The Man Who Wouldn't Marry
And unlike Sammi, who couldn’t seem to look away, the man didn’t spare a glance at the clinic, or at her. With a sigh, she forced herself to turn away and head to the exam room.
As soon as she arrived, all thoughts of Mark evaporated when Barbara Litchfield, a woman in her mid-fifties, climbed to her feet and greeted her.
‘Sorry to come back so soon,’ she said, the regret in her voice unmistakable.
‘What are you talking about? I told you to get back in here at the first hint of trouble. Arthritis is nothing to play around with. I know you need those fingers whole and strong.’
A retired orchestral pianist, Barbara had moved to the Aleutians with her husband when he’d retired from a corporate job a couple of years ago. At a time when most retirees sought refuge in the south, hoping for warm, sunny days of golfing and fun, the Litchfields had bucked the trend, fitting right into the harsh landscape of Dutch Harbor. Barbara taught piano lessons—free of charge—to a few of the local kids. It meant a lot to both the former pianist and the kids she worked with. Those fingers were important, and not just for her physical health.
Sammi snapped on a pair of gloves. ‘Let’s take a look, shall we?’
Taking the other woman’s hands in hers, she spotted the affected joint immediately. Swollen and angry red, her left ring finger didn’t look happy, and for good reason. Molly frowned when she noted the woman’s wedding band. ‘Why is that still on?’
‘I tried to get it off this morning when I realized how bad it was, but it wouldn’t budge, and when I tried to force it…’ Her voice trailed away.
‘It’s okay. The base of your finger isn’t swollen at the moment, but if it begins to swell, we may need to cut the ring off.’ She put a hand on the other woman’s shoulder. ‘We won’t unless it’s absolutely necessary, okay? In the meantime, I’m going to give you a shot of cortisone in the joint. Then I really want you to see a rheumatologist in Anchorage. I’ll make a phone call and get you in as soon as possible.’
‘I can’t just keep taking Advil?’
Sammy shook her head. ‘That used to be how we treated arthritis, thinking if we could get the inflammation under control, we could preserve the joint. But newer research suggests the real damage happens much earlier in the disease, even before it shows up on X-rays.’
Just like the damage to Sammi and Mark’s relationship. Just as their feelings for each other started to gain a foothold, unseen currents swirled around them, eating away at the foundation. By the time she’d realized just how deeply she’d fallen for him, the mysterious corrosive agent had done its job. The silver cord joining them had snapped and Mark had bolted.
So why did seeing him walk down the street this morning still tug at something inside her? And why had seeing her son’s hand enveloped in his at the wedding a week ago turned her heart inside out?
She shook off the questions. It didn’t matter. She’d gotten married, had a child with someone else. Mark had dated plenty of other women since his return.
There was nothing between them any more.
‘Let me make a quick phone call then I’ll give you the injection.’ Sammi scribbled a couple of notes down on the chart. ‘I’ll be right back.’
The phone call took less than five minutes. A bit of arm twisting on her end, the promise of a jar of home-made salmonberry jam when the season rolled around, and Barbara had her appointment. Two weeks from today, record time for that kind of specialist. But she and Chris Masters went way back. One of the few islanders who’d gone to medical school and left the Aleutians, he was now a highly sought-after rheumatologist. Appointments with him could take months.
Satisfied, she made a note to herself that her debt to fellow doctors was now up to ten pints of jam and a pie. Not to mention her son, who’d made her promise on her life not to give all their jelly away again this year.
Speaking of Toby…
She jogged back to the reception area. ‘What time is it?’
Lynn’s raised brows told her even before she spoke. ‘Two o’clock, and you’ve missed lunch again.’
‘Right. I’ll eat as soon as I’m done with Mrs. Litchfield. Promise.’
‘You’d better. I’ve already locked the front door, just in case.’
Sammi laughed. ‘Thanks.’
‘I’m going to start heating your food in the microwave, so don’t take long.’ She paused. ‘I’m heating mine too.’
In other words, if Sammi delayed, her receptionist would also go hungry. ‘I’ll be there by the time you pour the coffee.’
The injection was given and Sammi unlatched the front door to let Barbara out—a sheaf of papers and instructions clutched in her hands. She pushed the door closed again, twisting her head around when Lynn’s threat reached her ears. ‘Coffee’s going into the mugs.’
