He smiled, satisfied.
Now that wasn’t so painful, was it? she thought as if she were the doctor and he, the patient.
“Charge it to my card as usual.” Business done, he turned to go. He was a busy man. Too busy, Eden thought. The first night he’d lingered, asking irrelevant questions as if needing to talk. One night she might coax him to again stay longer, sit with her, have a cup of tea, but not tonight. Tonight she wasn’t brave enough, and he wasn’t calm enough.
“Eden?” He’d turned, catching her studying him.
“Yes?” She dropped her gaze to the table, pretending to inspect the arrangement.
“Thank you.”
She looked at him.
“You’re…” He cleared his throat. “You’re swell.” He turned, went through the arch and was gone.
Swell? Eden stared at the doorway. She looked back at the splay of flowers before her on the table. She twisted a peony to the left for balance. “Swell?” She spoke to the flowers. The peony’s heavy head bobbed as if confirming.
She circled the arrangement, her practiced eye checking the line, color, rhythm.
“Is that what he told that sleek blonde he had dinner with at the Old Heigelburg a few weeks ago? And what about that big-chested, big-haired brunette spoon-feeding him Marge’s apple pie not two days later at the diner? I suppose she was swell, too?”
The flowers were silent as if knowing the answer as well as she did. With Brady’s movie-star looks, commanding presence and dark charm, it was no secret that the patients of Tyler General weren’t the only ones who sought out the doctor’s renowned skills. His success with single women was as well-known as his acclaimed professional reputation.
Yet Eden knew she was the only one with whom Brady had shared the secret of his anonymous good deeds. The thought made her smile. It also made her feel special. Not beautiful or exciting like the flowers he chose or the many women he dated. But she felt privileged to share a side of Brady Spencer that no one else knew or even suspected. No, it wasn’t love or passion, a far cry from that, but still it was something.
She misted the flowers and carried them to a draped pedestal in the front window. “Don’t worry, Dr. Spencer.” The room was quiet except for the hum of the lights and the gurgle of the fish tank. “Your secrets are safe with me.”
SWELL? Brady walked down the thin alley between the flower shop and the beauty salon. He was a highly trained, skilled surgeon. Why was he talking like some jug-eared kid with a cowlick? He reached the street and turned toward the condominium complex where he lived.
It was Eden, he decided. Eden with her innocence, her guileless smile, her wonderful world so removed from the reality he knew. He stepped into The Garden, and he was eleven again—insecure, confused, wanting—all beneath a facade of bravado and bluster.
He stopped to cross at the corner, already recognizing the restlessness that would have him prowling around his efficient, empty condo until early-morning hours. His apartment was close to the hospital, and he often walked the short distance no matter the weather. In fact, battling the winter cold and winds gave him as much satisfaction as strolling in the sun. This year, though, spring had come unusually early. The record-warm March had melted the snows and muddied the ground and brought out others not so brave or belligerent to walk the icy streets like Brady.
There was no traffic but he hadn’t crossed. He sighed, turning almost automatically toward the hospital and the piles of paperwork that might quell his unrest. He saw Martha Bauer on the arm of her daughter, Anna Kelsey, coming up the street. Even from a block away, Martha’s blue eyes pinned him.
He strode toward the women, seeing no reason for concern. If they’d seen him coming out of the alley next to The Garden of Eden, they’d probably assume he’d taken a shortcut home from the hospital.
“Good evening, ladies.” He greeted them a half block away, his smile sociable but his steps smart.
“You’re turning in the wind like a weathervane, Doc.”
Martha’s eyes held him fast, slowed his step. “I’ve never known you to lose your way.” The old woman’s smile was as sharp as her gaze. “Or to admit it, at least.”
Martha’s daughter, Anna, looked apologetically at Brady, her eyes the same blue as her mother’s, only softer. “Now Dr. Spencer knows why all his other patients at Worthington House have high blood pressure.”
Brady continued to smile pleasantly, professionally. “I’m not lost,” he assured Martha. “Just on my way back to the hospital to catch up on some paperwork.”
Martha studied him. “You always were the most serious son.”
“I thought I was the most charming one,” Brady deadpanned.
The older woman folded her arms across her chest. “When are you going to settle down and get married like your brothers?”
“Mom!” Anna shook her head, the evening light blending the gray in her dark hair.
“What? No more single Spencer men in Tyler?” Brady smiled. “The place would become a ghost town.”
“No more single Spencer men in Tyler?” A glint had appeared in Martha’s blue eyes. “Are you telling me something I don’t know about your father and Lydia Perry?”
Brady eyed the elderly woman. “Is there something I should know about my father and Lydia? The Quilting Circle hasn’t started a new quilt, have they?”
Martha studied him as if trying to determine if he was teasing or serious.
“Brady, did Quinn and Molly tell you how much my grandson, Jeremy, adores Sara?” Anna diplomatically changed the subject. “They’re inseparable at Kaity’s Kids.”
Brady’s smile widened at the mention of his brother’s new wife and her daughter. “I agree with Jeremy one hundred percent. Sara is a charming child. Pure adorable.”
“And it won’t be long before Seth and Jenna will be bringing new little ones to the Spencer Sunday dinners, will it?”
Brady nodded. “Jenna is due in May.”
“Imagine, twins.” Anna shook her head again.
“Humph,” Martha sounded. “Elias will never be the same.”
Brady had to agree. Everything was changing. After many years, the somber Spencer family home stretching along Maple Street was again hearing the sound of children’s laughter, the song of women’s voices.
Martha’s gaze remained on Brady. “So, why aren’t you dating anyone, Doc?”
“I’m dating, Martha. As much and as many as I can.”
The old lady smiled slyly. “Spring is in the air, Brady Spencer.” She gestured toward the flowers displayed in The Garden of Eden’s front windows. “Good time to stop and smell the roses.”
He looked at the flowers in the soft light, thought of Eden’s thin,
