Close To Home (Westen Series) (22 page)

Libby laid her hand on Emma’s. “No. And you have every right to be angry. I just wanted to be sure you’ve faced that anger.”

The woman’s kind eyes and smart advice touched a raw spot inside. If she believed she could ever have a close friend, right now Libby Wilson might just be that person. She’d known just what frightened her so much, losing her mother and the fury she tried to hide. “Are you sure you’re not a psychologist and not a social worker?”

“I’d say being a social worker has a great deal of psychology mixed into the job description.” She smiled and squeezed her hand before letting go. “Besides I had some of the same feelings when my mother was diagnosed with cancer a few years back.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” The news took Emma by surprised. All the time she’d known Libby, she never would’ve guessed she had a sick mother. “Is she still alive?”

“No. Luckily for her, pancreatic cancer is swift. We found out and in less than a month she was gone.” Libby gave her a sad smile that barely turned up the corners of her mouth. “I would’ve liked more time with her, but not at the expense of her suffering more pain. Now, let’s see what we can do about caring for your mother.”

“I’d like to keep her at home as long as possible, but only if I can keep her from burning down the house.”

“I can see where that would be a problem. How much damage did the fire do?”

“The kitchen wall has smoke damage. The window frame next to the stove has to be replaced, but I’m already remodeling the house, so the supplies won’t cost anything. And then several floor tiles need to be replaced on the new floor.”

“Floor tiles? The fire spread to the floor?” Libby’s brows drew together.

“I’d shoved the pan off the stove into the sink. Which wasn’t the smartest thing to do, since that’s where the flames caught the kitchen curtains on fire. ” Emma explained, realizing how funny the situation was now that several days had passed.

“So how did the floor tiles get damaged?” The corners of Libby’s lips twitched as if she held onto her own amusement, but was still confused.

“Doctor Preston came in as I was trying to beat out the curtain fire with a wet towel.” Emma grinned at her. “Next thing I know he’s pulled the curtains off the window and is stomping them on the floor—the freshly laid, rather expensive tiled floor. And I’m trying to stop him, saying…not the tiles!”

They stared at each other for a moment then burst out laughing.

After a few minutes, they sobered. Emma smiled at the woman across from her. “Can you believe Clint thought I was crazy for wanting to save my new floor?”

Libby shook her head. “Men. They just don’t get the pleasure of a new kitchen.”

It had felt so good to laugh and Emma suddenly felt like eating. She took a couple of bites of her sandwich. “Is there any information you can give me about caring for Mama?”

“First, let me ask if she’s involved with any routine activities, like volunteering or card club.”

“She was in the garden club, but now that it’s fall the club suspends its meetings until May. And she’s a member of the Weston quilters’ guild. They have a meeting once a week on Tuesdays, and dinner every Thursday.”

Libby wrote the information down. “And your mother attends every week?”

“Yes, the Miller twins and Miss Harriett make sure someone takes her to every meeting. They also take her to Bible study on Wednesday nights. I think it’s good for her to go, since she always seems a little more…clear afterwards.”

“It is good for her to stay involved in her favorite activities for as long as possible.” Libby laid down her pen and took a pamphlet and small paperback book from her leather bag. “Over the past twenty years most states have developed adult day care facilities and associations. This will tell you what benefits they are to you and your mother, how they’re accredited and where you can find more information.”

Emma took the book from Libby, and flipped through the thin volume for a moment. “Does Weston have one?”

“No. Even though the area is aging, we haven’t got the funds for something like this. However we’re less than a thirty-minute drive from the one in the next town. It’s housed in their civic center, and several of our town’s elderly already attend.”

“What do they do there?”

“Most provide small group and individual activities such as reminiscence; sensory stimulation through music, art and interaction with young children. They also have nutritious meals they can enjoy in the company of others. People eat more if they have others to share their meals with. They also have education, family counseling, and nursing care if and when it becomes necessary.”

Emma studied the pamphlet a few minutes. “And the cost?”

“It’s a sliding scale fee, Emma. They get some federal funding and charity donations, so the cost in our county is fairly low.”

“I see they provide some transportation.”