‘I’ll be right—’
The front door started to blow open, probably a result of the gusty conditions today. Sammi was leaning her entire weight onto it to force it shut when a harsh yelp, a colorful string of words and something squishy stopped her in her tracks.
Eyes wide, she turned to look. The doorway she’d sworn was empty a second ago was now filled with Mark, and that squishy thing…
Yikes, she’d just crunched his hand in the door!
‘Coffee’s getting cold.’ Lynn’s warning was drowned by the realization of what she’d just done.
She jerked the door wide. ‘Oh, God, Mark. I’m sorry. I had no idea you were there. Or I’d have never…’
‘Never what? Slammed the door on me?’ He shook his injured hand, the graveled accusation bringing back the fact that she’d done exactly that once upon a time. When he’d announced his intention of moving away to join the armed forces, she’d slammed the door in his face with a ‘Don’t bother coming by before you leave’.
But that was all in the past, where it would stay.
‘Come in so I can look at that hand.’
‘It’s fine.’
‘Seriously. It could be broken.’
He gave a wry laugh. ‘You really think I’d let you set it if it were? I’d probably end up with permanently crooked fingers.’
‘I can think of at least one finger I’d like to fix permanently.’ The one he showed to the world. Not a visible gesture, but one he exuded with his attitude.
In answer to her statement, he laughed. A genuine chuckle that moved from his stomach to his mouth… to his gorgeous green eyes. It took her breath away, and she had to force herself not to gasp.
‘I’m not that bad, am I?’ His brows went up.
Worse. The word came and went without her uttering a single sound.
Before she could give him an actual answer, Lynn peeked out from the other room, her mouth rounding in a perfect ‘O’ as she realized who was standing there. She’d grown up on the island, knew about Sammi and Mark’s infamous past.
‘You’re going to have to start without me,’ Sammi said. ‘Mark’s gotten an… injury that should probably be checked out.’
Mark grinned in the receptionist’s direction and the woman’s color immediately deepened to an ill-looking salmon, before she nodded and withdrew.
Damn him. How could he have that effect on every woman he encountered? And why had she been so stupid to fall for it herself all those years ago? Well, no danger of that now. She’d found a cure, and that was her son. She’d protect him from being hurt at all costs. And Mark could do exactly that with very little effort.
Jaw tight, she led the way to one of the exam rooms. ‘Hop up on the table.’
He leaned against it instead. ‘Don’t I get a gown?’
‘Don’t push your luck.’ Despite her irritation, the man still had the power to make her lips curve from the inside out. She pressed them together so he wouldn’t see as she started toward the dispenser on the wall.
Gloves? Really?
Yes.
Wearing them would give her a measure of protection that had nothing to do with disease and everything to do with self-preservation. She glanced into his face. Would he know the reason?
Yep. It was there in the brow that lifted a quarter of a centimeter.
Forget it. She wouldn’t let him know how terrified she was of touching him or how taking her son’s hand from his had twisted her heart and left it raw and vulnerable.
She stopped in front of him and tilted her head to meet his gaze. ‘Where does it hurt?’
‘Seriously?’
‘No more games, Mark. You could have broken something.’
His cocky smile disappeared and something dark and scary passed through his eyes. ‘Did I, Sam? Break something?’
For the longest moment she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t tear her gaze from his. No one ever called her Sam.
No one, except Mark.
And she had the distinct impression the broken thing he was asking about had nothing to do with his hand and everything to do with her. No, that couldn’t be right. He hadn’t cared one iota about the damage he’d caused when he’d taken off without so much as a ‘Why?’.
She shook her head, but had to avert her eyes as she did. ‘Let me see your hand.’
He held it out, and she winced at the long diagonal stripe of discoloration already showing up just below his metacarpophalangeal joints. He must have had his hand wrapped around the frame of the door when she’d leaned against it. ‘Wiggle your fingers.’
He obliged, and Sammi watched for a reaction as he curled his fingers into a loose fist and released them. Only there was no reaction. ‘It doesn’t hurt?’
‘It was slammed in a door. What do you think?’
The amused sarcasm was back in place. She decided not to rise to the bait this time. ‘Palm up.’
