Where There's Smoke (8 page)

"I had no way of knowing.
 
She never gave me her name, and I didn't ask.
 
I didn't recognize her from the pictures I'd seen.
 
That all happened .
 
. . what?
 
five, six years ago?"

He hated himself for babbling excuses, knowing full well that the damage had been done and that Jody wasn't going to forgive him no matter what he said now.
 
So he took another tack and asked, "What the hell is Lara Porter doing in Eden Pass?"

"Does it matter?"
 
Jody asked brusquely.
 
"She's here.
 
And you're to have nothing to do with her, understand?
 
By the time I get finished with her, she'll tuck tail and slink out of town the same way she slunk in.

"Until that time, the Tacketts and anybody who wants to stay on speaking terms with us are to treat her with nothing except the contempt she deserves.
 
That includes you.
 
That especially includes you.

She jabbed her cigarette toward him to make her point.
 
"Have all the sluts you want, Key, as I'm sure you will.
 
But stay away from her."

Key immediately went on the defensive and raised his voice to match his mother's.
 
"What are you yelling at me for?
 
I wasn't caught humping her, Clark was.

Jody rose slowly to her feet and leaned on the table, bearing down on her younger son over bottles of catsup and Tabasco sauce.
 
"How dare you speak that way about him.
 
Don't you have an ounce of decency, a smidgen of respect for your brother?"

"Clark," Key shouted, rising and squaring off against Jody across the table.
 
"His name was Clark, and what kind of respect do you pay him by not even speaking his name out loud?"

"It hurts to talk about him, Key."

"Why?"
 
He rounded on Janellen, who'd timidly made the comment.

"Well, because .
 
because his death was so untimely.
 
So tragic."

"Yes, it was.
 
But it shouldn't cancel out his life."
 
He turned back to Jody.
 
"Before he died, Daddy saw to it that Clark and I shared some good times.
 
He wanted us to be close in spite of you, and we were.

God knows Clark and I were poles apart in everything, but he was my brother.
 
I loved him.
 
I mourned him when he died.
 
But I refuse to pretend that he didn't exist just to spare your feelings."

"You aren't fit to speak your brother's name.

It hurt.
 
Even now it cut him to the quick when she said things like that.
 
She left him no recourse except to lash back.
 
"If he was so bloody perfect, we wouldn't be having this conversation, Jody.

There would never have been a Lara Porter in our lives.
 
No bad press.

No scandal.
 
No shame.
 
Clark would have remained the Golden Boy of Capitol Hill."

"Shut up!"

"Gladly."
 
He shoved the crutches under his arms and headed for the back door.

"Key, where are you going?"
 
Janellen asked in a panicked voice.

"I've got a doctor's appointment."

Defiantly he glared at Jody, then let the door slam behind him.

Lara had spent a restless night.
 
Even under the best of circumstances she wasn't a sound sleeper.
 
Frequently her sleep was interrupted by bad dreams and long intervals of wakefulness.
 
She listened for cries that she would never hear again.
 
Sorrow was the basis of her habitual insomnia.

Last night, meeting Key Tackett had made sleep particularly elusive.

She had awakened with a dull headache.
 
Encircling her eyes were dark rings, which cosmetics had helped to camouflage but hadn't eliminated.

Two cups of strong black coffee had relieved the headache, but she couldn't cast off the disturbing thoughts about her late-night caller.

She hadn't believed it was possible for any other man to be as attractive as Clark Tackett, but Key was.
 
The brothers were different types, certainly.
 
Clark had had the spit-and-polish veneer of a Marine recruit.
 
There was never a strand of his blond hair out of place.

His impeccably tailored clothes were always well pressed; his shoes shone like mirrors.
 
He had epitomized the clean-cut guy next door, the all-American boy whom any mother would love her daughter to bring home.

Key was the type from whom mothers hid their daughters.
 
Although just as handsome as Clark, he was as dissimilar to his brother as a street thug to an Eagle Scout.

Key was a professional pilot.
 
According to Clark, he flew a plane by instinct and put more faith in his own judgment and motor skills than he did in aeronautical instruments.
 
He relied on technology only when given no other choice.
 
Clark had boasted that there wasn't an aircraft made that his brother couldn't fly, but Key had opted to freelance rather than work for a commercial airline.

"Too many rules and regulations for him," Clark had said, smiling with indulgent affection for his younger brother.
 
"Key likes answering to no one but himself."

Having met him and experienced firsthand the compelling allure of his mischievous smile, Lara couldn't imagine Key Tackett dressed in a spiffy captain's uniform, speaking to his passengers in a melodious voice about the weather conditions in their destination city.

Sitting in cockpits a great deal of the time had left him with attractive squint lines radiating from his eyes eyes as blue as Clark's.
 
But Clark had been blond and fair.
 
Key's eyes were surrounded with thick, blunt, black eyelashes.
 
