experience. Valerie didn’t know how much credence to put in what he was saying. Marriage was the farthest thing from her mind at the moment. Obviously, marrying Colby was out of the question. And—without even noticing—she’d lost interest in the idea of a relationship with Rowdy Cassidy.
“She gave me twelve reasons to live,” her father announced sleepily. “Twelve very good reasons.”
Valerie recalled that Norah had said something about the number six. She couldn’t imagine why her father was speaking in figures all of a sudden.
“Twelve reasons,” Valerie echoed, then leaned forward to kiss his cheek.
Her father’s eyes fluttered open and he grinned boyishly. “Yup, my grandchildren. You, my darling Valerie, are going to give me three. All within the next few years.”
Six
“When’s the last time you spoke to your father?” Colby asked Valerie when she arrived at the hospital the next morning, carrying an armful of apple blossoms for the nurses’ station. He seemed to be waiting for her, and none too patiently.
She sighed, realizing what must have happened. “I take it Dad told you about his experience in the Garden of Eden?”
“It was the Garden of Eden?”
“Figuratively, I suppose.”
“So you know, then,” Colby muttered. A hint of a frown flickered across his expression.
“Look at it this way—at least Dad’s given up his matchmaking efforts.” Valerie had assumed Colby would be happy about that, so his reaction puzzled her.
His scowl deepened. “He apologized for even making the suggestion.”
“See, what’d I tell you?” Valerie said, her mouth quirking with a smile. “We’re both in the clear.”
Apparently, this wasn’t what Colby wanted to hear, either. “He also claimed you’d be married before the end of the summer—and that you’d present him with three grandchildren.”
“In the next few years. It looks like I’m going to be busy, doesn’t it?” Valerie hadn’t taken her father’s announcement too seriously; he’d had some kind of pleasant hallucination, and if it made him feel better, if it gave him a reason for living, then that was fine. She’d go along with it, although she wouldn’t actively encourage him.
Besides, it was highly unlikely she’d marry anytime soon, and even if she did, she had no intention of leaping into this motherhood business. Marriage would be enough of an adjustment. She enjoyed children, and naturally assumed she’d eventually want a family, but definitely not in the first year or two following her marriage.
“Did he say who you’re supposed to marry?”
“No. He wouldn’t tell Norah, either, although he seemed to enjoy letting her know she’s going to have six kids. Three boys and three girls, if you can believe it. You don’t really buy any of this, do you?”
His mouth twisted into a wry grin. “That would be ridiculous, only. Never mind,” he finished abruptly.
“No, tell me.”
He shrugged, clearly regretting that he’d said anything. “Another patient of mine, an older woman, had a near-death experience. It was all rather … strange.”
“She came back thinking she knew who her children would marry and how many grandchildren she was going to have?” Valerie asked sarcastically.
“No.” Colby threw her an annoyed glance.
“What happened then?” She was curious now, unable to disguise her interest.
“She seemed to know certain things about the future. She—predicted, I guess is the word—certain political events. She wasn’t entirely sure how she knew, she just did.”
“So what was that all about?”
Colby obviously wasn’t comfortable outlining the details of his patient’s experience. “She didn’t have any more than an eighth-grade education, and she’d never taken much interest in history or politics. But after that near-death phenomenon, she was suddenly able to discuss complicated world problems with genuine insight and skill. She didn’t understand it herself, and I didn’t have any medical explanation to offer her. The whole thing was as much a mystery to me as it was to her.”
Until then, Valerie had to admit, she’d found her father’s experience somewhat … entertaining. She’d been willing to tolerate it, since whatever had happened had been very real to David. This “dreamtime” with her mother had given his life a new purpose, and she was grateful for that, if nothing else.
“What are you saying?” she asked Colby.
“I don’t actually know.”
Suddenly none of this seemed quite as amusing. “Dad insists I’ll be married before the end of the summer.”
“He told me the same thing,” Colby said. “About you, I mean.” He paused. “Is it likely? I mean, is there someone back in Texas you’ve been seeing on a regular basis?” He clasped his hands behind his back and strolled slowly down the corridor. “Someone other than this person you were hoping to start dating soon?”
She puffed out her cheeks, debating how much to tell him about Rowdy Cassidy. “Not really, but …”
“Go on,” he urged.
“My boss, Rowdy Cassidy.” She shifted the spray of apple blossoms, conscious of their heady aroma in the antiseptic-smelling hospital corridor.
“The owner of CHIPS?”
Valerie nodded. “I’ve never gone out on a formal date with him, although until recently we saw each other nearly every day. We’ve often traveled together, and attend business dinners together. It wasn’t until I got here and Dad started talking about you and me marrying that—well, Rowdy seems the natural choice for me. He’s as dedicated to his career as I am and … we get along well.”
“He’s a wealthy man. Prominent in his field.”
“Yes.”
Colby clenched his jaw as though he disapproved.
“Do you know something about Rowdy that I don’t?”
“I’ve never met the man. Everything I know about him I’ve read online or in the papers. But from all outward appearances, the two of you should be an ideal couple.” His words were indifferent. Then without saying anything else, he turned and walked away from her.
“Colby,” Valerie called, once she’d recovered from her initial surprise. She hurried after him. “What’s wrong? You’re acting like I’ve done something to offend you.”
“I’m not angry,” he said, his voice low. His gaze held hers with a disturbing intensity. “I remember what you said yesterday about wondering how we were going to say goodbye. I was just thinking the same thing. I don’t
