Love in Bloom (2 page)

"Ben's had a rough time of it.  He's sixteen and was headed for a football scholarship.  All that's changed.  He's done with specialists except for physical therapy, so he's back in our care."

"Yours and Doc's."

"Yes.  And physically, Ben's doing well.  Thank God he wore a helmet."

The nerve in Clay's jaw twitched and he shifted in his chair.

"But his left leg is still weak, and he has to use a cane.  We're hoping he won't need that in a few months."

Shep rubbed his nose against Paige's leg.  She patted his head, but that wasn't enough attention.  He stood, loped over to Clay, and sat beside him.  Clay scratched Shep around the neck and moved his hand down his back.

When Clay didn't ask any questions, Paige pushed on.  "Ben's attitude is poor.  He's in the 'why me?' stage.  I've tried talking to him, encouraging him, prodding him, but it doesn't seem to help.  So I talked with Doc about it and he suggested I see you."

Clay pushed back his chair, stood, and went to the counter for the pitcher of iced tea.  His glass was still half full.  "How does Doc expect me to help...Ben, is it?"

She nodded and waited, hoping Clay would sit again. 

He didn't.  He filled his glass, set down the pitcher, then leaned against the counter, one ankle crossed over the other.  The silence in the kitchen was broken only by the tick-tock of the ceramic clock on the wall.

Paige pushed her glass aside, not encouraged by the signals he was sending out.  "Doc told me you were in an accident a few years back and you had to overcome some disabilities.  I'd like you to talk to Ben."

Clay was quiet for a moment.  "I don't see how that would do any good.  I'm not a professional.  There are therapists and counselors who specialize in helping with rehabilitation.  Doc would have the names of good people, if not in Langley, in Baltimore."

Paige's hands fluttered as she spoke.  "But you went through it yourself."  She didn't know exactly what he'd gone through, but it must have been serious enough for Doc to suggest Clay talk to Ben.

Clay shook his head.  "I doubt if I went through the same thing as this young man."

Her gaze took a clinical path over his body this time and saw nothing but vibrant good health.  "Doc didn't tell me specifics, but apparently you've recovered from whatever happened."

Clay uncrossed his ankles and pushed away from the counter.  "It looks that way, doesn't it?"

"You haven't?"

His face showed no emotion.  "Not all scars are visible."

"I know that.  That's why I want you to talk to Ben."

"No." 

Just for a moment, she glimpsed a flash of pain in Clay's eyes.  What kind of pain, she couldn't tell.  "Just like that?"  she asked quietly.  "Without hearing any more?"  She stood and stepped closer to him.  She hadn't expected an out-and-out "No" any more than she'd expected her heartbeat to quicken when she stood within a foot of him.  "Why can't you just talk to him?"

"I'm thirty-five years old.  He's sixteen.  I wouldn't know what to say."

"You were a teenager once.  Surely you can remember--"

Clay turned away from her and returned the pitcher of iced tea to the refrigerator, a sign that his hospitality had come to an end.  "Dr. Conrad, I'm sure you're ingenious enough to find someone who can help this teenager--really help him.  I might do more harm than good."

She waited till Clay faced her.  "You won't even think about it?"

He met her gaze directly.  "There's nothing to think about.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I have the back yard to mow.  I'll walk you to your car."

****

Clay stood on the porch and watched Paige Conrad's blue car ease slowly away from the gravel onto the road.  She was either a careful driver or not used to driving in the USA.  A pretty woman, too.  Not a head- turner though, not the type of woman he would have gone for once.

At least that's what his sister Trish would tell him.  But his mind wasn't on his sister; it was on Dr. Conrad.

She was at least five-feet-ten but, from the looks of it, not aware of her height.  She didn't slouch or hunch her shoulders.  And because she didn't, her breasts had pushed at her blue oxford shirt.  He'd appreciated every curve.

Her outfit had been nondescript--blue shirt, blue jeans, sneakers that looked as if they'd been comfortable for a long time.  It was the kind of outfit someone who was used to blending in wore.  The idea intrigued him.  He had his own reasons for camouflage and wondered about other people's.

Calling on the memory he'd honed carefully since his accident ten years ago, he pictured the exact moment he'd held out his hands to Paige.  He'd been caught by the blue of her eyes.  A deep, mysterious blue that seemed too dramatic for the straight brown hair that was layered to curve toward her cheeks and emphasize her oval face.  Her accent added to the mystery.

He wanted to believe the tightening in the pit of his stomach had more to do with her suggestion that he talk to Ben Hockensmith rather than man-woman attraction.  But he was too old to lie to himself.

Shep whined at his side.  Clay crouched down and scratched the dog around his neck.  "I wish I could help her, Shep."

The German shepherd rubbed against Clay's hand.

