Читать книгу Rescued By Marriage - Dianne Drake, Dianne Drake - Страница 8

THE loaner car was nice—a compact little SUV. Purple. The mayor explained that it belonged to his daughter who was off to college right now, and Della’s first thought was why would a college girl need a car on Redcliffe Island? Was there anyplace to go here? Of course, she didn’t ask. That would have been impolite. Instead, she accepted the keys graciously and promised to be careful.

“I might stop in to see you later,” Mayor Vargas said, as he rubbed his shoulder. “Got a little touch of arthritis setting in, I’m afraid. Maybe you could take a look.”

Her first patient. This was promising. Here less than an hour and she was about to get busy. “Stop by any time.” She assumed he knew where to stop by, and she would have told him to call for an appointment, but she didn’t know if her phone service was in operation yet. Land-line phone. She’d given up her cellphone right after she’d given up just about everything else that had added an extra bill to her burden. In her old life the cost of it hadn’t mattered; in her new life it did tremendously. “I’ll be glad to have a look at you.” She was tempted to tell him to bring all his friends along for an exam, too, but that would have seemed rather bold of her.

“So, is there anything else we can do to help you get settled in, Doc?” he asked. “I know some of the ladies are going to bring meals to you for a while, until you’re set up on your own.”

“I hadn’t even thought about that,” she admitted. “I appreciate it.”

“Well, that’s the way we operate here. What’s mine is yours…you know how that is.”

She smiled like she did know. But the truth was, all those years she’d been married to Anthony she’d thought what had been his had been hers, too, and that everything in their marriage had been shared. Which hadn’t turned out to be the case. It had all been his, except the debt, and that had become all hers.

“So are we good to go?” Sam asked.

“Do I need a key or something to get into the house or the clinic?” Della asked, suddenly realizing that she had nothing that marked ownership or entitlement to the house or property other than the word of Foster Armstrong, who’d said he would send the papers along once they were registered.

“It’s open,” the mayor said, then bade them goodbye and scurried off to his office.

Della stood on the sidewalk for a moment, simply looking around. She liked it, she thought. It was easy. People were friendly. Strangers waved and smiled, and old men tipped their hats in polite greeting. Maybe being cut off from the mainstream wasn’t such a bad thing. “So you’ve never been here before?” she asked Sam.

Sam shook his head. “I’m new in the job. Got lots of territory to cover, and I haven’t had time before now. Without a doctor on the island, I didn’t have a reason, either.”

“You don’t practice medicine at all?”

“Not for an awfully long time. It ties you to one place, and I don’t like to be tied any more.” He flashed an extraordinarily sexy grin at her. “Been there, done that, moved on to something else. Life’s too short to be stuck with something you don’t want.”

“I like having roots. It’s nice to have the same place to come home to. There’s something comforting in stability.” She realized that more now than she ever had before.

“We all think that at some time, I suppose. I did once, but I was wrong about it…For me it was wrong, anyway. So, why don’t you and that purple car follow me out to your house and we’ll see if we can get you set up to stay before it gets too late.” He glanced around. “Where are your things?”

She pointed to her duffle bag, a suitcase and the hand grip next to it. “That’s it. Pretty much everything I own. I’m having a few things sent up from Miami shortly, but I traveled light.”

He gave her an odd look, one somewhere between concern and shock. “Are you sure you know what you’re getting yourself into? Because right now I think maybe we should find you a place at one of the local bed and breakfasts until the rest of your things arrive.”

A bed and breakfast for the night sounded wonderful—a nice cozy room with a comfy mattress, fresh muffins and juice in the morning. The whole esthetic New England appeal suddenly embraced her, but, as much as she would have loved to be pampered in it, she couldn’t afford it. Which was none of Sam’s business. Besides, the sooner she got to her new home, the sooner she would start work on her new life. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “I don’t require much to get by.”

“Apparently you don’t.” He gave her an indifferent shrug, then headed across the street to his SUV—a black one that was about three times the size of hers. “Suit yourself,” he called back, as he hopped inside.

Suit herself…If that had been an option, suiting herself would have included being with Meghan. Being anywhere with Meghan. Thinking about her brought the tears up again and before they started to roll, Della climbed into her purple runabout and fell in behind Sam Montgomery. Why would a man like him avoid the roots when all she wanted in this life was to have them back?

