Читать книгу At Odds With The Midwife - Patricia Forsythe, Patricia Forsythe - Страница 11

CHAPTER THREE

A WAVE OF assent rippled through the audience and Gemma’s heart sank. Cole was right. People were interested in the new hospital, but they were at this meeting to try and find out if Nathan knew the whereabouts of his father and, more importantly, the missing money. She watched as people she’d known her entire life—whom Nathan had known for that long—stared at him with hardened faces.

“We’ll take questions after the presentation.” The mayor floundered. His gaze darted around the room as if he was looking for support, but he must not have found it if his increasingly worried look was any indication.

“But we want to know now,” Cole responded. His gaze swept the room, as well. It was obvious he was loving his role, playing to his audience.

Nathan stood and placed his hand on the mayor’s arm. “It’s okay, Harley. I’ll tell everyone what I know.”

Mayor Morton appeared to swallow a huge lump as he nodded and stepped back.

Nathan took the microphone with one hand and smoothed his tie with the other. Gemma felt a spark of pride when she saw that his hands were steady.

“My briefcase contains cost projections and spreadsheets for the reopening of the hospital—”

“Do they equal the same as what ole George stole?” Cole asked, his lip curled into a sneer.

“I don’t know,” Nathan answered in a grim tone. “I know in general terms how much it was, as all of you do, but I never heard an exact figure of how much my father took.” He glanced at Brantley Clegg, who straightened in his seat and raised his voice to state a figure that had the entire room gasping. Even Cole seemed momentarily taken aback.

Nathan nodded at the banker then turned again to the audience. “I don’t know where my father is. I haven’t heard from him since he disappeared—”

“A likely story,” Cole began, but when he looked around this time, he could see that he was losing his audience. People were so shocked by the full scope of George Smith’s treachery that they had lost interest in Cole. Gemma saw someone reach up and tug Cole back into his seat. He sat but crossed his arms over his chest and glared straight ahead.

Nathan waited a few seconds until the crowd settled before he went on. “I’m profoundly sorry for what my father did. I promise you I knew nothing about it. However, I think it’s reasonable to assume that some of that money went to pay my medical school fees. I had partial scholarships, but there are always more fees that need to be paid.”

He looked down into the audience and Gemma sat up so he would look at her. She clenched her hands in her lap, wishing her strength could flow into him. In spite of the animosity that simmered between them, she wanted him to know she wasn’t against him.

Nathan’s gaze fixed on her for a second, then he took a breath and said, “I worked at a hospital in Oklahoma City for a few years, but I decided I had to come back here and try to make some kind of restitution. Setting up a family practice where there isn’t one, reopening the hospital, getting the necessary funding, providing quality health care for the people of this county—that’s how I’ll pay you back. Also, I’m selling my family home. That money will go into the hospital fund, as well.”

“Maybe that won’t be good enough.” Cole spoke again, obviously trying to regain the upper hand.

Fed up, Gemma bounced to her feet. Her red hair whipped around her shoulders as she spun on her heel. She clapped her hands onto her hips. “Cole, none of that money came out of your pocket. Why don’t you just be quiet? Nathan didn’t have to come back here and try to make amends, but that’s what he’s doing. Reopening the hospital will benefit everyone.”

Cole glared at her as a murmur of agreement rustled through the room. She turned and sat down, avoiding Nathan’s eyes.

Tom Sanderson stood and approached the podium. A big, strong man in his fifties, he didn’t suffer fools gladly. With a nod to Nathan, he took the microphone in his tough rancher’s hand and said, “Gemma is right, Cole. Frances and I have provided a large share of the funds to get the hospital going again. We’ll have a much better accounting system in place, one that will be harder to defraud. If we’re not worried about it, you shouldn’t be, either.” He replaced the microphone in its stand, then clapped Nathan on the shoulder. Nathan sent the older man a grateful look as they both took their seats.

