Cindy's Doctor Charming (9 page)

“Yes.” He pulled the keys from the ignition, then looked at her. “And yes.”

“Good.” At least there wouldn't be that awkward moment where she had to stand quietly by while he explained the unexplainable.

When she started to get out of the car, he said, “Stay put. You're not supposed to be on your feet.”

“Then how am I going to get inside?”

A shimmy of anticipation danced up her spine when she remembered him sweeping her into his arms to carry her inside at her house. But the romantic notion dissolved when he emerged from the front door pushing a wheelchair.

“Be still my heart.” Cindy wondered what kind of damage was done when a romantic fool dropped back to earth. But she sat in the chair.

It was a beautiful June day and already getting hot, so the cool air that washed over her when he pushed her inside felt good. When her eyes adjusted from bright sun to the dim interior, she saw that travertine tile went on forever in the entryway. There were high ceilings with crown molding and pale wheat-colored walls.

An older but very attractive woman walked into the entryway. She was tall and slender with a short brunette bob. Her eyes were hazel, and it was obvious that Nathan got his coloring from his mother. And his fashion sense. Her white capris were crisp and spotless. The black and white striped silk blouse was trendy and fitted. Even her sandals coordinated with the summer ensemble.

“So here you are,” she said, her eyes narrowing on Cindy.

Nathan's voice came from behind the wheelchair. “Shirley, this is Cindy Elliott. Cindy, Shirley Steele, my mother.”

They shook hands and Cindy felt at a disadvantage in the chair. Even standing she would be shorter, but at least she wouldn't have been loomed over.

Nathan leaned down. “I'm going to get your things out of the car and put them in the guest room.”

Moments later he walked inside with her two suitcases then disappeared down the hall. He returned and glanced at his watch. “I have to get to the hospital. Shirley, will you get Cindy settled?”

“Of course.”

“I'll be back later.” He looked down at her with a warning expression on his face. “Take it easy.”

Nothing about this was easy to take, especially being left alone with his mother. But he walked out the door and it was just the two of them.

Cindy didn't know how to be anything but direct. She got up from the chair and met the other woman's gaze. “This pregnancy was an accident.”

“So I've been told.”

“I didn't even want to go out with him.”

“Technically one doesn't have to actually go out for something like this to happen,” Shirley commented, her tone guarded. “But why did you? Go out with him.”

“He was relentless and I said yes to get him out of my life.”

“Yet here you are in his home. So we can see how well that worked.”

“I didn't want to move in.” Cindy refused to look away, even though that's what she desperately wanted to do. “But he's so darn stubborn and he wouldn't leave me alone. He's
exhausted and the only way he's going to get any rest is for me to stay here. That's the truth.”

“All right then. Nathan is a grown man and knows what he's doing.” Shirley glanced over her shoulder. “I take it you know your way around?”

“Actually, I've never been here before.” Cindy stopped there, not wanting to explain the one-night stand at her house.

The older woman looked just the tiniest bit surprised when she asked, “Would you like a tour?”

“Are you going to make me use that stupid chair?” Cindy glared at the thing.

“I think that's about my son being overly cautious. Stay off your feet means don't do the trampoline or go bungee jumping, not be an invalid.”

Cindy nodded. “I think so, too.”

“All right then. Follow me.” Shirley turned and started walking away. “This place has five bedrooms and a guest house. That's where I stay.”

Interesting. Nathan didn't really need her to be a buffer between him and his mom. There was plenty of space for the two to peacefully coexist. This house was big enough for its own zip code.

Cindy noted that the living and dining rooms were separated by the wide entryway and filled with dark cherry wood furniture and fabrics in earth tones. White plantation shutters covered the windows. The family room was right off the kitchen and had a fireplace on one wall. A huge leather corner group sat in front of a gigantic flat-screen TV.

“My whole house would fit in this room,” Cindy said, still in awe.

“The bedrooms are down this hall,” Shirley said.

She pointed out the master bedroom at the back of the
house, and Cindy politely glanced through the doorway, although it felt like invading Nathan's privacy. The room was huge, with a king-size bed across from a sunken conversation area and fireplace. A little twinge that could be jealousy told her it was best not to think about all the women who'd no doubt “conversed” in here with him.

Across the hall there were two more bedrooms connected by a bath. Her suitcases were visible in the first room.

“This is where you'll stay.” Shirley walked through the bathroom into the connecting bedroom. “This gets the morning sun. And there's that charming window seat. I think this would make a wonderful nursery.”

Cindy glanced at the L-shaped desk with the computer on top. There was an eight-foot couch and a wing chair in another corner. Clearly it was set up as an office.

“It would certainly work. But I'm not staying here permanently,” Cindy protested.

“But you and Nathan will share custody.”

