Unfinished Business (14 page)

“You do that very well.”

“You should see me with a scalpel.”

“I'll pass, thanks.” She shifted to avoid being mowed down by two running boys. “The picnic's just like I remember. Crowded, noisy and chaotic.”

People milled around in the yard, in the house, even spilled out along the sidewalks. Some sat at the long picnic tables or on the grass. Babies were passed from hand to hand. The old sat in the shade waving at flies as they gossiped and reminisced. The young ran in the sunshine.

Someone had brought a huge portable stereo. Music poured from the rear corner of the yard, where a group of teenagers had gathered to flirt.

“We'd have been there just a few years back,” Brady commented.

“You mean you're too old to hang around a boom box now?”

“No. But they think I am. Now I'm Dr. Tucker—as opposed to my father, who's Doc Tucker—and that automatically labels me an adult.” He skewered a hot dog. “It's hell growing up.”

“Being dignified,” she added as he popped it into a bun and slathered on mustard.

“Setting an example for the younger generation. Say ‘ah,'” he told her, then shoved the hot dog in her mouth.

She chewed and swallowed in self-defense. “Maintaining a certain decorum.”

“Yeah. You've got mustard on your mouth. Here.” He grabbed her hand before she could wipe it off. “I'll take care of it.” He leaned down and slid the tip of his tongue over the
corner of her mouth. “Very tasty,” he decided, then nipped lightly at her bottom lip.

“You're going to burn your burgers,” she murmured.

“Quiet. I'm setting an example for the younger generation.”

Even as she chuckled, he covered her mouth fully with his, lengthening the kiss, deepening it, drawing it out, until she forgot she was surrounded by people. And so did he.

When he released her, she lifted a hand to her spinning head and tried to find her voice.

“Just like old times,” someone shouted.

“Better,” Brady said quietly, and would have pulled her close again, but for a tap on his shoulder.

“Let that girl go and behave yourself, Brady Tucker.” Violet Driscoll shook her head at the pair of them. “You've got hungry people here. If you want to smooch with your girl, you just wait till later.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Never had a lick of sense.” She winked at Vanessa as she started back to the shade. “But he's a handsome so-and-so.”

“She's right.” Vanessa tossed back her hair.

“I'm a handsome so-and-so?”

“No, you've never had a lick of sense.”

“Hey!” he called after her. “Where are you going?”

Vanessa shot him a long, teasing look over her shoulder and kept walking.

It was like old times, Vanessa thought as she stopped to talk to high school friends and watched children race and shout and gobble down food. Faces had aged, babies had been born, but the mood was the same. There was the smell of good food, the sounds of laughter and of a cranky baby being lulled to sleep. She heard arguments over the Orioles' chances for a pennant this year, talk about summer plans and gardening tips.

She could smell the early roses blooming and see the tangle of morning glories on the trellis next door.

When Brady found her again, she was sitting on the grass with Lara.

“What're you doing?”

“Playing with my niece.” They both lifted their heads to smile at him.

Something shifted inside him. Something fast and unexpected. And something inevitable, he realized. Seeing her smiling up at him, a child's head on her shoulder, sunlight pouring over her skin. How could he have known he'd been waiting, almost his entire life, for a moment like this? But the child should be his, he thought. Vanessa and the child should be his.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“No.” He brought himself back with a long, steadying breath. “Why?”

“The way you were staring at me.”

He sat beside her, touched a hand to her hair. “I'm still in love with you, Vanessa. And I don't know what the hell to do about it.”

She stared. Even if she could have latched on to the dozens of emotions swirling through her, she couldn't have put any into words. It wasn't a boy she was looking at now. He was a man, and what he had spoken had been said deliberately. Now he was waiting for her to move, toward him or away. But she couldn't move at all.

Lara bounced in her lap and squealed, shattering the silence. “Brady, I—”

“There you are.” Joanie dropped down beside them. “Whoops,” she said as the tension got through to her. “I'm sorry. I guess it's bad timing.”

“Go away, Joanie,” Brady told her. “Far away.”

“I'd already be gone, since you've asked so nicely, but the limo's here. People are already heading around front to stare at it. I think it's time to see the newlyweds off.”