The momentary lull gave the mayor the chance to hurry back to the podium and say, “Yes, well, all this can be discussed at length, um, later on. Right now, let’s see the slides we’ve prepared.” He nodded at the kid who’d fixed the sound system. “Owen, go ahead.”

As a large screen lowered from the ceiling and the people on the stage turned their chairs to see, the young man competently checked his computer and projector. Within a couple of minutes, the presentation began and the audience settled down.

* * *

GEMMA WATCHED THE presentation and tried to make sense of the storm of emotions that buffeted her. She felt disappointed in the people, although she supposed their reaction was natural. George Smith’s treachery and the subsequent closing of the hospital had affected everyone. It was the depth of their anger, the way they hadn’t moved past it, that was troubling. Or maybe they had moved past it but felt they were being dragged backward once again.

And there was Nate. He was definitely being pulled back while attempting to forge ahead, trying to rebuild a vital part of the community while being resented by many of the locals. It didn’t help that he was about as approachable as a daddy snake in a nest of vipers.

Her heart ached for him. In spite of his opposition to her birthing center, she felt protective toward him. She knew it made no sense, but when she looked at him, she still saw the boy he’d been, the one she knew. At the same time, she saw the man he’d become, whom she knew not at all.

* * *

NATHAN WATCHED THE SCREEN, but his mind wasn’t on the presentation, which he’d seen a dozen times already. This was turning out to be even harder than he’d thought it would be. He’d hoped people wouldn’t blame him for what his father had done. It appeared some of them didn’t. That was a start.

While slides clicked by, interspersed with video interviews with county officials and citizen-on-the-street chats about the hospital, Nathan replayed the scene in Gemma’s backyard with her digging, listening to music and singing along.

Somehow, the scene changed and became a sunny afternoon in that same backyard, but it had been different, full of pens and cages.

He and Gemma had been about ten years old. She had gushed about the baby raccoon she’d found abandoned and taken home. He wanted to see it. His mother never allowed any pets, not even a goldfish.

At the Whitmires’, he’d been astounded by the variety of animals in her personal menagerie. Her father, Wolfchild—Nathan recalled snickering whenever he heard that name—had built all the pens and cages. He had glowed with pride as Gemma had shown the animals. There had been several puppies and dogs, abandoned on the road outside the campground, and cats and kittens left behind. The citizens of Reston County had quickly figured out that the Whitmire family were pushovers when it came to unwanted animals. It was public knowledge that Gemma would find good homes for all of them.

There had also been a fawn wounded by an arrow, several birds with broken wings or legs, along with the baby raccoon, who had been darned cute. They’d all needed rescuing and Gemma had...

Nathan sat up so suddenly, many people in the audience stared at him.

Did Gemma think he needed rescuing like some wounded animal? His gaze went straight to her and she met his eyes with a questioning look.

Sitting back, he crossed his arms over his chest. She was wrong, and he would make that clear the first chance he got. But right now, he had to deal with the rest of the town.

He understood why the people of Reston were mad at his father. He was, too. He had tried to find George, tried to figure out where he’d disappeared to along with the money. What he’d told the audience at this meeting was true. He’d never known the exact amount because he didn’t want to know how great a larceny his father had committed. He’d never known that George had a gambling problem that had gotten completely out of hand when Mandy, and then Nate’s mother, died. Nate admitted, to his shame, that he hadn’t known what his father was capable of because he hadn’t really known his father. All he’d known was that George spent long hours at work and never took a vacation—rarely a day off. Now Nate knew why. It was called cooking the books and his dad was a master chef.

The county sheriff and some state investigative agencies had searched for George and had tracked him to Las Vegas, but the leads had petered out. They speculated that he’d changed his name and obtained false identification. They would wait until he resurfaced—but that hadn’t happened in all of these years.

Wherever George was, he had almost certainly gambled all that money away. If he’d been a lucky gambler, he probably wouldn’t have needed to steal in the first place.

Harley returned to the podium and asked, “Does anyone have any questions?”

