by Lilian Darcy
'But your chest sounds good,' he told Bill. 'It's not pneumonia. It's just a dose of flu.'
Jo must be halfway up the hill by now, passing that pretty little place the Grafton family had just moved into. He so badly wanted to talk to her. He'd gone round to her house last night after Tara's car had taunted him with its innocent presence in the hotel parking lot, but as he'd pulled to the kerb outside her house, he'd seen the last light go off in an upstairs window.
It had been after eleven-thirty. He had decided not to get her out of bed when he had no idea how she'd react to what he'd wanted to say.
'I'm a bit run down, and I've lost weight,' Bill Brown was saying. 'This thing with Harry's platelet count rocked both of us, Vanessa and me.'
'She's not with you today?'
'She had to start work again this morning, down in Rutland. It was great that she managed to get the time off.'
'I was going to suggest she send you to bed for a few days, give you some TLC.'
Bill must have read a few unsaid things in Rip's words. He sighed and stretched his face into a grimace. 'Yeah, things were looking good with us for a while. This scare over Harry reminded us of...well, you know, and I think we both thought for a couple of days... But the problems hadn't really gone away. It's too late for us, we've realised.'
'Yes, you can get to that point, can't you?' Rip said. 'When it's just too late.'
The words sounded ominous in his own ears.
Had he left it too late with Jo?
Timing could count for so much.
'So she's back in Rutland,' Bill went on. His tone was limp and he looked as if every bone in his body ached. 'Harry's a good kid, though. He'll let me lie on the couch all day, and I can send him over to our neighbours for a play later on.'
'Come in again if you feel worse. And drink lots of fluid.'
Turning into her front yard by now maybe, Rip's thoughts ran. Or maybe her legs were still sore from skiing and she'd taken the steeper stretch more slowly.
'Thanks,' Bill said. 'Come on, Harry, let's pack up the toys.'
He bent to help his son finish the job, with a further instruction about not throwing the blocks, but then his words were cut across by a squeal of brakes and the sound of screaming. Rip went still.
Where had those sounds come from?
From Main Street, running parallel to this one?
Or from this street, further up the hill?
He stood up and ushered father and son out of his office, the mental image of Jo walking up the street, which had been running like a silent movie in the background of his thoughts all through this appointment with the Browns, playing through more vividly than ever. He was sure those sounds had come from up the hill, and he wasn't going to wait any longer to confirm his fear.
If something had happened to her, before they'd had a chance to talk...
Hell, scratch that!
The talk didn't matter.
If something had happened to her, period.
'Lunch-break,' he told Trudy.
'Did you hear that car?' She was on the alert also.
'Yes, I'm going to check it out. Where do you think it was coming from?'
'Main Street?'
'No, I don't think it was. I really don't think it was from Main Street. I think it was coming from up the hill...'
Fear rising, he quickened his pace, car keys already in his hand.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It must have taken less than a minute for Rip to scream up the hill in his car. Halfway to the scene, he could see that his intuition and his directional hearing had been correct. This was where the squeal of brakes had come from.
He jammed the car against the kerb, slammed on the brakes, and jumped out, taking in what he saw.
Jo was there, but she wasn't hurt.
First critical piece of information, and. a sight that sent such a powerful wave of relief over him that it threatened to knock him to the ground.
'Jo!' His voice cracked as he said her name, and cracked harder when he swore. 'I knew you'd walked up. I was thinking about you. And then I heard the brakes and the screams.' He couldn't go on.
'No, it wasn't me.' She sounded as shaky as he felt, and her eyes were huge as she fixed them on his face. 'It's OK, Rip. It wasn't me.'
'Thank God!' It was a prayer more than an exclamation.
He mastered himself and began to think like a doctor, not like a man. Giving a steady stream of reassurance, she was bending over a form that looked familiar—the weight, the style of clothing, the white hair.
Thornton Liddle. It was his pick-up, still parked askew in the middle of the road.
His squealing brakes, too, Rip guessed. He saw the dog and Nina Grafton, bent like Jo over the animal, but frantically sobbing. 'I think she's OK. Oh, darling Genie, are you OK? You're breathing, but why are you lying down? Genie, show me if you're hurt, princess...'