Clay had pieced his life together slowly, inch by precious inch.  The three years of rehabilitation after the accident had tested every iota of endurance he'd possessed.  During the past seven years in Langley, he'd learned he could have a normal life without questions, recriminations, and odd looks.  The only way he could go forward was not to look back.

Ben Hockensmith might make him relive the anguish.

Paige's voice echoed in his head.  "You were a teenager once.  Surely you remember--"

He wished to God he could.  But he never would.

****

"I don't understand why he won't help."  Paige paced Doc's living room, unable to calm down after her encounter with Clay.  She was unsettled by more than his refusal to see Ben.  Something about the man himself affected her.

Doc put aside the medical journal he'd been reading.  Shoving his tortoiseshell glasses on top of his head, he confessed, "I guess I should have warned you.  Clay's a private person.  Sociable as all get-out, but overstep the boundary and he gets as quiet as the dead of night."

"It would be so easy for him to talk to Ben."

"How do you know?"

She stopped in the center of the multicolored braided rug.  "What do you mean?"

"It might not be easy for Clay."

"Exactly what happened to him?"

"I know some of his story, but it's his to tell, not mine.  I wouldn't be betraying any confidence to say it was a rock-climbing accident.  He's told several people that."

She paced back and forth again.  "How can he not want to help Ben?"  She'd had one goal in life, to learn her parents' skills so she could heal.  The problem was she hadn't been able to heal well enough.  She didn't want to fail with Ben, and she knew she needed help.

Doc pushed the lever on his recliner and lowered the footrest.  "Not everyone is as selfless as you and your parents.  Some people don't devote their lives to looking for ways to help others."

"Clay Reynolds is selfish?"

"I didn't say that.  Sometimes our health, physical or mental, depends on thinking of ourselves first."

"I suppose I was thinking of myself when I came here," she confessed.

Doc's expression was wry.  "Taking over my practice is not selfishness."

Paige sighed and sat on the soft cushions of the sofa.  She ran her fingers over one of the pheasants printed on the arm.  "I fell apart in Africa.  That's not easy to face.  I'm a doctor.  I should be able to handle--"

"Famine and poverty?  Babies dying from malnutrition?  Hour after hour, day after day, year after year?  You were there three years, Paige, without a break.  What did you expect to happen?  Did you think you could neglect your own needs, your mental health, and not fall apart?"

"My mother hasn't."  Paige couldn't remember when her mother had shown a weakness of any kind.

"Ah, your mother.  You think she's a saint.  And she might be.  But we all aren't cut out for sainthood."

Doc had never talked this way before and Paige was surprised.  "You sound like you don't approve."

The older man's eyes were sad.  "It's not that I don't approve.  But you didn't belong over there as a child, any more than you belonged stuck in a boarding school during your formative years.  Your father would be alive today if he'd taken a break now and then."

Always ready to defend the two people she idolized, Paige responded softly, "We took furloughs to get supplies.  We came back to the States once a year."

"Even when you came here with your parents, they were planning and organizing the entire time.  Those weren't vacations, Paige."

"They were following their dream--to heal the world together.  And now Mother's keeping that dream alive."

"But is it your dream?"

Paige rested her head against the back of the sofa and closed her eyes.  "I thought it was.  Growing up, watching them care for people, no matter what the conditions were.  I thought I wanted that life, too.  That's why I became a doctor."

"And now?"

"I just don't know.  But I have a couple of months to figure it out."

"You know you can stay with me as long as you need to, even when I'm back on my feet.  I promised your father I'd look after you."

Paige opened her eyes and sat up straight.  "And you've always done a good job.  I wouldn't have gotten through med school without your moral support, let alone my residency after Daddy had his stroke..."  Her voice caught.  Although it had been five years, Paige still missed her dad deeply.  But she considered herself lucky to have Doc.

She didn't speak about her feelings easily, maybe because of her upbringing.  Showing someone how she felt had always been easier than talking about it.  So she changed the subject.  "What would you like for supper tonight?  Curried chicken or baked haddock?"

Doc's gaze was sympathetic, as if he knew talking about her father was still painful.  "I think the baked haddock would be easier on my stomach."  He sat forward on the recliner and put his glasses on the end table.  "So what are you going to do about Ben?"

Paige hopped to her feet and started toward the kitchen.  "I'll make sure I keep an eye on him.  I haven't given up on Clay Reynolds."

"Give him some time, child.  Let him think about your idea.  Maybe he'll come around.  In fact...there's a square dance Saturday night at Phelps' place.  I bet Clay will be there."

Paige stopped and turned around.  "You think socializing with him will bring him around?"

"I think you should follow your instincts and see how set he is about keeping his life to himself.  And remember that old proverb--you catch more flies with honey than vinegar."