Читать книгу The One And Only - Laurie Paige - Страница 10

S helby was tired upon returning to the Lost Valley B and B that evening. After changing to a knit slacks outfit, she went to the large lobby and reception area. Several couples and a family with two children enjoyed the ambience of the common room.

The owner, Amelia Miller, called out a greeting upon seeing Shelby. “How did your day go with the kids?”

“Fine but tiring,” Shelby admitted. She chose a glass of iced wine cooler and a plate of fruit, cheese and veggies, then sat at a table for two overlooking the back garden. “You must have a green thumb,” she told her landlady when she stopped by the table.

“Nope, a dedicated gardener. I can do okay with African violets, but that’s my limit.”

“Join me if you have a moment,” Shelby invited.

Amelia nodded. “Let me refill the fruit tray, then I will.” She dashed off to the nether regions of the large Victorian that had been converted to a bed-and-breakfast.

Shelby watched the shadows lengthen over the lovely landscape. In the carriage house or barn or whatever it was behind the main house, she could see several people moving around. They appeared to be couples. Were they dancing?

Amelia returned with a glass of red wine. “Whew, I must be getting old or people are eating more. It’s harder to keep up nowadays.”

Since Amelia looked no more than a couple of years older than she was, Shelby ignored the age remark. She grimaced ruefully. “According to all reports, Americans are eating more.”

“So how was your first day, really?” Amelia asked. “Did Beau Dalton give you a hard time? Did you get heart palpitations as all the local gals do around the Daltons?”

Her laughter was so merry that Shelby had to laugh, too. “He is good-looking, but he was also professional.”

“Ah, yes. All the Daltons are dedicated to their jobs.”

Shelby, not knowing the family, didn’t comment. Instead she said, “He offered me a job in his office.”

“Did he? I suppose he could use more help. He has a nurse practitioner who’s also a midwife—she sees her own patients—and a receptionist who keeps the books, but he probably needs someone to assist him. It’s difficult to get help in a small town.”

“Hmm,” Shelby said noncommittally. “Has he been in business here long?”

“Before July he kept office hours in town, going from once to twice a week during the past year, but his main office was in the city. Last month he made the shift to here full time.”

Shelby had learned “the city” referred to Boise, which was over an hour’s drive south of the valley. “I see. Did he buy out another doctor’s practice?”

“No. Doc Barony died about ten years ago.”

Shelby knew Beau was too young to have had a practice there very long, but she’d hoped he had taken over another’s patients. That way, there might have been records going back several years, maybe to her birth.

“The house had been empty until Beau started up an office and brought in the midwife,” Amelia continued.

“The house?” Shelby asked, not sure what her landlady was talking about.

“Beau’s office. It belonged to the old doctor. The attic is still full of records, the receptionist said. She’s afraid the ceiling is going to fall in on her head.”

A jolt of excitement shot straight through Shelby. Records! Just what she wanted to get her hands on. But how?

Amelia finished her wine and stood. “Well, back to work. I see a new family arriving. How do you like your room? It’s rather small, so I worry about claustrophobia.”

“I love it,” Shelby assured the other woman, who had lovely auburn hair with golden highlights and a charming amount of natural curl, unlike her own flaming-red, string-straight locks that had been the scourge of her life.

With a satisfied nod, Amelia left. Shelby at once reverted to her own mission. If only she could accept Beau’s offer of a job. No, she already had too much to do. Maybe she could volunteer to sort through the old records, keeping the ones for current patients.

Why would anyone in her right mind volunteer for such a job? She couldn’t come up with a good reason.

A tall, masculine figure with dark hair and a smooth stride crossed a flagstone path, heading for the door near her table. Her heart gave an unexpected skip-thump-skip-thump before settling down when she realized the man was a stranger, one who looked awfully like Beau Dalton.

He paused as if hearing something, then turned, waiting for a lovely woman to catch up with him. She came from the carriage house, where, Shelby assumed, the man had also been. The door opened, admitting the couple and a wave of August air, hot and dusty to the senses.

Meeting the man’s eyes, she saw they were as blue as the early evening sky. He had to be one of the infamous Daltons that Amelia had mentioned. He gave her a smile and nod. The blonde on his arm glanced her way.

“Are you the new school nurse?” she asked.