'I'll take a look at her for you as soon as I can,' Rip told Nina. Then added, 'Jo? Is it his heart?'
He didn't want to have to deal with this. All he wanted to do was to sweep Jo up in his arms and tell her over and over how glad he was—'glad' was way too weak a word!— that she was all right. But he couldn't let her see that now, couldn't let other people down when he was needed.
'I'm not sure yet.' Jo was trying to help the old man as he struggled to pull himself into a sitting position, as if clawing his way to the surface of a swimming pool in search of air. 'Not getting a verbal response.' She turned at once back to her patient. 'Mr Liddle, you're OK. You've got two doctors here now, and we're going to take care of you.'
Thornton was gasping and groaning, his face beaded with sweat. It could easily be his heart. 'Is the dog...OK?' he managed to say at last.
'She's alive,' Rip answered.
'I shouldn't still be driving. You've tried to tell me that. And Mona. I lost control on the bend, just couldn't seem to see the road.' He stopped for breath, and Jo began to loosen his clothing. His colour looked a little better.
'Never mind what happened, Thornton, tell us about the pain,' Rip said.
'I can't get my breath.'
'Try to calm down. We're here and you're fine.'
'The pick-up...'
'Give me the keys and I'll move it. It's not safe there, is it?'
'No.'
'But first, please, are you in pain?'
Jo was taking his pulse. She looked up at Rip and mouthed, 'Strong and steady.' Which was better than they'd both feared. Her eyes still held that wide, questioning look that Rip couldn't answer. Not here. Not now.
But later, yes, if he had to move mountains, he was going to get her alone and they were going to talk.
'Winded myself when I fell. Pulled a shoulder muscle, I think.' Thornton said. He rubbed at it, then added, 'Yeah.'
Jo and Rip looked at each other again. His voice sounded stronger. He didn't look grey. He wasn't in the grip of a full-on heart attack's inexorable agony, but they couldn't be sure yet that he was safe. His hands were trembling.
'He tripped on the kerb,' Jo said.
'So you saw the accident itself?'
'Yes, Nina and I were standing right here. Can you move your ankle, Mr Liddle? You were grabbing it before, and I'm wondering if it's sprained. I think we should get you into Rip's car and get you down to the practice, but I'm not sure how well you can walk.'
Rip moved the pick-up to a safe position, then returned to help Jo and the old man as he managed to stand. 'I think I'm OK,' he gasped, once on his feet. 'It was the shock. The dog...'
Genie was standing now, too, with Nina still hugging her close, looking into her doggy eyes, feeling her body for signs of injury.
'She definitely got knocked,' Nina said. 'Please, can we check her now? I know she's only a dog...' She had tears coursing down her cheeks.
'Jo? While I help Mr Liddle into the car?' Rip said. 'Nina, we know she's not just a dog.'
'Yes, if you can manage,' Jo said, in answer to Rip's questi
on.
'We can.' He helped his patient into the passenger seat and went to climb in the other side.
'Not going yet. I want to hear the news on the dog,' Thornton Liddle said. 'And I want a cigarette.' He was already patting at his pocket.
Rip thought about trying to stop him, but then gave a mental shrug. He realised that he hadn't even thought about a cigarette himself since he'd heard the squeal of brakes— or even, come to think of it, last night when Tara had used her scare tactics on him.
He felt his spirits rising, although he knew it was really too soon for that. He had a lot to say to Jo, in stronger and more unequivocal language, even, than he would have used to her twelve hours ago. And he knew he couldn't count on her answer. Not after what he'd put her through lately.
'We should run her to the vet just to check,' Jo was saying when Rip walked back to the patch of grass where she and Nina both hovered over the dog. 'But I can't find any obvious breaks, or any blood. Her pupils look normal, she's standing up steadily now.'
'And wagging her tail,' Nina said. 'Oh, Genie!'
'She might just have got winded and shocked, too, but let's get her checked out properly. I'll have to go down and bring up my car.'
'I'll wait here with her,' Nina said.