It was only when he turned his hand over that she realized she was avoiding touching him. But she was going to have to eventually. She’d have to X-ray his hand at the very least.
Suck it up, Sammi.
Sliding her fingertips beneath the back of his hand and desperately wishing she’d gone for the gloves after all, she tested the swelling on his palm with her thumb. ‘I don’t think anything is broken, but I do want to take an X-ray.’
She glanced up, surprised to find a muscle tic in his jaw. ‘That bad?’ she asked.
‘You have no idea.’
‘Hmm…’ She looked closer at his hand, turning it gently. Maybe there was more damage than she’d thought. ‘Follow me.’
Leading him into the tiny X-ray room, she fitted him with a lead apron, forbidding herself from thinking about exactly what she was protecting. She lined up his hand on the table and used the flexible arm on the X-ray tube to pull it down over the injured area, glad to be able to keep her mind on the job. ‘I should be able to get this all on one frame, but if not, we’ll take a couple more. Hold still for a second.’
She went into the control booth and took the first film, then rejoined him, swinging the tube away from his hand. ‘All done. Let’s see what we’ve got.’ A thought occurred to her as she pressed buttons on the computer to call up the image. ‘Why did you come to the clinic anyway? Are you sick?’
The correct X-ray flashed up, and Sammi zeroed in on the injured portion, not seeing any obvious breaks. Before she could heave a sigh of relief, though, several areas of calcification on his middle phalanges caught her attention. Fractures. Each apparently healed and running across his hand in a line. If not for the location of the bruise from where she’d slammed the door, Sammi would swear she was looking at his current injury. Except these were old. Already fused together.
As she stared, trying to work out how he could have broken a succession of bones like that, Mark’s voice came through. ‘I’m not sick. I came by to tell you I’m…’
His voice faded away as her eyes met his, horrified realization sweeping through her chest. ‘Oh, my God, Mark. Did your father do this to you?’
CHAPTER THREE
IT TOOK a second or two for Sammi’s words to filter through his head and another few to register the horror in her eyes. How had she…?
His gaze went to the X-ray still displayed on the computer screen, and he knew what she’d seen. Hell, the days of his father’s anger were long gone, replaced by things that were a whole lot worse. And the last thing he wanted now was her—or anyone’s—pity. ‘Is the damn thing broken or not?’
‘Not this time, but—’
‘That’s all I needed to hear.’ He did not want to relive the moment when reining in his temper—and being too stubborn to run—had resulted in a steel-toed boot crunching down on his hand, snapping four of the teenage bones with little effort. Sammi had asked about his father once in high school, and he’d blown her off—just like he had everyone. ‘As I was saying, I came by because I’m flying some customers back to Anchorage this afternoon. I thought I’d see if the clinic needed me to pick up any supplies from Alaska Regional while I’m there. I didn’t realize… I thought today was Hannah’s day to work.’
He swore at himself the second the words had left his mouth. There was no reason to let her know he’d been avoiding her or that the need to stay as far away from her as possible had grown since enduring Blake’s wedding. He’d caught a glimpse of what his life could’ve been like had things been different. If he’d given Sammi that ring.
But he hadn’t.
So he’d keep doing what had worked for him over the past eight years: put one foot in front of the other. No reason to think it wouldn’t keep on working. In fact, he was due for his weekly trip to the local watering hole. Since he was going to Anchorage anyway, he could kill two birds with one stone. And hopefully stave off the nightmares, which had come back with a vengeance after holding Toby’s hand that evening in church.
‘Hannah went to Akutan for the day. I offered to fill in for her.’ Sammi’s words were accompanied by a tilt of her chin, but he could swear a tiny glimmer of hurt appeared in her eyes before it winked back out.
He swore silently. This was exactly why he needed to stay away from her at all costs. She could knot his insides into a big ball of guilt without even trying. ‘Right. So, can you think of anything you—the clinic, that is—needs?’
She stood to her feet. ‘Nope. I—and the clinic—have everything we could possibly need.’
Well, that certainly put him in his place. Sammi had just let him know, in no uncertain terms, that the last thing she needed was him.
