Flirting with the Society Doctor / When One Night Isn't Enough (39 page)

“True. I couldn’t get out of my next assignment. But it’s my last one. I took a full time job at Madrin Memorial. In the E.R. I start March nineteenth.” He looked so happy, so proud of himself.

Ali looked for a place to sit down. Not finding anything suitable, she leaned on the fence railing, willing her legs to stay strong. Jared was staying in town, where she’d have to see him, work with him, day in and day out. What if he wanted to share custody, to take her child from her every few days?

“This one’s my favorite. But if you don’t like it there are three others we can take a look at.”

“Why does it matter what I think?”

“Because I want the woman I plan to live with to love the house as much as I do.”

Ali stumbled, gripped the wood she’d been leaning on like she’d fall to her death if she let go.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, reaching out to steady her. “You said you wanted children, a dog and a house. I’m working in reverse order.”

“And a husband.” She took a step away from him. “I have no intention of living with you just because we’re having a baby. Nothing’s changed between us. You don’t love me. You don’t want to marry me. And I have no intention of tying my life to a man who thinks I tried to manipulate him by getting pregnant, a man who lied to me, had sex with me without telling me he was married to another woman. A man who’s still married.”

“I told you I’m sorry,” he said. “And I expect my divorce to be finalized in a few weeks.”

“Oh, goodie. And you being sorry is supposed to make it all better? Make me move in with you, become dependent on you? Make me risk the utter devastation of you moving on to someone else when you get bored, because you are a traveling man, after all, and you don’t want to get married so there’d be nothing to make you stay?” Ali’s heart pounded in her chest, circulating anger throughout her body.

“How many times do I have to tell you?” Jared yelled. “A marriage certificate won’t make your spouse stick around. Grow up, Ali. This is the real world. There are no guarantees. I’m offering to try, to work with you, partner with you so we can raise our child together.”

A marriage certificate won’t make your spouse stick around.
Ali’s anger dissipated, all hope whooshed out of her. As a child she’d convinced herself life would be different if her parents had gotten married. Better. Instead of searching for love in the arms of men too numerous to count, Mom would have been with her one true love.
And Dad would have stayed in one place, lived with them. They could have been a real family, eaten meals together, gone on vacations. Maybe she would have gotten the baby brother or sister she’d longed for.

As an adult she had realized not all marriages were successful, but with the right person and hard work she could make her marriage last—she could have the type of life she’d always dreamed of. Couldn’t she? Did Jared think she wasn’t enough to make a man happy, to make him want to stay with her long term? “Please take me home.”

“I can’t believe this.” Jared turned away from her, took a few steps then swung back. “I’m offering to change my life for you, to get a new job and buy a house. To live with you, take care of you and our baby, and that’s not enough?”

“My dad bought my mom a house,” Ali said quietly. “He promised to take care of us, and he didn’t.”

“Give me a break.” Jared threw up his arms. “I am not your father, and you are not your mother. Just like you’re not the girl you were ten years ago. You’re stronger. You are a smart, independent, professional woman, more than capable of taking care of yourself and our baby. But you don’t have to do it alone. I want to be right there with you, no matter what life throws at us, in good times and in bad. I love you, Ali.”

As much as she’d longed to hear those words spoken from his mouth, she didn’t believe them, not now, not when his sole purpose in saying them was to persuade her to live with him. “You don’t love me. Maybe you love the idea of finally settling down after years on the road, of having a child, a family, but you don’t love me.”

“How can you say that? Of course I love you.” He reached for her. She dodged his hands.

“A few weeks ago you were leaving as soon as your assignment at Madrin Memorial ended and you had no plans
to return. You find out I’m pregnant and, boom, you love me, and you’re buying a house for us to live in.” It was too much, too soon.

“Come,” Jared said. “Your lips are turning blue. Let’s talk in the car.”

Because her toes were numb, Ali followed without argument.

Once inside, the heat blasting through the vents, Jared turned to her. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life. But the one thing I’m sure is no mistake is my love for you.”

“You can’t possibly—”

“Just hear me out.” He silenced her with a finger to her lips. “I honestly think I was half in love with you before I left. The five weeks we were apart were the loneliest I’ve ever experienced, and I’ve spent a lot of time alone.”

He took both her mitten-covered hands in his bare ones and stared into her eyes. “I love that when we work together you keep tabs on me to make sure I’ve eaten, and how you treat each one of your patients like family. I love how you volunteer at the senior center and cook batches of soups and stews for people unable to cook for themselves.”

He reached up to tuck a wisp of hair behind her ear. “I love how you twist your hair when you’re nervous, how you believed in me when you heard the rumors about the DEA investigation and how you came into work early, stayed late, and stopped in on your days off to champion my cause. How in the course of three days, because of your tireless efforts, I went from hospital pariah to paragon of emergency medicine.”

It wasn’t as big a deal as he was making it out to be.

“I love how you feel in my arms, how you respond to my touch and how your face takes on an expression of pure rapture when we make love. When we’re apart I ache to
be with you. There is no doubt in my mind that what I feel for you is the truest, deepest form of love possible.”

Maybe in his mind. “Yet you were able to look me in the eye, day after day, and lie to me. That’s how you treat someone you love? How can I believe anything that comes out of your mouth?”

“So that’s it.” Jared jammed his car into drive. “No second chances.” He pushed down on the gas pedal. The wheels spun out before gaining traction. “No possibility you could ever forgive me.”

She was trying, had put their issues aside so they could spend one last day together. But she hadn’t forgotten or forgiven, the wound from his deceit too raw, her emotions a jumbled mess. Rather than answer him, she looked out the side window at the houses speeding by.