He was trying to get away from something, she decided. Bad experience in the past had him on the run. “Aren’t we all?” she said aloud as the tiny village of Redcliffe, which was the hub of life on Redcliffe Island, turned into a speck in her rear-view mirror.

About a mile down the road, Della followed Sam onto another road, then another and another until she started to wonder if they were caught up in some sort of a maze. They had to be going in circles, and what was more astonishing was that there was simply no sign of life out here. Once Redcliffe was behind her, except for the occasional dot of a cottage along the roadway, civilization seemed to stop. If not for the actual roads, this could have been considered uncharted territory. “So, it seems I’m going to be a country girl.” That was a bit of a concern, since she’d hardly ever been into the rural reaches—not even for a Sunday drive.

But this could be a good thing, couldn’t it? An isolated little place without distractions might be perfect, exactly what the doctor ordered. Besides, the scenery along the way was beautiful. Stunning. On the left a lush, green pasture cascaded over a craggy area and Della saw cows grazing peacefully. Then up ahead there was an orchard of some kind. Apples, perhaps? If they were, maybe she and Meghan could spend a day picking apples and baking pies and tarts, and making apple sauce from them. She was the right age to start helping in the kitchen, Della thought. In Miami they’d either eaten out or brought cooked meals in. No one had used the kitchen except to make coffee or tea or fix an occasional bowl of cereal. Suddenly, Della was excited about what she and Meghan might do together in a nice little kitchen.

No, this wasn’t the city, which was all she knew, but it was nice. Beautiful. Peaceful. In a way, it seemed almost untouched. She and Meghan could be happy here…at least for five years. That thought put a smile on her face as she followed Sam into yet another turn. After a short distance they passed through something that looked like junk or maybe metal statuary lining the road. She twisted to look, and almost collided with Sam’s SUV, which came to a stop on a knoll just past all the litter. Or was it art?

Turning her attention back to what was beyond her windshield, Della saw a house, but it wasn’t hers. It couldn’t be. This one was a dilapidated old Victorian one-story, with peeling white paint and gingerbread decoration dangling off the eaves in some places and completely missing in others. It was weathered and old. A lovely lady in her day, but her day was long gone. The beach beyond her was stunning, though, with its white sand and billowing grasses.

“Why are we stopping?” she called to Sam, who was already out of his car, leaning causally against it. Something in the pit of her stomach already told her she knew the answer, but she needed to hear it said. It’s another of your mistakes, Della. The biggest one of all.

“We’re stopping because this is the end of the road,” he called back.

Another bitter reality hit home. Sticking her head out the window, Della inhaled, filling her lungs with the fresh salt air. It was different from the salt air in Miami—cleaner, maybe. No smell of civilization mixed in with it, and it was a pleasant surprise because it reminded her of trips to the beach with Meghan.

“You’ve changed your mind and decided to stay in a bed and breakfast?” he asked, when she didn’t get out of the SUV immediately.

“No. I’m staying in my house.” Such as it was. Now she understood why Drs Beaumont and Weatherby had pulled out of here so quickly. And the house had had so many more years since then to become even more rundown. If she hadn’t already cried all her tears over missing Meghan, she would have cried a few right here over this mess.

“You’ve never been here, have you?” Sam asked stepping up to her car and leaning through the window.

What was she supposed to tell him? That she was the biggest idiot in the world, the one who would spend the next five years in this hovel? And how was she supposed to practice medicine here? “I’m not put off by hard work,” she said, hoping that sounded sufficiently in control.

“I thought it was a little odd that someone had actually bought this place with the intent of setting up practice here again. But, then, some people are handy. They like to take on projects. Although, since I didn’t see a carpenter’s belt among your possessions, I’m guessing you don’t.”

“Maybe I simply like my solitude.”

“Then it’s a good thing, because you’re going to get plenty of it out here. So, which do you want to see first? Your house or your clinic?”

“You don’t have to show me anything,” she said, trying to sound confident, even though she knew she sounded more defeated than anything. This was all she had now and there was no way she could turn it into something that would win her custody of her daughter. From the plain pumpkin into the beautiful Cinderella coach…she didn’t have the magical wand she needed for the transformation. Sighing, Della shut her eyes to hold in the tears. “I’m fine,” she said. “Thank you for leading me out here. You don’t have to stay.”