“Why, yes,” Shelby said, unable to hide her surprise.

The young woman, about Shelby’s age, held out a hand. “I’m Honey Dalton. This is Zack. Beau has mentioned working with you. Zack and Beau are cousins.”

“I’m Shelby Wheeling.” Shelby shook hands with both of them, giving Zack a wry smile. “You and your cousin look enough alike to be twins.”

That brought a ripple of laughter from the couple. “We have those in the family, too,” he explained. “My younger brothers are twins.”

“Do they look like you and Dr. Dalton, too?”

“They do,” Honey told her. “Get the four of them together and even I get confused.”

“Yeah? Just don’t let me catch you making out with one of the others,” Zack threatened.

Noting their wedding rings and the easy air between them, Shelby concluded they were husband and wife. “Is something going on in the carriage house?” she asked, curious about the couples she saw leaving.

Honey nodded. “I’m holding dance classes there. That was the Wednesday afternoon couples class. Ballroom and modern dance. We would love to have you join us.”

Shelby didn’t know what to say.

“I need a partner,” Zack assured her. “My wife dances with all the other men on the pretext of showing them what to do and how to hold their partners. I end up standing by the wall most of the time.”

“Uh, thanks, but I think I’d better get settled in a bit more first. You wouldn’t happen to know of any apartments for rent, would you?”

Honey was sympathetic. “It’s hard to find a rental in a small place like this. However, there’s a cottage by the lake next to the resort property,” she said with a tentative glance at her husband.

“It’s for sale, not rent,” he reminded her.

“I was wondering if they might rent it while waiting for a buyer. You know the owner. Think you could ask him?”

Shelby perked up at this news. The only available apartment in town had been over a gas station and totally unacceptable in terms of cleanliness, repairs and general livability. The extremely low rent had been its only redeeming feature.

“No problem. I’ll let you know,” he told Shelby.

“Thanks. Would you leave word with Amelia if I’m not in? I’ll be teaching at the high school three mornings each week when school starts, then doing nurse duty at the elementary school in the afternoons.”

“Isn’t this the loveliest place?” Honey gestured around the B and B common room. “Amelia serves the best breakfast rolls and pastries in town. Zack is a deputy with the sheriff’s department. Sometimes he claims he has to stay over in town, but I know he does it only so he can get a room here and have one of Amelia’s breakfasts.”

He laid a hand over his heart. “A man has to do his sworn duty.” In an aside, he mock-whispered to Shelby, “Honey always manages to stay over, too, and join me for breakfast and the evening snacks. She says it’s my company she misses. A likely story.”

Laughing, they bid her goodbye and went to speak to the landlady before heading out the front door.

A funny pang, part nostalgia, part yearning, filled Shelby’s chest so that it was difficult to breathe. Once she’d been like that couple—happy and confident and so very much in love, so sure of the future.

Now she could only shake her head at how naive she’d been at eighteen, fresh out of school and determined to marry her sweetheart. She hadn’t been able to imagine anything bad happening to them.

Looking out at the golden grasslands beyond the lush garden, she realized she no longer imagined anything very wonderful happening in her future.

My, how pessimistic she had grown, she chided. Expect the worst so as not to be surprised when it happened. That was her motto. She had to smile.

“I’m sorry, Miss Wheeling, the funds didn’t come through. We thought they had been promised, but someone misunderstood,” the assistant superintendent of schools explained.

It was Monday morning and Shelby had reported in for the teachers’ planning sessions at the high school, but had been referred to the superintendent’s office instead.

“So there’re no funds for a health teacher?” she repeated to make sure she understood. “What about the school nurse position in the afternoons?”

“We’re okay on that,” he assured her with a big smile. “Those funds come from a different pot.”

“I see.”

“I’m terribly sorry about all this,” he continued. “We always need substitutes. Perhaps I could put you on the list?”

“Uh, let me think about it. I’ll get back to you.” She rose when he did, obviously dismissed.

Her ears ringing with his apologies, she left the building and drove from the county seat, where the high school and administrative offices were located, to Lost Valley. Considering her savings, she had enough money to make it here for a year without working at all, but work gave her a ready cover for her covert activities.

Arriving in town, she parked in front of the Victorian that housed the doctor’s offices. She actually felt lighter as she walked up the steps and into the building. Now if the job with Beau was still open, all would be perfect.

