“Don’t do that to me just because I messed up all those years ago.”
The curse of the pale-skinned redhead was that they could really blush. Reb’s face throbbed. “This is ridiculous,” she told him. “If you weren’t upset you’d never behave like this. You didn’t mess up anything. I did. You were the one who figured out how to smooth things over, and I thank you for that. Let’s not bring it up again.”
“Because it embarrasses you?” he said, dropping his hands. “I’ll say this much and no more. You were the sweetest thing, and I…I liked you for your spontaneity. I never tried to make you understand the way things had to be—at least for a while. I left you thinking you’d done something wrong while I protected myself. Well, the joke was on me because I was the one who lost out. It’s in the past, but I wanted to tell you.
“Look, if I asked you,” he continued, “would you consider coming out to Clouds End with me? Early evenin’ maybe? I’ll feed you and see if I can’t figure out a way to talk about the things you might be able to help me with—as the doctor who was there.”
Any defenses she might have thought she had against him had taken a hike. “As far as I’m concerned, the woman I examined was one Bonnie Blue.”
“But her relatives didn’t show up to claim her, right?”
She didn’t know how he’d found that out. “No, they didn’t.”
“Please come for dinner. You can bring him.” He pointed at Gaston, who had climbed up to stretch out on her desk. His bulbous brown eyes moved back and forth between Reb and Marc as if there were a tennis match underway.
The pager at Reb’s waist rang, and she checked the readout. Immediately she snatched up the phone and punched in numbers. With a hand over the mouthpiece, she whispered, “Peggy Lalonde. First time mom-to-be.” She put a single finger to her lips, signaling for silence. “Hey, Peggy, what’s up?” She walked back and forth by her desk. “You’ve got two months to go and you’re doing beautifully—yes—yes, that’s normal. There’s a whole lot of stretching going on and you’re feeling that. No! No, absolutely not—it is
not
abnormal. Get a glass of tea and put your feet up for an hour. Nap if you feel like it. You do too much…
No!
I am not trying to take your mind off something serious. Peggy, I’ll get over to see you this afternoon, okay? Good. Later then.” She hung up.
“You’re unbelievable,” Marc told her. “No wonder they love you in this town.”
“How would you know if I’m loved here?”
“You’ve got to be. You’re a pushover.” A dangerous glint in her eyes changed his mind about pursuing the topic. “You’re exactly as I’d expect you to be. Completely involved and caring. That’s wonderful.”
She smiled a little, and he breathed easier.
“The house is being cleaned up. It’s a mess. But the gardens are still something. Come tonight? Please?”
“I hate to see a man beg,” she said and didn’t care if she wasn’t original. “Okay, I’ll be there.” But he’d raised some doubts for her, and they didn’t make her more secure about ignoring recent events. If anything he suggested was true, someone might have a motive for trying to scare her, to think seeing her dead would be a good idea, in fact. She needed help but didn’t want to cause a panic in Toussaint.
Six
Some might say trading three years of unpaid medical bills and a player piano for a fourteen-year-old motorcycle didn’t show good business sense, particularly when Reb had been told the player piano was a valuable antique—after the trade.
Reb arrived outside her house on her pride and joy, her Ultra Classic, fully loaded except for the AM/FM cassette Ozaire Dupre, Toussaint’s “You want it, I’ll get it,” guy, had insisted tipped the deal too far in Reb’s favor. After all, out of respect for her occupation, he’d left the CB and intercom, and the chrome-trimmed
The curse of the pale-skinned redhead was that they could really blush. Reb’s face throbbed. “This is ridiculous,” she told him. “If you weren’t upset you’d never behave like this. You didn’t mess up anything. I did. You were the one who figured out how to smooth things over, and I thank you for that. Let’s not bring it up again.”
“Because it embarrasses you?” he said, dropping his hands. “I’ll say this much and no more. You were the sweetest thing, and I…I liked you for your spontaneity. I never tried to make you understand the way things had to be—at least for a while. I left you thinking you’d done something wrong while I protected myself. Well, the joke was on me because I was the one who lost out. It’s in the past, but I wanted to tell you.
“Look, if I asked you,” he continued, “would you consider coming out to Clouds End with me? Early evenin’ maybe? I’ll feed you and see if I can’t figure out a way to talk about the things you might be able to help me with—as the doctor who was there.”
Any defenses she might have thought she had against him had taken a hike. “As far as I’m concerned, the woman I examined was one Bonnie Blue.”
“But her relatives didn’t show up to claim her, right?”
She didn’t know how he’d found that out. “No, they didn’t.”
“Please come for dinner. You can bring him.” He pointed at Gaston, who had climbed up to stretch out on her desk. His bulbous brown eyes moved back and forth between Reb and Marc as if there were a tennis match underway.
The pager at Reb’s waist rang, and she checked the readout. Immediately she snatched up the phone and punched in numbers. With a hand over the mouthpiece, she whispered, “Peggy Lalonde. First time mom-to-be.” She put a single finger to her lips, signaling for silence. “Hey, Peggy, what’s up?” She walked back and forth by her desk. “You’ve got two months to go and you’re doing beautifully—yes—yes, that’s normal. There’s a whole lot of stretching going on and you’re feeling that. No! No, absolutely not—it is
not
abnormal. Get a glass of tea and put your feet up for an hour. Nap if you feel like it. You do too much…
No!
I am not trying to take your mind off something serious. Peggy, I’ll get over to see you this afternoon, okay? Good. Later then.” She hung up.
“You’re unbelievable,” Marc told her. “No wonder they love you in this town.”
“How would you know if I’m loved here?”
“You’ve got to be. You’re a pushover.” A dangerous glint in her eyes changed his mind about pursuing the topic. “You’re exactly as I’d expect you to be. Completely involved and caring. That’s wonderful.”
She smiled a little, and he breathed easier.
“The house is being cleaned up. It’s a mess. But the gardens are still something. Come tonight? Please?”
“I hate to see a man beg,” she said and didn’t care if she wasn’t original. “Okay, I’ll be there.” But he’d raised some doubts for her, and they didn’t make her more secure about ignoring recent events. If anything he suggested was true, someone might have a motive for trying to scare her, to think seeing her dead would be a good idea, in fact. She needed help but didn’t want to cause a panic in Toussaint.
Six
Some might say trading three years of unpaid medical bills and a player piano for a fourteen-year-old motorcycle didn’t show good business sense, particularly when Reb had been told the player piano was a valuable antique—after the trade.
Reb arrived outside her house on her pride and joy, her Ultra Classic, fully loaded except for the AM/FM cassette Ozaire Dupre, Toussaint’s “You want it, I’ll get it,” guy, had insisted tipped the deal too far in Reb’s favor. After all, out of respect for her occupation, he’d left the CB and intercom, and the chrome-trimmed
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