Читать книгу Sweet On Peggy - Stella MacLean - Страница 12
ОглавлениеPEGGY WENT INTO WORK, her mind on her doctor’s appointment scheduled for eleven o’clock at Dr. Brandon’s office. She had hoped that his office might call to say the mammogram was negative, but they hadn’t. To her that meant only one thing. She drew in a deep breath to ward off the tears.
She hadn’t eaten a bite, nor had she slept until around four o’clock, when she finally fell exhausted into a deep sleep, during which she dreamed that someone was calling to her. She’d awoken sweaty and disoriented, believing that someone was in the house looking for her. A long shower helped clear her head of the dream, a shower during which she didn’t touch her breast.
When she reached the phlebotomy clinic, she turned on her computer at her workstation in preparation for the day ahead. Gayle came by her desk, leaning her arm on the counter, a sympathetic smile on her face. “Want to talk about it?”
“I’m scared, Gayle. I don’t know what I’ll do if this is cancer. If I have to go to Portland or Bangor for treatment, leave my job for days on end, find someone to look after my horses while I’m sick...” She tried to breathe over her fear, to draw air in past the knot in her throat.
“Sherri and I are here for you. We’ll do anything we can to help.”
Gayle’s voice, so filled with care, brought tears to her eyes. “I know you will, and I appreciate it so much. It’s just that I’ve never felt this alone before.”
“Why don’t you let me call your mom?”
“No! She’d make this all about her. I don’t have the energy for that.”
“What can I do?”
Peggy came around the desk and hugged her friend. “Just knowing you’re here and willing to help makes all the difference.”
“Okay. Who’s covering for you after eleven?”
“Janet Mills.”
“Call me when you get home. Promise?”
“I promise to call you the first chance I get.”
Peggy managed to make it through her morning patients, including a particularly exuberant four-year-old. When Janet arrived, she gathered up her purse and headed out.
When she got to Dr. Brandon’s office, his waiting room was empty. Peggy was very thankful for the reprieve. Waiting in a room full of people, trying to remain upbeat when people started a conversation with her, would have been difficult.
Ethel Stairs, Dr. Brandon’s receptionist, tipped her reading glasses down her nose and looked across her desk at Peggy. Peggy couldn’t help but wonder what Ethel would do if by some chance her perfect hair got ruffled a little.
“Good morning, Peggy. It’s so nice to see you. You haven’t been in the office for months, have you?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“And I have the correct insurance information on you, I believe,” Ethel said and read the information to Peggy for confirmation. Ethel patted the file before placing it on the corner of her desk. “If you’ll take a seat, Dr. Brandon will see you in a few minutes.”
Peggy concentrated on the seascape painting across the room, which offered a serene vista of the ocean, a calm she didn’t feel at all.
A door opened, and Dr. Brandon walked out, took her chart from the receptionist and led the way into his examination room. Closing the door gently, he smiled at Peggy as she climbed up onto the exam table. “The spot that was bothering you would seem to be nothing other than irritated tissue.”
Peggy sighed, feeling a huge weight lifting off her shoulders. “Yeah, it started to bother me right after I bought a new bra.” She smiled in relief. “I’m putting it in the trash. To think I frightened myself silly over a bad-fitting bra.”
Dr. Brandon didn’t smile back. “But you can be thankful that it prompted you to look into the problem. I’m afraid that although that spot isn’t a problem, the mammogram did find another area we need to biopsy.” He looked at her chart open in his hands and back at her. “We’ll need to do it right away.”
She hugged her arms against her chest to quell the anxiety racing through her. “When?”
“Tomorrow morning. I’ve scheduled a procedure room at the hospital for eight to do an incisional biopsy. You will need to be off work for a day or two. Can you be there?”
Who would care for her horses? Peggy felt the tears flood her eyes. “I’ll rearrange my schedule,” Peggy said as sadness and worry engulfed her.
Dr. Brandon’s gaze was kind. “This will be a simple procedure. All you need to do is be at the hospital about fifteen minutes before your appointment. I’ll meet you there.”
“Then what?”
