Saving Dr. Ryan (22 page)

“Dammit, Maddie…I'm not supposed to want you like this.”

Her heart, which had stopped when he broke the kiss, started beating again. But it wasn't a pleasant feeling. “Says who?”

“Says me.”

“Then maybe you should rethink who you listen to.”

With a half smile, he backed up enough to study her face, tracing his thumbs over her cheekbones, her nose, her mouth. Which he then covered with his own in a kiss so gentle, so
loving,
tears sprang to her eyes all over again. This time, when
the kiss ended, his tormented expression all but extinguished the little glow of happiness she so desperately wanted to keep alight.

“Maddie, honey…no. I'm not what you need.”

“And what if I don't agree with you?”

His laugh was sad. “How many missed soccer matches or Little League games or piano recitals or school plays would it take before the kids would hate me? How many interrupted dinners and holiday gatherings, or having to handle a crisis by yourself because I'm not around, would it take before
you
would hate me? Believe me, nobody understands more than I do what it means to want something. But here's where I'm a few steps ahead of you, because I've learned that sometimes, we want the wrong things. Things that might only hurt us, in the end. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?”

She stared into his anguished eyes for a good minute while her heart disintegrated into a fine dust that finally suffocated her little flame…only to have another flare into life in its place, ten times hotter than the first. “Yeah, I understand. You're saying I'm too young to know what I want.”

One corner of his mouth twisted. “I'm saying our age difference is bound to influence our perspective on life. Not to mention how we go about making decisions. I have no doubt you know what you want. But I'm not sure you know what you
need.
Or what you'd be really be getting into if we let this…attraction get away from us.”

The flame flared higher. On a frustrated growl, Maddie scrambled off the bed, nearly tripping over her nightgown. “Never mind that I've dealt with more in my twenty-four years than most folks do in a lifetime!” She rammed her folded arms over her quaking stomach, willing herself not to cry, not to act like the
baby
he obviously thought she was. “Not to mention that I don't give up easily. I mean, look at how I stuck with my marriage to Jimmy—”

“Yes, let's look at that.” Ryan stood as well, his hands on his hips, his expression grim. “That's exactly what I'm afraid would happen this time, that you'd feel obligated to stick something out even if it's not working.”

When her breathing was steadier, then said, “So what you're sayin' is, you're pushing me away for my own good.”

After way too long a pause, he said, “You don't need another man hurting you, sweetheart.”

After another one, she walked over to the bassinet and peered down at her sleeping daughter through a haze of exasperated tears.

“Maddie?”

“What?” she snapped.

“I assume you know I was engaged once before?” When she nodded, he said, “Well, Suzanne thought she was up to handling the demands of my work, too. Only I ended up causing her more pain than I'd ever believed possible. And damned if I'll ever put anybody through that again.
That's
why I'm not married. Why I can't have a family the way other men can. Because it's not fair to ask a woman, to ask any kids I might have, to settle for leftovers.”

She twisted around, almost trembling with anger. “But it's okay for
you
to live off them, is that right?”

He shook his head, then left, shutting her door softly behind him.

A second later, Maddie's pillow sailed across the room to whomp against it.

O
n the surface, Ryan mused a few days later, frowning at the tricycle assembly instructions spread out on the living room floor in front of him, things seemed downright hunky-dory. Between the fire he'd gotten going in the fireplace and the sparkling, fragrant tree and Maddie sitting cross-legged on the floor surrounded by shimmering bows and ribbons and rolls of brightly patterned wrapping paper, it was an idyllic pre-Christmas scene. In reality, however, their unfinished conversation after Maddie's revelation had been festering between them ever since, like a splinter that had been only partially removed. So when she announced that the Emerson house was ready for them to move into any time, Ryan felt as if somebody'd taken a hammer right to the sore spot.

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” she said, scraping the blade of her scissors along a length of emerald green ribbon she'd already tied onto a package, then arranging the resulting corkscrew curl exactly the way she wanted it. She'd said she didn't want the kids to get too many presents, that they'd never had a lot and she didn't figure she'd be doing them any favors by spoiling them
with more than they could handle. But there were books and drawing kits and a doll and the tricycle for Katie Grace and a sturdy building block set and a first two-wheeler for Noah. And a giant stuffed Elmo for Amy Rose, three times her size, that Ned had insisted on.

As for Ryan's present to Maddie…well, Ivy had suggested a gift certificate to a nice dress shop over in Claremore, something she couldn't turn around and use for the kids. But what he'd hoped to give her—a reunion with her foster parents—was looking less and less likely, since the message he'd left on the Idlewilds' answering machine weeks ago had gone unanswered. In other words, he couldn't seem to do a single damn thing right these days, could he?

“I suppose that's a load off your mind, then,” he said.

She nodded, keeping her eyes on the gift. “I figured I might as well wait until after Christmas, though, seeing as the tree's already set up here and all.” She signed a card—To Noah from Santa—and slapped it on the package.

It killed him, that she wouldn't look at him for longer than a second or two. Not that he blamed her, but still. “Maddie…you know you don't have to leave.”

