“I’ve always been glad of that,” Callie said emphatically.
“Me, too.” Becca shivered.
“Go ahead and unlock the door,” her dad instructed. “But I’ll go up first. I want to make sure the steps are solid. And don’t lean on the handrail. It’s in bad shape.”
Callie inserted the key in the lock and opened the door. Sunlight spilled out of the opening just as she remembered. It was still early in the morning, the sun bright and climbing in the sky. But at night it was pitch-black in this part of the attic because there were no windows on this side of the building and no electricity. She stepped aside and J.R. walked through the opening, the kids on his heels, Callie bringing up the rear. The second attic room was the same odd shape as the front one but much larger because it contained the whole of the skylight area. Dust motes danced all around them, just as Callie remembered, only now they weren’t magical. They made her want to sneeze. The stairway was to the right of the door. J.R. surveyed the steep ascent, then started up, testing each step before advancing to the next. He disappeared at the top and they could hear him walking around, tapping with the end of the crowbar, searching for weakened areas.
Brandon bounced up and down on his toes, eager to be allowed up. Becca stood quietly but her hands were clasped in front of her and Callie sensed her excitement. For a girl who was into woodland fairy princesses and dragon-bonded warriors, the cupola room would be magical, just as it had been for Callie at that age. She began to feel as excited for her stepsister as she was for herself. “Okay,” J.R. called down after a minute, “come on up, kids, one at a time. And remember, watch the banister. It’s loose.”
“I’m first,” Becca insisted. “I’m the oldest.” She climbed carefully, following J.R.’s instructions to the letter. Brandon bounded after her, arms outstretched, hovering just above the handrails.
“Slow down, buddy,” J.R. commanded, peering over the banister. Brandon obeyed, taking the last half-dozen steps nearly as sedately as his sister. Callie followed a few moments later, her heart pounding just a bit faster than the climb warranted. J.R. held out his hand to help her up the last couple of steps. “Look any different?”
“No,” she said, smiling from ear to ear. “It’s just as wonderful as it always was.”
The twins were already taking in the view from the windows, kneeling on the narrow bench that edged the two long sides of the rectangular space, their faces pressed to the glass. “Don’t lean too hard. We don’t want you going through the glass and dropping into the petunias and frightening the tourists.”
“Okay, Dad, we’ll be careful,” Brandon promised.
“I’ll watch out for him.”
Callie and J.R. moved a couple steps away to take in the view themselves. The sun was shining brightly through the surprisingly clean windows that rimmed the tiny room from just above waist level to the top of her head. The ceiling was sheathed in white pine, seeming as freshly cut as if it had been put up only a few days ago, not a hundred years before. From up here the lake revealed its commalike shape, the wide, rounded end ringed with cottages and the marina and the other familiar buildings of the town. The sun-spangled surface was dotted with boats and Jet Skis, and from this distance, the white and red and yellow boat sails seemed the same size as the white wings of gulls. Her eyes followed the shoreline as the lake tapered to a narrow point where it curved into the backside of the dunes, butting up against the national-park border. The parkland was still as wild and undeveloped as it had been when the voyageurs and Native American tribes called this land home. Rising above the treetops were the golden sands of the Sleeping Bear Dunes, some of them over four hundred feet above water level. Beyond the dunes, the cobalt-blue band of Lake Michigan gradually blended into the brighter arc of blue August sky. “It’s the most beautiful place on earth.”
“Absolutely,” J.R. agreed as she smiled over at him. “I’m glad you’re home, sweetheart.”
The twins were engrossed in watching the world go by below them, paying little attention to the two adults. Callie might not have another chance to talk to her father. She couldn’t let the opportunity pass. “You said you had a meeting. It’s the Physician’s Committee, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” he said. “How did you know?”
“A quarter of them are downstairs already. Mac says they’re going to offer me the position at the clinic. Is she right?”
“That woman is a one-man intelligence team. Yes,” he said, “they are.”
“Why haven’t you said anything to me before?”
“I didn’t want to influence your decision one way or another. I wasn’t certain you even wanted the position. You haven’t talked to me about your plans for your future...well, not since Ginger came on the scene.”