“The biopsy tissue will be sent to Portland, to the pathology lab there, and we’ll have the results in a matter of days. In the meantime, I would encourage you not to focus on this too much. I know that’s nearly impossible to do under the circumstances. But look at it this way, if it’s nothing, then it’s over and you can go on with your life. If there is something there, the success rate in treating breast cancer has greatly improved in the past few years. There are support services and groups, as well.” He smiled encouragingly. “You have a lot of good friends who will help you if you should need them.”
She could hardly hear what he was saying. It couldn’t be cancer. She couldn’t face it. She needed time to absorb this, to get her head around the idea that this biopsy would be a turning point in her life regardless of the outcome. Suddenly she wanted her mother. She needed her desperately. Tears surged down her cheeks. “Dr. Brandon. Thank you. I’ll be there tomorrow morning.”
Somehow she had to make it home, to the place she felt safe. She needed to take Zeus out for a long run, to feel the wind in her ears, to know that at least one part of her life hadn’t changed. She would ask Ned to care for her horses, she thought, as tears she couldn’t contain blinded her. She wiped the tears and drove carefully toward home, focusing all her attention on the next few hours, in which she would try her best not to give in to the panic she felt.
* * *
RORY HADN’T HEARD from Peggy today. He missed her. He’d been a little put off by the fact that she hadn’t invited him in after the dance, but he accepted that she needed her space. There would be lots of time for them to get to know one another better. He planned to see her today if he could.
He assumed she would be at work and decided to drop by. When he arrived at her desk, she wasn’t there. Instead, an older woman greeted him. “Do you have a requisition for blood work?” she asked.
“No. I’m looking for Peggy Anderson.”
“She’s taken a day off, I’m afraid. Personal time, I believe,” the woman said, making it clear by the prim set of her lips she planned to say nothing more on the subject of Peggy Anderson.
Was she ill? Had she not been feeling well that night after the dance? He’d never considered that she might have been sick. He’d planned to call her and ask her to go bowling with him tomorrow evening. He knew that Gayle and Sherri both worked in the clinics, and he made his way there as quickly as possible. He saw Gayle at the desk, her eyes on the computer screen in front of her. When he walked up, she stopped and glanced up at him. “Hi, Rory. How are you?”
“I’m good, thanks. I’m looking for Peggy.”
“She’s not working today.”
“I know that. I was wondering why she’s taken a day off in the middle of the week.”
“You’ll have to ask her.” Gayle’s smile was kind, but like the woman at Peggy’s desk, she wasn’t forthcoming.
“Thank you.” He headed out to his truck, started it up and drove out of town toward Peggy’s house. She probably wouldn’t want to talk to him, but he had to know that she was all right. She’d been acting strange, and there had to be a reason.
When he pulled in her driveway, he saw her out near the paddock with one of her horses. He jumped out of his truck and walked toward her. “They told me you were off today. I came to see if everything’s all right.”
“Why shouldn’t it be?” she asked, patting the huge horse before turning to him.
The horse gave a snort and galloped off toward the other side of the enclosure. Rory felt his shoulders relax when the horse took off. He wasn’t comfortable around horses. With the horse gone, he’d be able to focus his entire attention on Peggy.
He waited, hoping she’d tell him something. He suddenly felt silly and inappropriate for rushing out here without calling first. “I needed to see you.”
That’s it. Blurt out your feelings.
She smiled at him, but her eyes were wary. “That’s very kind of you. But I don’t need anyone here right now, if you don’t mind.”
He stared at her, at the nervous way she rubbed her palms over the sides of her worn jeans, the way she wouldn’t look at him. Instead, she chewed on her lower lip. There was something going on here, and she wasn’t willing or able to say what it was.
“Look, I didn’t mean to barge in like this. I went to the hospital, and they told me you were home. I was worried. I really enjoyed the dinner and dance the other night. I was hoping we might do something tomorrow. If you’re up to it, that is.”
It was his turn to rub his palms over the sides of his jeans as he waited for her to say something. She didn’t utter a sound as her eyes searched the open field where the horse stood quietly now.
