oval. The eyes took up a whole lot of space, dominated everything about her face. She had thin, arched brows, gloss on her lips, but otherwise he couldn’t tell if she wore any makeup. She had that redhead kind of skin, though … translucent, clear, clean … give or take the smattering of freckles.
As far as the body … well. She looked more like the kind of girl you brought home to meet Mom rather than the kind a man imagined under the sheets. But Ike was nonstop imagining that body under the sheets right now. There was a lot of music, a lot of passion, in the way she moved, the way she did everything he’d seen so far. Of course, he’d been celibate for too long a stretch, so maybe he was dreaming up the sizzle he sensed in her.
That celibacy had probably been dumb. Abstinence had never worked well for him, and he could have slept with any number of ladies in town. Somehow he never had.
Maybe that was because no woman had really enticed him before. Not like Ginger seemed to. Heaven knew he could analyze her body for three, four hours and still want to analyze more. For one thing, she had significantly perky breasts. The breasts themselves weren’t all that significant, but the perky was. They were round, firm, pressed just right against the shirt. She had no waist to speak of. But the pants—well, the pants begged to be taken off. They were just cotton, or some other lightweight fabric, but he could see the outline of her fanny, her thighs, her calves. She might be on the skimpy side, weight wise, but she looked strong and healthy, making it extremely easy to imagine her legs wrapped around him, without those pants. Without that blouse.
Damn, but she was refreshing. Challengingly refreshing. Even the resentment in her flash of a smile was disarming. He was getting mighty sick of women smiling at him as if he were slab of meat. Being disliked was a lot more interesting.
“I was hoping you’d come by to talk. Want some coffee?”
She nodded. “Black.” She motioned to Pansy. “Does that dog ever move?”
“Rarely. About ninety percent of the day she’s in a coma. But don’t say the word d-i-n-n-e-r or there’ll be hell to pay. And I’m talking relentless.” He motioned her to a white Adirondack rocker while he stepped into the kitchen/lab, came back with a mug for her, and a fresh one for him. “How’s Cashner doing today?”
“Happy as a clam.” She locked her palms around the mug. “But I’m not. Being with him has made me scared to death.”
He nodded. “I’m glad you came home.”
“I had no idea. I talked to him on the phone—”
“All the time. I know. He told me. He thinks the sun rises and sets with you. And he holds it together in some conversations, especially in the early part of the day. He’s always in good humor. Never a complainer. He can talk a blue streak, telling jokes, spinning yarns, talking about the tea farm. It’s not always apparent to other people what’s been going on.”
“He told me …” She hesitated, and he guessed the apology was coming. Or the closest he was going to get to an apology. “He told me his doctor was trying to take the land away from him. Force him to move. That his doctor was behind the conspiracy.”
“Yeah. That would be me. The evil doctor. Not about forcing him. That’s not my place. But especially in the last couple months, I’ve been pushing him to believe he could live a lot easier in a place with more help.”
“He doesn’t want help.”
“I know.”
“He doesn’t believe he needs help.”
“I know.”
“Last night I found him sitting in the wet grass. Wearing a suit. Around one in the morning.”
Ike winced in sympathy.
“He calls me Ginger. And a minute later, he’ll call me Rachel. My grandmother’s name. And sometimes I’m Loretta. Do you have a clue who Loretta is?”
Ike shook his head.
“And then there’s Cornelius. Cornelius was old before I was born. Half the afternoon yesterday, they played cards. Rummy. And canasta. Cornelius was as balmy-headed as my gramps. Nothing’s getting cleaned. Cornelius seems to make food sometimes. And forget other times …” At the sudden sound of voices coming from inside the house, she said immediately, “Do you have a patient? I know I should have called first, before stopping by.”
“First patient’s at ten. Ruby’ll let me know when he gets here.”
“Okay.” She took a breath. “Listen, Doc—”
“Ike,” he corrected her gently. “I’m your grandfather’s doctor, not yours.”
She immediately launched into an emotional sputter. “He was perfectly fine at Christmas and Easter both! He’s been fine every darned time I call! I was here in June for Pete’s sake. I don’t understand how he could have changed so much, so fast!”
“Because that’s how it hits people sometimes.”
She launched into the next rocket round of nonstop sputter. “Well, what exactly is wrong with him—and don’t tell me Alzheimer’s. Or that there’s nothing you can do. I want to know what tests you’ve run. If you’ve sent him to specialists. I may not have a heap of money, but my grandfather can afford the best of any kind of treatment. And I can stay here. I mean … I don’t know how on earth I could find a job here. But for however long it takes, I can stay here, live with him. I could make sure he gets everything he needs, nutrition and medicine and exercise or whatever else you think he needs—”
“Ginger.” He said her name to calm her. He was watching her face. She was so upset. Naturally. Who wouldn’t be, to suddenly find out someone you loved had a fragile health issue? But there was something more going on. He’d seen her take a sip of coffee, and then immediately put the mug down. She’d had peach-healthy color in her cheeks when she came in, but that color was fading, her face turning pale.
Still, he answered her questions. “Yes, Cashner’s been prescribed some medications that help a lot of people. There’s no perfect medicine for this. I sent him to Greenville for tests, put him in the hands of two physicians I know personally. He’s been tested and evaluated and retested.”
“Don’t you say it,” she warned him.
He got it. She wasn’t ready to hear the words Alzheimer’s or dementia. “I’ll give you the other answer,” he said patiently. “Old age.”
“He’s not that old!”
Ike nodded. “I think it’s possible he had some mini strokes a while back. He’s been on high blood pressure meds from long before I came here. But he’s at a point where I’m not certain if he remembers to take them. I set up a schedule for him, to help him remember, conveyed the same information to Cornelius. But sometimes—”
Ruby showed up in the doorway. “Doc. Mr. Robards is here. It’ll take me a few minutes to get him weighed in and BP done and then into a gown, but then he’s ready.”
Ike started to say, “I’ll be there in a minute,” then noticed Ginger jump to her feet faster than a firecracker. Ruby’s interruption had given her the perfect excuse to take off. She either wanted to get away
