Fated Hearts (10 page)

She eased by him. He wasn’t certain if she avoided contact because of her “condition” or if it was due to unwelcome lust. Maybe it was both. He closed the door and watched her visibly put her emotions in check while taking in the room. Her gaze fell on Dublin before she turned toward Carter, standing there in his old pair of basketball shorts. A thin stream of water ran down the back of his neck, rolled over his shoulder, and trickled down his chest. Henley stared. Hiding a grin, Carter grabbed his towel from the newel post and rubbed it over his dripping hair. Her eyes met his.

“Did you shower with your dog?”

“Yeah. Stupid went after a skunk and got the worse end of the deal.” He saw her gaze drop back to his chest. “Would you be more comfortable if I put on a shirt?”

“Yes. Yes, I would. Thank you.”

“I didn’t say I would; I asked if you would be more comfortable if I did.” Her expression made him laugh again. He grabbed a hoodie off the coatrack, pushed his arms through, and zipped it halfway. “Better?” She nodded; her body relaxed. Carter ambled toward the kitchen. “Can I get you something to drink? I don’t have wine, but I do have a beer.”

“Milk, if you have it.”

“Seriously?” He stared. She was a constant source of surprise. Since the night he’d slept on her couch, she’d been polite, friendly even, but she’d kept her distance. And he’d noticed that she hadn’t been alone with him. Her showing up here, unannounced, after dark and bearing cookies, intrigued him.

He’d never had a woman ask him to put on clothes or for a glass of milk.

“Cookies.” She shook the plastic container. It rattled.

“Oh. Right. Two milks coming up.” When he returned, she stood by his gallery of photos. He prayed she wouldn’t lift the downed frame. Then he noticed she held the newspaper clipping and relaxed. He sat on the sofa and set both glasses down on the coffee table. When she turned, he explained.

“Dublin was a stray on the mean streets of Philadelphia. Helping himself to any piece of booty and free meal presented. One night he wandered into an alley in Southwest. A few men were down, dead, another hemorrhaging blood from a bad leg wound and facing the wrong end of a bad man’s gun. Stupid decided to be a hero and attacked the gunman. The guy took off. Dublin sat watch over the injured man until police and paramedics arrived. Poor, furry bastard had his own injuries, not to mention suffering from malnutrition. But he wouldn’t leave his charge’s side. And the guy wouldn’t leave Dublin. They rode together in the ambulance. The news had a field day with it. Of course, he ended up in the county animal shelter. I heard people talking about it—cops gossip about as much as little old church ladies—how this brave mutt would be put down if he didn’t get adopted by week’s end. I couldn’t let that happen. I adopted him. The press was tipped off—and viola.”

Henley had sat stiffly on the edge of sofa, leaving a significant gap between them, but as he told her Dublin’s story—the edited version—she eased back into the corner. Now she leaned forward to pop the lid off the container and snagged two cookies, passing him one. She settled back with her glass and her snack. “What happened to the bad guy?”

“Police officers picked him up in a local emergency room that same night, seeking treatment for bite wounds.” Her smile made her beautiful. He’d seen her polite grin, occasionally, but other than dinner at the Gaels, she didn’t genuinely smile without reservation. Dublin had eased closer to them, pouting because he wasn’t allowed on the couch with wet fur, but hoping for a cookie nonetheless. Henley leaned down and caressed his head.

“Brave boy,” she murmured.

Carter had been wary of his attraction. There was more to her story than what she’d told him; the cop and the man sensed it. He wasn’t sure he was able to carry someone else’s problems in addition to his own, so he’d been happy with the friendship they’d been developing. And nothing else. But seeing her there on his sofa, eating cookies and milk, relaxed and cooing to his dog … Well, he wouldn’t be content with the status quo. He wanted to know the woman Dr. Elliott hid from the world. From herself.

“Are you available?”

She tensed. “Pardon me?”

He must be a sadist because he found her uptight “doctor mode” as appealing, maybe more so, than the rare appearance of approachable Henley.

“Are you involved with anyone on an intimate basis who would prevent you from considering entering into an intimate relationship with someone else? Namely, me.” Her mouth fell open. He smiled. “I’m asking if I should pursue you, Henley. If I may.”

“I’m not seeing anyone. But you still shouldn’t.”

