Did she have to argue about everything? He’d hoped to find the woman who’d held the hymnal with him, the one who hadn’t pulled away when their fingers touched. The woman in front of him looked mad enough to spit on his boots. Zeb understood anger. It made him strong, but it also got him in trouble. Dr. Mitchell, it seemed, had the same bad habit. If she wanted to fight, he’d be glad to oblige. He crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s got you in a twist?”
“You know very well.”
He saw the shine of hurt feelings in her eyes. “Actually, I don’t. Perhaps you could enlighten me?”
“You wanted a catfight and you got it.”
“You and Abigail?”
“Exactly.”
He wrinkled his brow. “Why would I want that?”
“I don’t know why you do anything, Mr. Garrison! One day you’re berating me for being a doctor. The next day you’ve paid for shelves for my office. Half the time you’re glowering at me. The other half, you make me feel—” She sealed her lips as if she had nearly spilled a secret.
Zeb knew how he felt around her. He breathed deeper around this woman. He felt stronger, even hopeful. “Go ahead,” he said, prodding her. “How do I make you feel?”
“You make me furious!”
“Likewise, Dr. Mitchell.” He put his hands on his hips, then grinned at her with the full force of a determined man. “Since we’re of one mind, would you have supper with me tonight?”
Chapter Fifteen
“Supper?” Nora stared in disbelief.
“Sure. Why not?”
A dozen reasons crossed her mind, starting with the one that confused her the most. She had to say no because she wanted to say yes. While sitting on the rock, she’d weighed the events of the day and come to a harsh conclusion. Before she opened her heart to anyone in High Plains, she had to establish herself as a physician. Why make friends if she’d be gone in a few weeks?
Even more dangerous, why give her heart to a man who didn’t like her? Or did he? Nora didn’t know what to think. Zeb had just rescued her from trash duty. Considering his opinion of female doctors, the gesture made no sense. Earlier, looking at the mill, she’d made a silent vow to ignore him. She had to stand on her own and she would.
Having supper with him would only complicate the situation. “Thank you,” she said. “But I can’t accept.”
“Why not?”
The reasons seemed obvious. “For one thing, we don’t like each other.”
His eyes twinkled with amusement. “Speak for yourself, Doc.”
Baffled, she matched his stare with one of her own. When the corners of his mouth hinted at a grin, she thought of the shelves and the brush of his arm in church. She also recalled his sharp tongue and the way he’d slammed the door when he’d left her house. Zeb confused her in the most fundamental ways. Her heart felt drawn to him. Her experience with male arrogance told her to push him away.
He indicated the boulder with an open hand. “Please, Nora. Sit and listen. I have some explaining to do.”
The hush of her name stole her breath. So did the hint of an apology. Intrigued, she dropped down on the warm granite. As she looked up, the sun burned into her eyes and she squinted. Zeb stepped in front of her, shading her face as the blue sky turned his head into a silhouette. He could see her plainly. She couldn’t see him at all.
“I’m listening,” she said evenly.
“I want to apologize for my behavior when you first arrived. Regardless of your gender, I had an obligation to provide an office for you. I didn’t do that, and I’m sorry.”
The apology stunned her. Was he sincere? Could she trust him? “I don’t know what to say.”
“There’s more.” He pointed again at the rock, indicating he wanted to sit next to her. “May I?”
“I suppose.”
As he lowered his lean body to the slab, Nora scooted to the side but only an inch. There was nowhere to go. She didn’t know which posture she found more disconcerting—Zeb looming over her, a black silhouette with broad shoulders, or Zeb sitting next to her, a flesh-and-blood man with bristly cheeks. Hoping to appear unruffled, she sat with her hands primly laced in her lap.
Zeb sat with his forearms on his knees, steepling his fingers as he looked past her to the river. “I’m sorry about the other day at your house. I’m not usually that much of an ogre.”
She’d already forgiven him, but she didn’t want to cheapen the apology by making light of it. “Ogre fits. You left in a rage.”
