The Welcome Committee of Butternut Creek (14 page)

“You felt something.”

“Oh, my, yes. Only the dead wouldn’t have, but I don’t think I’m… I mean, it was… but I’m not ready.”

“If you weren’t ready, you wouldn’t have felt it.”

She glared at him. “A fine argument. I bet it works with some women, but I know that sometimes the body acts before the brain can kick in.”

“Maybe the brain should stay out of this.”

“Oh, like with my husband and Tiffany?”

Not what he meant at all, but he’d stupidly reminded her of the general treachery of men. From the flash in her eyes, he could tell he’d blown any chance he had, at least for a while.

“Sir, we put everything in the shed.” Leo clattered through the slider, across the dining room, and into the kitchen with Nick following.

“Are you guys finished?” Willow asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” they said together.

“Then we need to go, Captain.” Willow grabbed Leo and started toward the front door, holding her son like a shield.

“Just a minute, Mom. I’ve got to police the kitchen.” Nick glanced at Sam as he picked up her plate and fork to take them to the sink. “Sir, you have something pink on your mouth,” he said.

Twirling, Willow dropped Leo’s hand, took the plate from Nick, and shoved him toward the door, then turned on the hot water and squirted dishwashing liquid. “Go on outside, to the front porch. Now! I’ll be right there.”

“Did you cut yourself?” Nick asked Sam. “Are you bleeding?”

Leo’s thoughtful gaze leaped back and forth between Sam’s face and Willow’s.

“Shoo.” Willow waved her hands at her sons while Sam burst out laughing. “This is not funny, Captain.”

But it was. He laughed harder than he could remember laughing for months.

“Go on out to the car, boys,” she said and waved them out the door.

When they left, he said, “I’m going to kiss you again.” He watched her scrub the plate so hard she might remove the pattern from its surface. “Someday.”

“Don’t count on that.” She twisted the dishcloth as if she wished she could wring his neck. Then she turned and glared at him. “You have a very high opinion of yourself.” Before he could answer, she tossed the dishrag on the counter and hustled out after the boys.

He stopped smiling. Okay, so he’d kissed her and he wanted to do it again. But after that, what? Going after a woman with two kids counted as serious business. He didn’t want to hurt any of them, but he sure wasn’t ready for commitment, exactly like Willow.

What was he doing?

The Thomases walked down the sidewalk and got in the car. In the rearview mirror, Willow could see the boys whispering. She put the keys in the ignition but kept her eyes on her sons.

After several seconds of Leo giving information, Nick said, “You’re kidding?” Then he glanced up at her, eyes wide.

She dreaded considering what her sons might be saying. Actually, she had a pretty good idea, and she knew Nick, her lovable but bigmouthed child, would blurt it out as soon as he heard it all.

With the boys settled in the backseat, she put the car in gear and pulled onto the street. As she did, Nick said, “Mom, Leo said you kissed the captain. Did you?”

“Shut up,” Leo whispered. “I told you not to say anything.”

“Okay, okay,” Nick said. After only a few seconds, he added, “Mom, do you like the captain?”

From the muttered “ouch” she heard, she bet Leo pinched his brother. “Of course. He’s a very nice man. I really appreciate the amount of time he takes with you guys.”

“No… ouch, stop it,” Nick began before, she guessed, Leo elbowed him. “Do you
really
like him? More than you liked Dad?”

Of course her sons would wonder. They liked Sam. They knew he’d kissed her and wondered about the entire situation. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what’s it like?” Nick persisted.

This time there was no
ouch
from the backseat.

“Yeah, what is it like?” Leo said.

“He’s an attractive man, but I’m his physical therapist. It wouldn’t be professional for me to like a patient, someone from work.”

“That’s dumb,” Nick muttered. “Dad did.”

“It’s still not appropriate. Hard to understand, but that’s how it is.”

She’d pulled into the parking lot behind the apartments, found a place, and shut the car off. Was she safe?

As she opened the car door, Nick said, “But when he’s better and you aren’t his therapist anymore, then you could like him more, right? Kiss him again?”

“I don’t know.”

Before she could step out, Leo asked, “How could you not know? He’s great, he likes us, and he likes you. Why wouldn’t you like him back?”

She stood and watched the boys pile out of the back, then closed the door and hit the lock button. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“Wasn’t complicated for Dad,” Nick said. “He and Tiffany…”

“Shut up, squirt.” Leo gave his brother another jab.

“Don’t hurt your brother,” she said, leaping on the opportunity to change the subject. “Just because you’re the big brother doesn’t give you the right to…”

“Yeah, just because you’re the big brother,” Nick said, “you’re not the boss of me.”

She sighed, deeply grateful for the interruption of the quarrel.
Not
that a good mother would encourage bickering, but she preferred that to their curiosity and the uncomfortable questions. Someday, of course, she’d have to face their inquiries honestly and work through her feelings, because whatever might or might not happen with Captain Peterson affected her sons as well.

