Career Girl in the Country / The Doctor's Reason to Stay (17 page)

Henry listened, still smiling and nodding as if he was
really
listening, which Rafe knew he was not. He’d known Henry since he was a child. Nice man. Devoted to the Corbett family. As easy to read as a child’s picture book. In fact, Henry’s
pictures
were so obvious, it wouldn’t have surprised Rafe the least little bit if he’d already had Molly’s adoption papers stashed away, ready to sign, with the name Rafe Samuel Corbett at the bottom. “I mean it, Henry. I’m not going to step in as Molly’s father.”

“I know you mean it, son. And I’m sure everything will work itself out for the best in due course. But that could take a little while. So are you willing to take care of Molly until we get it figured out?”

“Of course I will. And I’ll do it right here, at Gracie House, so she won’t have to be disrupted.” He did have
several weeks of vacation time saved up, and a host of medical partners who could take his place, so stepping out of his practice wasn’t going to be a problem for a while. “But she needs her new family sooner rather than later, because I don’t want her getting attached to me, then being pulled away. So work on it, Henry. Don’t put it on the back burner, thinking that the slower you do this, the more I’ll be inclined to keep her. That’s not going to happen. And in the end Molly’s going to be the one to get hurt if that’s what you do.” The last thing he wanted was to hurt her.

Henry nodded again, then continued like he hadn’t heard a word. “I’m not going to hurt that child, son. I’ll promise you that. I have only her best interests at heart.” He crossed his heart. “So, let me go get started, and in the meantime I’d suggest setting up more opportunities to let Molly and Edie Parker be together. Edie’s good with children. Especially good for Molly, and Grace respected that woman in a big way.”

“She’s not married, is she?” Rafe asked, surprised to hear the words coming from his mouth. Why did he care? Why did the image of an empty ring finger flash through his mind?

Henry wiggled his shaggy eyebrows. “Molly has good taste in friends, doesn’t she? Very pretty lady. And, no, she’s not married. As far as I know, not even involved. She’s only been here about three months and, from what I’ve seen, she keeps pretty much to herself. But like I said, Grace really respected her. Took to her right away. Admired the way she worked with the children in the hospital.” Henry’s smile broadened. “Did I mention she’s very pretty?”

“You mentioned it.” And Rafe didn’t disagree. Edie
was pretty. Distractingly so … obviously, since that was all he had on his mind at the present.

“OK, then I’ll let the child services here know you’re going to stay here and take care of Molly instead of putting her in a foster-home. It’s a good decision, son, one you won’t regret. And you
are
doing the right thing for the child.”

As Henry lumbered through the front doors at Gracie House, Rafe thought about the child who was, right now, sitting in Grace’s office, trying her hardest to be a small replica of Grace. So maybe it was a good decision to stay here after all. And maybe he wouldn’t regret it. But it wasn’t fair to Molly. None of it was, and Molly shouldn’t have to find out just how much. That was something he couldn’t prevent, though. At best, he could only ease the transition because, God only knew, he didn’t have anything else inside him. At least, not what Molly needed.

But Edie had it all. Everything Molly needed. It did make him wonder.

She’d spent most of the afternoon trying to avoid the obvious … her pseudo-date with Rafe Corbett. When she thought about it in terms of spending time with Molly, she felt better. But when Rafe’s image entered her mind, it turned into butterflies in her stomach. He was tall, broad-shouldered. Short brown hair, dark eyes she assumed were also brown, deep tan. And a dimple in his chin. She had to admit a certain weakness for dimples, thanks to the old Cary Grant movies she used to watch with her mother on the days her mother hadn’t been able to get out of bed. Butterfly-makers, for sure. And here she was, primping in front of the
car’s rear-view mirror, getting herself ready to go. If she had a list of her top ten most frightening things to do, riding a horse would take a solid place at number five, right after climbing a mountain, jumping out of an airplane, going to the moon and getting involved with the wrong man again.

Thinking about Alex Hastings made her shiver. Wrong man, bad marriage, regrettable decision. More than anything, a huge waste of precious time. One year in, one year out, and almost every day of it filled with regrets for the time she couldn’t get back. But she’d been alone, scared, confused, and he’d been the easy port in her storm. Water under the bridge now. Regrets, yes. Huge ones, not really. Fond memories, not one.