“I know.”
She waited for an explanation, but he answered by staring into the distance. The breeze stirred his dark hair and the grass rippled with lazy ease. In the distance she heard the river tumbling over the waterfall. Some things in life were unstoppable. Gravity pulled a rock down a hill. Love pulled men and women together the same way. From the minute she’d seen Zeb Garrison, she’d felt drawn to him. She felt the pull now and it scared her to death.
He didn’t like her.
He didn’t respect her work.
He had a bad temper and a prideful disposition.
He’d also loved a woman and been deeply hurt. He’d seen his hometown blown to bits and his neighbors die.
Nora knew about wounds. Pain made even the gentlest souls cry out in rage. The deeper the cut, the longer it took to heal. The longer the healing, the more prominent the scar, whether it was visible or not. She thought of Bess locked in a silent world. Zeb didn’t have trouble speaking his mind, but he’d stifled his feelings as surely as Bess stifled her voice. Nora couldn’t leave him dangling any more than she could abandon Bess. She smiled at him. “Were the shelves a peace offering?”
“Yes.”
“I accept.” To seal the deal, she held out her gloved hand. Zeb took it, and their fingers meshed like reeds making a basket. Neither of them spoke. Neither twitched a muscle until the lingering turned into a question. Startled, Nora ended the handshake with a quick squeeze of her fingers.
Zeb winced.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
He tried to pull away, but she turned his hand palm up so she could see what had caused the pain.
“It’s nothing,” he said, drawing back.
“Then you won’t mind if I look.”
Frowning, he turned his hand to the side so she could see his thumb. A red bump had formed below the knuckle. Shiny and hard, the infection looked ready to burst. “What happened?” she asked.
“It’s just a splinter. I get them all the time.”
“This one’s festering.” Nora didn’t want to be a doctor today, but she couldn’t ignore her training. “How long have you had it?”
“About a week.”
As she poked at the boil-like lump, she thought of the shelves lining her clinic. Someone had spent hours sanding them smooth, and it hadn’t been Reverend Preston. She looked at Zeb with a new understanding. His gift had been more personal than she’d realized. “You cut the wood for the shelves, didn’t you?”
He shrugged.
She wished he’d speak up, but she recognized the gesture as agreement. Not only had he paid Reverend Preston, he’d spent time thinking about her, trying to please her. She felt warm all over. She also knew what an infection could do. “The splinter should be removed. I could—”
He tried to take back his hand, but Nora held tight. Zeb pulled until she let go. “It’ll work its way out,” he said. “They always do.”
“This one’s deep.”
Zeb shook his head. “I’ll deal with it later.”
“Let me help you.” She saw him considering the offer and decided to be charitable. “This isn’t even real doctoring. Anyone could take it out.”
He hesitated. “No, thanks, Doc.”
They were talking about more than a splinter. If he accepted her help, he’d be sacrificing his pride. Nora had a quandary of her own. If she accepted his supper invitation before she earned his respect, she’d be denying the call on her
life. They sat in silence, each listening to the river, until she couldn’t stand the closeness. She dropped his hand and stood. “If you change your mind, I’ll be at the clinic.” She snatched her hat from the rock, turned her back and headed up the path.
His boots scuffed the earth. “Nora, wait.”
Again he’d used her given name. The hush of it made her warm all over. It also made her furious. Who was she to this man? A woman or a doctor? She wanted to be both. She needed to be both. Hurting and frustrated, she raced down the path. He followed her, his boots slapping against the dirt. Intending to tell him to leave, she pivoted. Her heel caught on a rut and she stumbled.
He caught her in his arms, steadying her until her legs stopped wobbling. Common sense told her to step back, but she didn’t want to snap the thread of silent connection. From the distance of inches, a foot at the most, she felt the tug and pull of being female. This man needed her. He had splinters in his heart as well as his flesh, but how could she trust him, even as a friend, when he didn’t respect her work? She couldn’t, but neither could she look away from his green eyes, bright and glittering like the broken glass in Doc Dempsey’s office.
