That Certain Summer (4 page)

She'd just dropped into a chair when a sandy-haired man came to the door, clipboard in hand.

“Margaret Montgomery?”

No rest for the weary.

“Here.” Val lifted her hand and stood to help her mother up. Despite her weight training and fitness regime, it had been much easier to get her mother up working in tandem with Karen.

Val was still struggling when the man in the doorway moved to Margaret's other side to assist.

“Let me help.” He glanced at her with a smile over the top of her mother's head.

She stared at him.

He had the greenest eyes.

And that little dimple in his right cheek . . .

“On three, okay?”

Val dipped her head to hide the telltale flush creeping across her cheeks. “Okay.”

Although she gave the effort her all, the man across from her did the lion's share of lifting, based on the impressive bulge of muscles below the sleeves of his T-shirt.

Once Margaret was on her feet, he gave Val an engaging grin. “Mission accomplished.”

“Thanks.”

“Not a problem.” He turned his attention to her mother and held out his hand. “Margaret, I'm David Phelps. I'll be working with you for the next few weeks.”

“How do you do?” Margaret took his hand. “This is my daughter, Val.”

The man smiled at her again. “Nice to meet you. Will you be staying for the session?”

“I can, but I'd hoped to do some grocery shopping.”

“There's plenty of food at the house.” Margaret scowled at her over the top of her glasses.

“I want to pick up a few other things.”

“No problem. Margaret and I will be fine by ourselves. Right, Margaret?” The man fixed his charming smile on the older woman.

Soft color suffused her mother's cheeks and she patted her hair. “Yes, I expect we will. You go along, Val. I can see I'm in good hands.”

Reprieved!

She grabbed her purse. “I'll be back in an hour, if that's okay.”

“That will be fine.” David took her mother's arm. “Once Margaret and I are finished, I'd like to spend a few minutes with both of you to go over her therapy routine.” He directed his next question to Margaret. “Do you have a walker?”

“No. I'm not an invalid. I just have this cane—and not for very long, I hope.”

“That's the spirit. If I had more patients like you, I'd be out of a job.”

Preen
was the word that came to mind as Val watched her mother flutter her eyes at David.

Amazing.

Chalk one up for the therapist's boy-next-door good looks and easy charm.

“You run along.” Margaret gave a regal, dismissive wave with her good hand. “We'll see you later.”

Val was out the door before her mother had a chance to have second thoughts.

And she took full advantage of her hour break. She downed a container of yogurt as she waited in the checkout lane, indulged in a latte at the coffee shop next door to the grocery store, and picked up enough fresh fruit, vegetables, whole-grain bread, and lean meat to last until the weekend.

By the time she returned to the therapy center with five minutes to spare, she was feeling much more relaxed.

No sooner had she settled in with a magazine, however, than David summoned her from the door of the waiting room.

“How did it go?” Val edged past as he moved aside to let her precede him.

The man had nice manners.

“We had a productive session. Your mother was very cooperative, and she has a lot of spunk.”

Val could think of many adjectives to describe her mother. “Cooperative” and “spunky” weren't among them.

“Mom can be pretty determined about going after what she wants.” It was the kindest thing she could come up with short of lying.

“That's a good quality—under these circumstances, at least.” He closed the door behind him.

“True. But to be honest, I'm a little surprised. I almost had to drag her here.”

“A lot of patients feel that way. Part of our job is to help them see the value of therapy, persuade them it will speed up their recovery.”

That argument might work with most people, but she was surprised it had swayed her mother. Speeding up her recovery meant less dependency. It meant her daughters wouldn't have to care for her with quite the same level of attention—and Margaret liked to be taken care of, sick or well. Why else would she have sold the car twenty years ago, after Dad died? She could have learned to drive, become more independent. She'd only been fifty. But no. She preferred relying on other people to take her places, then felt sorry for herself if they couldn't—or wouldn't. It fed into the long-suffering martyr complex she nurtured.

“You seem skeptical.” David cocked his head as he regarded her.

The man was perceptive too.

“On the contrary. I'm admiring your powers of persuasion.”

“And don't forget my charm.”

His comment might have been made in jest, but he
was
charming. She could see why her mother had fallen under his spell. Not that he was Val's type, of course. He was too wholesome, too all-American for someone like her.

Besides, she wasn't in the market for romance.

“Shall we join your mother? Third door on the right.”

He motioned down the hall, and Val preceded him, slipping into a chair beside her mother once they entered the tiny office. David took a seat behind a small desk.

“I did very well,” Margaret told her.

“That's what I heard.”

“Margaret certainly helped me get my new job off to a good start.” David flashed the older woman a smile. “I hope it's an omen.”

“You'll do fine.” Margaret leaned over and patted his hand. “David just moved here from St. Louis. I was his very first patient in Washington. He decided to leave the big city behind.” She arched her eyebrows at Val. “Some people appreciate the charms of small-town life.”

David looked from mother to daughter and changed the subject. “I'm going to give you some sheets that describe the exercises we did today, Margaret. Val, I want to be sure you understand them too, since you'll be supervising the program at home.”

For the next few minutes, he explained the exercise regime he'd developed. When he finished, he put the sheets in a folder and handed it to her. “Any questions?”

“It sounds straightforward.”

“Margaret? How about you?”

“I just hope Val won't be a hard taskmaster.” She sniffed and shot a dark look in her direction.