He was at lunch, the receptionist told her. The office would be open at two. Disgruntled, Shelby retraced her steps and stood on the broad porch with its sweeping view of the three nearest peaks from which Seven Devils Mountains got its name.

He-Devil Mountain. She-Devil Mountain. The Devil’s Tooth. Odd names that came from a Native American legend of seven monsters who had terrorized the land until Coyote turned them into mountains.

The monsters must have been made from copper for that was the most common ore in the area. Gold had been discovered near there in 1860.

She whimsically wished she could have lived then. To be a pioneer and brave the elements and the rugged wilderness, to find copper and gold, to found a homestead the way the Dalton ancestors had…

She sighed and shook her head at the romantic musing. Life had never been that idealistic.

“Get lost, cousin,” Beau said.

Zack, startled, glanced toward the door of the restaurant. The Crow’s Nest was a log-and-plank structure with a view of the reservoir that provided water for the small town of Lost Valley. The restaurant was deliberately rustic, but the scenery saved it from coyness. The food made it a draw for locals as well as visiting fishermen.

“Ah, the nurse,” Zack said, spotting the lone female entering through the heavy plank door with its antler door handles. “Something going there, cuz?”

Beau grinned mysteriously. “I offered her a job last week. I think she may accept. The teaching job didn’t get funded, so she might need extra income.”

“Well, then, good luck. Time for me to return to the harrowing life of a lawman, running down stray dogs, saving cats from trees and all that excitement.”

Zack rose, gestured for Shelby to join them and held out a chair. “Hey, pretty lady,” he called. “You’re just in time. I’m Zack. We met at Amelia’s last week.”

“I remember. You and Honey,” she said.

When she was seated, he winked over her head at Beau, then ambled out to the sheriff’s department cruiser assigned to him as a deputy.

“Oh, did I interrupt?” she asked.

“Not at all,” Beau said, enjoying the flash of fire in her hair as she watched his cousin depart. She turned back to him.

Man, but she was beautiful. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a woman with so much natural beauty. Heavenly eyes. Gorgeous hair. Skin like the peaches and cream of song and poem.

His fingers actually tingled with the urge to reach out and touch…and get his face slapped in the process. That clear shell, like an enchanted glass bubble, surrounded her as fully as a suit of armor.

“Have you had lunch?” he asked.

She shook her head.

He signaled for a menu to the teenager who was waiting tables today. “Grilled chicken was the special. I can recommend it.”

For some reason it pleased him that she followed his suggestion. “The raspberry iced tea,” she finished.

“So, how was your morning?” he asked.

She visibly hesitated, then said, “Well, that depends on how you look at it.”

Her smile was unexpected, a gift that sent warmth scurrying around inside him. Another surprise. He didn’t know why she had such an effect on him. But there it was.

“Tell me how you look at it,” he invited.

When she explained about the teaching job, he nodded. “You knew?” she asked.

“I saw the high school principal over the weekend. He was angry at the budget cut and the loss of the classes. He thought the school administration had been unfair to you. Is that the way you feel?”

Impish dimples appeared at the corners of her mouth. “Not if the position in your office is still open.”

His gaze fastened on the dimples. He thought of kissing her there, then continuing on to the soft, pink mouth. A buzz of sexual interest hummed through his blood.

Her smile faltered.

He forced himself to lighten up. “Uh, yes, the position is still open. Does this mean you’ll take it?”

The dimples returned. “Tell me the hours and the pay first.”

“Hmm, going to drive a hard bargain, are you?” He raised one eyebrow in mock challenge. “You won’t get a better offer in town. Most women would snap it up.”

She laughed out loud. “How much?” she demanded. “How long?”

“From eight until noon on days you have to report to the elementary school. Eight to five on days you don’t. We’re closed on Wednesdays, open a half day on Saturday if it’s busy, which it probably won’t be in winter.”

She shook her head. “I’ll be at school every afternoon.”

“But only until three. You could come over for a couple of hours after that.”

“Let me get settled into the school routine first, then I’ll think about the afternoons. Only mornings now.”

He went through the same two-step with her over salary. She opted for hourly pay with time-and-a-half if she worked on Saturdays. He agreed, thinking he got a bargain. It was impossible to find professional help in the area. He’d lucked out.

