Grace seems to have a particular interest in you, so giving up is not an option.”
“Maybe I just don’t care. Look, I’ll call her and let you off the hook. Last I heard, I have the right to decline medical services.”
“No.”
That earned a snort of irritation. “And why not?”
White knuckling his cane, he slowly turned back to face her. The lines of tension bracketing his mouth and sheen of perspiration on his forehead betrayed just how much the movement cost him.
She’d tried polite professionalism. She’d tried challenging his pride. Now, she could only bare her heart. “Because you are too young to live like this, with a disability that we can fix. You have too much to offer this world.”
Pain flickered in his eyes. “And what would you know about that?”
“Well, you obviously have a medical degree. You could be doing some good around here. We have so few doctors in this county—and the ones we have are retiring left and right. Wouldn’t it be better to work again, instead of just moping around this place?”
“I’ll never go back into medicine again.” His voice was harsh. “It’s time for you to leave.”
“Then…try to get better just for yourself. Take away some of the pain you live with every day.”
A muscle ticked along the side of his jaw as a tense silence lengthened between them.
“Why,” he asked wearily, “does this matter so much to you?”
“Initially it was because my boss insisted, but now you’ve become the biggest challenge in my caseload, Dr. McLaren,” she admitted. “And I cannot fail. You need help, and I need a job—right here in Pine County.”
The hard line of his mouth softened. “And why does that matter? There’s a big world out there.”
She locked her gaze on his, willing him to give her a chance. “Family reasons. Important reasons.”
“You are one stubborn woman,” he said on a long sigh.
And with that, she knew she’d won. She tried to contain a grin of victory, then simply gave up. “One of my most endearing traits.”
“Yeah. Endearing.” He eyed her with renewed suspicion. “We’re talking about next week or the week after. Right? Not today.”
“You’re on my schedule for Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays at four-thirty—”
“Three times a week?” A pained look crossed his face.
“For starters. We’ll cut back gradually as time goes on.” She looked at her watch. “But we’ve already used up a good part of your time and I can’t stay late today, so maybe we can start your assessment on Monday instead.”
A wry look flashed in his eyes. “Big plans, tonight?”
“With the two most important men in my life.”
He blinked at that. “Good. Then you can be on your way.”
He gripped his cane and slowly crossed the distance from the outbuilding to the cabin, the stiff set of his shoulders and awkward gait belying his effort to walk with an even stride.
Her heart caught at what that effort cost him, and she had to stop herself from moving to his side to help. “You won’t be sorry, Dr. McLaren. This is the first day of a new life for you. I promise.”
He was already sorry, and that rust bucket of an old car of hers hadn’t even made it down the lane to the highway.
If it hadn’t been for that humiliating incident at the grocery store, he would not have capitulated. Ever.
He’d certainly fallen before on his home turf. Had felt weak and helpless and useless.
But that incident in public, with a gaggle of shrieking teenagers surrounding him and a motherly store clerk murmuring comforting platitudes in his ear more suited for a three-year-old with a scraped knee, had been the final straw.
He deserved an eternity of penance for what happened to his wife. He had probably deserved to die with her. But to be on the floor, helpless and pathetic and dizzy, the object of pity, wasn’t something he wanted to experience ever again.
And then there was Sophie herself.
Today, her expression of concern and gentle insistence had made him want to rebelliously refuse. Yet something about that sprinkling of freckles over her pert nose and the hint of humor dancing in her eyes had made him want to get to know her a lot better, too.
Because of that and more, he was back to wavering; not wanting her coming back here for deeper reasons than he wanted to think about.
But he didn’t have her cell number, and calling the Home Health office meant risking the chance of having Grace answer the phone. He certainly wasn’t taking her on again.
The cell phone on his belt vibrated. Lifting it, he read the screen and sighed, debating about answering. But failing to answer would only spur more calls and eventually, a harried trip from Sacramento by his only sibling, followed by more hovering and overt concern than he could handle.
“Josh,” Toni exclaimed. “When you didn’t answer last night and early this morning, I was starting to panic. I told Tom that I was going to have to book a flight if I didn’t reach you by this afternoon.”
Tom, a quiet, friendly guy with the energy level of a ninety-year-old, was the exact opposite of his overly anxious wife, and had probably been trying to calm her down with little success. How the man managed to live with such a whirlwind of energy was truly a mystery.
“I’m fine, Toni. Phone reception is just iffy here.”
“But when you didn’t answer—”
“What do you think might happen? I’m perfectly independent. In good health. Content.” None of it was true, but allaying her worries meant keeping her where she belonged—at home—instead of having her descend into his life again for a weekend or longer. He loved her. He knew she loved him. But in this case, distance was the best antidote to an awkward situation.
“I worry so about you, Josh…all alone, so far out of town. What if you fell? Got hurt?”
It would be what I deserved, he thought grimly.
“That isn’t going to happen.”
“I still want to bring you back here to live with us.
I could take you to that rehab clinic downtown—they have wonderful results. My friend Angela’s mother had a stroke, and they—”
“I have a therapist here.”
She fell silent for a long moment. “You what?” Her voice grew cautious, laced with doubt. “You have a…physical therapist? In Aspen Creek?”
He gave a short laugh. “The medical care in Wisconsin