It wasn't a question except in Cindy's mind. If she had to judge by her experience, Nathan wouldn't be around long enough to share custody or anything else. But telling his mother that didn't seem appropriate.

“I believe children should know both of their parents,” Cindy said diplomatically. “If at all possible.”

“I'm glad you feel that way because I've jotted down some ideas for a mural in here.” Shirley picked up a sketch pad from the desk. “Would you like to see?”

It felt a little weird, but, “Okay.” She looked at the drawings of cuddly zoo animals on the first page. “These are too cute.”

“Those are generic,” Shirley explained. “The next page is cars, fire trucks, airplanes. Boy stuff. Then there's the sports-themed sketches. Followed by fairy tale characters
and princess pictures. Nathan can make a decision when he finds out the sex of the baby.”

“These are really good.” Pretty amazing, really.

She flipped through the pages, each set of sketches more impressive than the last. Knowing whether the child was a boy or girl would narrow down themes, but they were all so adorable, making a decision wouldn't be easy.

“You're incredibly artistic,” she said.

“Not really. I just had lots of time to practice.” Shirley's pleased expression instantly disappeared.

Cindy felt guilty because it was the first time the other woman had smiled and something she'd said had made the warmth dissolve. “You have a lot of natural talent. I don't think practice alone would be enough to do this.”

“It is if you have the time. My husband left me.” She shrugged. “Because I wasn't being a wife, I had a lot of time to work on other, creative endeavors.”

But you were a mother, Cindy wanted to say. If the marriage wasn't working, why didn't this woman's time and energy get channeled into the young son who must have been hurt and confused about his deteriorating family? She'd never understood before how priceless her carefree childhood had been but kept the revelation to herself. In fact, she didn't know what to say.

But not saying anything made this more awkward than watching Nathan explain their complicated association to his mother.

Shirley must have felt it, too. “I've kept you on your feet too long. You should rest.”

Alone, Cindy walked back into the room where she'd be staying. The bed was queen-size, covered with a floral quilt and a striped bed skirt in green and white. A tufted bench sat at the foot with her suitcases resting on top. There was an oak dresser with a mirror over it and
matching nightstands. Very comfortable and should have been cheerful.

Cindy remembered what Nathan had said about being an unaccompanied minor. She'd assumed both of his parents had demanding careers, but that wasn't the case. He was a handsome doctor, brilliant and wealthy. Yet she felt sorry for him. And that was stupid. It could potentially weaken the hard crust around her feelings. And that would be a disaster.

If she made it through this pregnancy and delivered a healthy baby, it would be in no small part because of Nathan's support at this traumatic time. She would be forever grateful to him, but they were having a baby, not a relationship. That's the only reason she was living in his house.

The emotional health of her heart depended on remembering that.

C
indy had always thought that leather belonged on animals, not furniture, but that was before she'd experienced Nathan's decor. All afternoon she'd been relaxing on his family room corner group. The cushy feel of the soft leather had changed her opinion. And the TV wasn't bad either. It had to be at least a seventy-five-inch screen. In her tiny house it would be too big, but this room accommodated it perfectly.

“So size
does
matter,” she said to herself.

She was watching an old chick flick starring Steve McQueen and Natalie Wood. The TV was so big and clear she could see practically every pore in the actress's flawless face.

Glancing at her watch, she realized it was after seven. Shirley was out and Nathan hadn't returned from the hospital. She was getting hungry and wondered whether to go digging into his provisions.
Mi casa, su casa,
he had said.
Before she could decide, the front door opened and closed, then he walked in lugging plastic bags of groceries in both hands.

“Hi,” she said. “Need some help?”

“This is everything.” His eyes narrowed on her. “And you're here because of questions like that. Your job right now is to carry nothing heavier than the TV remote.”

“Then you should be proud because today I totally rocked this remote control. It got an excellent workout.”

He carried the bags into the kitchen and set them on the granite-covered island in the center. While he unloaded them, he asked, “How do you feel?”

She muted the TV sound before answering. “Good. Normal. No more pains. Not even a hint of a cramp.”

“Excellent.”

“I'm thinking it's okay to go back to work.”

He was putting a box into the pantry and turned to stare at her. “Your doctor advised you to rest for several weeks.”

“But I feel fine.”

“That's great. And we want to keep it that way. So just relax and go with it.” He closed the cupboard door. “Where's Shirley?”

“Astrology class. She was going to skip it and stay with me, but I talked her into going.” He didn't respond and she added, “You don't seem surprised.”

“I'm not. Shirley keeps busy.”

“She showed me some sketches for a mural in the baby's room.”

“Oh?” He put bananas in a cobalt blue pottery bowl on the island.

“They're really good ideas—for either a boy or girl. She's quite an artist.”

