Vivid (15 page)

"Dr. Lancaster, are you at
home?"

Vivid's musings were abruptly interrupted
by Abigail calling her through the screened door.

Vivid greeted her, then pushed the door
aside so she could enter.

Abigail held her ebony cane in one hand
and a covered plate in the other, which she handed to Vivid. "This is for
you, dear. You missed supper."

Vivid thanked her, then set the offering
on the table. Vivid hadn't gone up to the house that evening because she hadn't
had much of an appetite.

Abigail walked over and sat in one of the
stuffed chairs. While Vivid ate from the plate filled with green beans,
potatoes, and ham, Abigail seemed content to sit quietly in the deepening
shadows. Dusk had given way to the first clear black of night.

Vivid ate in silence and when she finished
everything on her plate, she realized how hungry she really had been.
"Thank you, Miss Grayson. You seem to know more about what I needed than I
did."

"You're welcome. I expect you at our
table every evening from now on, young lady, and call me Abigail or Gail."

Vivid nodded with a smile.

"So how did you fare with Caroline
and the coven? I've spoken to Nate, but I'd like to hear your view."

Vivid told her about the afternoon tea and
even confessed the details of her awful piano performance. She finished by
saying, "So whenever a male patient is in the office, your nephew must be
in attendance also."

"You and he aren't getting along very
well yet, are you?"

"Yet?" Vivid chuckled
sarcastically. "Ever seems to be more the word. I lay this whole mess
directly at his door."

"Nate said as much."

“No disrespect intended, Abigail, but your
nephew is a very trying man."

Abigail sounded amused as she said,
"That is the truth, but we love him in spite of that fault. You will, too,
eventually."

Vivid stared, "Excuse me?"

"Oh, dear, I mean that in a
neighborly sense. My nephew, for all his faults, is a splendidly caring man. He
wouldn't be heading this town if he weren't."

Fortunately for Vivid, the darkness
shrouded her skeptical expression. "Did he also tell you about the men
refusing to see me, and maybe keeping away their wives and children?"

"It's all over town. It's probably
fortunate Caroline gave her approval, otherwise she might have lined up on the
side of the men. But don't worry, it's mainly the men we always have problems
pleasing, the men born outside the Grove. Nate hasn't declared one way or the
other. Adam Crowley, damn his wooden head, is raising a stink also, but only
because I'm involved. He's an influence here and should know better."

Vivid wondered when she'd meet this Adam
Crowley.

"So, Viveca, in the face of all that
has happened today and all that will undoubtedly happen before things become
normal, what do you plan to do?"

“This afternoon I had serious doubts about
myself and where my dreams might be headed; however, the longer I sat here and
thought about all the women who've come before me, the more I realized that
they succeeded because they refused to give up. This community needs a doctor.
I am that person. I'm here to stay and I will fight to practice."

Abigail applauded. “Bravo, my dear. I told
Edna you wouldn't run. One day I'd like to meet your mother. She must be an
extraordinary individual to raise such an outstanding young woman. Bravo!"

Vivid grinned under the ringing
endorsement. "Do you have any suggestions as to how I might bring these
men over to my side?"

"I wouldn't worry about them for now.
If the situation becomes serious, we'll implement a plan, but until then you
just go on about the business of settling in and introducing yourself. Most
folks are smart enough to see the light."

They then discussed Vivid's plans for the
office. Abigail offered to assist any way she could and also suggested that
Vivid take Magic along to help with the cleaning. She even promised Magic's
mouser, Cleopatra, to deal with any vermin.

Vivid thought the idea a splendid one. She
enjoyed Magic's company and decided it might be an opportunity for the two of
them to become better acquainted.

Abigail stood with the assistance of her
cane and strode to the door. "I will leave you now, Dr.
Lancaster—"

"Please call me Viveca."

"Thank you, I'd like that. And
Viveca, don't worry. Next year this time, you'll have proven yourself, and
everyone will be trying to remember what the fuss was all about."

"Thank you, Abigail."

"You're welcome. Get some rest
now."

"Abigail?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell your nephew I
was female?"

Abigail chuckled softly. “Because, dear,
although my nephew is one of the most intelligent men I know, he's still a man.
He would have given me all the silly reasons why a female would be unsuitable.
I am the only Grayson female in many generations and I'm accustomed to having
my way. We needed a doctor. I reviewed your credentials and found you
qualified. I've also learned it is far better to beg forgiveness than to seek
permission in some situations, and you were one of those situations. Does that
answer your question?"

Vivid grinned. "Yes."

"Then again, good night."

Vivid watched her walk across the grass
until she disappeared into the night.

T
he predawn chill in the cabin gave Vivid goose flesh as she left
the warmth of her bed. It had been hot as blazes for the past few days, but
this morning felt like San Francisco in January.

The wood floor was cold and Vivid made a
mental note to buy rugs soon. She hastened into her robe and pulled on her
boots. Then she picked up the bucket and headed outside to the Graysons' pump.

A brisk wind greeted her the moment she
stepped onto the porch, whipping at her clothes so unexpectedly, only her quick
hand kept them from flying up around her thighs. Laughing, she held her
clothing as best she could then went about her business.

The breeze felt fresh, invigorating, so
much so that she set down the bucket and turned her face to the wind. It rushed
over her, filling her with its sounds and vitality, and evoking fond memories
of being young. She and her sisters had always been very imaginative, and for
the longest time Jess had Vivid believing that if she closed her eyes,
stretched out her arms, and concentrated, the wind would make her fly. Vivid
hadn't flown in many years. She took a quick glance around and, fairly
confident she wouldn't be seen at such an early hour, she released her hold on
her robe, then slowly extended her arms.

