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“Hell, I don’t know what it is.” He shrugged, raised his hands in a helpless gesture, then turned slowly to face her.
“Thank you for seeing to my knee. If you need some help with repairs to the clinic, let me know. I’ll be at my grandmother’s.” Then he turned quickly and made his way out into the night.
Macy listened until she heard his car start, and she peeked through the window as the red taillights disappeared around the corner. She wished that would be the last of it. That he’d go away for another five years or five hundred, but she knew he wouldn’t. As long as Alex was around, neither her emotions nor her secret were safe.
He might not know it yet, but he would probably know by tomorrow. He’d be seeing a lot of her. After all, she lived next door to his grandmother. And that was going to be an enormous problem.
ALL BLOCK wanted to do was to go to bed and sleep the rest of the night away, but as he drove through the darkened streets of Lyndonville, all he could think about was Macy. Of what could have been. What should have been. And he wondered why it wasn’t.
He remembered the way she used to follow him and her brother C.J. around like a lost puppy. She’d had a crush on him then. When he was sixteen and Macy was eleven, her puppy love or hero worship had been a pain in the butt.
But now he was thirty-six, and she was thirty-one. They were way beyond the age of puppy love, and the sexual energy that seemed to sizzle between them was a sure indication that Macy felt the same attraction, whether she wanted to or not. And after that night five years ago following C.J.’s funeral, there could be no doubt that they could have something good.
He’d never understood women, and maybe he never would, but he wished he could figure Macy out. If there was one woman he could find worth getting to know, Macy was the one. Why was she being so uptight with him? There was something odd about that…considering what they’d done five years ago.
Without realizing it, Block had made his way back to his grandmother’s house. The power around town was still off, but a hurricane lamp shone with warm welcome in Gramma’s front window. He shut off the engine, locked the car, and accepted the welcome light’s invitation to come inside.
“You be quiet, now, y’ hear,” his grandmother said in a hushed whisper as Block stepped through the door.
He looked around through the dim light and spotted her sitting in an old rocker in the darkened living room. “What are you still doing up?” he said in a stage whisper.
She held a finger to her lips. “Shhh,” she said and pointed to a small bundle wrapped in a quilt and sleeping on the couch. “You’ll wake him.”
“Who’s that?”
“Hush now. You just go on to bed. I’m waiting up for his momma, then I’ll be on to bed, too.”
“All right. I’ll have to confess I’m too tired to argue.”
Gramma made a shooing motion with her hands. “Now go on to bed. You’ll feel better in the morning.”
Block wondered about that last remark, but figured that Gramma had noticed him limping. Those old eyes were still sharp, and she didn’t miss much. Still, he was curious about the kid sleeping on the couch.
Why was the kid’s mother out this late at night? Especially considering the storm and the power outage.
He pulled out of his damp clothes, hung them over a chair and crawled into the too-soft bed.
Block would have thought that he’d drop right off, but sleep eluded him. As he lay there, he heard a car drive up and a door slam, then he heard the murmur of voices out in the living room. Block glanced at the clock. After four. The mother must have come to collect her child. He supposed she hadn’t been able to get back sooner because of the storm.
He heard the front door close, and he listened as his grandmother padded to bed. Whoever the woman was, she was gone, and she wasn’t his problem, anyway. The kid wasn’t his problem, either. He had to learn that he couldn’t solve every problem that crossed his path, even if he was used to being a take-charge man.
He rolled over and punched the pillow and tried again to sleep. But every time he closed his eyes he thought of Macy Jackson. And every time he saw her, his body reacted. All his adult life, he’d tried to move forward, to improve himself. And to him, coming back to Lyndonville was a step back.
But then, Macy Jackson was just another one of those things he’d always wanted and couldn’t have. That’s why he’d left her office tonight. Wasn’t any sense in prolonging the agony.
There had been so many things in Lyndonville that he’d wanted and couldn’t have. A future. A job. Respect. The town had held him back. It had killed his father because he hadn’t been able to pay for the antibiotic that could have cured him, and he hadn’t had a car to get him to one of the free clinics in Florence or Darlington.
It had nearly worn his mother down, physically and mentally as she struggled to clean other people’s houses and had so little in her own. Life in Lyndonville when he was a boy had been a constant struggle for food, for shoes, for anything that was worth anything. In his mind, the only way to move up in the world was to get out of Lyndonville, but Macy had chosen to stay.
She’d chosen to make her life here. She’d chosen to make Lyndonville better, and by doing so, she’d earned the respect of everyone. He’d seen it in the way the sheriff had treated her, and her patients, and…even he was a little bit in awe.
With that thought in mind, as the sky was beginning to lighten in the east, he drifted off to sleep.
