The Back-Up Plan (18 page)

“Donna.” Patty touched her shoulder.

“Hmm?”

“Why don’t you let me take you home?”

“Can’t,” Donna mumbled. “I have to check the files and equipment.”

“It’s the middle of the night,” Patty urged. “We can do that in the morning.”

“I have to make sure everything is secure.” Donna shook her head and sighed. “The drug cabinet. The files and equipment.”

“I’ll help you.”

“No, you and Sam take care of the kids. I’ll do this.” Donna rubbed her pounding forehead. “I couldn’t sleep, anyway.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

Patty gave her a hug. “It’s going to be fine, sis. Don’t you worry.”

“I know,” Donna muttered, but it was a lie. It wasn’t going to be all right at all.

Patty and Sam disappeared along with the firemen and policemen. The near darkness brought a welcome change after the pulsating lights of the emergency vehicles. When she closed her eyes, Donna could still see the sickening throb of lights. The dread that had overwhelmed her when she and Hank arrived at the clinic had now collected in the pit of her stomach.

With a borrowed flashlight in hand, she set into the task of ensuring that the vital contents of the clinic were secure and undamaged. Hank worked alongside her, all the while telling Donna how an intensive clean-up and a fresh coat of paint would undo most of the damage.

Hours later the sound of a cordless drill intensified the dull ache in the back of her skull. She would bite her tongue off before she would complain. Hank had gotten some lady out of the bed at three o’clock in the morning to open the hardware store so he could purchase a deadbolt. The firemen had damaged the lock, as well as part of the door, to gain access to the clinic. Hank knew Donna felt uncomfortable about leaving it vulnerable, so he’d gone above and beyond the call of duty to take care of it.

Try as she might she couldn’t help considering that when someone or something seemed too good to be true, it usually was. She hoped with all her heart that Hank Bradley was the exception to that rule since sometime during the horrifying night she had fallen for him a little more.

Finally she slumped into a chair and closed her eyes. She didn’t care if it was wet and sooty, she was so very tired. Why did life have to be so hard? The electrician had warned her that the electrical system needed more work. She had intended to take care of it—in time. Donna dropped her face into her hands. No way could she afford to pay for the needed repairs up front. Waiting for the insurance could take weeks. She didn’t have weeks. Every day the clinic didn’t operate, she went further into a financial black hole. Tears streamed down her cheeks anyway. She cursed herself for being so weak.

“Hey.” Hank crouched in front of her. He lifted her chin and brushed at the tears. “It’s not so bad.”

She bit her lower lip to quell the flow. He made getting through this night possible. “I know,” she muttered, her breath catching like a sobbing child’s. “I...I just don’t know how I’ll manage to get all this repaired fast enough. If I’m not open…”

Hank put his arms around her and held her close. “Let me take you home. You need some rest,” he whispered. “There’s nothing else you can do here right now.”

Donna took a long, shaky breath. Hank was right. What else could she do? She nuzzled against his neck. Covered in soot, Hank smelled of smoke and sweat and that enticing scent that was his alone. His arms were strong and comforting.

“Take me home,” she murmured against his shirt.

Hank kissed the top of her head and pulled her to her feet. As they left the devastated clinic he locked the new deadbolt behind them.

A faint glow in the East signaled sunrise. Donna took a deep, cleansing breath of fresh air and slid into the passenger seat of his car.

Daylight crept across the rooftops as Hank pulled into her drive. They walked to her door in silence. She had left in such a rush that she hadn’t even locked up. She swung the door open, stepped across the threshold and turned to face him. She was too vulnerable right now to deal with anything else. Not even the man who had helped her make it through the night. She needed to be alone. To sort through the sudden overwhelming mess her new life had become.

What did one do when the back-up plan failed?

“Thank you.” Donna lifted her gaze to his. Concern stared back at her. She raised a tentative hand to smooth away the traces of soot from his beard shadowed face. A thread of tender emotion tied itself around her heart and tightened. Hank Bradley was undoubtedly the sweetest man she had ever known, even if he was a jock.

He dropped a light kiss on her cheek. “Get some sleep.” His knuckles brushed softly across the spot he had just kissed. “I’ll call you later.”

