“Your father must trust your abilities, allowing you to take over his practice.”
“I compensated him for it, but that doesn’t stop him from continually advising me on how I should operate it.”
“And you work at the Chickasha clinic as well?” she asked.
He recalled the sound of her laughter through the exam room door. “Yes, I’ve helped out there since I returned from Montana. Business is hit-and-miss at the office in Verden. Most people around the lake would rather drive into Chickasha for the full-service treatment. They can see the doctor, get prescriptions filled at the adjoining department store, and pick up a can of chicken soup while they wait.”
“Guilty as charged,” she said.
“What I would really like to do is open a clinic where pregnant teenagers could receive proper prenatal care and counseling. It’s important for girls to be educated about their pregnancies, and to have a healthy self-image. Eating disorders among pregnant teens is on the rise. I find that devastating.”
“Something like the pregnancy support center in Chickasha?”
“I’d like to work in conjunction with their facility. I’m writing a grant for assistance and hoping I meet the criteria.”
Darcy’s eyes softened. “Dr. Creighton, you really are special.”
He shrugged. “I just have a heart for these girls. Oklahoma’s teen-pregnancy rating is sixth in the nation according to Rylon Institute’s latest report.
Sixth
. There’s a real need in this area. I believe I can help.”
“There’s no doubt in my mind,” Darcy agreed.
“Now. Getting back to the subject of my parents. I know this is short notice, but I thought you might like to meet them this evening.”
Darcy swallowed her sweet tea. “Tonight?” she squeaked.
“Yes, tonight. Just for an hour or so. My dad called and said my mother is feeling a little slighted. I haven’t talked to her since Sunday, and she hates texting.” He smiled. “He asked if I would stop by for coffee this evening, and I thought you might want to come with me.”
“Oh, Cabin, I don’t know...” She shifted in her chair. “We’ve only known each other for a short while.”
His heart sank at her hesitation. “I’ll pick you up at seven,” he resolved, hoping to thwart an ensuing excuse. “It’s no big deal, only coffee. Although, I can’t promise there won’t be cake.”
She returned her gaze to his, stroking her throat lightly, stirring him. “Okay,” she sighed. “I just can’t resist those eyes.”
“I might just use that to my advantage someday.” A pang of guilt erased his smile as Samantha edged his mind. “Let’s get you back to school, before you get in trouble.” He paid the server, leaving a tip on the table.
“Sir, you forgot your fortune cookies.” The server followed them out of the restaurant, holding two cellophane wrapped crescents.
“Thank you.” Cabin took them and handed a cookie to Darcy. He drove her to the school, where they cracked them open in the parking lot.
“You go first,” Darcy urged, peeking into his palm.
“‘
Your wildest dreams will soon come true
.’” He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know. My dreams can be pretty far-fetched.” He nudged her shoulder. “Your turn.”
She pulled the slip of paper from her broken cookie.
“‘That which bonds the skin, binds the bones
.
’”
She frowned. “Why does the writing look so strange?” She opened his palm, examining his fortune. “Yours is typed. Mine looks...handwritten or something.” She held the slip up to her window, the pen indentations clearly visible in the sunlight. “Weird.”
Cabin ran his finger over the unusual sepia calligraphy. “Maybe they ran out of fortunes and had to make some?” He handed the paper back to her.
“‘That which bonds the skin, binds the bones.’ What do you think that even means?”
“I think it means family bonds are the strongest,” he explained.
“Hmm...maybe it’s talking about the bond I shared with Gigi. That must be it.” She nodded, folding the fortune into her purse. “I’ll hang onto this one.”
“Thanks for letting me kidnap you for a while.” Cabin restrained his hands, his mouth, his
being
, and pecked Darcy’s cheek. “I’ll see you at seven.”
“Thank you for lunch.” She climbed from the cab to a chorus of childish voices echoing from the playground.
“
Ooooh
…
Ms. Vaughan’s in loooove
!”
****
That evening, Darcy stepped off the porch and jogged to Cabin’s pickup.
“You’re supposed to give me the chance to be a gentleman,” he protested. “I didn’t even have time to unbuckle my seatbelt.” He pointed to the lever resting against his deliciously snug blue jeans as Lucy greeted Darcy with nuzzles and licks, her big paws thrown over the seat.