“The bed and breakfast where I’ve booked a room has one empty down the hall from me. I’m sure Mrs Hawkins would be glad to have you move in there until…until you can spruce this place up, if that’s what you decide to do with it.”

“Spruce it up?” Della laughed bitterly. Now she had to spruce up her house like she was trying to spruce up her life. Damn Anthony Riordan for getting her into this.

* * *

Sam couldn’t believe it! She hadn’t known. She truly hadn’t known the condition of this place. So what would possess someone to buy this medical practice and everything that went with it sight unseen? Frankly, she didn’t seem like the type. In fact, she seemed quite the opposite—down to earth, steady, sensible. Of course, looks were deceiving, weren’t they? He glanced down at his empty ring finger, empty a year now. There wasn’t even the faint trace of a wedding ring left any more. “Look, Della, we’ve got to do something here. Without prying into why you did it, I do know you bought this practice without ever having been here, and I’m guessing that it was never your intention to take this on as a fixer-upper. Is that much true?”

She nodded, but didn’t speak.

“Maybe whoever you bought it from will refund your money?” Which would have been a pity because he was already looking forward to spending a little time with her.

She shook her head, but still didn’t speak.

“Or perhaps you could take the financial loss and walk away before you invest any more.”

Again she shook her head, and again she didn’t speak.

“You put in everything you had into this venture, didn’t you?”

This time she nodded.

“Maybe it’s a case of fraud. It was misrepresented by the agent who sold it to you and that’s legal ground to get your money back.”

“No,” she whispered. “Not misrepresented.”

Sam sighed. He knew desperation when he saw it, and he was seeing it. More than that, he knew what it would drive a person to do. It hadn’t been so long ago he’d been desperate, too. Which was why he felt so compelled to help her through this, even though he knew he wasn’t supposed to get that involved. In a couple weeks’ time he’d have to deliver yet another blow—he’d have to write the report that would state something to the effect that this place was not suitable for a medical practice. As it existed at this very moment, it was not, and he doubted that Della had the means, let alone the wherewithal, to accomplish the resurrection it would need. Which meant Della would be issued a cease and desist order from the state health commission.

Thinking about doing such a thing to her, even though he didn’t know her, was already giving him a dull headache. Whatever that first blow was—the one that had brought her here looking so sad—it was devastating her, and taking a second blow on top of whatever the first had been seemed inevitable. Regrettable, but inevitable. He didn’t even want to think about the expression on her face if that became the case.

“Why all the junk along the road?” she asked.

“Not junk. Sculpture. I understand it was an artists’ colony years ago. Actually, Dr Bonn, who built this place, was an artist and he opened it up for people to come stay and create. That’s why the medical facility is this far away from the village. It’s an idyllic situation for an artist, not the town doctor.”

“And I’m not an artist.” She sighed wistfully. “So do you think the sheer isolation of it drove the subsequent doctors away?”

“I’m sure that had something to do with it. I think it has a certain appeal for someone who’s newly graduated from medical school and looking for a start. But if you haven’t lived an isolated kind of life before, it’s probably pretty tough.”

“So Dr Bonn, the artist…what happened to him?”

Sam looked up at a seagull flying overhead. It was heading to the water to find its next meal. Such a tough existence, always on the hunt to survive. That, he feared, was about to become Della’s lot. “Someone in the village said he went to Paris to study art. The place ran down after that and nobody stayed long enough to fix it up.” There had probably not been enough time under the health laws, and not enough interest considering the rough condition. Most of all, there was probably not enough potential for wealth. After all, weren’t doctors supposed to be wealthy? According to his ex-wife, they were.

“And all that’s left of the original art colony are those sculptures left behind? The ones on the road?”

“I don’t know. I was out here earlier this morning to have a look, and this is all I’ve seen. The mayor told me there are some other buildings along the shore, old cabins where the artists stayed, but I didn’t go out to have a look.”

“It is amazing how a life can change. He came here to be a doctor and left here an artist. It’s good he found what he really wanted.” She looked over the knoll at the house. “Of course, what we want in life can change as much as life itself does.”

