Saving Dr. Ryan (7 page)

Well. She supposed she should do something about dinner. Not that anybody expected her to, but she could at least stick one of these casseroles in the oven, so it would be ready when the doctor got home. Whenever that might be. Didn't matter. At least she'd feel like she was earning her keep a little bit, making sure he had a hot meal waiting for him.

She opened the refrigerator, frowning at the vast array of foil-covered and plastic-lidded containers smirking at her from its depths.

“Mama? I'm hungry.”

Having decided against the nutmeg-chili tuna casserole in favor of—she peeked under the foil of the nearest offering—lasagna, Maddie dragged the pan out of the refrigerator, stuck it in the oven, then looked over at her child. Amazing how quickly he'd gotten used to having food whenever he wanted it. Even in two days, she could already see his face filling out some.

“Supper's in about forty-five minutes,” she said, knowing he'd just had somebody's homemade oatmeal cookies and a
glass of milk not a half hour ago. “Why don't you go on into Dr. Ryan's waiting room and get a book to look at? He said you could.”

“But I'm
starving.
”

Maddie eyed her son, her mouth quirked. Too bad she didn't still feed the older two the way she did Amy Rose. Then she shoved a hand through her scraggly hair, the grown-out result of a not-entirely-successful beauty-school-student haircut from six months ago. “Have an apple.” She pointed to the heaping fruit bowl in the center of the kitchen table, next to her dozing daughter.

Noah scrambled up onto a kitchen chair, inspecting every single apple until he found the one that spoke to him, she guessed, a shiny greeny-red MacIntosh. He plopped his fanny on the chair seat and took a bite, chewing with open-mouthed enthusiasm and a small frown as he concentrated on which spot to attack next.

Maddie smiled, then noticed the small radio on the counter; she went over and turned it on, remembering the country music she'd heard coming from the kitchen this morning. That would be nice, something familiar. Jimmy had always listened to that hard rock stuff that jangled Maddie's nerves, turned up so high sometimes, she feared for the kids' hearing. Maddie was partial to ballads, the kind of music you could dance to, all close to your man—

Maddie made a face at the classical music and went to change the station, only to decide it wouldn't kill her or anything. So she let it be.

Katie Grace wandered in, her hair a moist tangle, her thumb in her mouth. Maddie sat at the table, patted her lap for Katie to get up on it. She loved how her babies smelled when they first awakened from a nap, how soft and warm they were. She closed her eyes: her oldest was eating; her youngest asleep; her middle one cuddling on her lap. For the moment, they were in a warm house with plenty of food and fancy music playing in the background. They were safe. And one of her strengths was being able to relish those scraps of contentment that life offered.

Out of the blue, she wondered if Dr. Logan was happy with his life.

Why he wasn't married.

Neither of which were any of her business and if she knew what was good for her, she'd cut off this train of thought right now.

After that first day, she couldn't help but notice the doctor hadn't seemed much interested in conversation. Oh, he'd checked on her and Amy Rose ten times a day, it seemed, but never stayed for more than a few minutes. And the dinners they'd shared the first two nights had both been interrupted by calls, one requiring him to leave the house before he even got a chance to finish. He'd been as kind as ever, and polite, but there was definitely something missing.

Maddie told herself it was not up to her to try to figure out what that was. Besides, they weren't going to be there long. As soon as she could get up to see Jimmy's Uncle Ned—Dr. Logan said he thought maybe next week, when she could express enough milk to leave Amy Rose with Ivy for a little while, since he didn't think it was such a good idea to take an infant into the hospital if she didn't have to—everything would be fine, she was sure of it.

Who was she kidding? She wasn't sure of anything. Not that she bought for a second the doctor's protests about the condition of Ned's house. Maddie could make a home wherever she had to. But what if Ned didn't
want
her and the kids living with them?

“You think we could watch TV?” Noah asked, tugging at her shirt.

Took a second for her brain to snap back into focus. “I suppose.”

“I don't know how to work it.”