“It wasn’t because of Ginger, Dad. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do, but for a while now I didn’t believe it was coming home to White Pine Lake. I’ve been considering another offer.”
His eyes narrowed. “What other offer? You’ve never given me even a hint something else is waiting out there for you.” There was no censure in the remark but Callie felt a jab of guilt anyway.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure you’d be happy about it. It’s with a cruise line. A two-year commitment. I’d almost never be home.”
His expression tightened. “You’re right. I don’t like that idea, but the decision is yours. I won’t beat around the bush—I want you here in White Pine Lake more than anything. I won’t deny it. But I don’t want you to regret staying here because you were pressured by me or anyone else. That’s what I’m going to tell the committee. Then I’m leaving the meeting and coming up here to work with the twins, exactly as I promised them.”
“I was hoping you’d make this easy for me, Dad,” Callie said, but she was smiling. The distance she’d sensed growing between them the past couple of years seemed to melt away in this place that meant so much to both of them.
He shook his head. “I can’t. You have to make this decision on your own.”
“I’m a Layman,” she said. “Looking out for White Pine Lake is in my blood, and I’m starting to believe I’m good at it. I’m still undecided about exactly what I want, but I’m willing to listen to what they have to offer.”
He searched her face for a long moment, then nodded, satisfied by something he read in her eyes. What she saw in his was a promise to always be there for her. But she also saw that he now considered her an adult, an equal, capable of making her own life decisions. A smile began to lurk in the depths of his eyes. “If you do decide to stay, make sure those old skinflints downstairs make it worth your while.”
“I will, Dad.”
“I have to ask, Callie. Does Zach Gibson know you’re considering staying on?”
“Yes,” she said.
“You’re sure you can work with him?”
“I believe so. I hope so. We’re making progress.” Once more J.R. looked deep into her eyes and she held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t ask her anything more personal about Zach. She wasn’t sure how she would answer.
“Okay,” J.R. said, grinning. “I’ll be here if you need advice on terms in the contract, but beyond that you’re on your own.”
“Thanks, Dad. I love you.” She blinked hard to keep the tears at bay.
“Love you, too, sweetheart.”
“Hey, Callie, come here. There’s Zach loading up his boat to go fishing,” Brandon called out, tapping the glass with his finger to draw her attention. “He’s just now getting in the boat. It’s cool what all you can see from up here.” As quickly as Zach had snagged Brandon’s attention, he lost it. “There’s the clinic and the hardware store, and there’s the school and our church and everything.”
“And all the way across the lake, too.”
Callie realized the entire conversation with her father had taken only a minute or so. So much had been said, so much communicated in so little time. It left her a little dizzy. She shook off the disorientation and went to kneel on the bench beside the twins.
“Where do they shoot the fireworks from on Labor Day?” Becca asked, but Callie scarcely registered her words or J.R.’s response. She couldn’t seem to take her eyes from the small but easily recognizable figure setting out onto the lake in the silver rowboat. She wished she was going fishing with Zach instead of heading out to the farm. She wanted to share about her talk with J.R.
She wanted to tell him she had made up her mind about staying in White Pine Lake. Because she realized she had, somewhere in the past few days, or hours or minutes, decided to come home for good. Home to him.
It had taken all her will to leave Zach and return to her own side of the cottage. It had taken even more willpower to stay away this morning. Was this what it was like, falling in love? Not wanting to be separated from him for even a moment? For someone as risk averse as she was, it almost qualified as love at first sight. Her dad believed in it; he’d believed in love enough to trust his instincts a second time, even after the pain Karen had caused him. Did Callie have the same faith in her heart’s choice? And how did Zach feel about her? He wasn’t indifferent to her; those kisses and the connection between them last night were real enough. But she had never thought it wise to mix business and pleasure. And their working relationship was still rocky. Her life was taking a far different path than she had envisioned only a few weeks before. She just hoped she wouldn’t end up with an unworkable partnership—and a broken heart.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
T
HE
DAY
TURNED
sultry and warm after the beautiful storm-washed morning. Where a few hours ago Callie had been able to see far beyond the lakeshore to the dunes, now a heavy haze blurred even the near shoreline. She wondered if it would storm again that night or only rain. If it stormed, would it bring on another episode of PTSD for Zach? She hoped not. She prayed not.