“We all make mistakes, Della, but they don’t have to ruin us.” Empty words, he knew, but he felt like he should say something uplifting even though he wasn’t the one who had got her into this mess. “If you do leave, I can’t imagine that starting over should too difficult.”

“This is my starting over. And you’re wrong. It’s very difficult. I’ve done it a lot lately and I don’t want to do it again. This was supposed to be my last time.”

Was she a lady with a past? If so, it couldn’t have been much of a past since she was still allowed to practice medicine. He’d checked those credentials before she’d arrived and she was good in her licensing. “You know, I’m not sure what’s going on here, and you don’t have to tell me. I’m not the nosey sort who pries, but you’re in a spot I don’t think you can fix and I don’t feel good about leaving you out here alone. So how about we go back to Mrs Hawkins’s bed and breakfast? I’ll pay for a couple of nights until you figure out what you’re going to do next, and that way we can both get a good night’s sleep. If you stay out here, you won’t be getting one, and neither will I for leaving you alone without so much as a pillow.”

“But you were prepared to leave me here when you thought I knew how this place was, weren’t you?”

“That was different. If it was your choice to move in when it’s in this condition, that’s your business. Some people like it rugged. But you didn’t know, and somehow I’m guessing it wouldn’t have been your choice if you had known.”

Instead of answering, Della opened the car door and climbed out. “It is what it is, and it was my choice,” she said, quite dispiritedly. “I appreciate your concern, but there’s no need for it. I’ll just…fix it up. Since I’ll be here all alone, I should have plenty of time for that. You wouldn’t happen to know if I have electricity, or running water or indoor plumbing, would you?”

He doubted it, and he was also beginning to doubt she had common sense since she was refusing to budge from here. “Don’t know. But I suppose that now you’ve convinced yourself to stay, we should have a good look around to make sure it’s fit for living.” Although judging from the condition of the exterior, he doubted that having a look would matter too much. This place was not suitable for patient care and unless Della was some kind of a miracle worker with a hammer and nails, he didn’t see how it ever would be in the short amount of time before his report was due.

Unfortunately, in his mind, the report to shut her down here was already half written. He could do it tonight, then move on to another assignment if that’s what he wanted to do.

But in his heart he couldn’t do it. Not until he absolutely had to.

* * *

Taking a long, discouraging look at the bare bones of her new life, Della shuddered as she walked toward her house. It would have been pretty once. She could almost picture it a hundred years ago, all bright and new, with white wicker furniture on the porch, and ferns and begonias hanging from the ceiling. She could see herself sleeping there with Meghan on hot summer nights, or sitting on a porch swing, sipping lemonade with her in the late afternoon. So many wonderful things that could be if only the porch floor hadn’t rotted a decade ago. But now the ravages of time and salty sea air had taken their toll. The house leaned a little, and the rusty tin roof that sloped down to cover the front porch sagged. All in all, it looked worn out, which was the way she’d felt so often lately.

Suddenly she felt sad for her little cottage on the beach. It had so much more potential than meeting this fate.

Della walked around the structure, spotting the chimney on the side of the house. Running her fingers over the brown stones it was made of, she noticed many of them were chopped away now. Even so, the prospect of a warm, toasty fireplace inside where she and Meghan could spend a long, chilly fall evening together, reading stories and toasting marshmallows, was so appealing that the thought of it nearly melted away all her anxieties. Nearly…because she’d have to have the windows put back in first. They were there, and the tiny, colonial panes made her think they were originals. But they had been removed from the house and were stacked in a pile near the chimney. The openings where they should have been were covered with dirty cracked plastic, as if someone had started a restoration, then stopped all too quickly. The last doctor? she wondered. Had he come here with optimism and ambition only to realize there was so much more to overcome than poor-fitting windows?

The yard was amazing, though. Della turned from the house to have a good look, and even with all the odd, deteriorating art on the way in, it was perfect. A place of hopes and dreams once. There were wispy trees along one stretch of her drive, a grassy knoll extending beyond her house and down the side opposite the tree lines, and out front a beautiful, unspoiled beach. Della sighed wistfully. She’d always wanted to live on a beach in Miami. Begged Anthony for it. Just a little cottage for the three of them where she could look out at the water. Instead, Anthony had bought a large, rambling deco home on a canal that was lined with other large deco homes, and docks jammed in together, board to board, for all the recreational boats that accompanied the houses. Then he’d bought the boat—one practically as large as this cottage—and lined up in that ostentatious weekend queue to take it out and show it off. The whole lifestyle there was so close and stifling, with all that togetherness, she would have happily traded it for breathing room with a view.