“Maybe I was in a hurry to see you. So, where do your parents live?” She scratched Lucy’s ear as he took the first curve.
“An old refurbished farm home out in the country, south of Verden. It’s the house where I was raised.”
Excitement surged through her at the thought of seeing Cabin’s childhood home. As he drove, she watched the sun set through her window and asked him questions about his childhood, listening, almost jealously, to the woes of being an only child. To her it sounded like heaven.
“Well, here we are,” he said as they rolled to a stop in front of a ranch-style home sporting a wrap-around veranda. Beside the front door, a wooden porch-swing swayed lazily in the breeze.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” She eyed the property, amazed, taking in the perfect rows of colorful flowers, the neatly trimmed hedges and, to her disbelief, the white picket fence surrounding it all. “It’s exactly as I pictured the home of a country doctor, a southern ‘lady of leisure,’ and their darling only child,” she teased.
A hint of embarrassment flashed in his eyes.
“Oh, Cabin, I’m sorry... I was only joking.”
“No, it’s okay. It’s been a lifelong struggle. I don’t like being thought of as privileged. I worry people will think I believe it myself.”
“I would never think that about you. It was a stupid joke, I’m so sorry.” She lowered her head. What an insensitive thing to say.
He raised her chin with his finger. “It’s all right.”
Cabin opened his door. Lucy jumped from the cab, then loped through the lush yard, chasing birds to the neighboring pasture. “She loves it out here,” he said, stepping from the truck. After shutting his door, he circled around and opened Darcy’s. He pointed to the foliage, naming various trees and flowers as they strolled up the walkway.
Cabin’s father met them on the front porch. “Well, hello, stranger.” He squeezed Cabin’s shoulder.
“Hey, Dad.” Cabin embraced his father and they slapped each other’s backs. “I’d like you to meet Darcy.”
“Ma’am,” he said to Darcy, tipping his cowboy hat.
“Nice to meet you, Dr. Creighton,” she said, extending her hand.
“Please, call me Lorne.” He gave her hand a firm shake, then led her into the house.
Walking her through the spacious entryway, he stopped to hang his hat on the wall. Then, taking her elbow, he strolled with her into a large living area decorated in shades of sand.
With Cabin close behind, they entered the dining room, stepped around a table and chairs large enough to seat twelve people, then arrived in the stainless steel-clad kitchen where Mrs. Creighton stood, fussing over a tray of coffee and fritters.
“Rebecca, this is Darcy, Cabin’s lady friend.”
Her head snapped up, her gaze crawling over Darcy while Lorne made the introduction.
“Darcy who?” she asked through pursed lips.
“Vaughan, Mother. Darcy Vaughan. Remember, on Sunday I told you about our barbeque at the lake, and how taken Lucy was with her?” Cabin crossed the room to kiss his mother’s cheek. She returned his kiss, her fingers still fidgeting over the fritters.
“Who are your parents, dear?” she asked, rinsing her hands.
“My mother’s name is Adrian Vaughan, and my father is George Vaughan.”
Rebecca turned from the sink, frowning.
“Vaughan, you say?” Lorne asked, perking a gray eyebrow. “I remember your folks. I got to know them pretty well, actually.”
“Nope, doesn’t sound familiar.” Rebecca loaded cups onto the tray next to the coffee carafe.
“My parents lived at Chickasha Lake their whole married life. When they relocated to Florida five years ago, I moved into their house.” Darcy explained.
“Florida, huh? They must favor hurricanes over tornadoes.”
“Hmm. Seems the name would ring a bell,” his wife said, as if Darcy had conjured her own parents up. “What did they
do
?”
“My father was an insurance agent, and my mother was a stay at home mom,” she abridged, not wanting to say her mother was a “stay in bed and cry all day depressive.”
Rebecca shrugged, “Well, can’t know everyone, it seems.” She handed the overloaded tray to Cabin. “Let’s take our coffee in the living room.” She ran a hand over her gray up-do, then straightened her fuchsia dress before leading the way. After motioning for everyone to sit, she stiffly sat down on the sofa and poured a cup of coffee. “Sugar and cream?” she asked Darcy.
“Just cream, please,” she answered.
Rebecca dribbled a few drops from the cream pitcher, then passed the cup to Darcy. She served Lorne and Cabin before pouring a cup for herself.