“So how did you happen to come to town?” he asked after her lunch was served and his cup refilled with fresh coffee.

“I wanted to live someplace different. When I saw a notice for a school nurse here and looked the town up on the map, I thought this was the place.”

“Where did you see the notice?”

“On the Internet.”

“I see. Then?”

“Then I responded to the ad, found out it involved teaching and, since I had teaching credentials for first aid, health and beginning nursing care, I was accepted.”

“Some of the cowboys who came to town Friday night were real glad when they saw you walking on the path by the lake. We don’t get many redheaded beauty queens here.”

Again she laughed, and again the heat flowed like sweet, warm honey through him.

“I think I’m glad, too,” he murmured.

Her eyes met his, widened, then looked away. “I don’t date the boss,” she said with prim modesty.

“Neither do I. But dinner with a colleague is okay.” Glancing at the wall clock—a picture of the mountains painted on a polished pine slab with the dial mounted at the corner—he found it was time to be getting back. “Duty calls,” he said. “Can you start in the morning?”

“Yes. I’ll be there. At eight.”

“Good.” He paid the bill for both of them over her protests. “Consider it a welcome luncheon,” he told her, feeling jaunty and pleased about their deal, before heading to the office for afternoon hours.

There was something intriguing about the new school nurse, something he couldn’t quite put a finger on. A mystery. Perhaps she’d come here because she was running from something. A painful past? A possessive boyfriend? A scandal? There were lots of possibilities.

Washing up before seeing his afternoon patients, he considered the careful distance she maintained from others. He’d always been a sucker for a challenge.

Returning to the B and B upon finishing her lunch, Shelby stepped over the threshold and paused. There seemed to be a meeting going on.

“Come on in,” Amelia called. “We’re having a committee meeting, part of the Historical Society.”

“We can use all the help we can get,” one very elderly lady told her, the lines in her face all crinkling at once into a charming, ageless smile.

“Grab a glass of tea and some cookies,” Amelia advised. “This is going to be a long session.”

Shelby was pulled into the group of four women and found herself seated, sipping tea and earnestly considering the committee’s project—compile a brief historical listing of all the old families who had settled the area, where they’d come from, who their descendants were, and how many generations were represented.

“A sort of genealogy of the valley,” Amelia concluded two hours later. “I think it will have to be tied to the land as land titles are usually the most common records.”

“Exactly,” the elderly lady said, beaming.

Shelby learned Miss Pickford, president of the Historical Society, was also descended from a First Family of Idaho, as were the Daltons. The woman was almost eighty, had taught in a two-room school in the county, had retired fifteen years ago, was kin to the Daltons and nearly everyone else in the area, and was universally loved. She had blue eyes and lovely silver hair and a soft, thoughtful way of speaking that made one instinctively trust her.

After the meeting broke up, Shelby and Amelia lingered over fresh glasses of tea and chatted about the task ahead.

Amelia laughed softly. “Welcome to the newest member of the Historical Society.” She toasted Shelby with her glass.

“I don’t know how that happened,” Shelby admitted with more than a hint of wry humor.

“I do,” her landlady said confidently. “Miss Pickford could get money and a pledge to participate in a Christmas toy fund-raiser from the Grinch.”

“I think you’re right. We need to find out about her early teaching days here,” Shelby said thoughtfully. “She must know tons of interesting stories and anecdotes.”

“Hmm, she could probably blackmail ninety percent of the population over the age of thirty since she taught most of them. My parents had her when the school board opened the elementary school here for one through eighth grades and closed all the county schools.”

A bolt of excitement shot through Shelby. The teacher might have known her parents, too. Her mother could have been a student who got pregnant and went away to have the baby, perhaps living with relatives in South Carolina and giving the baby up for adoption there.

She took a calming breath, aware that she was letting her imagination run wild. One thing at a time.

Amelia snapped her fingers. “Old Doc Barony’s records!”

“In the attic,” Shelby added, following the line of thought perfectly.

“Yes. In your spare time…” Amelia said, giving her a big grin, “maybe you could record the names of patients—oh, and the dates any of them died and any children born—then we could compare those to the county title records to make sure we got everyone.”