Her chest rose and fell with three quick breaths. His throat twitched and his hands tightened on her elbows. They stood face-to-face, breathing in a matching rhythm as seconds churned into an eternity, until the corners of his mouth tightened and his eyes glinted. “I do believe you’re daring me to kiss you.”
Her tongue refused to move.
“Are you?” he murmured.
“It’s not a dare,” she answered. “It’s…I don’t know what it is.”
“I do,” he said in a gravelly voice. “You’re wondering.”
Nora couldn’t lie, not even with silence. Almost imperceptibly, she nodded her head.
“I’m wondering, too.”
Slowly, giving her time to object, he drew her into his arms. His lips came together and his eyes closed as if he were dreaming, then his mouth found hers and he kissed her. He brushed her lips once, then again. The sweetness of it made her senses reel. The danger made her heart pound. She didn’t dare love Zeb until he respected her work, but neither did she want to stop kissing him.
In that moment, Nora faced a painful truth. She cared for Zeb Garrison. Whether he respected her work or not, she’d gone over the waterfall in a rush.
Zeb wasn’t surprised when Nora broke from his arms and stepped back gasping. He felt the same way. Not since crossing the Mississippi had he felt the strange and wild daring of uncharted territory. He felt it now with Nora and he liked the amazement.
Far too much, he realized.
As usual, he’d gone too far and too soon. Unless they resolved their differences, they’d fight all the time. He didn’t want to love a woman with a career. He wanted the mother of his children to be home. Zeb had other doubts, too. He still didn’t trust her competence, and he doubted her commitment to High Plains. She’d come West because she’d been rejected everywhere else. What would she do if she was offered a position at a New York hospital? Frannie had faced a similar choice and she’d left him.
The thought of Frannie riled him, but not as much as the memory of kissing Nora. He needed to calm down. So did she. He wanted to put her at ease, but didn’t know how. If he acknowledged the wonder of the kiss, where would they be? She wanted his respect for her work, but he couldn’t give it. He wanted guarantees of her loyalty, but medicine would always take precedence in her life. Before they took another step, he needed to know he’d be first in her heart, not playing second fiddle to her medical bag. The thought angered him.
Before he found his tongue, Nora steadied herself with a sharp breath. “I’m not wondering anyone. That answers my question.”
She sounded clinical, as if she were diagnosing a sore throat. Zeb kept his voice matter-of-fact. “So what’s the answer?”
“Poison ivy.”
He frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“Have you had it?”
“Once.”
“As a physician, I’ve seen it many times.” She sounded calmer. “People touch the ivy without knowing it. The next thing they know, they’re red and itchy and the rash spreads.”
Zeb didn’t know if he’d been insulted for the kiss or paid a strange compliment. He’d never made a woman feel red and itchy before, but he supposed it was better than feeling nothing. A lot better, he decided. At least she was as unsettled as he was. “So what do you do for poison ivy? I’m asking because I’ve got it, too.”
“Avoid it in the future.”
“I’ll try,” he drawled. “But I can’t say poison ivy’s all bad.”
“Me, neither.” She looked him in the eye. “I’ll be blunt, Zeb. I like you. I know I’m being too bold, but that’s who I am.”
“I like boldness.”
Her gaze hardened with determination. “I’m also a doctor. Until this town accepts me—until you accept me—I have to keep my eyes on why I’m here.”
“I see.”
“I’m not sure you do. My work—”
“—matters to you,” he said for her. “You have a burden you never put down. I know, because I have the same burden with the mill. People need me.”
“And they need me.”
“I agree they need a doctor,” he said. “But I still don’t think you’re the doctor they need.”
Her lips pulled tight. “That’s why we have to forget that kiss. It takes time, but poison ivy goes away.”
She had a point, but Zeb wasn’t ready to back down. This mess had started because he’d asked her to supper. She hadn’t said no, but neither had she said yes. “You still haven’t answered my question about supper.”
