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Ignore him. You’ve done it for the last six months. You can do it now.
Not so easy this time as Toby had twisted around to look, a contented sigh lifting his thin chest. She listened for the warning wheeze, but it didn’t happen. A dose of self-righteous anger whipped up at the deadly charisma her former beau gave off in waves. She would not let him hurt her son the way he’d hurt her.
She leaned down. ‘Just a few more minutes.’ She realized too late those were almost the exact words she’d heard Mark whisper to him earlier.
Thank heavens she hadn’t waited around for Mark’s return. Because he now barely gave her the time of day. And she wasn’t much better. She avoided him whenever she could—not an easy feat on an island like Dutch Harbor—and the only times he’d appeared at the clinic over these last months had been to deliver a tourist who’d gotten a scrape or a bruise.
Her turn to offer her congratulations to the happy couple. Finally!
She pasted on a smile as she reached out her free hand to Blake, the groom. ‘So you went and did it.’ She tried to keep her voice light, but it betrayed her by shaking just the tiniest bit. She pushed on, anyway. ‘I can’t believe you’re leaving the island and taking Molly with you.’ Blake, Mark, and Sammi had joined forces during their childhood days, becoming a kind of mod squad—inseparable and lifelong friends. Those strands were now tattered and worn—she doubted they could ever be woven together again.
Blake laughed, evidently not noticing the strain she was under. ‘I think if Molly had a choice, she’d never leave Dutch Harbor.’
Molly had worked as a doctor at the tiny clinic with Sammi for the last year until her funding had dried up, forcing her to move back to Anchorage. She and Blake had met while doing medevacs and, after a rocky start, realized they were meant for each other. Once she left, Sammi would be stuck doing medical evacuations with Mark, not something she was looking forward to.
Who was she kidding? She was dreading it.
Pausing to gather her thoughts, she tried to keep her mind on the happy couple and off her own problems. ‘Treat her right, Blake. Or I’ll come and find you.’
‘I intend to.’
While Blake squatted to talk to Toby, Sammi moved over to embrace the bride. ‘Be happy,’ she whispered.
‘You too.’
If only it were that easy.
She sensed Blake rise to his feet to greet Mark. At the sound of awkward male hugs—complete with palms delivering a few resounding smacks to the other’s back—she had to fight back a smile.
She tried to tune out their words, but Mark’s ‘You caved, bro’ caught her attention, the wry tone as flip as ever.
The bride’s voice brought her back to the present. ‘Okay, you two, I’m tired and starving.’ She crinkled her nose. ‘And I still have a three-hour flight to Anchorage to get through.’
That drew a laugh from Sammi. Her friend had married a pilot, yet she didn’t like to fly. At all. Talk about opposites attracting. She gave Molly another quick hug. ‘You’ll be fine.’
Molly smiled. ‘I know I will. I just like the extra handholding it gets me.’
Those words made Sammi’s heart ache. Although she was over the moon that her two friends had found each other, she was sad she’d never found that same perfect happiness. Her ex-husband had done his best, but in the end they’d both known it wasn’t meant to be. When Toby had been one, they’d separated. They’d finalized their divorce two weeks before Toby’s second birthday. Her ex, now living in Anchorage, had remarried and was, to all appearances, blissfully happy with his second wife. Even Toby liked her.
A throat cleared behind her, making her jump. She realized she was holding up the line and that Mark couldn’t get around her in the narrow gap between the door and the newly married couple without touching her. Again. The thought made her quake inside. She squeaked out a quick ‘Sorry’.
Then she grabbed Toby’s hand and did the only thing she could think of.
She fled.
CHAPTER TWO
SAMMI pumped the inhaler twice and waited.
Toby, still half-asleep, lay on his back propped in a nest of pillows. The terrifying rattle in his chest slowly eased as the albuterol flooded his lungs, widening his breathing passages to allow more air flow.
As Community Health Aide for the island, she knew better than to panic, but when it was your own son… She closed her eyes. Who could maintain any kind of objectivity under those circumstances?
Not that she had much of that anyway. Molly had continually fussed at her for rushing from one house to another to check on patients she’d just seen the day before.
‘You’re going to wear yourself out this way’ had been the rebuke du jour.
Her friend was right, but she hadn’t been able to stop.
Now that Molly was gone and with only one other physician’s assistant on staff at the clinic, she wouldn’t have the luxury of taking off at any hour of day to check on her patients. And either she or the PA would now have to accompany any medevac flights headed to Anchorage. The good part was that she’d be able to meet up with Molly periodically. The bad part was that she was stuck flying with Mark—although Blake could still handle cases that weren’t life or death and who could wait the three hours it took him to reach Dutch Harbor.
‘Better?’ she asked her son, his breathing now almost back to normal.
He nodded sleepily, trying to squinch his way back into his cocoon of warm covers.
‘Not so fast, bud. Let’s just wait another minute or two.’
His impatient sigh made her smile. Okay, if he could do that, instead of gasping for each breath, she could afford to let him go back to sleep. She tucked him in and stood over his bed, watching him for a second. Before putting the inhaler back on the book-packed nightstand beside his bed, she shook it to see how much of the medicine remained.
Were they going through it faster than normal?
She couldn’t shake the feeling that Toby’s attacks were coming more frequently than in the past.
Checking the child monitor before she clicked the lights off, she headed back to her own room, hoping she could squeeze her eyelids shut long enough to turn off her brain. She needed the sleep, or tomorrow promised to be a long, exhausting day.
‘Mrs. Litchfield is in room one. One of her joints is swollen to almost twice its size.’ The receptionist handed Sammi a file folder.
She tossed her braid over her shoulder, catching a movement outside the front plate-glass window as she did.
Mark. He was striding by on his way to the airport, hands stuffed into the front pockets of his leather bomber jacket, long, loose limbs moving in a way that drew the eye. Not quite a swagger, his stride gave off an air of easy confidence that said he didn’t care what the world thought of him.
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?’