Shelby’s heart went into a series of rapid beats. Birth. Death. Names. Dates. Diseases and disorders. Those records might tell her everything she needed to know.

“That’s a possibility,” she said, careful to keep her voice blandly interested.

“You’d have to ask Beau, but I don’t see any reason he’d refuse. I mean, you’re a nurse, so you’d keep everything confidential.”

“Right,” Shelby said. “In fact, I’m going to be working for Dr. Dalton. In the mornings.” She explained all that had happened that day—the canceling of the health classes and her acceptance of Beau’s offer.

“Perfect,” Amelia declared, rising. She glanced at her watch. “Time to start preparing the evening snacks. I have a new recipe for crab-apple dip, as in seafood mixed with fresh chopped apples, that I want to try tonight. Come to the kitchen and we can talk while I cook.”

Shelby followed her new friend into the spacious kitchen. The cook who did the breakfast menu was gone for the day, and the two younger women had it to themselves.

“Here, taste this and see if it has too much chili powder.” Amelia handed her a cracker with a generous dollop of the dip.

“I think it’s delicious. Shall I start on a vegetable tray or something?”

“Sure. In that big refrigerator, bottom drawer.”

After a few minutes of peeling and arranging, Shelby murmured, “This is nice. It makes me sort of miss my mom, though. She and I always cooked together.”

“My mother and I were a disaster together,” Amelia admitted. “She never thought I did anything right.”

“That’s too bad,” Shelby said sympathetically.

Amelia sighed. “She was right about some things. I married a handsome rodeo cowboy I’d known for all of two weeks, suffered two miserable years of marriage, then left him when he actually hit me once. In the meantime, my grandparents died within a few years of each other and I inherited this place. I was glad to tuck my tail between my legs and come here to live.”

“You’ve created a wonderful B and B,” Shelby said sincerely. “You make all your guests feel welcome.”

“It’s because I’m happy. I learned home is truly where the heart is, and this is mine.”

For a minute Shelby wanted desperately to bare her soul to Amelia and to tell her of her own past mistakes and her present quest. She hesitated, the phone rang and the moment was lost.

That was probably better anyway. She didn’t want the information about her search leaking. If her birth mother still lived here, she didn’t want to expose her to the embarrassment of her neighbors knowing about the child she’d given up twenty-nine years ago.

After having her own child and losing it, albeit to death, she didn’t want to cause pain to anyone else. Setting the finished tray in the fridge, Shelby waved to the other woman and went to her room.

She considered the old records in the attic at Beau’s office. They might tell her everything she needed to know without her having to search for a living person.

Tomorrow she would start work for Beau Dalton. She would ask him about going through the records for the Historical Society and volunteer to dispose of them. She considered this plan from all angles and decided it had no problems that she could see.

A picture of intense blue eyes flashed into her mind, eyes that seemed to see right inside her at times. She would have to compose her request beforehand so that she didn’t stumble over the words and arouse his suspicions.

She wondered if he believed her story of finding out about the position here over the Internet.

It was true…as far as it went.

But, of course, it wasn’t the whole story. She’d known exactly where she was going to look for a job.

The town was the only thing she knew about her birth mother. A copper bracelet had been forgotten and left at the birthing clinic. It had been made by a Nez Perce family and sold through a gift shop here in Lost Valley. The nurse had put it with her belongings when her adoptive parents had come to pick her up.

Shelby removed the bracelet from her small jewelry carrier, a velvet roll-up bag with several pockets her aunt, one of her father’s sisters, had given her at graduation years ago. The copper gleamed brightly in the afternoon light from the window. Its polished stones were engraved with intricate symbols, similar to Egyptian scarabs but using birds and plants for models.

She didn’t think her parents had been Native American, but that was a possibility. After considering wearing the bracelet, she reluctantly put it away. She had no idea whether anyone might recognize it, but she wasn’t ready to take that chance. Not yet.

With a rueful smile, she admitted she’d learned caution in her old age. Her birth mother must have learned it, too.

The lines from a poem studied long ago came to her.

I was young, as was my heart;

And I followed where it led—

Followed my heart and not my head,

Those days

When I was young, as was my heart.

Some wistful part of her longed to be that young, confident girl again, excited about life and all that it could hold.

A more cynical part of her scoffed at the idea.

She knew which part to believe.