“Because of the touch thing?”

She bolted from the sofa, her body jerking as if she were a puppet on strings. “My sister is marrying in less than two weeks.”

“That was random, Doc.”

“I’m trying to explain why you shouldn’t.”

“Because your sister is getting married? Sorry, but I’m not following. Are you trying to tell me you’re leaving town? Are these resignation cookies?” He grabbed another and dunked it in his glass. The calmer he remained, the better.

She gasped and nearly shouted her no.

“That’s a relief. So, are you asking me to escort you to the wedding? You’re not giving me much notice, and a family engagement such as that is a heavy first date. And that doesn’t take into account plane tickets, getting time off for both of us, or the uncomfortable hotel room situation. But that’s not a rejection. I like weddings.”

“For crying out loud, this isn’t a joke.”

He assessed her emotional state. She had abandoned her perch on the sofa to pace in short, jerky circuits around his living room. Her hands kept moving, the fingers twisting together. Whatever was going on with her family, it had her mixed up. Maybe this was what brought her to his door. And making light of it wasn’t the right tack.

“I’m sorry. I see now that it’s not.”

“I didn’t know she was in a committed relationship, let alone engaged. I’m not invited to the wedding.” He attempted to protest, but she held up her hand and he closed his mouth. “She admitted it outright when I called to confront her. Said my mother knew she didn’t want me there but told me about the wedding anyway. My mother is worried about appearances, but she doesn’t really want me to come back any more than Michelle does.”

“Do you want to go?”

“I … I don’t know. That’s part of my problem. I’m mad, and I’m hurt. I should be curled up in a ball sobbing, right? And it makes me freaking sad that I can’t shed a tear for them. I was so pissed in the moment, I went out into the woods after talking to them, and I got lost. Tala found me, led me home. By the time we got to the cabin, I was okay. I baked cookies.”

“All your training tells you that you should be emotionally crippled by their attitude, so you’re thinking … what? That you’re dysfunctional because you’re not?” She didn’t answer, but Carter thought that was it. “Sorry, but that’s crap. Your family has something wrong with them, if you ask me.”

“I ruin everything.” Her quiet declaration didn’t make sense. And his heart broke for her. But he said nothing. “I had a good childhood. Sure, we weren’t as demonstratively affectionate as other families, but we were happy. I was loved, and I knew it. The four of us were close. When I came out of the coma, I … ” She struggled with her next words. “I had a hard time. Emotionally. And a new ability that made it more difficult for me to handle my feelings because they weren’t all mine, not that I understood that. My parents didn’t understand, at all. They had me committed. The doctors gave me a lot of drugs. And that dulled the ‘touch thing,’ as you called it. But I didn’t want to be a zombie. I checked myself out. With therapy I learned important coping techniques. But how do you not touch your mother? Hug your father?

“I felt my sister’s anger and her envy. I was forced to share my father’s disgust and my mother’s sorrow. They didn’t believe me when I tried to explain. They still don’t. I get the sense from all three of them that they blame me and are embarrassed by me. My loving family isn’t  loving anymore. And I worry that they never were.”

“You distanced yourself from them to protect your own heart.”

“And my sanity, yes.” She sat. “For years, I was separate. I went back to school to finish my undergrad degree, switched my major to premed. I went on to medical school, specializing in psychiatry. Later, I kept busy. I built my practice, donated my free time.”

“You tried to make them proud of you again.”

“I … yes. Yes, I guess I did. I hadn’t thought of it that way before. But you don’t understand where I’m going with any of this.”

“Yes, I do. You think you’re providing evidence as to why I shouldn’t pursue a relationship with you. What I don’t understand is why you think you’re at fault. You’re not responsible for the actions, decisions, and emotions of other people. And you learned how to heal yourself not once, but twice. I admire you. You underestimate your own strength.”

He reached in for another cookie. The silence was contemplative and comfortable. She inclined her head. “I didn’t notice you had music playing. Who is this?”

“You’re pulling my leg, right?”

She shook her head and grabbed a cookie.

“This is Patsy Cline.”

“Her voice is beautiful. She manages to sound both melancholy and hopeful.”

“I have eclectic taste in music. If you looked at my CD collection or my iTunes library, you’d find a range of artists from every genre of music. How about you?”