“Look, I can see it was a mistake coming here. Why don’t I call you later, maybe? See if you’re all right...or you call me...or whatever?”
* * *
PEGGY COULDN’T RESIST the look of anguish in his eyes. When she saw his truck pull up in her yard, she’d been prepared to send him away. She didn’t need company right now, but she had to admit it was rather nice to have someone here with her. She’d had a long ride on Zeus and she smelled like it.
Yet he didn’t seem to notice how she smelled. Or more likely Rory was simply being kind. “No, please. I had a good time the other night, as well. I was out for a ride to clear my thoughts.”
The relief in his eyes drew her to him. He was genuinely anxious about her. And he really did want to see her. “If you don’t mind waiting, I need to have a shower and get cleaned up.”
His face broke out in a broad grin. “Yeah. I can wait.” He offered his arm. “Let me escort you. I’ll wait wherever you tell me to wait.”
She giggled. “I think the living room would be good.”
“Or I can make a pot of coffee?” He looked down at her as they walked toward her back door.
“Let me get cleaned up first. Maybe we can have coffee later.”
She left him sitting in the living room. She hurried through a shower, being careful not to touch her right breast. Tomorrow would come soon enough. She put on clean jeans and a T-shirt before heading downstairs. When she reached the bottom step, she could see him peering at her bookshelves filled with books and horse magazines.
“Those were my father’s. He was a chemical engineer, worked for an oil company that took him all over the world.”
He studied her over the book he held open. “So, you’ve traveled all over the world with your family I assume.”
“Yes. When I was in ninth grade, Mom and Dad talked about putting me in a boarding school, to offer me a more stable existence. I was so upset I wrote a long essay on the reasons why I should continue to travel with them, how I’d broaden my horizons, get to learn about the world outside the United States. But I think it was my final argument that won.”
“And what was that?”
“I’d run away if they tried to send me to boarding school. It was the last conversation I had with my father before he left for a business trip to Chile. He didn’t come back. The plane he was in crashed.”
His expression was one of open concern as he put the book down, pulled her into his arms and held her in a way she hadn’t been held before by a man. It felt so perfect, so much like coming home, so safe, she nearly cried out.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair, making her feel cared for and protected.
“Why don’t we sit down, and you can tell me all about your life. You mentioned Haiti,” she said, struggling to recover from the wonderful feelings sliding through her at the way he’d held her. I could get so hooked on this.
He followed her to the sofa. “I thought we were going to talk about you,” he said.
“We will.” She smoothed her hair from her face, her fingers trembling.
“I didn’t make coffee,” he said, sitting down next to her. “Would you like me to?”
“No. I’m fine.”
He looked at her for a few moments, as if he wanted to say something, and changed his mind. “Well, let’s see. I went to Haiti, part of a two-year contract. I’d been asked by a friend to join his team of carpenters going in to do repair work on some buildings damaged by the earthquake and to build new ones where we could.” He twined his fingers together and stared at them before going on. “It was easily one of the most difficult times of my life. And in many other ways it was the most surreal, rewarding, heartbreaking experience I’ve ever had. I can’t explain it. Many people in Haiti need so much, yet the ones I met have spirit and enthusiasm you don’t often find back here at home. We take our lives for granted. We’re so preoccupied with having everything we want. We worry so much about the future. Maybe it’s because their future is so uncertain that they have learned to live in the here and now.”
She watched how he flexed his fingers, especially those on his injured arm. He was struggling not to break down, and she could so relate to that. She’d wanted to have a good cry ever since her visit to Dr. Brandon’s office. “I admire you for being able to do what you did. Many people couldn’t.”
She’d never felt this close to a man before. And in telling her about Haiti, he’d helped her control her worry. Having him here had been a huge benefit, unexpected and wonderful.
“I should have done more.” His jaw worked, he lowered his head and stared at his hands. “Sometimes I wish I hadn’t left.”
“Yet you did. You must have needed to come home for some reason. Was your mother in poor health?”
