Penelope (26 page)

Chest puffed out, Mark rounded the bench.

“Wait,” Ancy said, “the—”

Mark went down just as fast as she had.

“Wax.” Now it was Mark’s turn to scramble out of Steve’s embrace. His expression was less than pleased.

“Are you okay?” She rushed to inspect his hand, but Steve beat her to it.

“Why don’t you go ahead with your next patient, Ancy?” He gestured toward the mess on the floor. “I’ll make sure this gets cleaned up before someone gets hurt.”

Without so much as a shoe-squeak or a swish of her skirt, Doris was back. “Is something wrong?”

Ancy glanced at her watch and saw she was running six minutes late. “Just a little spill. Steve’s taking care of it.” She turned to begin her next session.

“One moment, Ancy.” Doris unfolded her arms. “I’ve rearranged a few schedules. Steve will be working with Mark from now on.”

Had Ancy’s face fallen off? Because if it were still attached, she’d be able to feel it, right? She bit her lip, which had gone numb. Or wasn’t there. Who knew?

“All right.” No! Not all right. It would’ve been so perfect—if it were anyone but Steve. She looked at Mark, who was standing again. “Well, I guess that’s it, then. Take it easy with that hand.”

“Yeah, I will.” He slid his gaze sideways, and she couldn’t read his emotions. “See you around.”

One foot, then the other. Each step she took put space between Steve and her, but the distance had no effect on her out-of-control pulse. How could he have thought for even an instant that the two of them could work together? Even apart, they were like two sticks of dynamite with a single fuse.

His coming back had lit the fuse.

She wasn’t sure she could make it through the rest of the afternoon without being a danger to the patients. Why had he come back?

She made her way across Outpatients and picked up the chart for her last patient of the day. “Mr.…” First name, Donald. Last name, Fu—there was no way she was calling him
that
!

The man turned his head, and a smile creased his face. “It’s all right, you can just call me Donald.”

She forced a weak smile. “Well, Donald, let me take a look at your elbow.” She asked him all the regular questions, and ascertained that although he didn’t play tennis, he’d given himself tennis elbow by overdoing it with a screwdriver. To remove any doubt, she pressed firmly on the joint line.

Don’t think about Steve, just do your job.

“Yaaaaah!” Donald jerked his arm away.

“It’s a little tender, isn’t it?”

Donald’s brows drew together. That was when she noticed the color of his eyes. The irises were ice blue, rimmed with indigo, and looking into them made her heart give a sudden lurch. She’d seen those eyes before, but only in pictures of her father—and in the mirror.

Get over it, sweetheart, you have to stop seeing your father in every blue-eyed, middle-aged man.

She laid a hot pack on Donald’s elbow. Well, she got it on his elbow after dropping it on his foot, because her hands were functioning at around 30 percent. Not that they’d been injured, it was just that she was shaking and couldn’t seem to hold on to anything. He should have just stayed away. She’d almost gotten her life back together, and it was falling apart all over again.

“Young lady, you look as though you could use a kind word.” Donald’s tone was gentle. And he had at least thirty or forty years on her—loads of life experience. Why not?

“Can I ask you for some advice?” She removed the heat from his elbow and gently rubbed her fingers across his damaged ligaments to align the scar tissue.

“What’s on your mind?”

Steve. Steve was on her mind. And the way she’d broken it off with him, telling him she’d needed time to figure out how she felt. He was gone the next day. For the next few months, he called every day. Then their phone conversations grew further apart. After he stopped calling, she’d thought he wasn’t going to come back. His number didn’t work anymore. She’d thought she couldn’t count on him.

But he did come back.

“Well, I made a promise to… a friend, and now I can’t keep it.”

“That puts you in a difficult spot, doesn’t it?” At her direction, Donald flexed and then extended his arm. “Perhaps if you explain your dilemma to her, she’ll understand.”

She? Okay, she could work with that. “What if she doesn’t?”

He leveled his gaze at her, the disconcerting blue of his eyes—there was no way her long-lost father would suddenly show up as a patient, was there?—intensifying his solemn expression. “A real friend will try to understand.”

When she thought about it for a minute, she decided he could be right. Of all the things she’d shared with Steve, the fact that they’d been friends their whole lives, at least until the last six months, had to count for something.

“I’m glad we talked. I feel better.” Ancy jotted down some instructions for Donald to follow for the next few weeks. “Now I know it’s hard, but you have to rest that elbow. And don’t be afraid to ask for help next time you want to build something—we all need a hand sometimes.”

He thanked her, and she watched him walk away. It would’ve been nice having a father who loved her enough to stick around. Not having one really stunk. Turning away, she banished thoughts of her deadbeat dad. Life was what you make it, right? And Donald had given her some great advice.

Okay, all she had to do was explain to Steve that she wasn’t going to get back together with him. Of
course
he’d understand. So she wasn’t ready to get married last year—if he was as ready as he thought he was, he wouldn’t have given up on her after just six months. What was she supposed to do? Any woman would’ve fallen for Mark and his gorgeous eyes and the way he gave to the community. Working with Habitat for Humanity said something about a man’s character, right?

Once Mark’s injuries healed, she could relax. Department head would be hers. And her dream, the one that had always seemed too far away to reach for—maybe it wasn’t as impossible as she’d thought. Not for a department head. Things were looking up.

Ancy said good-bye to Jen and grabbed her purse from her locker. Then she saw the shopping bag hanging beside it.
The Ultimate Wedding Planner.
When she’d bought it on the way to work that morning, she’d thought it would banish all her wedding anxiety, streamline the planning process, and leave her free to concentrate on work. Hugging the book close to her chest, she leaned her head against the bank of lockers. The man she’d loved. The man she loved now.

She would not think of the way she used to feel about Steve.

She wouldn’t.

Yeah. Not working.

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