This was her breathing room with the view. Only problem was, it wasn’t in the condition she needed. “Since you know my secret, that I bought it sight unseen, would you happen to know where the clinic is?” She was hoping it wasn’t the barn she saw sitting back near the trees.

“It might be the barn. Or one of the guest cottages out there somewhere. But I haven’t seen it.”

“Well, wherever it’s hiding, I hope it’s in better shape than the house.” If it wasn’t it would have to be her first priority. Getting her patients into a fit establishment was more important than her own comfort. At least, until the time came when the judge would have a look at what she’d set up for her life with Meghan.

He smiled. “If it’s got the same view as all this, I can understand why the artists came here. It’s a perfect place to do a painting, or even write a novel, if you’re a writer.”

The last he said with a slight sigh, and she wondered if his heart might be in an art—painting or writing. Maybe even having a go at one of those junkyard sculptures. “With a view like this, I’m afraid the best I can ever do is enjoy a painting of it, or sit and read a book where I can take an occasional glance at it.” Turning her attention to a wild guinea hen strutting off the front porch, Della watched it wander around to the back, stopping occasionally to peck at something in the dirt. Then she shut her eyes, hoping that when she opened them again the house would be something with green shrubs, red and yellow tulips in beds along the walkway, and a picket fence. When she opened them, though, everything was the same. Since, apparently, there wasn’t a miracle to be performed, she wondered what came next.

As it turned out, Della didn’t even have time to ponder that question before a pickup truck honked a greeting and came to a stop next to Sam’s SUV. Immediately, half the town of Redcliffe hopped out. At least, to Della, it looked like half the town. It was actually the Brodsky family bringing all their kiddies for a check-up. Four of them plus Mom and Dad— Nola and Matt—both of whom also expressed the desire for a check-up. “Nothing’s really wrong with any of us, except that Bianca has a little bit of a sore throat,” Nola explained. “But since you’re here, we thought we might as well be the first. And it will be so nice not to have to go to the mainland for this.”

Bianca was two, and besides a sore throat she also had a slight fever, Della discovered when she saw the child’s flushed cheeks.

“Is she cranky?” she asked, reaching over to take the toddler from her mother’s arms.

“Quite. And nothing’s calming her down.”

“Is she eating?”

“Not much. She gets fussy when we try to feed her. Refuses to take it or spits it out when she does.”

“I’m not really set up here to practice yet,” she said, looking at Sam to see if he had a suggestion. He didn’t, and he indicated as much with a vague shrug of his shoulders.

“I haven’t even had time to go inside my…” She hesitated to call it her house, even though it was. Somehow, the image of a competent doctor didn’t fit here, not on this property, not in this house, and as bad as things were, she really did want to get off to a good start. “My, um, building, here. I haven’t unpacked yet.”

“We’ll be glad to wait,” Nola offered. “And I’m sure Matt could take the other three and go play on your beach for a while, if you don’t mind.” The other three were Ryan, aged four, Keith, aged five, and Shawn, aged six. Brave woman!

For a moment, Della wondered how Nola could divide herself in so many ways, having that many young children to tend. At one time she’d thought about a brother or sister for Meghan, but Anthony had said no more children, then to emphasize his objection, had gone off and had a vasectomy. Another one or two besides Meghan would have been nice, though.

“I’ll tell you what. Let me put Bianca down in the back of my car and have a look at her, then I’ll set up appointments for the rest of you when I have things more settled here.” When, or if.

Nola gave her a pleasant smile. “We didn’t mean to impose, but when we heard you were here, we got so excited…It’s hard raising children when there’s not a doctor handy.”

“What about emergency services?” Della asked, as she cradled the toddler in her arms and walked over to her borrowed SUV.

“Helicopter if it’s urgent. Boat if it’s not.” She laughed. “Pray that the weather is good when you have to go.”