“I’d gone to Haiti after she passed to get a better perspective. My sister wanted me to move to Texas to be near her. I couldn’t imagine myself in Texas.” He glanced at her, his expression one of sadness. “Then I remembered my mother’s stories about her summers in Eden Harbor, and that sort of made the decision for me.”
“You make decisions so easily,” she mused. “I find it difficult to make a decision, especially one that could change my life. But I’m glad you decided to come here. And everyone is singing your praises, even Ned Tompkins. Pleasing Ned isn’t easy,” she said, teasing him just a little bit.
“I do make decisions quickly. But they have mostly worked out...except maybe my year at a summer camp in northern Maine.” He gave a low chuckle. “Let’s not go there for now.” He leaned back and looked at her. “But I didn’t come to talk about me. I came here to talk about you. To see if you were all right.”
“And I am.”
“That’s it?”
As close as she felt to him right now, she couldn’t tell him about her health issue. She had to believe it was simply a scare and would all be over in a matter of days. Besides, the men she’d known wouldn’t be around for long if there was a problem requiring them to do anything. She suspected that Rory wasn’t like that, but she wasn’t willing to take a chance when her life was so uncertain.
For some reason she couldn’t identify, sitting beside him made her feel better about tomorrow morning. Whether it was his upbeat manner or the warmth in his eyes didn’t matter. What mattered was making it through the evening, something she’d rather not do alone. “Yeah, that’s all, unless you want to stick around and help me make dinner.”
* * *
RORY COULDN’T BELIEVE his good fortune. His impetuousness had paid off. “I can’t think of anything I’d like to do better. I’m starving and you must be, too.”
“Then let’s go to the kitchen,” she said, getting up and heading across the room to the door leading to the kitchen.
She got out some pots and pans, took several pieces of haddock from the refrigerator, removed the wrapping and rinsed the fish in the sink. He watched her easy movements. “You cook a lot, I take it,” he said.
“I do. Mostly out of necessity. I’m a little way from town, the restaurants and fast-food places. So, I keep food on hand. I hope you like fish. I could make you a grilled cheese sandwich if you want,” she said, giving him a quick smile.
“No. Fish is great. Can I peel potatoes, cook rice, make a salad?”
“Yes. Rice and a salad would be perfect while you tell me more about Haiti.”
He couldn’t tell her the real reason why he’d come home. He hadn’t told anyone other than a psychologist he’d seen for a short time after he got back. Until he knew Peggy better, he wouldn’t allow himself to confide in her. He didn’t want her to see him as a weak, indecisive man, someone who had allowed his experience in Haiti to determine how he felt about life here in Eden Harbor. He had a good life here, the respect of the locals and was presently sharing the kitchen with a woman who intrigued him. Yet he couldn’t ease the feelings of guilt, the sense that he’d abandoned people who relied on him.
He had so many mixed-up feelings around his time in Haiti. Some good. Some not so good. Yet a part of him wanted to return and finish what he had started. Grant Williams, his team leader, had promised him that he could go back when he was ready. So tempting...until now.
He took the bag of lettuce, the cucumber, celery and tomatoes she gave him and found a knife on the rack next to the stove. “The people I met in Haiti were the friendliest on the planet. So interesting, committed. The friends I made while living in that country will always be a part of my life.”
“Wherever my parents and I lived, we always enjoyed learning about the local culture. It’s amazing how much we can learn from others, about how they live and work.”
“That’s true.” Yet it was more than that for him. He’d been a part of the community. And that acceptance had resulted in him feeling needed and appreciated in ways he’d never experienced before.
They worked alongside each other in silence for a few minutes, he washing vegetables and she working on the rest of the meal. He couldn’t help but notice how easily she battered the fish and put the frying pan on the stove in preparation for cooking the haddock.
“I’d better get going. I don’t want you to have the fish ready before the rice is cooked.”
“I’ll wait for you,” she said. Her glance swept over him, her lips pursed.
“Is there a problem?” he asked.
“You need an apron.” Pulling one from a hook on the side of the fridge, she then slipped it around his waist and tied the knot for him before putting on an apron herself.
The way she moved to tie the knot, as if they’d been doing this for years, touched something in him. “Thank you,” he said.