She did look at him then, but with the same vexed set to her mouth she got when one of the kids tested her. “You need your life back,” she said, dragging the scissor blade down another another length of ribbon. “And I need to get on with mine.”

“Look, I know things are a little…strained between us—”

Her gaze zinged to his. “You can't have it both ways, Ryan! We can't go back to the way things were! And I'll be the first to take blame for that—”

“Hey.” Ryan reached over and grabbed her hand, tightening his grip when she tried to pull away. “Nobody's to blame, Maddie. And I—”

She pointed the scissors at him. “Don't you
dare
say you're flattered.”

“—and I'd like to think,” he continued, “that we could
get past this. Moving out is an extra financial burden you don't need right now.”

She jerked her hand out of his, her eyes blazing. But at least she lowered the scissors. “I'll get by. Ruby's taking thirty or forty pies a week from me now, so I've got that income on top of what you're paying me. And Ned's pitching in part of his pension for the rent and food…”

Ryan never thought he'd live to see the day, but Ned had had all the junk on his land carted off, the shack razed, and had put the property up for sale.

“…so you see,” she continued, her brow scrunched up as she plunked a book down onto the backside of a piece of wrapping paper, “everything's working out just fine. Just the way we'd always planned from the beginning, right?”

Ryan took the wrench to the tricycle seat bolt, then looked over at Maddie, feeling more or less like dirt. “I'm not going to stop worrying about you just because you move out.”

Her back rigid, she struggled to her knees to pile the just-wrapped presents under the tree. Then she looked over at him and said, “I don't need somebody worrying about me. What I need is somebody who doesn't think I'm clueless—”

“Dammit, Maddie!” He threw down the wrench, its clatter against the bare floor echoing painfully inside his head. “This isn't about you—”

“Of course it is!” She twisted around, her eyes flashing. “But I get it, okay?” Twin tears spilled from her lower lashes and streaked down her cheeks. She swiped at them, ducking her head to gather up the rolls of paper, the ribbons, the scissors and tape and tags. “You don't have to keep rubbing it in!”

Ready to explode with frustration, Ryan reached over and clamped his hand over hers. “No, Maddie, you
don't
get it! How could you, when I barely do myself?”

She jerked up her head. “Then why don't you explain it to me?”

He let go of her hand and hauled himself to his feet, rubbing the back of his neck. Damn, damn,
damn
—no matter what he did, what he said, there was no way now to avoid
hurting her. Hurting her more. He had to remove the last of the splinter, no matter how painful it might be. But otherwise, the wound would never heal.

He stared at the tree, the beautiful, glittering symbol of
joy
and
peace
and
love
taking up half of his living room, as if it would give him answers. Or at least, strength. Then he turned, finding the courage to meet that steadfast, earnest gaze, his heart breaking for what he was giving up.

“You have no…idea how tempting it is to take you up on your offer, Maddie.
No
idea. And I can't let you leave without…” He placed his hand over his heart, as if that might salve the pain. “I'm not calling a halt to this because I don't love you,” he said, his heart cracking even more when her face crumpled in confusion, “but because I
do.
With all my heart and then some. And I can't find it within myself to let you go on thinking your feelings are one-sided, because believe me, sweetheart…they're not. They're not,” he repeated on a whisper, his eyes on hers. “But I would be one selfish bastard if I let you love
me.
”

For what seemed like an eternity, she simply sat there, silent, the confusion in her eyes giving way to defeat.

His phone rang; cursing the timing, he snatched it off his belt. But when he glanced back where Maddie had been, she was gone.

And now that the splinter had been dug out, he wasn't sure he could staunch the bleeding.

 

“But I don't wanna go! Katie Grace an' me like it here, don't you, Katie? So does Amy Rose.”

The kids' room littered with their Christmas loot—Maddie hadn't counted on all the presents other people would give them—she sat on the edge of Katie's bed facing Noah's grumpy expression, while Katie snuggled on her lap clutching Audrey Anne, her new doll. “A month ago, you loved the new house.”
A month ago, my heart wasn't broken.
“And you're gonna have your own room, too—”

“I don't care. I wanna stay here with Dr. Ryan.”

“Me, too,” Katie breathed against Maddie's chest. “Wanna stay wif Dokker Rine.”

At least the kids had had a good Christmas. For Maddie, however, the past forty-eight hours had been, to put it simply, hellacious. Prior to two nights ago, Maddie would have said that nothing hurt more than unrequited love.

She'd been wrong.

“Well, sweet things, we can't. This isn't our house. But it's not like you'll never see Dr. Ryan again, since he said you can come over and visit any time you like.”

Noah glared at her, his arms tightly folded across his chest. Although, to be truthful, she'd rather see him defiant than scared of his shadow like he'd been before. “But Uncle Ned's coming with us?”

“Didn't I tell you he was? Now both of you need to get to sleep. We've got a big day ahead of us.”

She tucked Katie and Audrey Anne back into bed before turning to give Noah one last hug and kiss. But when she leaned over, he twisted away. So Maddie plopped herself down on the edge of his bed and took his hand in hers, loving him whether he wanted her to or not.