As she listened to Leo and Nick argue, she knew the reprieve was temporary. Nick never let go of anything until the answers completely satisfied him.

The next day, Willow considered herself in the full-length mirror in the PT department. Everyone had cleared out and she’d grabbed her purse and her laptop to head for the door when her reflection caught her attention.

She wasn’t the type of woman men fell in love with immediately. Despite her fragile exterior, inside she was too pushy, too cold, too in-charge and controlling, not a bit girlie and flirty. The traits made her a great physical therapist, but not, as Grant had often said, a great wife.

The jerk. Fortunately, she hadn’t listened to him. Much.

For example, her hair, which he’d mentioned more than occasionally. She’d never been able to do anything with it so she pulled the unruly red tresses back and forgot about them except when wisps escaped and refused to be pulled back.

Tiffany had gorgeous blond curls and waves, artfully shaped and colored and pampered by an expensive hairdresser. Willow had considered such spending unnecessary. No, she shook her head. She wasn’t a bit girlie.

She turned sideways. She did have a great figure, through no effort of her own. Men liked that. Grant had. Sam did.

White shirt and navy slacks. Comfortable, flat shoes that didn’t make her legs look yards long, like Tiffany’s. Hers were actually longer than Grant’s third and present wife’s. She’d just never showed them off. Although very effective for stealing husbands, short skirts and strappy sandals on three-inch heels didn’t work in the PT department or as the mother of two active boys.

Why after all these months did she continue to compare herself with that woman? Certainly she was better than that. If not better, at least different. She’d always accepted herself, always had pretty healthy self-esteem until Grant chose the über-feminine Tiffany.

All of which brought her back to the original question: Why did Sam find her attractive? He could have his pick of women, and yet he’d settled on her, at least for now. Maybe because she was handy? Propinquity?

Doggone, there she went again, unable to even think a man could find
her
attractive. Grant had done a job on her, ruined her self-esteem and trust—but she’d allowed that. Why? She had great kids, was terrific at her job, and had started a new life for herself and the boys.

Doggone number two, she sounded exactly like her mother comforting her back when Willow didn’t have a date for the prom.

But she couldn’t stop wondering. Why, after all this time, did she allow her cheating husband and his third wife to control her life and her thoughts? Habit? Guilt? She bet neither of them ever thought about her. What had she gotten for remembering the hurt? She leaned closer to the mirror and noticed two thin grooves between her eyes. Then she wiggled her jaw, an action that hurt because she clenched her teeth too much. All she’d gotten was wrinkles and painful muscles.

“Mizz Thomas?” The janitor stuck his head inside the door. “Are you still working?”

“No, Ralph, come on in and clean.” She glanced at the clock. “Five thirty. I didn’t realize I was so late.” The boys would be wondering where she was.

As Ralph rolled the cleaning cart inside, Willow turned slowly to study the department. She’d done a great job here in the few months since she arrived. The number of patient hours had increased significantly. Although the hospital hadn’t purchased as much new equipment as she wanted, she’d added a lot and requisitioned more.

“Mizz Thomas?”

“I know. You need to get to work.” She grabbed her lunch bag and remembered the brownie Nick had placed inside, saved from dinner with Sam the previous evening. Not a complete brownie. There was a corner nibbled off, but he’d given her most of it. Yes, she had great kids who loved her. She didn’t need a man to make her feel whole.

On the other hand, why not? Having Sam around added zing to her life. Captain Peterson’s interest and her response made her reluctance to become involved with him seem ridiculous. She liked men, especially this man.

She wasn’t ready to consider kicking over the traces just yet, but she would be someday. As her grandmother Brubaker used to say, God willing and the creek don’t rise, she’d do exactly that. Just not this week.

Wednesday afternoon, Sam headed down the hospital corridor toward the physical therapy department. She’d have to see him today. Willow could run away from his house, but she couldn’t run away from the physical therapy department.

Maybe not quite true. His glance flew around the PT room. All the other staff members helped patients, but he couldn’t see Willow.

“Come on over, Captain.” Mike stood at the parallel bars. “Willow’s seeing hospital patients this afternoon. She wanted me to work with you and to tell you the prosthetist will be here in September to fit you.”

Sam handed a PT aide his cane and grabbed hold of the bars.

“How is the one you’re wearing now?” Mike asked.

“Okay. Slips a little. I’ll be glad to get the new one.”

“Once you’re warmed up, let’s practice balance.”

After twenty minutes, Mike glanced at the clock. “Thought Willow’d be back by now, but sometimes it takes longer depending on patients’ needs. When she gets back, I’ll tell her how much progress you’ve made. Good job.”

Willow had gone to see some of the hospital patients. Made sense. All of them shared that duty, but why now? Why at the time of his appointment? Did it mean anything? Was she trying to avoid him?

He didn’t know, but next week when they took the boys to school, she couldn’t pretend the kiss hadn’t happened. She couldn’t ignore or avoid him.