as new."
"It should," he said glumly. "It cost enough to fix. I can't wait to get my next insurance bill." She set his drink in front of him as he lowered his voice to a threatening growl. "And all because of a damn raccoon." An evil gleam came into his eyes. "
Are you sure you won't change your mind and go get my revenge for me?"
She slid into a chair. "Forget about it."
He picked up the moo-shoo pork and poured some onto his plate. "It doesn't matter what you say, I'm still going to get that raccoon."
"Derek." She looked pleadingly across the table at him. "Can we talk about something else. Please?"
He met her eyes for a moment, then shrugged. "Fine. Tell me how you're barely managing without me at the clinic."
She launched into a report of what had happened at work. Then they talked about Lenora and Maria, who were still in the first tough stages of making a new life.
"Lenora says her husband—Otto's his name—tracked her down, at the shelter."
"Was he violent?"
"No, he's apparently in a remorseful phase right now. He cried and begged her to come back to him. He swore it would never happen again."
"Did she believe him?"
"I think she really wished she could. But she's staying where she is."
"That's good, don't you think?"
"I do. And she's really working hard to make a new life. The people at the shelter helped her sign on for a job-training program. She starts this coming Monday, learning to be a supermarket checker at Superserve-Mart—the one just around the corner from Memorial."
"So things are improving for her, then?"
Lee nodded. "And because of the day care program at the shelter, she'll be able to leave Maria in good hands while she's on the job." Lee smiled to herself. "Lenora even suggested that the two of us might go out to lunch sometime, since the store is so close to the clinic." Her smile faded. "It's too bad she's so terrified of her husband. She says all his tears and apologies mean nothing, that he always feels bad about what he's done—for a while. But then, eventually, he gets angry again. And then he becomes violent. She's afraid he'll come after her when he gets to the violent stage."
"Well, at least now she's got people around her who understand the problem. And if he did try to hurt her again, he'd end up in jail."
"I keep telling myself that."
"What does that mean? You don't believe it?"
"I just worry about her. Who knows what a man like that will do?"
Derek reached out then—across the table. He snared her hand. She didn't pull away, though his touch always made her feel things a woman probably shouldn't feel with just a friend.
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