With a sigh, Maddie set Katie down, smiling for Amy Rose, whose mouth was all puckered in her sleep, and followed Noah into the living room, a large front room that seemed to be all windows. Like the rest of the house, the furniture was old and more than a little threadbare, the colors faded, but the chairs and sofa matched, as did the end tables and coffee
table. One thing she had to say about the place—it was clean as a whistle. Neat. No clutter anywhere. It just didn't look like anybody really lived in it.

The TV was on the small side, no remote, with the off-on button cover missing. But once she got the thing going, the picture was pretty good.

“I don't know the stations here,” she said, punching through the channels. Nothing much for a child to watch at six o'clock, that was for sure, especially with no cable. But then, she didn't suppose Dr. Logan watched much TV—

“There, Mama! An animal show!”

Maddie got the children settled down on the saggy cushioned sofa, then traipsed back through the old-fashioned, formal dining room toward the kitchen, letting out a little gasp of surprise when she found Dr. Logan standing there, frowning at the collection of pies, cakes and shower-cap covered paper plates heaped with every kind of cookie there was.

She'd forgotten just how tall he was.

“Where the heck did all this stuff come from?”

“Everybody and her cousin,” Maddie said, telling herself there was no reason to feel jittery around him. “It's a crying shame, though. I mean, there's no way we can eat it all before it goes bad. Maybe we could give some of it away?”

The doctor nodded. He still had on his hat and coat, although it was open so he could park his hands on his hips. It must be cold out, she thought, realizing she hadn't been outside since she got here. “Let me think on this for a minute. Seems to me there's gotta be some folks who might appreciate our spreading around the wealth a little.” Then he looked at her and grinned. Not a big one, but enough to make his eyes crinkle up at the corners. “Long as we make sure we don't accidentally give anything
back.
That could be disastrous.”

What could be disastrous, Maddie realized, was her fluttery reaction to his grin. Not that this should be surprising, considering what was going on in her life and that he was so soft-spoken and decent. And protective. Add to that her screwy hormones, and it stood to reason she'd be feeling a little addlepated around him. Since that was
all
it was, how
ever, she decided it wasn't worth thinking too hard about. She even laughed a little. “I made sure to take note of who gave what. So I could send thank-you notes down the road.”

That got a pair of lifted brows. “Thank-you notes?”

Maddie shrugged. “My foster mother got me in the habit. It's nice to let people know you appreciate their effort, I've always felt.”

He didn't seem to know what to say to that. He shrugged off his jacket, hung it up on a hook by the back door, along with his hat. “How're you feeling?” he asked, forking one hand through his thick hair.

“Pretty good,” she said. “A little tired.”

“Amy Rose nursing okay?”

“Like she was born to it.”

That got another little smile. He twisted around to the refrigerator, grabbed the handle. “Where're the kids?”

“Watching TV.” Then she blushed. “I hope that's okay, I don't want you to think we're taking over your house or anything….”

His stunned look stopped her short. “You're my guests, Maddie. You're free to go wherever you like, use whatever I have—” he finally opened the refrigerator, then groaned “—eat whatever you happen to find. What's this?” He pointed to one of the casseroles.

Maddie peered around him to see. “Arliss Potts's tuna casserole.”

“Except this,” he said, pulling the dish off the shelf.

“It's really that bad?”

“Maddie, I'm a bachelor. I eat anything. Anything but this.”

Well, that decided it then. On a sigh, she took the casserole from him to empty it into the lined garbage can under the sink. Except he intercepted it, gently pushing her out of the way.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“It's what I don't want you doing that's the issue here,” he said, scraping the gloppy stuff into the can. “You just gave birth three days ago. I want you taking it easy.”

“If I take it any easier, I'll stop functioning altogether. Besides,” she went on before he could protest, “what about those peasants who squat in the fields, have their babies, then go right on with their work?”

“Those peasants aren't twenty pounds underweight and anemic.”

Well. She had nothing to say to that, she supposed. The kids laughed at something on TV. Maddie wandered over to the kitchen doorway, straining to hear that they hadn't changed the channel to something too adult for them. Jimmy had let them watch anything at all, no matter how inappropriate it was for little kids. Then he'd laugh off her fussing at him, tell her to stop being such a priss—

“Your husband didn't exactly pamper you during your pregnancies, did he?”