When she’d gotten to her mother’s, Callie had welcomed the hard work of helping Karen and the two sturdy Zimmer boys clear the fallen cedar from the driveway, then haul and stack firewood. There had been no leisure to daydream. Through the morning, the air had been cool and clear, and the labor kept Callie’s mind from dwelling on Zach and what had passed between them the night before.
But by the time they’d eaten a quick lunch, picked the tomatoes and cucumbers from the damp, sandy soil of the garden, washed and sorted the mounds of vegetables, and restocked the roadside stand at the end of the lane, it was just plain hot. After lunch, Karen sent the Zimmers home to their own farm with a quart of homemade salsa and tortilla chips and a half gallon of lemonade in lieu of cinnamon rolls. She offered Callie some, too, and Callie accepted with thanks. It would make a quick, light supper with a piece of fruit and her last chocolate cookie.
“I appreciate everything you did today,” Karen had said with a quick hug as Callie was leaving. “It’s so good to have you home.”
Callie felt a little guilty not telling Karen then and there that she had decided to stay on in White Pine Lake, but she assuaged her conscience by reminding herself the Physician’s Committee had not formally made the offer—but she didn’t have to wait long.
Half an hour later, her phone chirped as she pulled into her parking space beside Zach’s truck. It was J.R., informing her that she would receive a formal offer for a three-year contract as the White Pine Lake Community Health Center physician in charge on Monday.
She thanked her dad and walked around the side of the house in a slight daze. So much had happened today. She longed to tell Zach about the offer, but was reluctant at the same time. Had last night truly cemented their working relationship, if not their personal one, or was it just a lull in hostilities? She hoped he wasn’t outside on the porch. She wasn’t ready to face him quite yet. Her hair was coming out of the elastic she’d used to pull it back from her face. It had curled over her cheeks and the nape of her neck like it always did when the humidity was high. It made her look about two years older than Becca. Her fingernails were caked with garden muck even though she’d washed them twice beneath the ice-cold water of the farm pump. Her T-shirt was dirty and streaked with sticky pitch from the cedar and she probably smelled.
She peeked around the corner of the building. The porch was empty. If she hurried maybe she could get inside without him noticing her.
“Hey, you’re home.” It was Zach’s voice but he was nowhere to be seen. She spun around, one foot on the bottom porch step, searching for him. “Here,” he said. It never occurred to her to ignore the greeting and hurry on inside as she’d just planned on doing—not once she heard his voice. She hadn’t spotted him before because he’d been in the lake, swimming. He hoisted himself halfway onto the dock and remained there, arms folded in front of him, the rest of his body floating free. “You look as if you’ve had quite a day,” he said.
The sound of his voice drew her and after a moment’s hesitation she didn’t resist. “I have,” she said, holding out her arms. There was no hiding how dirty and disheveled she was, so why try? “My mother has been working me like a slave. But that’s not a bad thing. We get along better when we have a lot to do.” One blond, winged eyebrow lifted a fraction of an inch as he watched her come toward him. Luckily her face was already red from the heat, because she could feel a blush spreading over her face and neck.
There was admiration in his eyes, too, and he made no attempt to hide it from her. “How about a swim in a cool, spring-fed lake to cool off?”
“Is that your prescription, Doc?” she asked.
“It is. And as it happens, there’s one close at hand.” He waved his arm out over the lake, quiet now in the still, hazy afternoon.
“What I need is a shower and clean clothes.”
“A shower in stone-hard well water when the lake water is soft as silk?” He smiled, reaching down with one long arm and scooping up a handful, letting it dribble through his fingers like liquid silk.
“I need soap and shampoo,” she said a little sharply, trying to keep her senses under control. But she realized she’d been moving the whole time he’d been talking. Instead of six feet from her door, she was halfway down the dock and still walking forward.