“They do, but let me put in my two cents worth here. You already have people willing to help you care for your mother. Instead of them spending the whole day, perhaps you could ask the ladies to pick a day to drive your mother back and forth to the day care. Or even do one or the other. Several of the ladies on your list probably find pleasure and self-esteem in helping.”

“I’d hate to take that away. Especially since Mama and I benefit so much from their efforts.”

They both laughed.

“Would they mind if Mama and I visited one day just to see what it’s like?”

“I’m sure that can be arranged. Why don’t we set it up for next Monday. I’ll be in this part of the county, so I can go with you. We’ll make it a fun trip for the three of us.”

“Then we’ll make it a date.” Her decision made, Emma took another healthy bite out of her sandwich. For the first time in a long time, things seemed to be getting easier in her life.

* * *

With a final tug on the suture, Clint finished stitching the deep laceration John Haggerty’s tractor had ripped into his shoulder. If that blade had gone any further, the stalwart farmer might’ve found himself in need of both tendon and nerve repair instead of just detailed suturing. Clint wrapped a bandage around his patient’s shoulder and upper arm.

“There you go, John. You’re going to have to take it easy for the next six weeks. How soon until the harvest is finished?” Clint asked, as he helped the older man on with his shirt.

“Corn’s ’bout half in, Doc. My sons can see to the last of it. If you’re sure I can’t be helping any.”

“I’d hate to have to do all this sewing again, John. Your shoulder will start to resemble that blue-ribbon quilt your wife made for the fair this year.”

The farmer chuckled and eased his arm into the sling Clint adjusted to help immobilize his shoulder. “Then I’ll do as you say, Doc. My Teresa wouldn’t want anything to compete with that quilt of hers. Now let me fish out that insurance card from my wallet so you can get paid for this. Ain’t nothing like waitin’ for your pay. That’s something we farmers know all about.”

“Don’t worry about it today, John.” With a hand on his arm, Clint stilled the other man’s efforts. “Uncle Ray has your insurance on file. I’ll just bill them.”

A broad smile spread across the farmer’s sun-weathered face, his skin wrinkling like old leather with furrows at the corner of his eyes and in his cheeks. “Your uncle did all us farmers a favor when he got us that insurance, Doc. Best thing that happened for everyone. And being a limited group really cut our costs.”

Clint nodded. He couldn’t agree with him more. His uncle fought long and hard with several insurance groups until he found one willing to make good health and accident insurance available to the area’s independent farmers. Without it, one good accident, like John’s injury today, could cause great hardship for the small farms. His uncle truly cared about the people in his practice.

So did he.

The thought surprised Clint. He really did care about these people. Each family he helped became more than just patients to him. They were friends and neighbors.

Harriett bustled into the room, quickly straightening the mess. “Now, you get on home and rest that arm, John Haggerty. Teresa doesn’t need to be sitting at home worrying about you. Not with her heart condition.”

“Yes, ma’am, Miz Harriett.” The farmer winked at Clint behind the nurse.

“You just quit winking at the Doc like some silly schoolboy,” she said without turning. “I’ll be by in the morning to check that bandage, you hear? And I better not hear that you were out doing one bit of harvesting this afternoon.”

John straightened and nodded once. “Yes, ma’am.”

She smiled, then turned and ushered him out of the room. Clint laughed to himself as he listened to the little nurse giving the giant man a list of instructions, each one sounding like an order from a drill sergeant. Poor John didn’t stand a chance against Harriett.

Clint gathered his patient file on John and wandered to his desk. When he passed the window in his office, he caught sight of Emma’s car pulling in across the street. It had been two weeks since Naomi and little Isaac had gone home. While they were there, he’d gotten used to having Emma close by each day. The more time he spent around her, the more he wanted to.

Today was the day she’d planned to meet with Libby Wilson, the county social worker about finding some help caring for her mother. He wondered how their lunch had gone.

As he watched, the boys bounded out of the rear seat, backpacks hanging off one shoulder each. He’d removed their casts the day before, so now each wore a soft splint for some added protection and a reminder to be careful. The boys ran up the steps into the house. Emma opened the trunk turning briefly to glance at the clinic. He hoped she was looking for him. Then she leaned in and pulled out two bags of groceries from the rear of the truck.