“I don’t listen to music often. My parents provided me with an appreciation for classical composers when I was young. Studies support the use of chamber music for therapeutic measures. I kept it on, in the background, in my office every day for myself as well as my patients. But I don’t have any strong attachment to it. Books are my passion.”

“I like to read Maggie’s stuff.” He ignored his twinge of embarrassment.

“I’m a big fan.”

“Dr. Elliott reads romance novels. Interesting.”

“I told you about my ability. You didn’t blink. You haven’t mentioned it to me or anyone else that I can tell. Why?” The abrupt question suggested she’d been mulling it over. The good doctor had a lot on her mind these days.

“Not in the habit of spreading people’s personal business.”

“That’s not what I mean. Do you believe me?”

“I’m good at spotting a lie. Professional byproduct. You weren’t lying when you told me about your ability.”

“So you believe that I believe what I said. Which isn’t the same as you believing it. Doesn’t it support the theory that I’m not sane?”

“I don’t think anyone is. It’s like trying to define normal. There are degrees of crazy, and everything is relative.” He shrugged and scooted closer. “And no matter what I do or don’t believe, I can’t deny something extraordinary occurs each time we touch.”

“The finger thing, at dinner a couple weeks ago, was that an experiment?”

“Of a sort.” He shifted his weight. “I’m attracted to you, Henley. You haven’t asked, but I’m not currently seeing anyone else. And you haven’t exactly turned me down. Or said you’re not interested in me, too.”

She bit her lip, which drew his attention to her mouth. On her first day as dispatcher he’d asked her what would happen if they kissed. He wanted to test the theory. Damn it, he wanted to kiss her. Carter leaned in, his eyes on hers. Henley’s eyes widened in awareness as she released the lip she held between her teeth on a tiny gasp of what he thought might be surprise, perhaps desire. But then those big, brown eyes that he thought might swallow him whole narrowed. She stood, abruptly, her body tense but with what—anger, frustration, indignation—he couldn’t guess.

“It occurs to me that we had a deal, Sheriff. I tell you mine, you tell me yours. At this point, the balance of power is greatly unbalanced. I’m not counting the story of how Dublin saved your life.” He started. “Yeah, wasn’t that hard to conclude. Trained psychiatrist, remember? Call it a professional byproduct, if you like. Regardless, it’s getting late. I’m going home.”

He jumped to his feet as she walked toward his door. “You’re forgetting your cookies.”

“Those are for you. I have more at home.” She paused with her hand on the knob and nodded decisively. “Home. I like that. Thanks for giving me a shoulder.”

After the door closed, he handed Dublin a cookie and took a bite of his own. “She’s a smart one, Dubs.”

After sitting for a couple of minutes, considering, Carter realized he hadn’t heard her car door close or her engine start. He pictured her standing outside in the gloom, debating whether she should come back. She thought a lot. He wanted to take her out of her head. Wanted to see her in the throes of a response more powerful than her intellect. With a cocky grin spread across his face and more than a little aroused, he strode to the door. She was where she’d been a few hours earlier, standing on his stoop, her hand raised to knock. His greeting died on his tongue. Her face was pale, as though she’d seen a ghost.

“My tires have been slashed.”

The entire town talked about it. Henley didn’t need to be a native of the Cove to interpret the looks she received. She hated the whispered attention. She could imagine people at the diner, their faces gleeful over a plate of meatloaf special, gossiping about how the new dispatcher was out at the sheriff’s place late Sunday evening and, as if that wasn’t scandalous enough, an unknown person slit her tires.

She felt her muscles tense the further down Main Street she walked. She regretted not asking Maggie to drop her off at the sheriff’s office. An unfamiliar internal voice accused her of overreacting. Henley scanned the immediate area. More than one person averted their eyes. Instead of the expected rush of vindication, her instincts were to lower her head and walk faster, as though she had something to hide. Thankfully, her pride wouldn’t allow that. She kept her head up and her pace even until she entered the sheriff’s office. When the door closed, she rested against the wall, closed her lids, and loosed a gusty sigh.

“Are you okay?”

Doug’s hesitant question made Henley’s eyes pop open. She’d thought she was alone. The blessed anonymity she had enjoyed in this quaint town was gone, and she wanted to wallow. Instead, she tucked her thoughts away and smiled reassuringly.