Of course they did and the next hour was spent in heated discussions about money, personnel, building and equipment upgrades, contract bids for the work, and a dozen other issues. The county supervisors, city manager and banker all answered questions. Finally, someone brought up the other issue Nate had been dreading.

“What about the birthing center?”

* * *

HARLEY’S GAZE WENT directly to Nate. Gemma watched consternation flit across his face. It was obvious that he didn’t want to answer that question.

“Dr. Smith, how will the birthing center be involved with the hospital?” Harley asked.

“The same as with any other hospital. When complications occur, the mother will be transferred to the hospital—”

“Although such occurrences are rare,” Gemma broke in, springing to her feet. She hurried up the stairs and across the stage to the podium. Swinging in beside Nate, she eased Harley aside, confiscated the microphone and gave a bright smile as she said, “With every mother and baby, our goal is to make sure they receive the best care possible. We ensure this by frequent checkups and careful monitoring throughout the pregnancy, along with a comprehensive birth plan and education.” She cast a quick glance at Nate. “As you probably know, in Oklahoma, birthing centers can only deal with low-risk pregnancies. We will make every effort to guarantee that a low-risk pregnancy stays that way. We will answer any and all questions the parents may have, and we’ll make it as safe and as memorable as possible. After all, birth is a once-in-a-lifetime event,” she concluded to chuckles from the audience.

Nate retook the microphone and kept his gaze on Gemma as he said, “The birthing center will be monitored by the medical staff at Reston County Hospital.”

“Well, doesn’t Reston County Hospital have to actually open first?” Gemma asked sweetly, leaning in and raising her voice. “The Sunshine Birthing Center will be open within a few weeks. Until Reston Hospital reopens, we’ll transport patients to the hospital in Toncaville if necessary, and our medical director will be one of their physicians. We’ll hold an open house so everyone can visit our facility and if we have any expectant mothers—and if I remember correctly, there are always expectant mothers around here—please feel free to call and make an appointment. Even if you ultimately choose not to use our services, we’re happy to talk to anyone.” She gave the center’s phone number and as she did, Nathan clenched his jaw.

Belatedly seeming to sense the tension, the mayor stepped in between Gemma and Nathan. “Um, that’s all the time we have right now, folks. I’m sure you’ll have more questions. Call my office and we’ll try to help you as best we can.”

Gemma was disappointed in Nate’s reaction, although she didn’t know why it surprised her. She was ready to leave, to rejoin Carly and Lisa, but she found herself gathered into a hug. She looked up into Frances Sanderson’s smiling face.

Laughing, Gemma returned the hug.

“Gemma, we’re so happy to see you back in Reston, at last,” Frances said. Curvaceous and beautiful with shoulder-length silver hair, she was dressed in a crisp white shirt, black jeans and chunky turquoise jewelry.

“It’s only because of you that I’m here.”

“It’s only because of you that we have a healthy grandson,” Frances countered. She glanced up when Nathan paused beside them and treated him to one of her sparkling smiles. “Dr. Smith, you’re very fortunate to be able to work with Gemma.”

Nathan looked at her, then at Gemma, who hid a smile. He probably didn’t know Frances very well and wasn’t aware that she rarely acknowledged negative situations, choosing instead to see the world through rose-colored glasses.

“Um, yes,” he agreed, but his dark eyes said something completely different.

“Tom and I are having our annual Memorial Day picnic at our place and we’ve invited all the hospital and birthing-center donors and potential donors. Of course, we want you to come. We intend to wring every last cent out of them and having you there will make us look legitimate.” She told them the time, wiggled her fingers at the two of them and went to rejoin her husband.

Maybe Frances was more shrewd than she appeared.

“The Sandersons are contributing to the birthing center?” Nathan asked, his gaze following Frances as she charmed her way, one by one, through the people on the stage. Tom followed in her wake, shaking hands and exchanging a few words with everyone. Gemma knew that was one of the reasons the two of them were so successful—they worked as a team.

“So far they’re the major contributors.”

“Because you saved their grandson?”