The state ferry chugged through the dark waters of the Gulf of Alaska, the rumble of its engines sending subtle vibrations along the length of the vessel. The noise was familiar, comforting. She’d made the trip from Unalaska to Anchorage hundreds of times over the years—the intricate tangle of the Alaska Marine Highway routes burned into her subconscious.
Elbows propped against the railing, Sammi glanced down at Toby. ‘Are you cold?’ Worried that the chilled air might irritate his bronchial tubes, her gloved hand went to the pocket of her down jacket for the hundredth time, making sure the precious inhaler was within close reach. It was one of the reasons she always reserved a cabin onboard for the two-day trip—despite the extra cost—rather than pitch a tent on the deck like other travelers often did. Especially as the summer air gave way to the frigid gusts of late fall.
‘I like being out here.’ Toby’s words were muffled by the scarf Sammi had draped across his nose and mouth in an effort to keep the air as warm as possible.
The trip to see Toby’s father was one she always dreaded. Not only because she hated to be away from her son but because the trip meant she wouldn’t have access to her clinic or a hospital during the time it took to get from one place to the other. And flying was an expense she couldn’t afford. Toby’s father was footing the bill for the trip by water as it was.
You could have asked Mark to take you.
Right. After he’d stalked from the clinic two weeks ago?
She had been wrong to bring up his father, but the words had flown from her mouth before she’d been able to stop them. She doubted many people knew what he’d gone through as a kid, and he’d never openly admitted it to anyone. Even when they’d been together, Mark had avoided talking about his dad. But she’d seen little clues here and there, and she knew in her heart of hearts her hunch was right.
But to say the words out loud…
She cringed. If things between them had been bad before her outburst, they were a hundred times worse now.
The figurative arctic freeze they’d retreated into was more palpable than the real thing—on the open deck of the ferry. If anyone was going to break that frosty silence, it would be him. Not that there was much of a chance of cracking through all those layers without some kind of major thaw. And after more than eight years of icy accumulation, Sammi didn’t see that happening.
Her thoughts went back to the X-ray and her initial horror at seeing those old breaks. Once the shock had faded, though, her brain had clicked into gear and worked through some other possibilities. He could have broken his hand in any number of ways. Like having it slammed in a door in a similar fashion to what had happened at the clinic. Only she would have expected one bone to have cracked in that case. Not four. The X-ray she’d taken had been merely a precaution.
Had he gotten them as a result of his military service? Because he hadn’t come to the clinic with any injuries since he’d returned to Dutch Harbor—and she didn’t remember seeing a cast on him during that time.
He’d never spoken of those years in the navy to anyone on the island, or word would have gotten back to her. Surely Blake knew something. They’d served in the military at the same time. But Blake seemed just as close-mouthed about that period in his life as Mark did. They’d both been pilots in Afghanistan, dangerous work, but Mark had never once bragged, even to impress any of the local girls, which shocked her. She couldn’t think of a better way to pick up women than to present yourself as a bad-boy hero who thrived on danger.
In fact, he didn’t mention his past at all, something she found a little strange, now that she thought about it. She’d talked about the stuff that had happened in her life on a regular basis, from cute childhood moments to embarrassing tales of teen stupidity. Even her father’s history of running around on her mother was common knowledge on the island, much to her mom’s keen embarrassment.
‘Will it be snowing at the zoo?’
Sammi’s mind switched back to the present, and she smiled down at her son, her heart swelling with love. ‘I hope not.’ Doubly so because Toby’s father had always seemed slightly irritated at the limitations placed on their son due to his asthma. A die-hard sports fan, Brad often hinted that Toby’s condition wouldn’t be as bad if Sammi didn’t coddle him so much.
But she didn’t. At least, she didn’t think she did. What else was she supposed to do when he was gasping and wheezing for breath? Tell him to ‘man up’ and deal with it?
It was another reason she’d always accompanied Toby on these trips, rather than just ask Brad to come to the island and pick him up. It’s not like her ex didn’t have the money to fly over for their bi-weekly visits. Neither did she begrudge Toby the time with his father. Brad was a good man, and a decent father—at least he’d never begged off having Toby come and see him—but Sammi also wanted to be somewhere close, in case something went terribly wrong. So she’d sit in a hotel room all day while Brad, along with his new wife and daughter, took Toby on their usual one-day jaunt. She’d stare at her cellphone and will it not to ring. But Toby had always been dropped off at the end of the day healthy, happy, and singularly untraumatized. He never knew his mother went to hell and back until he was delivered safely into her care once again.