OK, so she’d lived a sheltered life, and done dumb things because of it. She’d admit it, embrace it and, hopefully, learn from it. That was, quintessentially, her. Edie Parker, always behind, taking bad detours, slow to arrive at her life. Well, she’d finally traversed the biggest bumps and arrived. Now, no more detours. She needed to advance herself. Take graduate courses, move along even further in her career. Avoid the bumps at all cost. Or, most of them, since this little horseback excursion promised an afternoon filled with literal ones. But she was looking forward to the time with Molly. Even with Rafe. So that was the price. But the horse?

She had nothing against horses in general. In fact, she loved animals … all animals. Horses, though, only from a distance. And this seemed a good distance, sitting at the end of the driveway of Gracie House, looking well past it to the paddock full of horses,
trying to convince herself she’d survive the afternoon reasonably intact.

“You accepted the invitation, so do it,” she said, sucking in a nervous breath through her teeth as she turned into the drive. She drove at a pace slower than an elderly snail, all the way up to the house. Horses. Rafe Corbett … all at once? This was precisely the time when she should have been asking herself what she had done because, honestly, she didn’t know.

“What the hell is she doing?” Rafe asked under his breath, watching Edie coming up the driveway, her car creeping slower than he thought a car could go.

“Looks to me like she’s avoiding something,” Johnny Redmond commented.

Well, Rafe knew that feeling. Aversions and avoidances. He was the master of them. Practiced them to perfection. Could write a book on all the various techniques. “Look, will you bring Donder around for me?”

“You up to that?” the stable manager asked. “He’s got a lot of spirit in him, especially now that Grace hasn’t taken him out for a while. Your aunt liked it, didn’t want it broken down.”

Rafe smiled. Donder wasn’t the only one with spirit around here. Even if the spirit stepping out of the car right now was fairly tentative, it was there, as big and bold as Donder’s. But with a heart equally as big. “No, I’m probably not up to it,” he told Johnny. “But I want to give it a try anyway. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. My aunt subscribed to that philosophy.” But Rafe wasn’t sure if he meant Donder or Edie.

“Good thing you fix broken bones,” Johnny said, on his way to Donder’s stall.

But Rafe barely heard the words, he was so focused on Edie’s approach. She was stunning. “I’m not convinced you really want to ride,” he called out to her long before she was near the stable, startled by how excited he was to see her again yet not willing to admit to himself that he’d thought about her more than a time or two that afternoon.

“That makes two of us,” she called back. An old-fashioned wicker picnic basket swung from her left arm, while she clasped a red plaid blanket to her chest with her right. “I wasn’t sure what kind of food you were bringing, so I threw together a few things … fried chicken, fruit salad, freshly baked croissants, chocolate-chip cookies.”

“My aunt’s chocolate-chip cookie recipe?” he asked, hopefully.

“My own. I had a lot of time to cook, growing up. Chocolate-chip cookies were one of my favorites to make.”

Well, she had mighty big shoes to fill in the chocolate-chip cookie department, he thought. “So, you fixed all that food this afternoon?” How could anyone look so downright girl-next-door and sexy at the same time? Even the way her ponytail swished back and forth captivated him.

“I took a few hours off work this afternoon … time left over from the last holiday I didn’t take. Haven’t really done much cooking for a while, and it was fun.”

“Better than the peanut-butter sandwiches I was going to go slap together.” Everything about her took his breath away—her blue jeans and white cotton tank top, her white athletic shoes. Simple, nice and natural. Not like the sophisticated, polished women who moved
in his social circles in the city. Yet seeing Edie, he did have to admit there was a little emotion trying to creep into a place where he hadn’t felt any in longer than he cared to recollect. Was it … excitement? Could he actually be a little eager over the anticipation of spending some time with her?

No, that couldn’t be it. He didn’t get excited. So it had to be a mild case of relief as Edie was here to stand in as the buffer between Molly and him.
Relief.
Yes, that made perfect sense. Still, seeing Edie with her hamper full of food, looking the way she did.

OK, maybe his pulse had sped up a beat or two. But, hell, he liked home-made fried chicken. Hadn’t had it ages. That alone was worth a couple of extra beats. And the cookies. “Anyway, how about we find you a ride? Any kind of horse you’re particularly drawn to? We’ve probably got just the one you want.”

“Or I could walk,” she ventured.

