Love in Bloom (11 page)

And then, more recently, there had been Clare...enough.  This was what Clay didn't want.  The rehashing.  The memories of struggle, and, God forbid--the nightmares.  He wouldn't let them terrorize him again.  The best way to keep them at bay was to forget everything to do with the accident and his recovery.

When Clay got back to the picnic table, Paige looked upset.  "Ben wants to go home."

"Running away won't help, Ben."

Ben gave him a glare that could have knocked a giant flat.  "I'm not running anywhere.  I'm tired.  What's the point of sticking around here--"

"Dr. Conrad went to a lot of trouble to get this picnic together.  The least you can do is eat the food she prepared."

"Clay, it's all right.  The fried chicken will keep."

"Ben?"  Clay's tone held challenge.

"All right.  We'll eat.  But forget the canoe ride."

Clay opened the cooler and started lifting out the containers of food.  "It's forgotten."

They ate, but they didn't talk much except for "Please pass the potato salad."  Clay tried and so did Paige, but Ben's sullenness was difficult to ignore.

Clay drove Ben home.  After the teenager had gone inside and Clay drove toward Doc's, he asked Paige, "You think I handled him all wrong, don't you?"

"I don't know.  I just don't want him to become isolated."

"He is isolated.  Recovery's a lonely process because he has to do it on his own.  Others can help, but they can't do it.  He has to break out of his self-pitying haze.  And he might need some plain talking for it to sink in."

"Did someone do that for you?"

"Trish.  She was always there holding up a mirror, making me see the truth, telling me what I didn't want to hear."

"She sounds special."

"She is.  Full of laughter and hope and honesty."

"Did your recovery take long?"

"Much longer than I would have liked."  He'd considered himself healed when the nightmares ended.

"Longer than Ben?"

"Longer than Ben."  He couldn't say how long without telling her more than his shoulder was involved.

"You hurt your shoulder when you wrestled Shep, didn't you?"

Clay pulled into Doc's driveway.  "I jarred it."

"But we went canoeing--"

"If I don't use it, it gets stiff.  I put ice on it that night.  The next day it was fine."

She laid her hand on his arm.  "Would you tell me if it wasn't?"

His blood heated up.  He knew her touch was only meant to give comfort, but instead it sparked dormant fires.  "I don't know."

She shook her head.  "Macho attitude."

He laughed.  "Run into that often?"

"More often than I'd like.  It prevents me from helping."

He covered her hand with his.  "Ah, Paige.  Out to heal the world.  The time isn't always right."  His thumb caressed the top of her hand.  He wanted to stroke more than her hand.  He took his fingers from hers and leaned away.

Paige folded her hands in her lap.  "This afternoon didn't go the way I'd planned it."

"Does it ever?"

She smiled.  "Maybe not."

The lights of desire in her eyes told him she remembered their embrace in the lake.  He did, too.  Much too well.  He'd almost kissed her.  But getting involved would be sheer stupidity.  They'd both get hurt.  It was a good thing Ben had interrupted.

"Clay, no matter what happens with Ben, thanks for trying today."  And before he knew what was happening, Paige leaned toward him.  Her lips were warm on his cheek, as gentle as a butterfly's landing but as disturbing as the embrace in the lake.

She slid toward the door.  Without another word, she opened it and climbed out.  As she walked up the path to Doc's door, Clay put his fingers to the place her lips had kissed.

****

The cold.  Freezing, insidious cold burned his face, his fingers.  He moved, and his leg fell into nothingness.  If he moved too much, he'd fall into nothingness.  Somehow he knew.

His head pounded and he couldn't open his eyes.  It hurt too much.  Shouts.  People yelling.  A drone above him.  Or was the sound connected to the pounding in his head?

His shoulder burned with a different fire than the rest of his body.  When he moved it, slicing pain stabbed him over and over.  He had to get away from it.  He had to escape the cold.  He tried to turn over but he couldn't and he found himself falling...falling...falling...

Clay awoke, his sheets drenched in sweat, his throat parched and dry, probably from yelling for help.  He was shaking all over.  He reached for the spread and pulled it on top of the sheet.  He was cold.  So cold.

Dragging in pockets of air, he tried to slow his racing heart.  And then he swore a string of epithets that didn't begin to describe his frustration.

Determination took hold.  He would not let the nightmares start again.  He would not cry out in terror and spend the rest of the night recovering from the panic.

This nightmare had been mild compared to most of them.  But what had brought it on?  Had Paige stirred it all up?  Clay touched his cheek where the touch of her lips still remained.  Or had it been Ben?  That made more sense.  The day with Ben, the remembrance of similar experiences brought the unconscious to the surface.

Clay raked his hand through his damp hair.  Either way, he'd stay away from them both.

