to add. He didn’t want any of the people in town to be grateful to him. He didn’t deserve gratitude.
The solemn mood that had begun to descend over the diner when they heard about Warren’s death suddenly evaporated as Dan’s words sank in.
Not one to leave anything to chance or misinterpretation, Miss Joan asked, “Then you’re going to be our doctor?”
“Yes.” He wanted to add that it was just until another substitute could be found, thereby giving himself the escape hatch he so badly needed. But something prevented him. Maybe he didn’t want to leave himself open to endless attempts to persuade him to think otherwise. Or maybe, since they looked so happy to finally have a physician in their midst, he didn’t want to be the one to rain on their parade.
Whatever the reason, for the time being he kept his qualifying phrase to himself.
The moment Miss Joan heard the word yes, the redhead’s porcelain-fair face broke out in a huge smile that overtook her entire countenance.
“I see that selflessness runs in your family,” she pronounced.
The last thing Dan wanted was to be regarded in the same light as Warren. They were nothing alike. Warren was the good one, the saint. The one who had entered medicine only with the thought of easing pain and giving back.
Dan began to deny Miss Joan’s assumption—and to ask for the use of his hand back—but he never got the opportunity to do either.
Releasing her grip, the ginger-haired woman in the light gray and white waitress uniform managed to surprise him again by throwing her arms around him and enveloping him in a fierce bear hug.
“Welcome to Forever, Doc,” she declared, a slight catch in her voice.
If he didn’t know better, he would have said that he’d just crossed over to the other side, a place from which there was no return. As it was, an uneasy feeling rippled through him as Miss Joan continued to hug him, effectively pinning his arms to his sides. He didn’t like being put up on a pedestal. It only made it that much easier for him to fall.
To his surprise, Miss Joan whispered something against his ear. “Any time you get the urge to just talk, feel free to come on by—day or night,” she invited sympathetically.
For a moment he thought that this animated woman could sense that he didn’t have anyone to talk to about Warren. At this point in their lives, he and his brother had no more family left. Uncle Jason had died two years ago, leaving his rather considerable bank accounts to them so that they could continue to fund their educations. Jason Davenport, their father’s older brother, had taken them in when their parents had died in a plane crash fifteen years ago.
Now there was no family. And no girlfriend, neither his nor Warren’s, in the wings ready to murmur sympathetic words. Warren had been so focused on becoming the best doctor he could, he never made time for a social life. As for him, he’d been too busy going from woman to woman to try to create even a semidecent relationship. Sure, he’d had a boatload of friends in college and during his residency, but the only one he had ever been remotely close to, really close to, was Warren.
Without commenting on Miss Joan’s hushed offer, Dan separated himself from the woman only to find himself besieged by the people who had begun to close in on him when Miss Joan had first approached him. Without advanced warning, introductions suddenly came from all sides. People saying names he hadn’t a prayer of remembering.
But he offered a perfunctory smile and nodded as if absorbing each and every one of them. In his place, he was certain that Warren would have remembered every single one. His brother had been like that. Warren had a knack for names and faces. Not only that, but he could zero in on the individuality of each person he came across.
As for him, well, he was better at remembering pretty women. And even then, it wasn’t always a sure thing.
But this time, as names and greetings swirled around his head like bees swarming around a hive, while various people pumped his hand, Daniel found himself becoming progressively aware of the blonde in the background. She appeared to be quietly watching her friends and neighbors swirl around him. She seemed to have no desire to join in the swarming.
He was surprised that it had taken him this long to notice her. Rather than joining in the throng around him, she was perched on a stool at the counter, her body turned in his direction as if a detached observer to this little show.
Questions sprang up in his head even as he went on making automatic responses to the people around him.
Was she from around here?
He couldn’t put his finger on it, but Dan had a feeling that maybe she wasn’t.
Which brought up another question. Why would someone who wasn’t born here willingly come to this little burg? Was it a matter of penance, the way it was for him? Or was there another reason the blonde had been transplanted?
As far as he could ascertain, there was no military base in the area, so she wasn’t some serviceman’s wife forced to temporarily call this forgotten part of the state her home.
What was her story?
As he pondered the question and debated how best to work his way over to the blonde, Dan suddenly found himself looking into the face of a man who had the easy air of assumed authority about him. The man had on the same kind of uniform as the deputy who had brought him to this place. Something told him that this man wasn’t just another deputy.
And he was right. “I’m Sheriff Rick Santiago,” the dark-haired man told him as he shook his hand. “You need anything, have any questions, come see me and I’ll try to get you the answers and whatever else you might feel you need.”
The offer was a friendly one, sincerely tendered. There was no false air of bravado. What the sheriff said to him next cemented Dan’s initial impression.
“Nobody expects you to remember all these names,” Rick assured him. “It’ll all come together for you after a while.”
Dan forced a smile to his lips. He knew the sheriff meant well, but he had his doubts that he would remember half these names no matter how long he stayed here. And once he was back in New York, not just the names but the people as well would all become a vague blur to him in less than a week.
All except for the blonde, he amended.
The blonde had the kind of face and body that lingered on a man’s mind long after she was physically gone from the room. That would be especially true if they interacted before he left Forever.
Miss Joan seemed to read his mind. He hadn’t realized that she was still this close by.
Before he knew it, the woman had slipped her arm through his and drew him over closer to where the blonde was sitting at the counter.
“That’s Tina Blayne, the sheriff’s sister-in-law.” Turning her face so that only he could see her smile and hear what she had to tell him, she said, “You’ll probably be seeing a lot of her.”
Now how the hell did the woman know that? He looked at her, banking down his curiosity and only looking mildly interested in what Miss Joan was saying. “Oh?”
Miss Joan nodded. “Yeah. Because of her little boy, Bobby. Cute as