Before she knew it, they’d reached her condo. Jared didn’t bother looking for a parking spot. He simply stopped and, staring straight ahead, waited for her to get out.

“I’m sorry,” she said as she slid from the car.

She turned to say more but he snapped, “Me, too,” and sped off before she’d even closed the door.

At a quarter after ten on Saturday morning, Ali sat at her kitchen table staring at the clock on her microwave through blurry, tear-filled eyes. According to Polly, Jared had planned to leave by nine that morning. He’d gone without anymore words between them. Not even goodbye.

Ali knew he would leave, believed it was best for her and her baby. So why did it feel like someone had cracked open her sternum, separated her ribs and exposed her heart to the harsh winter weather raging outside?

“Y
OU
did what?” Ali’s equilibrium went momentarily off-kilter. She grabbed onto the dresser beside her. No way had she heard him correctly.

“I sold the house,” Gramps said. “Hand me that box.”

Ali closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. The day could not end soon enough. First Jared leaving and now this. Gramps had sold the house she loved, the house that held countless happy memories, without a single mention of his intention until it was too late. “To who? Why? Where are you going to live?”

“To someone who offered to buy it. Put these in my suitcase.” He handed her a stack of well-worn flannel shirts. “Because I’m tired of living alone when I’d much rather be next door spending my time with Mrs. Meyer, which is where I will be living as of tonight.”

“With Mrs. Meyer? You’re moving in with Mrs. Meyer? After all these years? What’s going on? What aren’t you telling me? Are you sick?”

“I’m fine, Allison. Calm down.”

“I will not calm down. Why the rush? Why all of a sudden are you selling the house?”

“Because someone showed an interest and accepted my price. I had the opportunity to sell and I took it, and I couldn’t be happier.” He ducked back into his closet.

Ali looked around Gramps’s cluttered bedroom. “What are you going to do with all your stuff?”

“I sold the house contents and all. As is. You can take whatever you want, of course. Everything else I’ll leave for the buyer to sort through.”

Piles of “collectable” sports memorabilia. Grandma’s Hummel collection. Great-grandma’s antique china set. Boxes and closets filled with photographs and personal items. In the possession of a stranger. Ali resisted the urge to feel his forehead to check for fever. Acute delirium was the only thing that made sense. “When is this person moving in?”

“Middle to end of March.” He emerged from the closet, holding two handfuls of hangers with pants hanging from them. “Before I forget, run into the kitchen and get me your grandma’s favorite pie server, the one with the roses on the handle, and my ‘Number One Grandpa’ mug. Oh, and that oversized bowl you made me in ceramics class. I like to eat my cereal out of that in the morning.”

“That’s all you’re taking from the kitchen?”

He snapped his fingers. “Right. How could I forget? There are two boxes of oatmeal cream pies on top of the fridge.”

“I will not pack up your snack cakes.” “Oh, for heaven’s sake. The oatmeal keeps me regular.”

Later that evening, with Gramps ensconced next door, Ali stood alone in what had been his living room, staring at what had been his favorite chair, mourning the upcoming loss of his beloved home, unable to imagine someone else living there.

She climbed the stairs, remembered how she used to skip the creaky third step whenever she’d tried to sneak in
or out. Didn’t matter. Somehow Gramps had always known. She walked into the pink tile bathroom with foil rose decorated wallpaper, and pictured herself on her knees, bathing her squirming toddler in the pink tub.

One more thing to add to her growing to-do list. Look for a new place to live. A one-bedroom condo with a tiny bathroom, no tub, would never work for a mother with a baby.

Ali walked into her old room, where she still slept several times a month, and climbed into bed, too drained to change her clothes. Life as she knew it was changing. Ali didn’t like change.

Jared did. He would never have been happy living in this town. He’d be forever on the lookout for new surroundings and new faces. Things didn’t change much in Madrin Falls.

She cuddled under the covers and wondered what he was doing, where he was living, whether he’d be working days or nights. She wondered what he’d say if she called him to apologize, to admit the baby, his marriage, Gramps’s heart attack and changing relationship with Mrs. Meyer had overwhelmed her. Add confusion over her feelings for him, uncertainty about her future, and his surprises, and she’d lost all perspective, toppled over the edge of reasonable.

In time she would deal with it all. She needed time.

Would he take her call?

Probably not. She hadn’t taken his after he’d snuck away without a good-bye in November.

She’d pushed him away one too many times. He’d given up on her, on them.

Ali felt completely depleted, her body weighted down, too tired to even cry. All she wanted to do was sleep.

* * *

On Sunday morning she began cleaning and sorting through Gramps’s bedroom, prepared to go through every item in the house to be sure they wouldn’t leave behind anything of importance.

On Monday she returned home, her car filled with stuff she couldn’t part with. After numerous trips from her parking space to her condo, Ali swung by her mailbox. Between her cell phone bill and a junk mailer she found a letter from Jared. There was no return address, but she recognized his handwriting instantly.

She stared at the envelope as if his blue ink script held a clue to the message inside. Should she read it? Or figure he was gone and leave it at that?

Back in her condo, Ali sat at her kitchen table, the envelope in front of her. She’d felt something the shape of a credit card inside, or maybe a library card or the keycard to a hotel room. It spiked her interest. Maybe he’d forgotten to return his hospital ID badge and his letter was nothing more than a request for her to do it.

Slowly, Ali opened the envelope. Carefully, she eased out the handwritten note. In the process of unfolding, a credit card with Jared’s name on it fell to the table.