Admitting to herself she was falling in love with him was easy enough to do from the safety of the cupola room; when he was a mere arm’s length away, she was wary enough to have second thoughts. She would just make sure he was okay before she went inside and tried to work through all the consequences of her decision in her mind. Yes, that was a good plan. She took two more steps and sank to her knees a few feet away from him.
“Water’s great. Just the right temperature.” His voice was low and seductive. She would love a swim. She would love to wash her hair in the soft, cool lake water. She would love to do those things with Zach by her side.
“I can’t go swimming in my clothes.”
“Why not?” he asked.
It was impossible.
Outrageous.
Not something a respected physician did with her PA.
At least, not in the middle of a Saturday afternoon. But under the stars on a night when there was no moon, she would love to swim with him.
She was determined not to reveal how much he’d shaken her. “I don’t think so,” she said forcefully, as though each word was a talisman of some sort to protect her from giving in to what she wanted most to do. Join him.
“Coward,” he said very softly.
“I guess I am.” She should feel in control of the conversation. After all, he was gazing up at her from what should have been a subservient position. But she didn’t feel in control. He was much too close yet too far away.
He surged up out of the water and pivoted on his hands. Now he was close enough to reach out and touch, water dripping from every inch of his muscular, sun-bronzed body. The movement caught her off guard. Their eyes locked. Was he going to kiss her again? Here, where someone watching from a fishing boat or walking along the narrow sand beach might spy them? She hoped he wouldn’t. She hoped he would. His eyes were dark, his expression unreadable. “Want to tell me what’s got you so spooked?”
Not too long ago she would have put him off with a noncommittal response. Instead she said, “The committee met today. They made me an offer.”
“Is it one you can’t refuse?”
She managed a smile. “I haven’t gotten the details. They want to meet with me on Monday.”
“Don’t let them run roughshod over you.”
“That’s exactly what my father counseled.”
“He’s a smart man. They’ll bring up your family’s record of service to the town and plead poverty and make you feel guilty for asking for a living wage.”
She laughed, relaxing a little. Last night hadn’t been a fluke. They had gotten past some invisible barrier, at least the biggest of the ones between them—trust. She trusted his judgment. She trusted his integrity. She could speak her mind and not fear betrayal. “I’ll do my best. I always have the cruise-ship offer to hold over their heads.”
“Exactly. Now, how about that swim?”
His change of subject unsettled her. She had hoped they could go on talking like this, but evidently he wasn’t going to make the final call for her any more than her father had.
She shook her head. “Cold water does not get rid of cedar pitch.” She spread her arms to show him the streaks of cedar resin on her skin.
“What were you doing? I thought you were picking vegetables.”
She explained what had happened with the tree and the change of plan.
“You’ve got a couple of bad scratches there,” he said. “Better let me put something on them after you shower.”
She shivered at the mental image of his long, strong fingers stroking her skin. “Thanks,” she said, “but I’m capable of doing that myself.”
“I didn’t mean it that way, Callie,” he said, his eyebrows drawing together in a slight frown.
“I know you didn’t,” she said, sighing. “I’m tired. It’s been a long day.”
“And last night was a long night.”
“You are okay, aren’t you?” She searched his face. He didn’t seem as haunted and drawn as he had last night, but he did look like a man who was slightly exasperated with her. Oddly enough it didn’t upset her as much as it would have twenty-four hours earlier. She enjoyed being able to knock him off balance once in a while, too.
“I’m right as rain, and to prove it I’ll fix you supper.”
“I’m too tired to eat. I’m having my mom’s chips and salsa, then calling it a night.” Suddenly she was exhausted. The adrenaline rush of learning her professional future was assured—if she wanted it—and being this close to Zach, dripping wet and handsome as the dickens, was just too much.
“Chips and salsa? No way, unless you’re talking appetizers. I’m fixing bluegill fillets and grilled veggies with corn-bread muffins. And ice cream for dessert. I might even have a halfway decent bottle of wine we can open.”
“I—”
“Come on, Callie. You have to eat. I have to eat. We might as well do it together.”