“Shirley's had a lot of practice.”

“That's exactly what she said,” Cindy informed him.

She was looking for some kind of clue as to how he felt about that, but he gave her no reaction, as if he'd perfected not reacting. And really that information was need-to-know. She didn't need to. Nathan's relationship with his mother was none of her business. But the fact that he called her Shirley spoke volumes.

When the silence stretched between them, she asked, “So what's in the bags?”

He wadded up the empty ones and threw them in the trash. “Nothing now. But I got you peanut butter and jelly.”

She wanted to go all mushy inside from the gesture but held back. “What kind?”

“Crunchy. I wasn't sure what kind you liked, but how can anyone not like crunchy?”

“Sound logic,” she approved. “And jelly?”

“That was a tougher decision. I fell back on personality.”

“How so?” She sat up straighter and tucked her legs to the side.

“Strawberry seemed way too cheerful, so I went with grape.”

“You think I'm more sour grapes?”

He rested his hands on the counter separating the two rooms. “Am I wrong?”

“I think I'm a peach of a person,” she said.

“If you don't like grape, I'll go back to the store and get peach.”

“No. Grape's my favorite.”

But how gallant of him to make another trip. Her heart gave an odd little skip that she hoped was about her “delicate condition.” The warm, fluttery feeling in the pit of her
stomach could be nothing more than normal for a pregnant woman. One could hope, anyway.

“What else did you get at the store?” she asked.

“Lots of healthy stuff. Fruit. Vegetables.”

“I don't like broccoli.” She rested an elbow on the arm of the sofa.

“Then you don't have to eat any. And in case you weren't kidding about the cravings, I got pickles and ice cream.”

She'd never been much of an ice cream addict, but suddenly the idea of it made her mouth water. “What kind of ice cream? And please don't say Rocky Road to complement my difficult personality.”

He grinned. “Cookies and cream.”

“Sounds yummy.”

“I'm sensing symptoms of hunger. What else tempts your appetite?” he asked.

“Peanut butter and banana.”

“Coming right up,” he said without hesitation or editorializing.

She watched him work, pulling out plates, bread, the jar of crunchy peanut butter and the bananas. A warmth trickled through her that had nothing to do with the baby growing inside her. If she had to describe the feeling, the first word that popped into her head was
pampered.

And perturbed.

He looked so cute moving around the kitchen making sandwiches. A feast for the eyes as she watched the muscles in his biceps bunch and his broad shoulders square off on the task. She was uneasy because when she'd agreed to temporarily move in with him, her concern had been mostly for the baby but partly about him being exhausted. She'd never considered him hanging around with her and unleashing a siege on her senses.

“How was work?” she asked. Anything to get her mind off this personal turn her thoughts had taken.

“The gladiator is holding his own against the lions and tigers. But his prognosis is still guarded.”

“Why?”

He walked over to her with a plate in each hand before handing her one and setting the other on the coffee table. “Because he's fragile and anything can happen. Do you want milk with dinner?”

“What are you having?”

“A beer since I'm officially off call.” He rested his hands on lean hips. “But I don't think you'd better have one.”

“It doesn't even sound good and probably wouldn't be the best choice for the baby.” Talk about his work reminded her that he knew better than anyone the need for prenatal caution. That's why she was here. “Milk it is.”

He nodded, then fetched and delivered the drinks before sitting down beside her. He was staring at the muted movie on TV as he took a bite of the sandwich identical to hers. To his credit, he didn't choke or spit it out. Also to his credit, he'd put apple slices and baby carrot sticks on each plate.

Cindy stared at her food. “Do you always eat like this?”

“Like what?” He took another bite.

“Peanut butter and banana. Healthy and nutritious.”

“Never had this before. It's pretty good,” he admitted.

Suddenly she was really curious about his usual habits. “What's a normal dinner for you?”

“I grab takeout on the way home from the hospital. If forced to cook, it's a steak on the barbecue.”

“So you're doing this for me,” she said, indicating the fresh fruit and veggies.

“Yeah.” He crunched on a carrot. “It's the right thing to do.”

To some men “the right thing” in this situation would be marriage, but he'd never brought it up. Maybe because his wife had died. Was that why he didn't believe in love? Because it hurt when you lost that special person?

At least he was honest, and that was refreshing after the jerk who'd done nothing but lie to her. And Nathan was a nice man. It was incredibly difficult to work up a heart-healthy amount of resistance to him when he was nice.

“What are you watching?” He took a sip from the long-neck bottle of beer.

“I was channel surfing.” She wasn't sure why, but she felt the need to explain stumbling onto this old movie. “Came across this Steve McQueen, Natalie Wood picture.
Love with the Proper Stranger
.”

“What's it about?”