What a tough way to live a life, Della thought. Then she remembered this was the way she was going to live her life for the next five years. Apparently, you could either abide it or you couldn’t. The last two doctors couldn’t, and she was sure hoping she’d be the one who could. “Look, while I examine Bianca, why don’t you go wait…” in the waiting room, except she didn’t have one “…on the beach with your husband and sons? I’ll call you over when I’m finished.” She looked out to the beach as Matt and his boys waded out into the surf, hand in hand. It wasn’t the most orthodox of waiting rooms but, on the bright side, it didn’t require hundreds of dollars’ worth of magazine subscriptions for the adults and toys for the children.

“You’re going to treat that baby in the back of your car?” Sam asked, stepping over to observe once Nola had joined her family.

Sighing, Della said, “I have to treat her someplace, don’t I?”

“You should have told them to take her to a hospital on the mainland until you’re set up to practice here. That’s what they’ve always done before.”

Della kicked a piece of driftwood aside and laid Bianca down in the back of the SUV as Mayor Bruce Vargas pulled up in his truck and got out. “Except now that they have a doctor, they don’t have to.” She understood his concern, but he didn’t understand her urgency. This was the first step. It wasn’t a very big one, but it was a very necessary one. One patient at a time and she’d figure it out as she went. “These people know the condition of this place better than I do, and they’re willing to come here to be treated regardless of it, so I’ll find a way to treat them. It wouldn’t be nice of me to turn them away.” Especially since they had a heavy financial investment in her. “So I’ll do the best I can for now.”

She glanced up at the house on the knoll. Somehow, she would have to figure it out. And soon. “So, I have a medical bag in the back seat. Would you mind handing it to me?”

“You’re really going to do this?”

“I’m really going to do this. Then afterwards I’m going to go have a look at the mayor’s shoulder, like he asked, and if I’m lucky, somebody else might come along later.”

“Oh, they’ll come along all right. A doctor is a precious commodity, and they won’t let her go to waste.”

* * *

“She’s teething,” Della explained as she handed Bianca over to her mother. “Her gums are a little swollen and red, and her fever is elevated, but only a little. Nothing to worry about. Does she have diarrhea?” she asked.

Nola nodded. “My other three never went through this when they teethed.”

Meghan had gone through it, too, frightfully so. She had been fussy off and on, and for weeks Anthony had slept in a hotel, claiming the crying kept him awake and he needed to be fresh for his surgeries. It had been a valid point, but in retrospect Della wondered if he’d been having an affair even back then, and using that as an excuse to sleep with someone else. “Some children do, some don’t. Bianca is going to have a bit of a problem with it, I’m afraid.”

“Does she need antibiotics?” Matt Brodsky asked.

“She doesn’t appear to have an infection so, no. Antibiotics can be rough on young children, and taking them can start an immunity, which isn’t good.” Bianca wasn’t congested in either lung, her eyes were bright and responsive, her respirations and pulse normal. Her tummy didn’t hurt, her legs and arms moved normally. And the only time she whimpered was when Della ran a finger over her gums. In her opinion, the course of fewer medications was always the best when it could be managed. “Make sure you keep her off of dairy products for a week. Also, try to keep her quiet as much as you can keep a two-year-old quiet, and think about freezing some fruit juice and letting her suck on it. She’ll love the taste and the cold will feel pleasant against her gums. The fluid will help keep her fever down, too. Just make sure the sharp edges of the frozen cube are rounded off.”

She was good. Sam had to admit she was very good at this, and she had quite a way with the child. A natural. More than that, she loved it. That was so plain on her face, the way her eyes lit up, the way she smiled. For those moments when she’d been examining the little girl, Della had had the look of a woman who wasn’t carrying the weight of so many troubles with her.

“How much do we owe you, Doc?” Matt asked, pulling his wallet from his pocket.

“One beach call?” She thought about it for a moment, then settled on an amount, quickly pocketing the bills when they were offered.

“That wasn’t bad,” she said to Sam as the Brodskys drove off. “And, believe it or not, that’s the first time I’ve ever been paid for my services. Back in Miami, in the clinic, I received a weekly stipend. It’s kind of fun, earning something for myself.”

Such a simple thing, Sam thought. A small amount of money and she was thrilled over it. What kind of life was she coming from? And what in the world was he going to do about helping her in this new life? Helping her without losing his job?

Somehow, he couldn’t fit the two together.