Rescued By Marriage

CHAPTER TWO

THE loaner car was nice—a compact little SUV. Purple. The mayor explained that it belonged to his daughter who was off to college right now, and Della’s first thought was why would a college girl need a car on Redcliffe Island? Was there anyplace to go here? Of course, she didn’t ask. That would have been impolite. Instead, she accepted the keys graciously and promised to be careful.

“I might stop in to see you later,” Mayor Vargas said, as he rubbed his shoulder. “Got a little touch of arthritis setting in, I’m afraid. Maybe you could take a look.”

Her first patient. This was promising. Here less than an hour and she was about to get busy. “Stop by any time.” She assumed he knew where to stop by, and she would have told him to call for an appointment, but she didn’t know if her phone service was in operation yet. Land-line phone. She’d given up her cellphone right after she’d given up just about everything else that had added an extra bill to her burden. In her old life the cost of it hadn’t mattered; in her new life it did tremendously. “I’ll be glad to have a look at you.” She was tempted to tell him to bring all his friends along for an exam, too, but that would have seemed rather bold of her.

“So, is there anything else we can do to help you get settled in, Doc?” he asked. “I know some of the ladies are going to bring meals to you for a while, until you’re set up on your own.”

“I hadn’t even thought about that,” she admitted. “I appreciate it.”

“Well, that’s the way we operate here. What’s mine is yours…you know how that is.”

She smiled like she did know. But the truth was, all those years she’d been married to Anthony she’d thought what had been his had been hers, too, and that everything in their marriage had been shared. Which hadn’t turned out to be the case. It had all been his, except the debt, and that had become all hers.

“So are we good to go?” Sam asked.

“Do I need a key or something to get into the house or the clinic?” Della asked, suddenly realizing that she had nothing that marked ownership or entitlement to the house or property other than the word of Foster Armstrong, who’d said he would send the papers along once they were registered.

“It’s open,” the mayor said, then bade them goodbye and scurried off to his office.

Della stood on the sidewalk for a moment, simply looking around. She liked it, she thought. It was easy. People were friendly. Strangers waved and smiled, and old men tipped their hats in polite greeting. Maybe being cut off from the mainstream wasn’t such a bad thing. “So you’ve never been here before?” she asked Sam.

Sam shook his head. “I’m new in the job. Got lots of territory to cover, and I haven’t had time before now. Without a doctor on the island, I didn’t have a reason, either.”

“You don’t practice medicine at all?”

“Not for an awfully long time. It ties you to one place, and I don’t like to be tied any more.” He flashed an extraordinarily sexy grin at her. “Been there, done that, moved on to something else. Life’s too short to be stuck with something you don’t want.”

“I like having roots. It’s nice to have the same place to come home to. There’s something comforting in stability.” She realized that more now than she ever had before.

“We all think that at some time, I suppose. I did once, but I was wrong about it…For me it was wrong, anyway. So, why don’t you and that purple car follow me out to your house and we’ll see if we can get you set up to stay before it gets too late.” He glanced around. “Where are your things?”

She pointed to her duffle bag, a suitcase and the hand grip next to it. “That’s it. Pretty much everything I own. I’m having a few things sent up from Miami shortly, but I traveled light.”

He gave her an odd look, one somewhere between concern and shock. “Are you sure you know what you’re getting yourself into? Because right now I think maybe we should find you a place at one of the local bed and breakfasts until the rest of your things arrive.”

A bed and breakfast for the night sounded wonderful—a nice cozy room with a comfy mattress, fresh muffins and juice in the morning. The whole esthetic New England appeal suddenly embraced her, but, as much as she would have loved to be pampered in it, she couldn’t afford it. Which was none of Sam’s business. Besides, the sooner she got to her new home, the sooner she would start work on her new life. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “I don’t require much to get by.”

“Apparently you don’t.” He gave her an indifferent shrug, then headed across the street to his SUV—a black one that was about three times the size of hers. “Suit yourself,” he called back, as he hopped inside.

Suit herself…If that had been an option, suiting herself would have included being with Meghan. Being anywhere with Meghan. Thinking about her brought the tears up again and before they started to roll, Della climbed into her purple runabout and fell in behind Sam Montgomery. Why would a man like him avoid the roots when all she wanted in this life was to have them back?

He was trying to get away from something, she decided. Bad experience in the past had him on the run. “Aren’t we all?” she said aloud as the tiny village of Redcliffe, which was the hub of life on Redcliffe Island, turned into a speck in her rear-view mirror.

About a mile down the road, Della followed Sam onto another road, then another and another until she started to wonder if they were caught up in some sort of a maze. They had to be going in circles, and what was more astonishing was that there was simply no sign of life out here. Once Redcliffe was behind her, except for the occasional dot of a cottage along the roadway, civilization seemed to stop. If not for the actual roads, this could have been considered uncharted territory. “So, it seems I’m going to be a country girl.” That was a bit of a concern, since she’d hardly ever been into the rural reaches—not even for a Sunday drive.