Donna nodded. Tears gathered, more from his sweetness than the morning’s disaster. She shut the door behind him and trudged up the stairs. Her entire body verged on total shutdown. She needed the relief deep sleep would bring, though she doubted she would come by it naturally. Passing through her bedroom, she stripped off the sooty clothes and dropped them to the floor.

She searched through her medicine cabinet until she found the prescription of mild tranquilizers she kept for emergency use only. “This,” she muttered to her reflection, “is definitely an emergency.”

She ducked her head under the faucet for a swallow of water to wash it down. She swiped the back of her hand across her mouth and moved to the shower. With the faucet set to warm, she climbed in and let the water spray down on her. Steam rose around her as she lathered her hair with a generous portion of shampoo. Water and lather flowed and trickled over her skin. Those minutes in the locker room haunted her. The feel of Hank’s mouth on her breasts. The sound of his voice. The sweet, wet taste of his skin. The painful images from the clinic invaded…tore at her heart. But Hank was there, taking care of everything…taking care of her.

Fresh tears surfaced and spilled past her lashes. How had things changed so much so fast? Donna sagged against the water-slicked wall and let the salty tears flow. Everything was so complicated now even without the fire. The simple, bland life she had planned had vanished in a flash of black hair and blue eyes. The future looked so uncertain—hinging on the actions of a third party. How could she have let herself fall so hard and fast for this man?

She had learned six years ago not to depend on anyone else. All these years, she shook her head in weary resignation, she had taken care of Melissa and herself. She had been extra careful not to allow anyone or anything to tip the scales until now.

Now her life was out of her control again—just like before. Her happiness and the happiness of her child were dependent on another person—Hank Bradley. Her heart wanted so to trust him completely. But could she...really? Part of her trusted him already. But one, small fearful part of her heart still held out. If only she hadn’t moved here. Then she wouldn’t have met Hank. He wouldn’t have had the chance to become so important to her or to Melissa. But events in Denver had left her little choice.

Donna had seen the files, her own name among those used in the deception. Insurance fraud. Dr. Grayson was into it up to his eyeballs.
Everyone does it
, he’d insisted.
How do you think we maintain this luxurious practice?
But Donna couldn’t pretend and look the other way, so she had testified against her partner. Tossed everything she had worked so hard to achieve and never looked back. She hadn’t gone into medicine to break the law. She’d wanted to make a difference.

Her sister had insisted that coming to Huntley would give her that opportunity. The area was under served from a medical standpoint. Here Donna could be a vital part of the community. The money didn’t matter, the people did. Her own child did.

Donna shut off the water and stepped out onto the bath mat. Rehashing the past was pointless. She toweled herself dry and partially blow-dried her hair. The sedative had taken effect and her legs felt a bit like Jell-O. She pulled on her robe, padded to the bed and slid between the cool sheets. God, that felt wonderful.

She would figure some way to salvage the clinic…and her new life. Maybe even this thing with the coach was worth fighting for.

Maybe
.

~*~

Somewhere a telephone rang. Donna jerked awake. The telephone on the night table rang again. Still groggy, she reached for it, knocking it off the table. She tumbled to the floor in a heap of tangled bed covers, digging for the receiver.

“Hello.”

The dial tone greeted her. Somewhere else in the tangle of linens her cell erupted into a jangle. Donna groaned and tossed the receiver aside and dug for her cell. She snatched it from under the bed and stabbed the accept call button. “Hello.”

“Hey, sleepy head, are you up?” Patty, sounding far too chipper.

“Yes,” Donna lied. She tried to shake the grogginess and to pay attention to her sister’s voice.

“I checked on you a couple of hours ago and you were dead to this world.”

“What time is it?” Donna turned to the digital alarm clock on her bedside table.

“Two-thirty,” she and Patty said in unison.

Donna sprang to her feet, staggered, and steadied herself. “I’ll be right over to pick up Melissa.” Pangs of guilt gnawed at her for leaving her child so long in Patty’s care. Stumbling, she extracted herself from the jumble of bed clothes.

“Don’t come right now. Melissa and the girls are baking cookies. Besides, you need to get over to the clinic.” Patty sounded entirely too upbeat.