Clint’s heart skipped a beat and his jeans suddenly grew tighter. He loved the round curve of her bottom. The wind blew a stray lock of her hair as she straightened. With a swipe of her hand, she swept the rebellious hair behind her ear. Despite the strength of her inner core, sometimes she appeared so small and vulnerable. It made him want to protect her from everything bad in the world.

He smiled and set aside the file, yelling to Harriett that he’d be back in a few minutes. With a determined stride he hurried out of the office and down the steps. His pace increased until he was jogging across the road. Just as Emma turned to carry her groceries to the house, he stopped in front of her.

“Ah, my knight in shining...jeans.” She laughed.

Scooping both bags from her arms, Clint leaned in and trapped her against the trunk of the car. He lowered his head allowing his lips to swoop down on hers, kissing her with the sudden need that filled him when he watched her through his office window. Tongue sliding in to taste her, his body pressed her tightly against her car. He let his lips command her passion to respond. When her body melted into his, he pressed in closer, tighter, firmer; claiming her for his, in the way men claimed women from the beginning of time.

Then a raindrop fell on his neck, then another, and another. Clint pulled away, smiling into the dazed, cornflower-blue of Emma’s eyes. “We better get this stuff inside before it starts pouring.”

She blinked once as he ran onto the porch ahead of her. Muttering to herself, she quickly dodged the rain shower and followed him. With a grin, she brushed against him where he stood with his arms full of her groceries, holding the door open.

“Oh, ho.” He laughed. “In the mood for games?”

She flashed him a sexy grin. “What’s the matter, Doc? You can dish it out, but can’t take it?”

With a sultry wiggle of her hips, Emma darted down the hall with Clint in pursuit. Suddenly, she stopped, and he almost bowled her over. She wandered into the dining room where he’d been remodeling the floor to match the one in the great room. Pure pleasure filled her face.

Clint leaned against the doorframe, enjoying the sight of Emma lovingly stroking the pine wood he’d finished laying that morning. In his opinion, she should look this happy all her life.

“Clint, it’s so beautiful. Where did you find the matching pine?” Her fingers continued to lightly caress the wood.

“Albert Miller was demolishing a house on the other side of the county. He let me salvage the boards we needed in exchange for his son’s high school physical.”

The smile on her face died. “But that cost you money...”

“Emma, don’t worry about it.” He headed to the kitchen, not wishing to discuss the finances of the remodeling with her. She took her position as foreman seriously.

She followed him. “But you can’t...”

“Emma, don’t insist on paying for this, too. I had a chance to put real pine wood floors into the great room at no cost. I wanted it to be a surprise.” He turned to study her. “Can’t you let me help just a little? Just this once?”

“I don’t want to be indebted to anyone, Clint. Especially not someone I’m close to.”

Damn, she frustrated the hell out of him.

“It’s a gift, Emma. From me to you. No strings attached. Can’t you just except it as such?”

“You’re sure I can’t pay...”

Determined to stop her protests, he cupped her face between his hands. Crushing his lips on hers, he silenced her questions with his own need to be joined with her in some way. He let his mouth claim what his heart desired.

“Let it go, Em,” he whispered against her lips. “It’s okay to let someone help you.”

Slowly, Emma’s arms wound around his waist. Then, and only then, with her body leaning into his, did Clint change his kisses to a kind of tasting and savoring. When she moaned, he released her, watching her lashes flutter against her lightly freckled cheeks and then open to frame two deep-blue pools of heated passion.

“Where did the boys go, Emma?”

“The boys?” she asked, bemused.

He chuckled and kissed her nose. “Ben and Brian? The boys?”

Emma blinked once, reality returning to her eyes. “The boys. Oh, uh, they’re going to Cub Scouts tonight. So they’re changing into the uniforms we bought yesterday.”

“Cub Scouts? And are you planning on being the den mother?” When she moved to step away, he pulled her closer, his hands gripping her waist. “I once had a crush on my den mother.”