“A good coach pushes his or her players to the limit. That's their job. You thought you couldn't do one more rep today, yet you managed to pull it off with a little encouragement. You'll do fine with Val too. And I'll want a full report on Tuesday.”

“Could you go over that finger exercise once more? I think I may be doing it wrong.”

“Sure.”

While David worked with Margaret, Val looked around his office. Diplomas hung on the walls, and a shelf behind his desk
was filled with medical and exercise books bookended by two framed photos. One showed David with a beautiful blonde-haired woman who was holding a baby. The other was of a blonde girl about four or five years old who had David's merry green eyes and a captivating smile. She was the kind of little girl meant for tea parties, bedtime stories, and snuggling on your lap during a summer thunderstorm.

The kind of little girl Val would never have.

“Val! I'm ready.”

With a start, Val shifted gears. “Sorry. I-I was admiring the photo of the little girl. Your daughter?”

“Yes. Victoria. She's five.”

“Oh, such a lovely child!” Margaret leaned forward and adjusted her glasses. “What an angelic face!”

One corner of David's mouth hitched up. “Don't let the face fool you. She can be a handful.”

“Don't I know it.” Margaret gave a long-suffering sigh. “I raised two daughters of my own.”

“But I wouldn't change a thing, would you? Victoria's been such a blessing in my life—as I'm sure your daughters have been in yours.” Without giving her mother a chance to respond, he rose. “Well, my next patient awaits.” He came around the desk, and together they helped Margaret to her feet. “Don't hesitate to call if you have any questions between now and our next session.” His last comment was directed to both of them as he opened the door.

“We won't.” Margaret took a firm grip on her arm.

Val held out her hand. “Thank you again.”

As David's perceptive gaze connected with hers, the oddest feeling swept over her. It was almost as if he were looking straight into her heart, past her veneer of sophistication, and seeing far more than she wanted him to see. Stranger still, when his lean fingers closed around hers, his sure, steady grip seemed to say,
I care
.
You can trust me
.
I'm here for you
.

Talk about off-the-wall. What had gotten into her today?

Still, the impression lingered . . . and added to his charisma. Perhaps others picked up on it too. If so, it was a great skill to have in a profession that required him to motivate patients and push them beyond their comfort level.

Too bad he was married.

Not that it mattered, of course. Even if he was available, she wasn't.

With an effort, Val retrieved her hand and took her mother's arm. The trek down the hall was slow, but as she opened the waiting room door to usher Margaret through, she caught sight of David. He was still standing by his office, watching them. Raising a hand in farewell, he stepped back inside and shut the door.

The symbolism resonated with her.

Closed doors were the story of her life.

And she had no one to blame but herself.

David leaned against the door and took a deep breath. He did have another patient waiting. That had been the truth. But first he needed to jot down some notes about his session with Margaret—and collect his thoughts.

Because these past few minutes had been interesting . . . and intriguing.

Not so much in terms of Margaret. She was easy to read. The woman was a master manipulator—but he'd dealt with enough patients like her to know how to elicit cooperation.

Her daughter was another story. There were layers there, and deep, turbulent pools beneath the placid surface. Complexities and shadows and hidden corners, all safely concealed behind a beautiful face and great body.

And
safely
was the appropriate word. He'd be willing to bet most people never got past Val's physical beauty. Never delved deeper. Including her mother.

Pushing off from the door, he walked over to his desk, sat, picked up his pen—and turned it end-to-end on his desk instead of writing his session notes.

Margaret had referenced Val's theater and modeling background, so it wasn't surprising her daughter moved with grace and poise. Or that her body language suggested confidence, conveying the message that she was in control of her destiny and certain of her place in the world.

Yet her melancholy eyes told a different story—especially when she'd looked at the photos on the shelf behind him.

Swiveling in his chair, he studied the family photo, a familiar heaviness tugging at his heart. He might not understand Val's reaction, but he did understand the sadness of wishing for something that would never be. They'd looked like a perfect family, he and Natalie and Victoria. Yet something had been missing. When Natalie had held Victoria in her arms back in those early days, she'd never worn the soft, special expression he'd seen on Val's face a few minutes ago.

Of course Natalie had loved Victoria, in her own way. He'd never doubted that. It just hadn't been the way he'd always hoped his wife would feel about their child. And it certainly wasn't the way he felt. He cherished each day with his precious daughter.

His gaze shifted to the shot of Victoria. His daughter was adorable, and few people were immune to her charms. He'd often had patients and co-workers tell him he was a lucky man to have such a lovely daughter.

Though Val had left the words to Margaret, her eyes had spoken volumes. As she'd gazed at the photo, they'd been filled with longing. Easy to understand, since Victoria would appeal to the maternal instincts in any woman. But what was the story behind the sadness in their depths? The wistfulness?

It was as if what she longed for was beyond her grasp.

Why?

Sighing, he pivoted back to his desk and opened Margaret's
file. He couldn't take on the burdens of the world, solve everyone's problems, as Natalie had always reminded him when he'd made one too many commitments at church or to some worthy project in need of volunteers. And she'd been right.

Whatever Val's issues, he needed to steer clear of them.

Because he had more than enough challenges of his own trying to settle into a new life and a new job, all the while doing his best to play both mother and father to a little girl who had plenty of adjustments of her own to make.