She lifted her chin. “Thank you, but no.”
“That’s what I thought.” Medicine would always come first in her life. She wouldn’t even risk a meal with him.
After a long look, she turned her back and headed down the path. He wanted to follow her, but what could he say? One of them had to have a change of heart and it wouldn’t be him. He’d learned the hard way not to trust ambitious women, and Dr. Mitchell would always put her career before anything—or anyone—else. The splinter in his thumb hurt, but he could live with it. It would take more than a little piece of wood to make him ask Dr. Nora for help.
As for the so-called poison ivy, only a fool touched it twice. He was no fool. He’d go back to the mill and shove logs through the saws with his men. In Zeb’s experience, hard work cured anything, even poison ivy.
Chapter Sixteen
Alex picked up a wooden horse and ran it across the blanket covering his legs. He made it whinny and rear, then galloped it toward Nora, who was cleaning a window. The toy had arrived yesterday along with a note addressed to Alex in Zeb’s handwriting.
Both had been delivered by Clint, who looked as worn out as he had a week ago. Apparently Zeb hadn’t taken her advice about safety at the mill. She’d counseled Clint to rest, but he’d shaken his head. She hadn’t liked his cough at all, but he’d refused to let her listen to his lungs. Instead, he’d pulled himself onto his horse and headed for the Circle-L. Nora let out a sigh. Would she ever gain the town’s respect? It didn’t seem like it.
As Alex galloped the horse over his knees, Nora thought again of Zeb. She’d never forget kissing him, though it seemed unlikely the moment would be repeated. He’d kept his distance and she’d kept hers. Unless something happened to turn the tide of public opinion, she’d be headed home to New York in a matter of weeks.
Alex stopped playing with the horse. “It stinks in here. I want to go outside.”
She didn’t blame him for being quarrelsome. He’d been in bed for ten long days. The rash had faded from red to brown, and light no longer bothered his eyes. He needed to be careful, but sunshine would do him good. She liked the idea of fresh air herself.
“Let’s go right now.” She draped the rag over the washbowl. “We can work in the garden.”
“I guess so.” He sounded forlorn.
Nora sat next to him on the bed. “Is something wrong?”
“I used to help my ma in the garden. I pulled weeds.”
“You miss your family.”
“A lot.”
Nora smoothed the boy’s hair. She’d come to love him the way she’d loved Ben. No matter what the future held, she hoped to adopt him and give him a good home. She hadn’t mentioned her hopes to Alex because she didn’t know where that home would be. She’d seen an appallingly small number of patients. In addition to Zeb’s eye and Clint’s cough, she’d treated four children, including Alex, for measles. One of the families had paid her, but the father of an ailing baby had ignored the obligation. He’d been well dressed and so had his wife. His failure to pay her had been blatant disrespect, but she’d visited the child again this morning.
If she didn’t earn the town’s confidence soon, she’d have to wire her father for money. She’d end up in New York married to a man who smelled like liniment. Every night she asked God for help. She’d visited several families again, but nothing had changed. Zeb’s mistrust had infected all of High Plains. If he wouldn’t let her remove a splinter, how could she gain respect from anyone else?
Frustrated but determined, she focused on Alex, the one person who believed in her. She tickled his cheek with her knuckle. “Instead of pulling weeds, how about we bake cookies?”
“Yeah!”
“I’ll have to get more sugar at the mercantile.” She had no desire to speak with Abigail or Mrs. Johnson, but she hadn’t heard from Cassandra since the committee meeting. She needed to know if she’d ended up with trash duty. She also wanted to check for mail. She expected to hear from Dr. Zeiss any day.
Alex picked up the horse and made it rear up. “I love cookies!”
“Me, too.” She stood, then lifted the bowl of vinegar water. “Go ahead and get dressed. I’ll be back soon.”
She took the bowl to the kitchen, removed her apron and went in search of Carolina. She found the nurse in the exam room dusting the books spread on the counter. Nora had perused them again last night in search of information on mutism.
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