“Anytime.”
“Next time it’s my turn.”
“For what?”
“For tying your apron.”
She tucked her chin down in surprise. “I didn’t, did I?”
“You did, and a fine job it was,” he said, thoroughly enjoying her discomfort. Yet he couldn’t help but wonder if she had shared her kitchen with another man, that tying a knot in an apron for a man was something she’d gotten in the habit of doing and not so much something she had done specifically for him.
* * *
SHE HADN’T FELT these feelings before. This sense of connection to someone, the feeling that he would understand should she decide to share her worries. Yet she wasn’t about to do that, especially when she had this deep-down feeling that she might have found a man who had serious potential. She couldn’t risk getting involved with him only to have him walk out on her if she had to face treatment.
She didn’t want to spoil her first real chance in years to have a relationship that might turn into something a lot more. No. Sharing too much this early on about something that might turn out to be nothing at all was hardly the way to hold on to a man who had the potential to be just what she was looking for.
Peggy had never found herself in such a perplexing situation. The men she’d dated had usually bombed out by the time the second date rolled around. Yet Rory’s presence in her life had turned out to be really fun. She was suddenly energized and pleased with everything.
She put her best place mats on the table, and all the while she kept glancing at him, at the way he so skillfully put together the salad. He caught her looking at him and smiled. “Rice?”
“In the long cupboard next to the fridge,” she said.
Too late she realized she’d crammed that cupboard with boxes of cereal and parts of her grocery order she hadn’t found a place for yet. “Whoops!” She watched as cereal boxes tumbled out, landing at his feet. She rushed to scoop them up. “Sorry about that,” she said, gathering up the boxes. Standing close to him with nothing but a couple of flimsy boxes between them, she could feel his heat, see the awareness in his eyes and wanted to jump into his arms. Well, maybe not jump, but certainly get closer to him.
“I’m not sorry,” he said, his voice a slow drawl that played along her spine, a thrill passing through her. She clutched the boxes in her hands as their eyes met. The deepest, bluest eyes she’d ever seen. There was just a hint of stubble on his jaw. She wanted to run her fingers through his sun-bleached hair.
This man was simply too good to be true. There had to be a story here. Where were all the women in his life? No red-blooded woman could resist those eyes. Not a chance.
She pointed to the top cupboard. “The rice would be just over your right shoulder,” she said, her voice sounding breathless in her ears. She put the cereal boxes on the counter and found the rice steamer in the bottom drawer next to the dishwasher, acutely aware that her rear end was sticking up in the air as she fished around the depths of the drawer.
Feeling self-conscious, she rushed to set the table, putting out a bowl of pink peonies she’d cut earlier. By the time she was finished fixing and fretting, her pulse was racing.
“The rice is nearly finished.”
Darn! She’d forgotten to start the fish. “The fish will only take a few minutes,” she said, hurrying back to the kitchen.
He’d already turned on the burner. “Butter?” he asked.
Wordlessly, she pointed to the white butter dish resting near the back of the counter. The man filled her tiny kitchen with his presence, his easy way, his sexy body.
“Now, all we need is music,” he said, maneuvering the frying pan over the hot burner to the sound of sizzling butter.
“What do you like?” she asked.
“When it comes to music, I’m old-fashioned. I was raised on ’60s music, thanks to my mother’s love of it.”
“I like it, too.”
He slid the fish into the frying pan. “Did you get that from your mother, as well?”
“Not really. It’s just great music, the beginnings of today’s more modern, less appealing music.”
“Couldn’t agree more.” He turned those blue eyes on her again and she felt her mouth go dry. “Plates?”
“Oh, yeah.” She went to the cupboard and took out two plates. “I’ll take the salad to the table,” she said, feeling like a teenager suffering through her first crush.
They ate their dinner together, laughed lots to the accompaniment of their favorite music. “I haven’t had this much fun since I came to Eden Harbor,” he said, holding his coffee cup in his hand, his attention on her.
“Me neither.”
He put his cup down and reached across the table, taking her hand in his. “Thank you.”