“You're right.” Almost using Lara as a shield, Vanessa scrambled to her feet. “We don't want them to miss their plane.” She braced herself and looked at Brady again. “You've got the tickets?”

“Yeah, I got them.” Before she could skirt around him, he cupped her chin in his hand. “We've still got unfinished business, Van.”

“I know.” She was grateful her voice could sound so calm when her insides were knotted. “Like Joanie said, it's bad timing.” With Lara on her hip, she hurried off to find her mother.

“What's all this about a limo?” Ham demanded as Joanie began unrolling his pushed-up sleeves. “Did somebody die?”

“Nope.” Joanie fastened the button on his cuff. “You and your new wife are going on a little trip.”

“A trip?” Loretta repeated, as Vanessa handed her her purse.

“When newlyweds take a trip,” Brady explained, “it's called a honeymoon.”

“But I've got patients all next week.”

“No, you don't.” With Brady and Jack on either side of Ham, and Vanessa and Joanie flanking Loretta, they led the baffled bride and groom to the front of the house.

“Oh, my” was all Loretta could say as she spotted the gleaming white stretch limo.

“Your plane leaves at six.” Brady took an envelope out of his pocket and handed it to his father.
“Vaya con Dios.”

“What is all this?” Ham demanded. Vanessa noted with a chuckle that old shoes and cans were already being tied to the bumper. “My schedule—”

“Is cleared.” Brady gave Ham a slap on the back. “See you in a couple weeks.”

“A couple weeks?” His eyebrows shot up. “Where the hell are we going?”

“South of the border,” Joanie chimed in, and gave her father a hard, smacking kiss. “Don't drink the water.”

“Mexico?” Loretta's eyes widened. “Are we going to Mexico? But how can we— The shop. We haven't any luggage.”

“The shop's closed,” Vanessa told her. “And your luggage is in the trunk.” She kissed Loretta on each cheek. “Have a good time.”

“In the trunk?” Her baffled smile widened. “My blue silk blouse?”

“Among other things.”

“You all did this.” Despite the persistent photographer, Loretta began to cry. “All of you.”

“Guilty.” Brady gave her a huge hug. “Bye, Mom.”

“You're a sneaky bunch.” Ham had to take out his handkerchief. “Well, Loretta, I guess we've got ourselves a honeymoon.”

“Not if you miss your plane.” Joanie, always ready to worry, began to push them toward the limo. “Don't sit in the sun too long. It's much more intense down there. Oh, and whatever you buy, make sure you shop around and bargain first. You can change your money at the hotel—there's a phrase book in the carry-on. And if you need—”

“Say goodbye, Joanie,” Jack told her.

“Oh, shoot.” She rubbed her knuckles under her damp eyes. “Bye. Wave bye-bye, Lara.”

“Oh, Ham. Gardenias.” Loretta began to weep again.

With shouts and waves from the entire town, the limo began to cruise sedately down Main Street, followed by the clang and thump of cans and shoes, and an escort of running children.

“There they go,” Joanie managed, burying her face in Jack's shoulder. He patted her hair.

“It's okay, honey. Kids have to leave home sometime. Come on, I'll get you some potato salad.” He grinned at Brady as he led her away.

Vanessa cleared the lump in her throat. “That was quite a send-off.”

“I want to talk to you. We can go to your house or mine.”

“I think we should wait until—”

“We've already waited too long.”

Panicked, she looked around. How was it that they were alone again so quickly? “The party— You have guests.”

“Nobody'll miss us.” With a hand on her arm, he turned toward his car.

“Dr. Tucker, Dr. Tucker!” Annie Crampton was racing around the corner of the house. “Come quick! Something's wrong with my grandpa!”

He moved quickly. By the time Vanessa reached the backyard, he was already kneeling beside the old man, loosening his collar.

“Pain,” the old man said. “In my chest…can't breathe.”

“I got Dad's bag,” Joanie said as she passed it to Brady. “Ambulance is coming.”

Brady just nodded. “Take it easy, Mr. Benson.” He took a small bottle and a syringe out of the bag. “I want you to stay calm.” He continued to talk as he worked, calming and soothing with his voice. “Joanie, get his file,” he murmured.