“I'm sorry, baby. But this really is best.”

His gaze shot to hers, full of accusation for things she doubted he could put into words, even if he'd wanted to. Did he blame her for not being there to protect him from his father, or for being the one who'd sent Jimmy away forever? And now this, taking him—as she was sure he saw it—from somebody who'd been more of a father to him in the past few months than Jimmy had been in the last three years. Tears welled up in Maddie's eyes as she remembered what it was like to be small and helpless and unable to think past your fear and confusion. Or to have any sort of confidence in the future when your past hadn't exactly been filled with a whole lot of bright spots.

She leaned over, laying her cheek next to his soft, smooth one for a moment before placing a kiss right on the little crease between his brows. That he let her was something to be grateful for, she supposed.

“Believe me, baby,” she whispered into his hair, “I understand exactly how you feel.”

 

She didn' have much to move, just the few things she'd brought from Arkansas and Ned's belongings and the kids' Christmas presents, mostly, as well as all the paraphernalia that folks'd donated to Amy Rose along the way. But all of that put together didn't weigh near as much as the sadness in her heart. Even when Cal came with his truck to load it all up, his green eyes full of sympathy, and she caught sight of the beautiful maple chest of drawers and a ladder-back rocking chair he said he'd found up in the attic just waiting for somebody to adopt them, the heaviness refused to lift, despite her being deeply touched by his gift.

Ryan wasn't there: he'd gotten a call and was thus unable to help with the move. Frankly, Maddie was just as glad.

All afternoon, folks had been dropping by with food and little housewarming gifts—Maddie now had three coffeemakers—and Ivy and Ruby and Luralene, bless their hearts, had raided their closets and cupboards, donating enough pots and pans and dishes and linens that Maddie wouldn't have to buy much more than cleaning supplies and maybe some new place mats to brighten up the old, scarred kitchen table.

Around which the four women now sat, the older ones yakking their heads off. Luralene—in a lime-green running suit with hot-pink trim—bounced a cooing Amy Rose in her arms while Noah and Katie Grace were out exploring the backyard. Ruby had poked through the food offerings laid out on the bright aqua countertop, finally selecting Didi Meyerhauser's homemade crumb cake.

“Now this woman knows how to burn a pot,” she said, coming up with four forks from somewhere or other. “Unlike some people we could name. You got any napkins, sugar?” she asked Maddie, who said no, but there was probably a roll of paper towels around somewhere, just give her a second to look.

She got up, grateful for the excuse to not have to smile for a little while. It was a shame, really, since everybody was
being so nice and the kitchen was so cheery and bright and things were looking a hundred times better than she could ever have envisioned a few months ago. Ned even liked his room, had plugged in his TV and settled into the armchair Ryan had said he could have, if he wanted, since he knew how partial the old man had become to it.

Maddie swallowed hard, forcing down a lump in her throat big enough to choke a horse. How ironic, that Ryan's admission of his feelings should actually kill hope instead of feeding it. If he hadn't said he loved her, then she could have reasoned, Oh, well, then—maybe he just needs more time. Maybe one day, he'll feel differently—

Tears burned the backs of her eyes—she was still nothing more than a starry-eyed twit, wasn't she, believing in the power of love to conquer all? Or at least, she had been up until a few days ago. And where the
heck
were those dang towels?

Oh, Lord—how was she supposed to work with him? If she had any choice, she'd quit. But good-paying part-time jobs were hard to come by, not just here, but anywhere. He'd have to fend for himself with his meals again, though. That much of a masochist, she wasn't.

Maddie sucked in a deep breath, plucked the towels out of the box and turned around to find a trio of sympathetic frowns awaiting her.

“The man's a fool, baby,” Ruby pronounced, and by the time Luralene and Ivy had said their “amens,” Maddie was sobbing her heart out.

 

The house was almost unbearably quiet.

Ryan hung his truck keys on the hook by the kitchen door, setting his bag down on the small table off to the left. A new bag, one Maddie had ordered especially from one of his supply catalogs for Christmas. When he'd protested the cost, she'd said she and Ned and Mildred had all gone in together to get it, since his old one was about to fall apart.

An odd, rhythmic ticking sound from over the refrigerator caught his attention—the clock, its sweep hand snicking re
lentlessly toward the end of another day. Had it always been that loud?

He didn't bother removing his boots, even though he found himself walking around the newly washed rag rug in front of the sink rather than over it to turn on his radio. Sure enough, it was on a CW station. Ryan twisted it back, thinking how nice it was gonna be to know the damn thing was going to stay where he put it from now on—

There was a note stuck on the refrigerator, eerily clear of children's drawings and grocery lists and school schedules, telling him that there were still plenty of leftovers from Christmas—ham and sweet potatoes and new potatoes and fresh green beans in garlic butter—so he should be okay for a couple days. It was written on the back of the gas company bill envelope, Maddie's flowery handwriting hiccuping in the spots where the paper overlapped.