'And I'll drive you down, Jo,' Rip came in.
'I'm going to hand in my licence,' Thornton Liddle announced in the car. His hands were still shaking, Rip saw. 'Mona can play chauffeur. Let's face it, I'm never going to get free of the cigarettes, but this I can do. Flipping heck, if I'd killed or maimed that dog, that nice woman's pet!'
'More than that, Thornton,' Rip told him, and sketched for the old man just how important Genie was in Nina Grafton's life.
Mr Liddle groaned. 'So if I'd killed her...'
At the surgery, Rip took the old man's blood pressure, temperature and pulse, and listened to his breathing. The blood-pressure reading was too high, the ankle was definitely sprained, possibly fractured, and he had localised tenderness above his collar-bone also. Although the signs didn't point to a major heart problem, Rip decided to play it safe, call an ambulance and get him admitted for overnight observation.
They were still waiting for the ambulance when Jo returned from driving Nina and Genie to the vet. Rip stood in the waiting room, talking to Trudy and Merril, and her attention went instinctively to him. Nobody else mattered. She'd seen the way he'd looked at her outside the Graftons' house when he'd first seen that she was there at the scene of the near-accident but that she was safe.
'Nina's husband is going to pick them up and take them home,' she reported. 'I didn't stay, but Genie was practically talking to Nina, saying she was OK. Nina's starting to believe her.' She smiled at Rip, and he smiled back.
Two people came up the front steps. They couldn't be the ambulance paramedics because they weren't wearing uniforms, and anyhow there was no big white vehicle parked out front.
Oh, and in addition they had a baby!
'Shelley!' Rip said, at the same moment that Jo, Trudy and Merril recognised the new arrivals. 'Weren't you getting here tomorrow?'
'Lloyd's sister took Hayley all weekend. We were ready to go by bedtime last night, and then she woke up at, would you believe, four this morning, didn't you, sweetheart?'
'You weren't calling her "sweetheart" at that hour,' Lloyd Breck came in, as he gave Rip's hand a hearty shake. 'I think the words "spawn" and "devil" were mentioned.'
'You know I was over that in five minutes! But, yes, so we decided we may as well just get on the road.' She grinned.
Since it wasn't currently four in the morning, Jo felt no ambivalence about the baby. Hayley was adorable. Dressed in a little peach-coloured playsuit with a hat to match, she sat happily in Shelley's arms, facing the world and smiling at everything she saw.
'May I have a hold?' Jo asked.
She still felt shaky. About Thornton Liddle. About Genie. About Tara's visit that morning. About Rip. About everything. A baby was just what she needed as she couldn't talk to Rip in private right now.
A patient arrived. Rip's. His lunch-break was over, but hers needn't be just yet. She still had time for a little bit of baby-hugging. No time to eat, but her stomach felt too churned up for that anyhow.
'Of course you can have a hold,' Shelley said.
Jo coaxed a couple of gorgeous coos and smiles from Hayley, then heard the ambulance pull up noisily outside. Rip hadn't called his patient in yet. He opened the door, watching the paramedics as they unloaded the stretcher that would take Thornton Liddle into the back of the vehicle. But when the next set of feet sounded on the steps they didn't belong to the paramedics.
Tara. Not in a mood to waste any more time. 'Look, Rip, I'm not going to mess around any more. I've been sitting in that cafe and you didn't come! I need to see you. Do you know why? Jo, did you tell him?'
'No, Tara,' Jo answered. 'I told you I wouldn't, and I didn't.' She handed Hayley back to Shelley, who kissed the fat little cheeks then passed the baby on to Lloyd.
Tara made an impatient, disgusted sound. 'You didn't? You really can't take a hint, can you?'
Several puzzle pieces dropped into place in Jo's mind with a brittle click. 'That's why you came to see me? Because you wanted me to tell—?'
'It doesn't matter now,' Tara said, while Jo's brain went on ticking and clicking.
