young man playing the fiddle screeched to a halt, but before Michael could reply, he heard Jillian’s silvery laughter.
There she was, standing by the kitchen sink with an apron around her waist. While he’d been getting an ulcer on his midnight tour of the camp, she was having a party.
The trade-off seemed wrong in the extreme.
“Heya, Michael.” Ike sat at the picnic-style dining table with the shotgun propped beside him. “You tracked us down.”
“Good evening, Ike.” Michael flipped off the flashlight. “I dropped by your place, too, looking for my beautiful bride.”
Jillian wiped her hands on the dish towel and joined him. “Widow Serafine, this is my husband, Michael.”
“The dentist,” said the woman with the unusual name, eyeing him with an approving smile.
He nodded. “I take it we have new caretakers.”
“In fact, we do.”
Given Jillian’s thorough screening process, he hadn’t expected this problem to be solved anytime soon. But when she introduced the younger generation of the Baptiste family, he thought the group seemed a nice enough bunch.
After exchanging greetings, Widow Serafine motioned him inside the kitchen. “Are you hungry, Dr. Michael? Marie-Louise whipped us up a welcome feast. You need to sit yourself down and get some before it’s all gone. Got growing boys around here.” She eyed Ike, who rubbed his stomach appreciatively.
Michael hadn’t ever seen Ike smile that widely, and his own stomach growled, recalling how long it had been since lunch. Casting Jillian a sidelong glance, he gauged her mood while deciding whether to deal with the issue between them now or wait until later when they were alone.
One way or the other, he’d better address his tardiness.
Since her honey-gold eyes didn’t give him a clue to what was happening behind them, he decided on the path of the least resistance.
Pressing a kiss to her cheek, he said, “Sorry, Jilly. I almost made it out the door on time.”
“What happened?”
As much as he hated to admit it… “Thought I had enough time to dictate a few of my patients.”
“You fell asleep.” Not a question.
Widow Serafine shot a curious glance between them. “You need some coffee then, don’t you, Dr. Michael?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer before she was gesturing to her granddaughter. “Put on the pot, Marie-Louise. We could all do with some waking up.”
With a nod, the dark-haired teenager busied herself at the counter. Widow Serafine ushered Michael to a seat at the table. He helped himself to a feast of shrimp, buttery oysters and a rice dish seasoned with bell peppers and green onions.
The great meal made up for the lousy start to the night. He ate while listening to Jillian, Ike, Widow Serafine and the boy Raphael discuss the various tasks to be accomplished to ready the camp for the summer campers. From the conversation, he pieced together the talents the Baptistes brought to the table.
Widow Serafine clearly reigned like a queen over her younger generation, and Michael felt his first hope that Jillian might actually pull off this stunt and survive the first season.
“I’M NOT MAD,” Jillian told Michael, not slowing her stride as they made their way back to the camp office.
But that wasn’t true. Still, several hours spent with the Baptiste family and Ike, discussing the various jobs to be accomplished during the next few weeks, had alleviated some of her unease about the Baptiste family’s unorthodox hiring.
And her concern about running this camp without reliable support from Michael.
“You look mad,” he persisted.
Jillian knew he felt guilty for being late. He wanted reassurance but, unfortunately, she was just tired enough, and angry enough, not to give him any. Why should she put forth more effort than he? She’d wanted his help tonight, but he hadn’t been available.
“Let’s let it go, Michael, please,” she said. “It’s been a long day for us both. I’m not up to this conversation right now. I have caretakers in place. That’s really all that’s important.”
If the man was smart, he’d cut his losses, but apparently good Creole food had dulled his senses.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
Jillian took a deep breath. The rational part of her mind reasoned he only persisted because he felt bad. Michael didn’t ever like to let her down—when he realized he was letting her down, of course.
But somewhere along the line, their priorities had gotten confused. Their relationship had taken a back seat to dental school, then his practice. Jillian didn’t mind caring for the day-to-day things that kept their routine running smoothly. But on the rare occasions she asked for help, she thought Michael should step up to the plate.
Camp Cavelier proved they weren’t even playing in the same ball field.
A part of Jillian understood. Michael had devoted himself heart and soul to getting through school and establishing his practice so they could live a comfortable life. She’d supported him unconditionally because she’d wanted that, too. But they were living a very comfortable life.
So when would their relationship come first?
They’d discussed the situation numerous times, but didn’t seem to be managing any changes.
She was beginning to think they never would.
And as Michael walked beside her, waiting expectantly as if he’d deserved another reminder to show up tonight, Jillian couldn’t help but question how many reminders she was obligated to provide. Two? Four? Why couldn’t one be enough?
Along with those questions came a niggling voice in the back of her head, a voice that jogged her memory about all the times she’d reminded him and he’d forgotten anyway.
She’d found a lump in her breast and just last week had gone in for a mammogram. Michael still hadn’t asked about the outcome. She’d been just busy enough since then, and annoyed enough, not to volunteer the information.
She didn’t think he’d ever notice.
“I didn’t see the point in calling,” she said matter-offactly. “The clinic phones would be on the answering service, and I knew you wouldn’t have your cell phone on.”
“You didn’t try?”
“No, I didn’t.”
Such simple words, but his frown told her he heard everything she wasn’t saying aloud.
If my wishes had been important to him, he would have shown up on time without another reminder.
That truth hung in the air between them, the weight of disappointment so tangible and real.