But this could be a good thing, couldn’t it? An isolated little place without distractions might be perfect, exactly what the doctor ordered. Besides, the scenery along the way was beautiful. Stunning. On the left a lush, green pasture cascaded over a craggy area and Della saw cows grazing peacefully. Then up ahead there was an orchard of some kind. Apples, perhaps? If they were, maybe she and Meghan could spend a day picking apples and baking pies and tarts, and making apple sauce from them. She was the right age to start helping in the kitchen, Della thought. In Miami they’d either eaten out or brought cooked meals in. No one had used the kitchen except to make coffee or tea or fix an occasional bowl of cereal. Suddenly, Della was excited about what she and Meghan might do together in a nice little kitchen.

No, this wasn’t the city, which was all she knew, but it was nice. Beautiful. Peaceful. In a way, it seemed almost untouched. She and Meghan could be happy here…at least for five years. That thought put a smile on her face as she followed Sam into yet another turn. After a short distance they passed through something that looked like junk or maybe metal statuary lining the road. She twisted to look, and almost collided with Sam’s SUV, which came to a stop on a knoll just past all the litter. Or was it art?

Turning her attention back to what was beyond her windshield, Della saw a house, but it wasn’t hers. It couldn’t be. This one was a dilapidated old Victorian one-story, with peeling white paint and gingerbread decoration dangling off the eaves in some places and completely missing in others. It was weathered and old. A lovely lady in her day, but her day was long gone. The beach beyond her was stunning, though, with its white sand and billowing grasses.

“Why are we stopping?” she called to Sam, who was already out of his car, leaning causally against it. Something in the pit of her stomach already told her she knew the answer, but she needed to hear it said. It’s another of your mistakes, Della. The biggest one of all.

“We’re stopping because this is the end of the road,” he called back.

Another bitter reality hit home. Sticking her head out the window, Della inhaled, filling her lungs with the fresh salt air. It was different from the salt air in Miami—cleaner, maybe. No smell of civilization mixed in with it, and it was a pleasant surprise because it reminded her of trips to the beach with Meghan.

“You’ve changed your mind and decided to stay in a bed and breakfast?” he asked, when she didn’t get out of the SUV immediately.

“No. I’m staying in my house.” Such as it was. Now she understood why Drs Beaumont and Weatherby had pulled out of here so quickly. And the house had had so many more years since then to become even more rundown. If she hadn’t already cried all her tears over missing Meghan, she would have cried a few right here over this mess.

“You’ve never been here, have you?” Sam asked stepping up to her car and leaning through the window.

What was she supposed to tell him? That she was the biggest idiot in the world, the one who would spend the next five years in this hovel? And how was she supposed to practice medicine here? “I’m not put off by hard work,” she said, hoping that sounded sufficiently in control.

“I thought it was a little odd that someone had actually bought this place with the intent of setting up practice here again. But, then, some people are handy. They like to take on projects. Although, since I didn’t see a carpenter’s belt among your possessions, I’m guessing you don’t.”

“Maybe I simply like my solitude.”

“Then it’s a good thing, because you’re going to get plenty of it out here. So, which do you want to see first? Your house or your clinic?”

“You don’t have to show me anything,” she said, trying to sound confident, even though she knew she sounded more defeated than anything. This was all she had now and there was no way she could turn it into something that would win her custody of her daughter. From the plain pumpkin into the beautiful Cinderella coach…she didn’t have the magical wand she needed for the transformation. Sighing, Della shut her eyes to hold in the tears. “I’m fine,” she said. “Thank you for leading me out here. You don’t have to stay.”

“The bed and breakfast where I’ve booked a room has one empty down the hall from me. I’m sure Mrs Hawkins would be glad to have you move in there until…until you can spruce this place up, if that’s what you decide to do with it.”

“Spruce it up?” Della laughed bitterly. Now she had to spruce up her house like she was trying to spruce up her life. Damn Anthony Riordan for getting her into this.

* * *

Sam couldn’t believe it! She hadn’t known. She truly hadn’t known the condition of this place. So what would possess someone to buy this medical practice and everything that went with it sight unseen? Frankly, she didn’t seem like the type. In fact, she seemed quite the opposite—down to earth, steady, sensible. Of course, looks were deceiving, weren’t they? He glanced down at his empty ring finger, empty a year now. There wasn’t even the faint trace of a wedding ring left any more. “Look, Della, we’ve got to do something here. Without prying into why you did it, I do know you bought this practice without ever having been here, and I’m guessing that it was never your intention to take this on as a fixer-upper. Is that much true?”

She nodded, but didn’t speak.

“Maybe whoever you bought it from will refund your money?” Which would have been a pity because he was already looking forward to spending a little time with her.

She shook her head, but still didn’t speak.

“Or perhaps you could take the financial loss and walk away before you invest any more.”