He was definitely the black sheep of the family, even in physical terms.
 
His hair was thick and dark and as undisciplined as he.
 
Clark had never sported a five o'clock shadow.
 
Key hadn't shaved for days.
 
Oddly, the stubble had contributed to, not detracted from, his appeal.

The brothers were fine specimens of the human animal.
 
Clark had been a domesticated pet.
 
Key was still untamed.
 
When angeredor aroused Lara imagined he would growl.

"Good morning."

She jumped as though she'd been caught doing something she shouM feel guilty for.
 
"Oh, good morning, Nancy.
 
I didn't hear you come in."

"I'll say.
 
You were a million miles away."
 
The nurse/receptionist placed her handbag in the file case and put on a pastel lab coat.

"What happened to the telephone in the examination room?"
 
She had come in thrcugh the back door before joining Lara in a small alcove where they kept supplies, beverages, and snacks.
 
The kitchen of the attached house remained for Lara's personal use.

"It was flimsy, so I decided to replace it."

Because she hadn't yet sorted out her feelings about Key Tackett's visit to the clinic, she wasn't ready to discuss it with Nancy.

"Coffee?"
 
She held up the carafe.

"Absolutely."
 
The nurse added two teaspoons of sugar to the steamng mug Lara handed her.
 
"Are there any doughnuts left?"

"In the cabinet.
 
I thought you were dieting."

Nancy Baker found the doughnuts and demolished half of one with a single bite, then licked the sugar glaze off her fingers.
 
"I gave up dieting," she said unapologetically.
 
"I'm too busy to count calories.

And if I dieted from now till doomsday, I'd never be a centerfold.

Besides, Clem likes me this way.
 
Says there's more to love."

Smiling, Lara asked, "How was your day off?"

"Well," Nancy replied, smacking her lips, "all things considered, it was okay.
 
The dog's in heat, and Little Clem found a pair of his sister's tap shoes, put them on, and wore them all day long on the wrong feet.

When we tried to take them off, he screamed bloody murder, so it was easier just to let him wear them and look goofy.

Tapping feet I can live with, screaming I can't."

Nancy's stories about her chaotic household never failed to be entertaining.
 
She complained good-naturedly about her hectic routine, which revolved around three active children, all of whom were going through a "stage," but Lara knew her nurse loved her husband and her children and wouldn't have traded places with anyone.

Nancy had responded to an ad Lara had placed in the local newspaper, and Lara had hired her after their first interview, partially because Nancy was her sole applicant.
 
Nancy was well qualified, although she'd taken time off from nursing to have Little Clem two years ago.

"Now that it's time to potty train him," she'd told Lara, "I'd rather go back to work and let Granny Baker do the honors."

Lara had liked her instantly and was even a little jealous of her.

She'd had chaos in her life, too, but it hadn't been the crazy, happy kind that Nancy experienced daily.
 
It had been the life-altering kind, the kind that wounded and left deep scars.
 
Her calamities had been irrevocable.

"If it weren't for Clem," Nancy was saying as she finished her second doughnut, "I'd have killed the dog, possibly the kids, too, and then pulled my hair out.
 
But when he came home from work, he insisted we drop the kids at his mother's house and go to dinner by ourselves.
 
We pigged out on Beltbusters and onion rings at the Dairy Queen.
 
It was great.

"After Little Clem went to sleep, I hid the tap shoes in the top of the closet so he wouldn't be reminded of them today.
 
This morning Big Clem dropped the dog off at the vet, where she'll either get laid or spayed.

By the way, if they've got a willing sire available, do you want dibs on a puppy?"

"No, thanks," Lara said, laughing.

"Don't blame you.
 
"ll probably be stuck with the whole damn litter."

She washed her hands in the sink.
 
"I'd better go check the appointment book to see who's coming in today."

Both knew that the appointment book wasn't filled.
 
There were far more empty time slots than confirmed appointments.
 
She had been in Eden Pass for six months but was still struggling to increase her practice.

If she hadn't had a savings account to fall back on, she would have had to close the clinic long before now.

Greater than the financial considerations were the professional ones.

She was a good doctor.
 
She wanted to practice medicine . although she wouldn't necessarily have chosen to do so in Eden Pass.

Eden Pass had been chosen for her.

This practice had been a gift handed to her when she least expected it, though it facilitated a plan she'd been formulating for some time.
 
She had needed a viable excuse to approach Key Tackett.

When the opportunity to place herself in his path had presented itself, she had seized it.
 
But not without acknowledging that being the only GP in a small town would be a difficult transition for her.

She had also known it would be an even greater adjustment for the townsfolk who were accustomed to Doc Patton and his small cluttered office in the clinic.
 
She had earned the diplomas now adorning the walls.
 
The medical books on the shelves belonged to her.
 
But the office still bore the former occupant's masculine imprint.