“What’s the point?” Donna jerked a pair of jeans and a sweater from her bureau.

“You’ll see when you get there,” Patty said mysteriously. “You can pick up Melissa later.”

“What’s going on, Patty?” Donna juggled her cell between her shoulder and her ear as she tugged on her jeans.

“You’ll see,” her sister hedged. “I smell cookies. I have to go. Catch you later.”

“Give Melissa a kiss for me,” Donna said quickly before her sister could hang up.

She shoved her cell into her back pocket and searched for the telephone base in the tumbled mass of linen. She righted the base and receiver then tossed the covers back onto the bed. After pulling on a sweater, she slipped into her loafers. Before rushing out the door she ran a brush through her hair and gargled to get the bad taste out of her mouth.

Downstairs, she grabbed her keys and headed for the car. Two minutes were required to drive the short distance to the clinic, mostly because she didn’t trust herself to go more than five miles per hour.

“What on earth?” she muttered as she pulled into the crowded parking lot. What were all these cars doing here?

She emerged from her car and headed for the clinic entrance. The door—the
new
door, she noticed after a double take—swung open and a teenage boy sauntered out.

“Hey, Doc,” he called as he passed on his way to a shiny black sports car.

A flicker of recognition hit Donna as she watched him getting into the car. Football player. He was on Hank’s team. She couldn’t remember his name, but she knew his face.

“Hi, Dr. Jacobs.”

Donna’s eyes shot back to the door in time to see Erica, Melissa’s sitter, exiting. Erica swept past Donna carrying an empty paint bucket. Lines of sand-colored paint runs streaked the manufacturer’s label.

“Didn’t have enough.” Erica raised the empty bucket to indicate she meant paint. She headed across the street to the hardware.

Donna tried to make sense of what was happening, but her brain just wouldn’t work.
Drugs
, she thought ruefully.

She opened the clinic’s new door, uncertain of what she would find. Her mouth dropped open when she entered the building. The place teemed with activity. Teenagers were everywhere. Some stood on ladders painting trim. Others used extensions to roll paint on the walls. Still others sat on the floor painting baseboards. Drop cloths covered anything that didn’t need painting.

She looked up. The ceilings were blessedly white again. Amazing. Donna wandered down the hall. Even the charred area in the hall ceiling was in the process of repair. In each room the scene was much the same. The clean scent of new paint had all but replaced the odor of smoke. Donna found Hank in her office, cleaning as if the health inspector was about to descend at any moment.

“I’m sure this will sound like a dumb question,” Donna said, announcing her presence. “But, what’s going on here?”

Hank whirled to face her. “Hey, Doc.” He dropped his cleaning cloth and made his way around the displaced furnishings. He touched his lips to hers. The brief contact sent her pulse into overdrive.

“After I dropped you off this morning, I decided to deal with the situation.”

Donna read the hesitancy in his gaze. He was hoping she would be pleased. She surveyed the newly painted walls, the color an exact match to the previous one. “Somewhat presumptuous of you to deal with it without asking me first, Coach.” Donna leveled her gaze on his, holding back the grin that tickled her lips.

“I’ve been known to be presumptuous on occasion.” Sparks ignited in his blue eyes and the uncertainty disappeared.

“So I’m told.”

“It’s my biggest flaw,” he added, moving a step closer to her.

Donna threw her arms around his neck and hugged him fiercely. “You’re too good to be true.”

“I’m whatever you want me to be,” he murmured, his strong embrace restoring her strained emotions.

“Yo, Coach!”

Hank loosened his hold on Donna enough that she could turn in his arms to see who had spoken. Dodd. She recognized the team’s quarterback.

“Yo, Dodd,” Hank echoed.

“All the painting’s done except a little more in the lobby.” Dodd winked at Donna. She responded with a wide grin.

“Great,” Hank praised. “As soon as we get the furniture and equipment washed down, we’ll call it a day. I can clean the floors tomorrow when the paint’s had a chance to dry.”

“Gotcha, Coach.” Dodd acknowledged with a sharp salute.

Donna shook her head in astonishment. “I can’t believe all this.” She turned in Hank’s arms and looked up at him in wonder. “Where did the paint and all this other stuff come from?”