Her willpower deserted her, as it did all too often lately where Zach Gibson was concerned. Oddly enough, so did her exhaustion. “It all sounds delicious. I accept your kind invitation,” she said, inclining her head formally. But a strand of hair worked its way out of the elastic and flopped over her eye, spoiling the effect. He reached out and brushed it away, his touch as light as a dragonfly’s wing. She shivered again but with pleasure. He snatched his hand back but didn’t apologize.
“Dinner will be ready in half an hour. Or do you need longer?”
“That will be fine.”
* * *
“A
NOTHER
GLASS
of wine?” She had been staring for a couple of minutes at the small amount of pale gold liquid left in her glass as she twirled the stem between her fingers, obviously lost in thought. Zach hadn’t interrupted her reverie, happy to be able to study her intriguing face without her noticing. But at his words, she looked up at him and blinked, and he had to brace himself against the full effect of those amazing, changeable hazel eyes. Greens and browns and flecks of gold, all swirling together like the leaves and needles of the popples, birches and tamaracks in autumn. He wondered how he could have ever considered her looks merely ordinary.
Striking
was the word he’d use to describe her now.
“No, thanks. One is enough tonight. I’m so tired I can barely keep my eyes open.”
“I’ll take that excuse as a result of your strenuous day and not because you’re eager to call it a night and get me back to my own side of the cabin.” They were eating at her little bistro table in front of the window, watching as the clouds grew low and dark and a light rain advanced in gray sheets across the ruffled surface of the lake. The rain had begun to fall, a whisper-light mist, just as he’d taken the foil-wrapped packets of grilled fresh vegetables and bluegill fillets off the heat.
He lifted the bottle. “Just a drop?” he coaxed.
“Just a drop,” she agreed. He poured an ounce or two into the stemware he’d conned out of Mac when he’d dropped off a plastic bag of frozen golden morel mushrooms he’d found in an overgrown cow pasture one May afternoon, and sat the bottle down. “Everything was delicious, thank you. I’m glad my being late didn’t spoil anything.”
“That’s the great thing about propane grills,” he said, stretching his legs out in front of him. She had her legs crossed at the knee, swinging one foot. She was wearing strappy little sandals and the pale pink polish on her toes matched her fingernails. Her lips were a darker shade of pink and very, very kissable. “You never have to worry about the coals not being ready.”
He had outdone himself in the culinary department tonight, he decided with a little mental chest-thumping. The fillets were flaky and moist, the veggies just right and the corn bread some of the best he’d ever made. He’d even scored a couple of points with the choice of ice cream—black walnut. He owed Mac for that tidbit of information.
“I was a couple minutes late because I got another phone call.”
“Want to tell me about it?” He tightened his hand on the wine bottle instead of letting go. Who had she been talking to? A patient? A friend? Another man?
“It was my dad calling again. He’s decided to attend the meeting Monday to lend moral support. He knows Ezra Colliflower has been a boogeyman in my life since I was a little girl.”
“I’d be surprised if J.R. could stay away.”
She smiled and his heart slammed against his chest wall. “That’s not all he had to say. It seems my grandparents are on their way here from Arizona. They left this morning. They should be arriving sometime Tuesday afternoon.”
“Didn’t Eno say they weren’t planning to visit for another couple of months?” He’d never met J.R. Senior and his wife, Evelyn.
Her hair, still damp and smelling of lavender shampoo, was pulled up in an untidy knot on top of her head, a more casual style than she allowed herself during office hours. As it dried, soft, curling tendrils had begun escaping all around the nape of her neck. She looked relaxed and content, sexy and sweet all at once. A far cry from the uptight, humorless woman who had arrived in the midst of the office flood a month before. “My grandmother says she never expected to be lucky enough to have another grandbaby, and she wants to be here when he or she is born. They’re flying into Marquette and they’ll stay with my grandmother’s cousins. They have a place on the far side of the lake.”
“You’re glad they’re coming, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” she said, her smile luminous.
“And by the time they get here, you’ll be able to tell them you’re home for good.” He didn’t quite make it a question but she responded as if he had.