“Apple fritter?” she asked, offering a fried pastry with silver tongs.
“Thank you.” Darcy took the fritter, cringing as greasy crumbs rolled down her lavender top and onto the sofa. “May I have a napkin, please?” she asked.
Rebecca sighed as she rose, then strode with heavy steps to the kitchen. She returned with a linen napkin practically the size of a tablecloth. “Will this do, dear?” she asked.
Blood rushed to Darcy’s ears. She imagined them turning red as she thanked Rebecca and draped the huge napkin over her lap.
Cabin frowned at his mother, prompting her to smile sweetly.
“If you don’t mind my asking, how is it a woman as pretty as yourself never married?” Lorne asked Darcy from his recliner.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Vaughan. That’s your folks’ name, and it’s still your name too.”
Darcy nodded. “Yes. Shortly after graduating college, I was married. It lasted for five months. I returned to my maiden name after the divorce. I thought getting my name back might renew my perspective, or return me to a happier time somehow.” She shifted, feeling she’d shared too much, too soon. “My sister, Scarlett, has the name Vaughan also. She kept her maiden name through all four of her...through all of her married years.”
“I see, makes sense now.” Lorne leaned forward and set his cup on the table. “As I was saying earlier, I knew your parents pretty well for a while, especially your mother.”
Rebecca’s gaze darted to her husband.
Curiosity zipped through Darcy like an electric current. Could there really be a connection between her parents and Cabin’s father?
Lorne leaned back and crossed his arms, his blue Cabin-like eyes sparkling as if he knew a secret. “Well, back in the winter of...I’m going to say, nineteen eighty-one, if I remember right, a little beauty queen of about twenty years old came into my office. She thought she might be expecting, and she was right. She and your daddy were newly married, and more than a little scared. She started showing right away, and within a couple of months it looked like she’d swallowed a watermelon, which she wasn’t too happy about. You should’ve seen that little gal waddling around.”
Rebecca rolled her eyes, wiping crumbs from the table into her hand.
“In her fourth month, I told her it was likely she had two babies in the oven instead of just one. She couldn’t believe it, told me it was impossible. I assured her it wasn’t.” He shook his head and grinned. “As time went on, it got harder and harder for her to haul those babies around in that little body of hers. At seven months I had to put her on full bed rest, so she wouldn’t deliver prematurely.”
Darcy tried to imagine her melodramatic mother in the throes of a miserable, double pregnancy. She wondered how her father survived.
“I examined her a couple of weeks before her due date, and knew she would need a caesarian. Your daddy was worried sick. He was in tears as we wheeled her away.”
Darcy couldn’t picture her cool, collected father even mildly rattled, let alone “worried sick.”
“In a jiffy, I had her opened up. I was pulling one of you free when realized I had a...unique situation.” He paused and reached for his coffee cup.
Darcy, riveted on the edge of the sofa, forgot to breathe.
Lorne returned his cup to the table. “Ah, where was I?” he asked, a twitch on his lips.
“A ‘unique situation,’” she reminded him.
“Oh, that’s right. As I pulled the first baby free, the second baby’s foot pulled out of the incision along with it. As it turns out, your feet were fused together.
Air gusted from her lungs as if she’d been punched in the stomach. “You mean we were conjoined twins?”
“Scarcely.” He placed his first finger on his thumb and held them up. “The skin-tag was miniscule, just enough to tack your little feet together.” He pushed up from the chair. “May I?” he asked, scooting Cabin over as he sat down beside Darcy on the sofa.
Lorne motioned to her left foot. “You’ll have to hold it up to me. I can’t bend that low anymore.
Sliding from her sandals, she stretched her foot up to his eyes.
Rebecca Creighton shuffled the fritters to the opposite end of the table. Darcy, distracted by the oceanic roar inside her head, barely noticed.
After fishing his glasses from his shirt pocket, Lorne studied her foot, holding it by the heel, turning it in the light. “Nope, nothing on this foot.” He released his grip, then motioned toward the other one.
Darcy squirmed her right foot out to him, thankful she had worn jeans.
“Hmm, I think...” He ran his finger lightly across the inside of her foot, tickling her. “Right here, on the side of the ball, beneath the edge of your big toe...do you see that little streak?”