****

The next morning, Clay went to the garage for his car.  When he reached for the front door, he saw the cooler on the floor in the back.  He'd forgotten to take it inside last night.

As he lifted it, he saw something on the floor next to it.  Paige's sweater.  She'd had it slung over her arm when she got into the SUV.  She'd said she might need it for the canoe ride.  Somehow, it must've gotten thrown in the back when they packed up.

Clay set the cooler on the seat and picked up the sweater.  It was white, soft, and he could smell a slight floral scent.  Without thinking, he brought it to his nose and inhaled.  It smelled like Paige--sunshine, flowers, woman.  His body responded.

Right, Reynolds.  You're not going to see her again, remember?

He tossed the sweater back into the car as if it were a hot potato.  Hadn't last night taught him anything?  He'd spent a sleepless night, tossing and turning, trying to forget the nightmare, block out Paige's face, set aside Ben's recovery process.

But he couldn't just cut Paige off.  He'd drop off the sweater during her office hours.  That way he could return it, explain how busy he was going to be for the next few weeks, and say a simple good-bye.  They'd already planned the agenda of games for the Fourth of July; he could take care of the rest himself.  She was off the hook.

That's what he'd tell her.  And then he'd leave.  As simple as paddling a canoe.

****

Clay surveyed the doctor's office and found chaos.  A young mother held a crying baby and two redheaded boys about six years old fought over a small plastic army figure.  The first boy grabbed it away.  The other child punched him in the arm.  A pregnant woman, very pregnant, looked as if she couldn't be more tired.  Two elderly women were scowling and muttering to each other.  No receptionist sat at the desk.

Clay looked around again, suspecting something was wrong.  Doc didn't run his office like this and Clay guessed Paige wouldn't either.  He went to find her.

Before he'd gotten a foot into the hall, one of the elderly women called, "Hey, mister.  It's not your turn."

He called back, "I'm not a patient."

As he walked down the hall, he found three examining rooms empty.  That was odd.  He reached the fourth and was debating whether to wait a few minutes or knock when the door opened.

Paige saw him and jumped.  "You scared me.  What are you doing here?"

He lifted her sweater.  "I came to return this.  What's going on?  The patients in the waiting room look ready to riot."

Paige closed the door to the examining room.  "I can't get caught up.  I had a house call first thing this morning.  Mr. Hick's little girl had a fever of one hundred and four and I thought it would be better not to bring her to the office.  Next I got a text from my nurse. She and our receptionist went to a bridal shower yesterday and both got sick on something they ate.  The computer is down and it's been bedlam since I got here.  I haven't even had a chance to call for temporary help."

Clay rested his hand on the doorjamb above her head.  "So you're trying to do the job of three people."

Paige only had to tip her head a little to meet his gaze.  "I'm used to working alone.  It's not that.  But everybody here is so impatient.  They want help immediately."

She sounded more exasperated than frustrated.  "Your patients in Africa didn't?"

"They had waited months for medical care.  A few hours didn't matter."  She took her sweater from Clay's arm.  "Thanks for returning this.  But I've got to get moving.  If you want to talk..."

"No.  I don't.  But I could help out for a while.  What do you need?"

She studied him for a moment.  "You're sure?"

"I wouldn't have offered if I didn't want to help."

She motioned for him to follow her.  "I'm not going to turn a gift horse away."  She smiled over her shoulder.  "That didn't sound right.  What's the expression?"

He marveled at how fast she moved, as if chased by the devil.  He corrected the idiom for her.  "You won't look a gift horse in the mouth."

"My way makes more sense."  She swerved into her office and picked up a clipboard from her desk.  "Use a separate sheet for each patient.  Find out who was here first, second, et cetera.  Show them to the examining rooms.  Take down their complaints.  Be as specific as you can.  If they don't want to tell you, don't push."

"Anything else?"

She handed him the clipboard and hurried to the waiting room.  "Find out what medications they're on.  I'll take the two boys next.  The patient in room four is getting dressed.  He'll be out in a few minutes.  I'll have to input all of it into the computer when it's up and running again."

Paige introduced Clay to the patients in the waiting room, said he'd be helping her, and told them she'd be with each one as soon as she could.

Clay watched the expressions on their faces.  It was amazing what a bit of attention, a smile, and an explanation did to defuse impatience.  He had to hand it to Paige-she was good with people.  He remembered her care when he'd cut his hand and her concern about Ben, her attempts to draw him out.  She was genuine and caring.  No facade.

Clay took the patients to the examining rooms, then started taking the information Paige had requested.  When he asked the pregnant woman her name, she smiled shyly.  "Miriam Jacobs.  Nothing's wrong with me.  This is just a checkup.  Dr. Conrad says I have to come in every week now.  I'm due in five weeks."