"What the hell is she doing?"
Nate whispered in amazement as he stared down at Viveca Lancaster from his
bedroom window. She stood with her arms stretched out, slowly twirling in the
wind. Then she stopped, held her robe wide, and let it unfurl around her,
becoming a sail in the breeze. The thin, loose-fitting gown she wore
alternately clung to her then fluttered outward. The capricious breeze blew the
hem to her knees, then undulated it higher, affording him a startling look at
her dark, slender legs in a pair of black Western-cut boots just before her
hand clamped the gown down again.

His arousal was immediate.

If he had any sense he'd move away from
the window and forget what he'd seen, but she called to him like a siren, and
he'd already become ensnared.

He watched as she resumed her slow twirls.
Her hands held the robe wide again and it blossomed. She dipped it, then lifted
it, making it ripple high, then low. She had all the enchantment of a wind
sprite come out to play, and as Nate watched the breeze mold the gown tautly
against her breasts and thighs, he discovered yet another facet to this dark
jewel. This innocently sensual display proved a woman did dwell within the
no-nonsense, serious doctor. Only a woman with a deep well of passion would be
out taking pleasure from the kisses of the wind.

Vivid knew she should pump her water, but
the wind felt so invigorating and so glorious she let herself enjoy it a few
moments longer. Truth be told, she wished at the moment to be on a deserted island
where she could safely shed every stitch of clothing and feel the wind as
nature had intended, on her bare back, her arms, her legs, her thighs.
Decidedly unladylike thoughts, but Vivid didn't care. She felt free.

"Good morning, Dr. Lancaster."

Vivid spun at the sound of Nate Grayson's
voice. Fighting the wind for possession of her clothing, she stared aghast.
Where on earth had he come from? More importantly, what had he seen? Judging by
those smiling smoke-dark eyes, plenty. "Um, good morning, Mr. Grayson.
I...came out for some water."

"So I see."

At least he hadn't been able to read her
last scandalous thoughts. Or had he?

He reached down, picked up the bucket, and
without a word strode over to the pump.

Dismayed, Vivid followed.

He set the bucket below the spout. She
tried not to stare as he undid the buttons of his cuffs and rolled the sleeves
up past his elbows, but her eyes were instantly drawn to the beautiful
structure of his arms. Watching the ebb and flow of the sculpted mahogany
muscles as he pumped the handle made her begin a mental recitation of muscle
names and tendon groups just as if he were a model in her anatomy class. Her
fascination gave way to contemplating the muscles in his back and shoulders,
and she wondered if they were as finely molded as the rest.

Shocked by her thoughts, she tore her eyes
away. Definitely unladylike. When she glanced back she found him watching her
with a gaze that made her throat suddenly go dry.

"Do you often play in the wind?"
he asked.

Vivid swallowed. She no longer felt the
wind or heard the rustle in the trees. There was only his gaze and her own
pounding heart. "Uh, no, not usually, at least not since I've been
grown." She sensed she was babbling so she stopped talking. She also
realized that she was developing an attraction to this man, and that startled
her.

"Do you need me to carry this back
for you?" he asked, pointing to the full bucket.

"No," she said, shaking her
head. "That won't be necessary, thank you."

She took the bucket from his outstretched hand.
"I...should be going."

He nodded.

Vivid headed back to the safety of her
cabin feeling his eyes following her every step of the way.

After washing up and getting dressed,
Vivid coiled her hair into a knot and secured it low on her neck. She tried not
to think about Nate Grayson and this morning's incident. "He probably
assumes you've lost your mind," she told her reflection in the glass
hanging on the wall. Her behavior hardly fit a woman wanting to be taken
seriously, and she knew he would take great pleasure in pointing that out as
soon as the opportunity arose. That she found him attractive was not an
admission she took pride in. Nate Grayson had proven to be stubborn and
opinionated. He had openly voiced a disbelief in her abilities. Such attributes
hardly qualified him as a "catch" in a mama's book of eligibles, but
here she stood attracted to a man she had as much business being drawn to as a
goat had going to school, to quote her father.

Yet by the time Vivid left her cabin and
walked across the yard for breakfast with the Graysons, she'd convinced herself
that her attraction could be directly attributed to the residual weariness of
her cross-country journey. She was tired. Were she properly rested, she would
not be contemplating the deltoids and pectorals of a man she'd known less than
five days, not even one as strikingly handsome as Nate Grayson; either that or
she'd contracted the ague.

Vivid had breakfast with Abigail and
Magic. Nate had already departed for town. He'd left instructions that she
could retrieve the keys to her new place from him at his office.

After the meal, they all headed into town
along with Cleopatra.

When they arrived, Vivid tied the buggy to
the post outside her new office while Abigail and Magic went off to Miss Edna's
store to enlist her help with the cleaning. Vivid then strode to Grayson's
office. She walked in and found him standing near a black-bellied stove pouring
a cup of coffee from a battered pot. He looked up at her entrance. "Mr.
Grayson, I've come for—"

Those were the last words Nate heard. As
she stepped further into the office he took in her full attire and lost all his
senses. He stared, speechless, at the denim trousers encasing the lower half of
her body. He'd seen other women in such male attire but he'd never been so
affected. The trousers displayed the lean, lush line of her hips, tempted him
with the enticing structure of her legs, and evoked the memory of seeing them
bared by that morning's wind. On her feet were the boots he'd seen beneath her
gown. He gave them, and the long-sleeved, red plaid shirt she wore, barely a
glance other than to note the shirt appeared to be a few sizes too large,
because his eyes kept returning to her denim-shrouded legs. In fact, the sight
held him so absolutely riveted he didn't realize he was still pouring coffee
until the hot liquid spilled over the cup and onto his hand. With a loud curse
he quickly set down both pot and cup and shook his injured fingers.