At least she and Molly—who’d come back from her honeymoon a week ago—could go out and enjoy a meal. If her friend was off duty for the day. And if she could drag herself away from Blake long enough for them to get in some girl time.
‘There it is, Mom!’
Sure enough, off in the distance was a pinpoint strip of land that could only signal they were getting close to docking. ‘Do you have all your stuff?’
Toby glanced down at his wheeled backpack. ‘I think so. I’m coming back to the hotel room tonight, right? Or am I staying with Daddy?’
‘Nope. It’s you and me, popcorn and a movie.’ She tucked the tail of his scarf into his coat a little better. ‘What do you want to see?’
‘How about something scary? With zombies and stuff.’
Her brows went up. ‘Try again. This time come down a couple of ratings to something within the PG range.’
‘Awww, Mom…’
It was a familiar fight, but Sammi wasn’t irritated. She knew it was part of Toby’s search for independence, but she also knew that at six, he still needed limits. Lots of them. She could be his friend when he was an adult. Until then, she was fully prepared to be the bad guy.
‘Hmm… How about that penguin movie you love so much?’
‘We’ve seen that like six thousand times.’
‘That’s a lot. I had no idea.’ She gave him a mock roll of her eyes. ‘We can decide once you get back to the hotel, then.’
The next half-hour was spent making sure they weren’t forgetting anything on board before the ferry drew up at the docking. When Toby acted like he was going to bolt toward the exit, she took his arm. ‘Wait.’ She didn’t particularly want to be trampled on the way out. So they hung back, allowing the bulk of the passengers to disembark before making their own getaway.
Brad and his family met them in the parking area. There were so many people around that they didn’t have to worry about making small talk or about whether or not Sammi should invite them inside her hotel room. She wanted to keep things as cordial as possible, for Toby’s sake.
A small pang of envy went through her as Brad bent down and wrapped his son in a big hug. His wife also knelt to say hello, their four-year-old daughter holding tightly to her hand. Sammi wanted to dislike the woman, especially since they’d started their own family almost before the ink had been dry on the divorce papers, but she couldn’t. Maribel had never been anything but nice to her, and she seemed to really like Toby. That was all that mattered. That her son was happy and well taken care of.
Brad stood, keeping hold of Toby’s hand. ‘Do you want to do this like we usually do? We can bring him to the hotel room around eight or nine?’
Something about the way he said it made Sammi fidget. Yes, that was their normal arrangement, so it wasn’t like she could suddenly say Toby couldn’t go. She just had a funny feeling. The weather had been iffy for the two-day trip on the ferry, but nothing in the forecast seemed to predict anything unusual for a day in mid-October. ‘That sounds fine.’
No one asked which hotel, because she always stayed at the same place. And she was always alone when they arrived.
Alone. What an awful-sounding word.
Maybe she needed to put herself back on the market. Toby was growing up quickly. And Brad seemed to have gone on with his life. So why hadn’t she?
Certainly not because she was still in love with Brad. She’d been fond of him—had convinced herself he was the stable, steady presence she craved in a husband. Not like her father or Mark who had been there one minute and gone the next. But, in the end, stable and steady hadn’t been enough to make the marriage work.
She leaned down and kissed Toby, making sure his backpack was zipped up tight. ‘I guess you’re all set.’
‘Ready for the zoo?’ Brad asked his wife and daughter. Little squeals went up from both the girls, while Toby stood motionless.
Strange. A little while ago he’d been excited about the prospect of being with his dad. Maybe he’d sensed her mood, which he seemed to have an uncanny knack of doing. She hoped not. The last thing she wanted to do was spoil his outing.
‘Oh, wait.’ Lord, she couldn’t believe she’d almost forgotten. Reaching into her jacket pocket, she pulled out Toby’s inhaler and handed it to her ex. The skin between Brad’s brows puckered a bit, but he said nothing. Instead, he shoved the small canister into the pocket of his own jacket. Her trepidation grew. Brad wouldn’t let anything bad happen to Toby. He was his son as well. And they’d been through this same routine for the last four years without a hint of trouble.