Gemma crossed her arms at her waist and tilted her head to the side as she considered him. “Careful, Nathan, your skepticism is showing. I am a trained and experienced midwife.” She couldn’t control the testiness in her voice.

“So you keep telling me.” He glanced away, then back again. “Thanks for shutting down Cole.” The words came out as if they were dragged from him. He turned away, grabbed his briefcase and hurried from the stage.

Gemma pressed her lips together and looked down as she slowly followed him off the stage. It was as if he couldn’t stand to be around her, but it wasn’t strictly because of their professional differences. This was deeper, more personal.

* * *

YVETTE BURLEIGH WATCHED the crowd exiting the auditorium. She’d made the mistake of leaving Cole alone while she went to the ladies room. He had wandered off with some of his like-minded cronies. Now she couldn’t find him and she’d left her truck keys at home so she couldn’t even crawl inside, prop up her feet and wait for him. Her ankles were swollen, her back hurt, the baby was doing gymnastics on her bladder and if he didn’t stop it, she was going to need the bathroom again before they got anywhere close to home. She patted her belly. Sometimes that calmed her unborn son. She moved into the shade and took a deep breath. Settling her back against the wall, she tried to relax.

On a daily basis, she found herself swinging between elation about the baby and profound depression fueled by fear that she would be a terrible mother. Her own hadn’t been much of a role model, bouncing in and out of Yvette’s life as she’d grown up and been passed from one relative to another and then to foster homes. Yvette was terrified she would do that to her son, except that her baby would know who his father was—a man with a stable family. Cole’s mom and dad were bossy and overbearing and most of the time she was scared of them, but they were thrilled about the baby. They were planning to purchase nearly every top-of-the-line item their grandson would ever need and Yvette had been completely left out of all the discussions, shopping and decisions. Apparently, her only part in this was to produce the actual baby.

Having grown up in unstable and sometimes dangerous households, she hated conflict and didn’t want to get into any arguments with her in-laws. She wished she had a friend or two, girlfriends she could go shopping with to choose things for herself or for her son, but there was no one.

And then there was Cole.

He had a good job helping run the family sale barn, where livestock was auctioned off to the local ranchers. Her son would never want for anything except maybe tenderness and gentle understanding from his father. She didn’t know exactly how a father was supposed to act, but thought it wasn’t like her loud, arrogant father-in-law, or her convinced-he-was-right husband.

Knowing all of that, she was happy and scared and worried all at once.

Hormones, Yvette thought. All this confusion was nothing but hormones, but that didn’t make it easier to handle.

“Hello, Yvette. How are you?”

Her eyes sprang open and she stood up straight. Carly Joslin strolled up with Lisa Thomas and the woman Yvette now knew was Gemma Whitmire—the one, along with Nathan Smith, who Cole hated and wouldn’t say why.

Embarrassment flushed Yvette’s face. She knew her husband had made a fool of himself. He didn’t seem to be bothered by it, but she was. It wasn’t the first time he’d done it, and she knew it wouldn’t be the last. It was mystifying to her. Even though he seemed to think his opinion was the most important one, he usually wasn’t like this at home, but whenever they were out in public he turned into a different man, one who had to be the authority on everything, the loudest voice, the know-it-all. They’d met online, had been married less than a year and she feared she’d made a dreadful mistake. She was ten years younger than he was. There was no one she could talk to about her marriage. She wasn’t from Reston, had few friends here, and her family—what was left of it—was hundreds of miles away.

She knew Carly and Lisa wouldn’t say anything about Cole’s antics, but she didn’t know Gemma so she braced herself for whatever she might say. The other woman seemed pretty outspoken and sure of herself if the way she’d grabbed the microphone from Dr. Smith was any indication.

Yvette liked that. She admired strong women, mostly because she knew she wasn’t one.

Carly introduced the two of them and Gemma gave her a warm smile. “Congratulations on your upcoming birth,” she said as she ran a practiced eye over Yvette’s belly. “You’re about seven months along?”