Molly stepped into the conversation at that point, went straight to Edie’s side and leaned into her the way an affectionate cat leaned into a person’s leg. “You could ride Ice Cream, Edie.”

“Ice Cream?” both Edie and Rafe asked together.

“Aunt Grace let me name her. She was really sick when she came here to stay, and she wouldn’t eat anything. But I brought her a bowl of ice cream … vanilla. And she loved it. Aunt Grace said that’s what made her better again, so I thought it was a good name. And when I’m big enough to ride on my own, Aunt Grace is going to let me keep Ice Cream as my very own horse because she’s so gentle.”

“I think it’s a perfect name for her,” Edie said, slipping
her arm around Molly’s shoulder. “And I’d be honored to ride Ice Cream.”

It was a natural gesture, Rafe noted. Not forced. Not even thought about. From where he stood, it looked like they could have, maybe should have, been mother and daughter. For a moment, he wondered if that could happen. “I think I saw her smile a little when you said her name.”

“Because she still likes ice cream, silly,” Molly said, giggling.

It was such a relief, seeing her act like a little girl her age should act. Rafe knew it had a lot to do with Edie, also with doing something normal from her life before all this tragedy. Unfortunately, it had nothing to do with him, for which he felt a little guilty because he felt … well, he wasn’t exactly sure what it was. Left out, maybe? But that was what he really wanted, wasn’t it? Not to be part of Molly’s permanent situation, not to let her get too attached to him. So, in a way, he was getting exactly what he wanted, yet it didn’t feel as
right
as it should have. In fact, it felt pretty darned bad, and he hadn’t expected that. “Well, I think Molly has picked you the perfect horse, Edie. Care to saddle up and give her a try?”

“Me, saddle up? Sure, I’ll give it a try, but first you’ve got to tell me which end of the saddle would face the front end of the horse?”

He chuckled. “OK, I get the hint.”

“Not a hint. A blatant statement that if you want to get this picnic under way, you’re going to be the one doing the saddling, while Molly and I go up to the house and make lemonade for the picnic. And I brought the lemons, just in case you didn’t have any.”

“I’d rather help with the saddles,” Molly offered, almost shyly. “Aunt Grace let me do that sometimes, and I know how. And in case Rafey doesn’t know where all the tack is kept.” She stepped away from Edie. “Do you need some help, Rafey?”

“Rafey?”
Edie said, fighting back a laugh.

Molly nodded seriously. “That’s his name.
Rafey.”

A look of undiluted sheepishness, along with a fierce, red blush, crept over Rafe’s face. The name
Rafey
wasn’t exactly the manly image he wanted to portray to Edie, or even to Molly, for that matter. But that machismo delusion was certainly shot all to pieces now, leaving him wondering why it even mattered. Because it shouldn’t. Yet it did. “That’s what Aunt Grace called me when I was a boy. She tried to stop when I was high-school age, figured it embarrassed me. Which it did. But it slipped out of her every now and again, and that’s probably where Molly heard the reference.”

“Uh-huh,” Molly piped up. “Aunt Grace
always
called you Rafey.”

“Rafey,” Edie repeated, smiling. “Well, it’s kind of cute, I’ll have to admit. Rafey … Rafey …” she repeated a couple of times, as if trying it on for size. “Has a nice ring to it. Dr. Rafey Corbett … lacks sophistication and pretense.” She grinned. “But it’s good.”

“Maybe it’s good, but only when you’re five years old,” Rafe said, as the embarrassment dissolved into good nature. “Not when you’re thirty-five.”

“So, then, what you’re telling me is that I
can’t
call you …” She liked the way his discomfort gave way to ease. Rafe was trying really hard to fit in, to relate to Molly, which gave her hope. It wasn’t a natural fit on
him, but he was working on it and, at this point that’s all Edie could ask. For now, probably all Grace would have expected.

“What I’m telling you is that you
can’t.”
Rafe gave his head a crisp shake in emphasis, and Edie couldn’t help laughing. Rafe Corbett was a big man sitting in the saddle who was saddled with a little boy’s name. It was so endearing and, for a moment, she saw some vulnerability there. A little bit of softness clouding his eyes over a nickname, perhaps? Or maybe he was only reminiscing about something nice from the time when Grace had called him Rafey. Whatever it was, it made him less stiff. Not enough to be considered loose or relaxed, but he was definitely not so starchy now. Definitely working on it, too.