Feeling helpless, Vanessa put an arm around Annie's shoulders and drew her back. “Come on, Annie.”

“Is Grandpa going to die?”

“Dr. Tucker's taking care of him. He's a very good doctor.”

“He takes care of my mom.” She sniffled and wiped at her
eyes. “He's going to deliver the baby and all, but Grandpa, he's real old. He fell down. He just got all funny-looking and fell down.”

“Dr. Tucker was right here.” She stroked Annie's flyaway hair. “If he was going to get sick, it was the best place for it. When he's better, you can play your new song for him.”

“The Madonna song?”

“That's right.” She heard the wail of am ambulance. “They're coming to take him to the hospital.”

“Will Dr. Tucker go with him?”

“I'm sure he will.” She watched as the attendants hurried out with a stretcher. Brady spoke to them briskly, giving instructions. She saw him put his hands on Annie's mother's shoulders, speaking slowly, calmly, while she looked up at him with trust and tears in her eyes. When Brady started after the stretcher, Vanessa gave Annie a last squeeze.

“Why don't you go sit with your mother for a minute? She'll be scared.” How well she knew, Vanessa thought. She remembered the fear and despair she had felt when they had taken her own father. Turning, she rushed after Brady.

“Brady.” She knew she couldn't waste his time. When he turned, she saw the concern, the concentration and the impatience in his eyes. “Please let me know how—what happens.”

He nodded, then climbed in the rear of the ambulance with his patient.

 

It was nearly midnight when Brady pulled up in front of his house. There was a sliver of a moon, bone-white against a black sky studded with stars as clear as ice. He sat where he was for a moment, letting his muscles relax one by one. With his windows down he could hear the wind sighing through the trees.

The fatigue of an eighteen-hour-day had finally caught up with him on the drive home. He was grateful Jack had brought his car to the hospital. Without it, he would have been tempted to stretch out in the lounge. Now all he wanted was to ease his tired body into a hot tub, turn on the jets and drink a cold beer.

The lights were on downstairs. He was glad he'd forgotten to turn them off. It was less depressing to come home to an empty house if the lights were on. He'd detoured into town on the way home and driven by Vanessa's. But her lights had been out.

Probably for the best, he thought now. He was tired and edgy. Hardly the mood for patient, sensible talk. Maybe there was an advantage to letting her stew over the fact that he was in love with her.

And maybe there wasn't. He hesitated, his hand on the door. What the hell was wrong with him, he wondered. He'd always been a decisive man. When he'd decided to become a doctor, he'd gone after his degree with a vengeance. When he'd decided to leave his hospital position in New York and come home to practice general medicine, he'd done so without a backward glance or a whisper of regret.

Life-altering decisions, certainly. So why the hell couldn't he decide what to do about Vanessa?

He was going back to town. If she didn't answer her door, he would climb up the damn rainspout and crawl in her bedroom window. One way or the other, they were going to straighten this mess out tonight.

He'd already turned away and started back to his car when the door to the house opened.

“Brady?” Vanessa stood in the doorway, the light at her back. “Aren't you coming in?”

He stopped dead and stared at her. In a gesture of pure frus
tration, he dragged a hand through his hair. Was it any wonder he couldn't decide what to do about her? She'd never been predictable. Kong raced out of the house, barking, and jumped on him.

“Jack and Joanie dropped us off.” Vanessa stood, twisting the doorknob back and forth. “I hope you don't mind.”

“No.” With the dog racing in circles around him, he started back to the house. Vanessa stepped back, out of reach.

“I brought some leftovers from the picnic. I didn't know if you'd have a chance to get any dinner.”

“No, I didn't.”

“Mr. Benson?”

“Stabilized. It was shaky for a while, but he's tough.”

“I'm glad. I'm so glad. Annie was frightened.” She rubbed her hands on her thighs, linked her fingers together, pulled them apart, then stuck them in the pockets of her skirt. “You must be exhausted—and hungry. There's plenty of food in the fridge. The, ah, kitchen looks wonderful.” She gestured vaguely. “The new cabinets, the counters, everything.”