“Yes.” She rested her palms on her stomach and her son gave such a strong kick, her hands bounced. Everyone laughed. “He’s pretty lively today.”

Gemma pulled a card from her handbag. “Since you’re so far along, you’ve probably got a doctor and a birthing plan all ready to go, but if I can do anything to help, please call.”

“Oh, thank you.” Yvette took the card and tucked it into her pocket, then glanced up in time to see Cole bearing down on them, his face hard. “I’ve got to go. It was nice meeting you, Gemma,” she said hurriedly, turning away and moving rapidly toward the truck.

Cole detoured away from the women and was at the vehicle before her, unlocking the door. He braced a hand under her elbow, helping her in even as he growled, “Why were you talking to them?”

“I was being polite. Carly and Lisa are always nice to me...”

“Stay away from Gemma,” he ordered, slamming the door, then stalking around to the driver’s side and jerking the door open.

“That might be hard to do, Cole. This isn’t exactly a big city.”

He started the engine and put the truck in gear. “You can if you make a point of it, Yvette.”

Her lips tight, she looked out the window as tears filled her eyes. She’d made a terrible mistake and she had no idea how to fix it. She knew she could leave, but where would she go? How could she support herself and the baby? If Cole and his parents even let her take the baby. She had only a high school diploma and no job skills outside of the do-you-want-fries-with-that? variety.

She wished she could talk to Gemma. She had so many questions about the baby and about childbirth that her doctor tried to answer, but he was too busy to spend much time with her. Dr. Smith seemed nice enough in spite of what Cole said, and he seemed honest. Cole wouldn’t allow her to talk to either of them. She didn’t know what she was going to do.

* * *

GEMMA PUT A hand to her throat as she stared after Cole’s truck in dismay. “Oh, my goodness. Is that girl even a day over nineteen?”

“Not by much,” Carly answered, and told Gemma what she knew of Cole and Yvette’s courtship and marriage.

“She looks exhausted, overwhelmed and...”

“Terrified,” Lisa supplied. She also studied the retreating truck with a worried look. “You don’t think Cole is...”

“Abusive toward her?” Carly mused, then shook her head. “I don’t know. I hope not.”

“I hope she calls me,” Gemma said. “I know I can help her.”

Her friends exchanged a look. “Still rescuing kittens,” Carly teased gently.

“Yup. I’ll never change.” For some reason, Nathan’s solemn face came to mind. She wished things were different, were better between them, but maybe that was something that also wouldn’t change.

“Come on,” Carly said. “I did promise to assemble your lawn mower since I’m the gardening expert in the group, but do you two mind if we take a quick drive down Sky Mountain Road? There are a bunch of houses along there that might have put out—”

“No!” Gemma and Lisa answered in unison.

Laughing, the three of them climbed into the truck and headed toward Gemma’s.

* * *

NATHAN WATCHED GEMMA drive away with her friends and envied how easily she had slipped back into daily life in Reston. He wondered how long it would be before that happened for him. Or if it ever would.

Even though he was trying to do the right thing by the people of his hometown, they resented him because of what his father had done. He knew it was going to be a long, hard road to win back their trust. He wanted to do it on his own, though.

Fortunately, he’d had a minute to catch his breath and collect his thoughts when Gemma had jumped to his defense. He was grateful to her for telling Cole to shut up, but it rankled that she’d had to. He didn’t want her to rescue him.

A hand clapped onto his shoulder and he glanced up with a start to see Tom Sanderson grinning at him.

“Dr. Smith, I want you to meet my son, Trent.” The man beside him was a carbon copy of his father, but thirty years younger. Nate and Trent shook hands as Tom continued. “He couldn’t make it to the meeting. My wife is heading home so I’m going to fill Trent in on what happened. You want to join us? You look like a man who could use a beer.”

Nate looked from father to son. The family had moved to the area about five years ago, so they didn’t have any firsthand knowledge of George Smith’s crimes. Old friends might have abandoned him, but it was probably time he made some new ones.

“Yes, sir,” he said. “I sure could.”