She took a big bite of her sandwich and savored the flavors mixing together. But the truth was that peanut butter did stick to the roof of your mouth and it took her a minute before she could answer the question. Long enough for the parallel between her life imitating movie art to become clear.

“It's a chick flick.” That should put an end to his curiosity.

“Steve McQueen usually plays a tough guy. Guns and car chases. Why is he standing in the middle of a crowd holding bells and a banjo with a sign around his neck that says, ‘Better wed than dead'?”

“You don't really want to know.”

“If I didn't, I wouldn't have asked.”

“Okay.” She looked at the happy ending silently playing out on seventy-five inches of screen. “They had a one-night stand and she got pregnant.”

“Really?” His expression said that he got the parallel.

“He's not the marrying kind but asks her anyway because
it's the right thing. And in the olden days it was quite the stigma for a woman to be unmarried and pregnant.”

“I actually know that.”

“She turns down the proposal. Stuff happens and when he gets to know her, he discovers that he can't live without her, but he's blown it big time. The bells, banjo and sign are very public, his grand gesture to prove he really wants to be with her. That he loves her. Very romantic.”

“I guess.” He set his empty plate on the coffee table. “If you believe in that sort of thing.”

“Someone must because romance is a moneymaker at the movies.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.
Titanic
was the highest grossing movie ever. Until recently.”

“The boat sinks. So what's your point?”

“Exactly that. Everyone knows the boat sinks. The only reason that movie was so successful is because there was a love story at the heart of it. No pun intended.”

“Is it possible that the special effects pulled in the public?”

“Some,” she admitted. “Did you see it?”

“Yeah.”

“Why do you suppose Rose as an old woman threw that expensive necklace in the ocean?”

“Dementia brought on by advancing age.”

She laughed. “That works. I just kept thinking if she didn't want it, she should give it to me. I could really use the money.”

“But if romance is the heart of the movie, that scene is symbolic. One could deduce that love makes no sense.”

“If you don't believe in love, far be it from me to try and convince you otherwise. It's not worth the argument.”

“Good. Do you mind if I put on a ball game?”

“It's your TV.”

And house. Love had no place in his life. She was grateful for the reminder because hanging out with him was fun but a bad idea. After what felt like an eternity of digging herself out of debt by herself, leaning on him would be too easy. It would also leave her vulnerable and with nowhere to hide.

However, since their one-night stand he hadn't made a single move on her. Maybe because she was pregnant, but more likely because he was so over her. That meant the attraction getting stronger for her was one-sided and made the obsession to fortify her heart just silly.

His lack of attention proved she'd been right about him losing interest when he got what he wanted.

Sometimes she hated being right.

 

Cindy sat in Nathan's family room with her feet up and looked at two of her three best friends, Harlow Marcelli and Mary Frances Bird. Whitney Davenport, a medical technician at the hospital, had to work because the lab was short-staffed. She was counting on her friends to fill her in on what the heck was going on.

The two who were present hadn't told her that, but Cindy knew. The four of them had met at the hospital's new-hire orientation. Though they all worked in completely different departments, the click of friendship had been instant. Since then, the other three women had pulled Cindy through heartbreak and the financial fiasco that followed. She'd been there for the others during crises of dating, declining parent health and anything else they needed. Now she had to explain to them the unexplainable—how she'd gotten pregnant and why she'd kept it to herself.

This morning Mary Frances had called Cindy's cell and demanded to know why she hadn't been at work. She
and Harlow had gone to her house, which, of course, was empty. They were worried. Cindy had given her Nathan's address and invited them over for in-person details. This wasn't a quick, cell-call kind of conversation. Nathan was at work and Shirley had gone to a candle-making class at the astrology store.

The time had come to confess all.

Cindy sat in the corner of the big, L-shaped sofa with her friends on either side of her. “So, how have you guys been? What's new?”

“That's what I'd like to know.” Mary Frances was a petite, auburn-haired Labor and Delivery nurse at the hospital. She and Cindy were the same size, and the fundraiser dress had been borrowed from her.

“Okay. Before we start, anyone want water, soda, juice or coffee? You guys hungry?”

“Yeah. For information. What is going on? Whose house is this? And when can I move in, too?” Mary Frances's blue eyes held equal parts of humor and confusion.

Harlow tucked a shoulder-length strand of shiny brown hair behind her ear. Green eyes that missed nothing were narrowed. “I think I can answer the who question. But the why is still a mystery.”

Mary Frances slid forward. The seat of the couch was so deep, if she scooted back, her legs stuck straight out in front of her. She lifted her hands in a helpless gesture. “Someone please start filling in the blanks because I'm clueless here.”

“This is Dr. Steele's house, isn't it?” Harlow tapped her lip. “Oh, wait, he asked you to call him Nathan.”