She whirled around, a little too sharply, grabbing onto the edge of the counter to keep from losing her balance. Dr. Logan was beside her in an instant, guiding her into a chair. “Seems your body's trying to make my point for me.”

“I just turned too fast, is all. I'm fine.” She tried to stand; he didn't let her.

“Yes, you are. Remarkably well, in fact. Although I'm beginning to wonder about your mental faculties.”

Her gaze darted to his, her heart skipping at the intensity sparking in those clear, light eyes. He bent closer, one hand on her shoulder, the other braced on the edge of the table. Close enough to feel his breath, warm and peppermint-scented, on her face; to see each individual golden hair stubbling his cheeks.

To see far more concern for her condition in those eyes than she ever had in Jimmy's. Not even at the beginning.

“You listening to me?”

Maddie blinked, which for some reason cleared her head. “Uh…yeah.”

“You may feel pretty good right now, but you're not in the clear yet. So you will take it easy until either I or Ivy tell you you're okay to do more, you got that?” He abruptly straightened, leaving her feel a little like a windblown leaf
plastered to the side of a house. “Now—” he walked over, grabbed a pair of pot holders “—what's in the oven?”

“Lasagne. I just put it in, though, a couple minutes ago. Thought maybe I'd make a salad to go with it, I noticed you had some stuff in the refrigerator—”

She started to get up. One look from Dr. Logan and she thought better of it.

“Salad sounds good,” he said. “I can do that.” He walked over to the refrigerator, his movements agile, unselfconscious. Those of a man completely unaware of how good-looking he is.

Maddie shut her eyes.

“You okay?”

She opened them again. Dr. Logan was crouched in front of the refrigerator, digging in the vegetable bin. He pulled out a head of iceberg lettuce, a cucumber, two tomatoes. The lettuce had some brown spots on it.

“I'm fine.”

Which couldn't have been further from the truth, but since her not-fineness wasn't anything that either made a lick of sense or could be put into words, anyway, she figured she may as well just leave it lay.

The doctor clunked the salad stuff up onto the counter; the baby let out a startled squeal. He got to her in a stride and a half, even though Maddie was literally right there.

“She probably needs to be changed,” he said. “I'll be right back.”

Frowning, although she wasn't completely sure why, Maddie propped her elbow on the table, sinking her chin into her palm. Didn't seem like ten seconds had passed before the doctor returned, ten seconds more before he'd plopped a changing pad on the table and changed Amy Rose's wet diaper. Then he picked her up in those large, careful hands, grinning at her and making the silliest noises at her daughter she'd ever heard come out of a man's mouth, before handing her to Maddie.

“So how come you don't have six of these of your own?”
she asked, settling Amy in for yet another feed, only to immediately think,
Oh, Lord, there I go again.

Maybe one day before she turned ninety she'd learn to think first, talk second. She didn't hold out a lot of hope for that, though. As the baby blithely sucked away, she lifted her gaze to see the doctor's jerky movements as he yanked down a wooden bowl from the cabinet, clattered a small wooden chopping block onto the counter. “So,” he said, whacking away at the cucumber. “I hear Didi Meyerhauser called. About the day care.”

She got the message.

“Ivy talked to her, not me.” She looked down at the baby, smiling at the wide open eyes staring up into hers, completely trusting that her mama would always take care of her. “I'm supposed to call her back.”

He dumped the pulverized cuke into the bowl, went after the hapless tomato. “It's a good setup they've got there in the church, and you won't find anyone better than Didi at running a day care.” He suddenly went quiet, the kind of stillness where you know the person's not finished talking, just gathering his thoughts so he can best figure out how to say what he wants to. But before he could do so, there was a knock on the back door, followed almost immediately by the appearance of a bundle of Lord-help-me muscles and mischief in blue jeans and boots and a denim jacket. A devilish smile twinkled underneath a light brown cowboy hat, while a covered cake tote wobbled in one hand.