“How does that feel?” he asked.
“Fine. You do good work, doc.”
He huffed a disbelieving breath. “Hopefully you won’t get gangrene. Want me to help you to the sofa and turn on the TV?”
“Sure. I could watch something, I guess.”
He started to help her to her feet when he heard a knock on his door.
“Geez, Breen,” she said. “Aren’t you a card-carrying hermit?”
He frowned. “I thought so, but it’s a bit like Times Square around here this morning.” He went to the door and opened it to a rather large woman with a heavy winter coat and a scarf around her frizzy gray hair. She held a basket in her hands.
“Oh, it’s you, Delores,” he said.
She thrust the basket toward him. “Scones. Just made ’em warm from the oven.”
He hesitated. “Take them,” she ordered. “I can’t eat a dozen scones.”
No one could, he thought. But maybe Carrie could help. He glanced at Carrie. Her bright eyes told him that Delores’s English accent might have mistakenly indicated that the woman actually knew how to make a good scone. Wait until Carrie tasted one. She’d learn soon enough that accents do not automatically hint at good bakers.
He raised the cloth around the biscuits and pressed on one with his thumb. Yep. Dry and hard as ever. “Thanks, Delores.”
She stuck her head inside the cabin, looked around, spied Carrie and said, “Hello there, darling. I heard Keegan had some company.”
“That makes you, Duke, Flo and me who know about this arrangement,” Keegan said, nodding at Carrie. “This is Carrie. Carrie, Delores. Now all the people that matter know that I have company, and I don’t see any reason to tell anyone else.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you implying that I’m a gossip?”
“Ever since you invested in a cell phone,” he said.
“Why are you trying to keep this lovely young lady a secret, Keegan? What have you got up your sleeve?”
“Nothing but my arm,” he said attempting to close the door and send a clear message. But Delores was too quick for him and had apparently just noticed the walking boot on Carrie’s leg. She was inside and removing her scarf before he could step out of her way.
“Oh, my, you poor dear,” she said, casting a disapproving glare at Keegan. “You didn’t do this to her, did you?”
His jaw dropped. “You know, Delores, I should start charging you rent. Sometimes your conclusion jumping is just too much!”
Carrie quickly came to his defense. “I had a car accident. Keegan has been a perfect gentleman and a fairly good nurse. In truth, he more or less got stuck with me after pulling me out of a snowbank.”
Delores patted Carrie’s hand. “Well, that’s fine, then. He could use a little company in this place. I live just out back in the yellow unit by the tree line. If you need anything, just open the bedroom window and holler. I’ll hear you.”
Carrie smiled. “Thanks, but I’ll be okay. I’m only here temporarily until my car is fixed.”
Now she was staying until her car was fixed? When would that be? A couple of days? A week?
“I’ll be on my way, then,” Delores said. She rewrapped the scarf and headed for the door. As she left, she called back, “Ta-ra, then, see you cozy couple later.”
One glance at Carrie’s round eyes confirmed that she had heard the comment.
When he’d shut the door on the latest visitor, Keegan set the basket of scones on his table and grumbled. “Neighbors. Never liked ’em. Never will.”
Carrie responded as casually as her telltale grin allowed. “Except one you risk your life for to get his medicine. And the other you let live here rent-free.”
“They both live here rent-free,” he grudgingly admitted. “They sort of came with the property when I moved in.”
She nodded slowly. “I see. Then what choice did you have?”
Not much. And when the property sold, he thought, both of those decrepit trailers and their nosy old residents would have to go. And he sure wasn’t taking them with him.
* * *
THE CLOSEST CARRIE had gotten to fresh air on this first full day of confinement had been when she stuck her head out the kitchen window. Ordinarily she never went a full twenty-four hours without being in the open, communicating with the trees and plants she loved so much. But unwilling to test her walking boot in the snow, she’d had to settle for a deep breath of cold, crisp Ohio winter air from the windowsill. Cold almost didn’t describe the outside temperature. Frigid, freezing, approaching zero was more accurate.
Her decision to test the environment had almost caused an asthma reaction. When she felt the first signs of laboring lungs, she quickly drew her head back inside and closed the window. Bitter cold temperatures were not kind to asthma sufferers, which was why Carrie had recently made plans with the US Forest Service to send her for the worst of the winter to Tennessee where the temperatures were fairly moderate. Now, of course, with this broken bone, she might have to reconsider.
So, as darkness settled around the cabin, she thought about her future. If she didn’t go to Tennessee on her next assignment, and if she didn’t go back to Michigan where temperatures could be almost as severe as Ohio’s, what would she do? Swallow her pride and go home to Dancing Falls where her father would pamper her until she felt like a near invalid?
While she was growing up, her father had constantly checked the outside temperatures to determine if his youngest daughter could go out and play. If the thermometer dropped below thirty-five, she was bundled in a snowsuit, mittens and a hat. And still her father watched from a window.
And he wondered now why Carrie had chosen to work in nature and a lifestyle that allowed her to choose for herself when she could go outside. Independence was a wonderful thing, and the Fosters had encouraged all their daughters to be independent, even if their teaching backfired occasionally. The Forest Service had been an understanding employer, allowing Carrie to move assignments according to climate changes. But her father still believed that he, and only he, knew best.
Blocking the low drone of the television, Carrie continued thinking about her father. She loved him dearly. He was sweet, caring and brilliant. His current life was divided between his career and his responsibilities to his ill wife. And yet he still found time to fuss over Carrie. Every phone call, every visit was always punctuated by questions on her health, reminders to take medicine, gentle urges to get her to come home. And she couldn’t convince him that she was fully capable of making her own choices and monitoring her health. She didn’t even want to think of his reaction to her foolish decision yesterday. Embarking on a five-hour trip in a snowstorm had not been such a good choice, as it turned out.
How different her life would have been if her mother, Maggie, were still the vibrant, funny, sensible woman who’d raised the girls into early adulthood. She would have understood Carrie’s need to be herself, her striving for normalcy