Again she shook her head, and again she didn’t speak.

“You put in everything you had into this venture, didn’t you?”

This time she nodded.

“Maybe it’s a case of fraud. It was misrepresented by the agent who sold it to you and that’s legal ground to get your money back.”

“No,” she whispered. “Not misrepresented.”

Sam sighed. He knew desperation when he saw it, and he was seeing it. More than that, he knew what it would drive a person to do. It hadn’t been so long ago he’d been desperate, too. Which was why he felt so compelled to help her through this, even though he knew he wasn’t supposed to get that involved. In a couple weeks’ time he’d have to deliver yet another blow—he’d have to write the report that would state something to the effect that this place was not suitable for a medical practice. As it existed at this very moment, it was not, and he doubted that Della had the means, let alone the wherewithal, to accomplish the resurrection it would need. Which meant Della would be issued a cease and desist order from the state health commission.

Thinking about doing such a thing to her, even though he didn’t know her, was already giving him a dull headache. Whatever that first blow was—the one that had brought her here looking so sad—it was devastating her, and taking a second blow on top of whatever the first had been seemed inevitable. Regrettable, but inevitable. He didn’t even want to think about the expression on her face if that became the case.

“Why all the junk along the road?” she asked.

“Not junk. Sculpture. I understand it was an artists’ colony years ago. Actually, Dr Bonn, who built this place, was an artist and he opened it up for people to come stay and create. That’s why the medical facility is this far away from the village. It’s an idyllic situation for an artist, not the town doctor.”

“And I’m not an artist.” She sighed wistfully. “So do you think the sheer isolation of it drove the subsequent doctors away?”

“I’m sure that had something to do with it. I think it has a certain appeal for someone who’s newly graduated from medical school and looking for a start. But if you haven’t lived an isolated kind of life before, it’s probably pretty tough.”

“So Dr Bonn, the artist…what happened to him?”

Sam looked up at a seagull flying overhead. It was heading to the water to find its next meal. Such a tough existence, always on the hunt to survive. That, he feared, was about to become Della’s lot. “Someone in the village said he went to Paris to study art. The place ran down after that and nobody stayed long enough to fix it up.” There had probably not been enough time under the health laws, and not enough interest considering the rough condition. Most of all, there was probably not enough potential for wealth. After all, weren’t doctors supposed to be wealthy? According to his ex-wife, they were.

“And all that’s left of the original art colony are those sculptures left behind? The ones on the road?”

“I don’t know. I was out here earlier this morning to have a look, and this is all I’ve seen. The mayor told me there are some other buildings along the shore, old cabins where the artists stayed, but I didn’t go out to have a look.”

“It is amazing how a life can change. He came here to be a doctor and left here an artist. It’s good he found what he really wanted.” She looked over the knoll at the house. “Of course, what we want in life can change as much as life itself does.”

“We all make mistakes, Della, but they don’t have to ruin us.” Empty words, he knew, but he felt like he should say something uplifting even though he wasn’t the one who had got her into this mess. “If you do leave, I can’t imagine that starting over should too difficult.”

“This is my starting over. And you’re wrong. It’s very difficult. I’ve done it a lot lately and I don’t want to do it again. This was supposed to be my last time.”

Was she a lady with a past? If so, it couldn’t have been much of a past since she was still allowed to practice medicine. He’d checked those credentials before she’d arrived and she was good in her licensing. “You know, I’m not sure what’s going on here, and you don’t have to tell me. I’m not the nosey sort who pries, but you’re in a spot I don’t think you can fix and I don’t feel good about leaving you out here alone. So how about we go back to Mrs Hawkins’s bed and breakfast? I’ll pay for a couple of nights until you figure out what you’re going to do next, and that way we can both get a good night’s sleep. If you stay out here, you won’t be getting one, and neither will I for leaving you alone without so much as a pillow.”

“But you were prepared to leave me here when you thought I knew how this place was, weren’t you?”

“That was different. If it was your choice to move in when it’s in this condition, that’s your business. Some people like it rugged. But you didn’t know, and somehow I’m guessing it wouldn’t have been your choice if you had known.”

Instead of answering, Della opened the car door and climbed out. “It is what it is, and it was my choice,” she said, quite dispiritedly. “I appreciate your concern, but there’s no need for it. I’ll just…fix it up. Since I’ll be here all alone, I should have plenty of time for that. You wouldn’t happen to know if I have electricity, or running water or indoor plumbing, would you?”

He doubted it, and he was also beginning to doubt she had common sense since she was refusing to budge from here. “Don’t know. But I suppose that now you’ve convinced yourself to stay, we should have a good look around to make sure it’s fit for living.” Although judging from the condition of the exterior, he doubted that having a look would matter too much. This place was not suitable for patient care and unless Della was some kind of a miracle worker with a hammer and nails, he didn’t see how it ever would be in the short amount of time before his report was due.