Tara had known perfectly well she was pregnant—had known before she'd ever come back to Vermont, had known she wasn't just at four or five weeks, and had taken advantage of a tiny smear of bleeding to manufacture a miscarriage scare in order to try a second time to con Jo into giving Rip the news, using the upside-down tactic of begging her for secrecy because she'd wanted Rip's help but hadn't wanted to have to ask for it.
'It was stupid,' Tara declared.
Worse than stupid, Jo considered. She'd witnessed Tara's use of this kind of tactic before, during the marriage, but it had been over trivial issues not something like this.
'Rip?' His ex-wife made a beseeching face.
'I can't talk to you now, Tara.' He sounded as angry as Jo felt on his behalf. 'Jo, I have a patient waiting, but if I didn't, if there's anyone I want to talk to, it's you.'
'No,' she told him firmly. 'You need to talk to Tara.'
'When you've seen me, Rip,' Tara came in, 'you may not need to see Jo. I didn't want it to happen like this. I've probably handled the whole thing wrong. I have. I've been stupid about it. But I didn't know what else to do. Rip, I'm scared. No more games, I promise, just the truth, and I really need to see you in private now.'
'Jo?' Rip said.
'See her,' she told him again. 'I'll—I'll juggle your appointments somehow.'
Through all this, Shelley had stayed silent, but now she spoke. 'Let me juggle them, too. I can get a head start. As long as Lloyd takes Hayley and someone—anyone!—gets me a coffee!'
'Honey?' Lloyd said. 'You're sure?'
'Call it a trial run before next Monday. Hayley needs a play in the park on the baby swings. And a few things clearly need to get settled between a few people here. Jo, we'll go into your office and you can fill me in. Everything I need to know in three sentences. Trudy will trouble-shoot for me on admin procedure. Give me the easy patients. Your office, right?'
She went in the right direction, and Jo followed. They both arrived in good time to see Rip and Tara going past the window at the front of the office, and to hear quite clearly when Tara told Rip, 'I'm pregnant.'
Shelley blew out a breath. 'I guess we're not up to the three sentences on the practice yet,' she said. 'Sounds like I need the three sentences on our senior partner's personal life first.'
'Oh, lord, there's nothing I'd like more than to talk about it!' Jo answered, practically in tears. 'She first came to me about her pregnancy last week, and I haven't been able to say a thing.'
She launched into the story. She didn't intend admitting, at first, to how personally involved she felt—that horrible sense of competition, the backdat
ing of her feelings for Rip which made it seem, suddenly, as if this had all been going on for years. But then it just came out in a chaotic gush that Shelley frowned at, struggling to follow as she drank the coffee Trudy had brought her.
'So the baby's not his?'
'No.'
'But the other relationship, the one she left. Rip for, that's broken up and she's looking for a substitute father.'
'I think so. I doubt she'd ever put it so bluntly. She's—'
'A manipulator. That was clear.'
'Rip's always known it, too. He's not been blind, just very ready to forgive.' Jo considered telling Shelley about Rip's mother and her serial divorces, but Shelley didn't need that level of detail right now.
'Our niece tried the same thing,' the new partner said. 'Looking for a substitute father, I mean, before she made the decision to give Hayley to us.'
'It must be a difficult position to be in.'
Shelley snorted. 'For Michaela, yes. She was just sixteen and, well, a darling but clueless, no idea about a career, with parents who aren't by any means well off. I don't consider it's a difficult position for Tara, though. She's how old?'
'Around thirty-four.'
'Good career?'
'Trust fund. Modest, apparently, but enough to live on. And she'll make some money from her quilts if she Works at it.'
Shelley snorted again. 'Forget the quilts! Jo, she has options, talents and enough brains, experience and resources to work out which of those options she wants to take. I am going to go to the park to meet Lloyd and Hayley in a little while, when Rip gets back, and I am going to hug Hayley and hold her to my heart, and I am not going to feel sorry for Rip's ex-wife!'
It was the best thing she could have said, and it freed Jo from any sense of emotional responsibility for Tara, even though it couldn't free her from her stomach-caving fear that this was all too messy and hard and that even if Tara left Harriet, even if Rip sent her away, it didn't mean that he cared about Jo the way Jo needed him to, ached for him to.