MACY YAWNED and let herself into her own little house, a mirror twin to Willadean Blocker’s. She’d inherited it from her Aunt Earnestine, who’d raised her and her two brothers after her mother had died in childbirth and her father had gone up north to look for work and had never returned. It wasn’t exactly the kind of place you’d expect a young doctor to be living in, but she had student loans to pay off, and the house was free. Macy let out an exhausted sigh and started for her bed.
No, she’d better set the alarm for a couple of hours. Then she could be up and off to work, and Alex would be none the wiser.
Batteries checked, clock set, she headed for bed without bothering to undress. She simply kicked off her shoes and fell onto the sheets she’d vacated when the storm had struck. It seemed like days since she’d left that bed, but it had only been hours.
So why did she find it so impossible to sleep?
She managed a wry chuckle to herself. She knew exactly why. Alex Blocker. Back in town and, worse than that, right next door.
Why had Alex decided to come back now? Why had he come back at all? She remembered how strongly he had felt about Lyndonville. How he had blamed it for killing his father and wearing his mother down. He’d always said that nothing good ever happened to him in Lyndonville. After her brother C.J. had died in a helicopter crash, Alex had sworn that the next time he came back, it would be in a pine box, like C.J.
Well, he was back. And he wasn’t in a pine box. He was very much alive.
IN SPITE OF his late night, Block woke up shortly after dawn. He would have preferred to sleep in this morning, but he figured he’d best get out there and see where he could help. He didn’t have a lot of carpentry skill, but he had a strong back and a willing mind. The hour or so he’d slept had refreshed him. If he’d slept any longer, he probably would have been a wreck, but in special ops, he had long ago learned to make do with combat naps.
He stumbled into the bathroom and cleaned up as best he could without the benefit of hot water and light and dressed in worn jeans and a sleeveless sweatshirt. He hadn’t brought much in the way of work clothes, but these were sturdy and they’d have to do. He headed for the kitchen to see what his grandmother had to eat.
He stepped into the room and stopped short. A kid, back to him at the table, a bowl of multicolored cereal in front of him, was chattering like a blue jay while Gramma looked on indulgently.
“I thought you didn’t take in day-care kids anymore, Gramma,” he said once he’d gotten over the initial surprise.
“Well, I had thought to retire,” Gramma said as she pushed herself up out of her chair. “But this one is just so special, I couldn’t resist.”
The object of discussion turned around. His eyes grew wide, seeming to take over his elflike face, comical-looking with several circles of colored cereal stuck to his milk-chocolate-colored cheek. He stared at Block.
“Good morning,” Block said to the little boy.
The kid smiled shyly and quickly turned back to his cereal, but Block saw that the kid wasn’t eating.
“This is Cory,” Gramma said, rubbing the little boy’s head affectionately. “I guess he’s goin’ to be shy this morning.”
Block’s experience with kids was limited, but he figured he’d do his best to make friends if his grandmother was going to be taking care of the boy for the duration of his week or so stay. “Nice to meet you, Cory. My name is Bl—I mean Alex.” He’d been Block to his fellow combat controllers for so long, he still had a hard time thinking of himself as Alex. He guessed he was going to have to get used to it.
Cory held up four sticky fingers. “I’m four,” he announced proudly. “Next year I getta go to the kiddie garden like a big kid, an’ I won’t hafta stay at Gramma’s like a little kid.”
“Gramma’s? Is this a nephew I don’t know about?” He looked at his grandmother for clarification.
“It’s a long story,” Gramma said, putting a plate of cold corn bread and ham on the table. “Power’s still out so I can’t cook, but here. Eat. You need all your energy for today.”
Block looked at the cold ham and congealed fat and grimaced. “Gramma, you know I love your cooking, but I think I’ll see if I can find something hot in town. Maybe some of the fast-food places are up and running. The power can’t be out all over.” He glanced at his watch. “I’d best get moving.” He headed for the front door.
He yanked the door open and stopped still.
There, on the porch, stood Macy, her hand raised to knock.
Macy gasped, then stepped back a half step. Her other hand rose involuntarily to her throat, and she let out a startled squeak. “Oh my goodness. Alex,” she managed. “I didn’t expect the door to open.”
Though he’d seen her just a few hours ago, Block was stunned by the vision in front of him. He’d almost convinced himself that he hadn’t spent most of the night with Macy Jackson, that they hadn’t kissed, that he’d just dreamed it.
Her hair was the same chestnut brown that had curled in ringlets around her face, although today she had it pulled back in some sort of prissy ball. Even as she’d tried to tame them, some of the ringlets had pulled free and framed her face. Her skin was the same blend of coffee and cream he remembered from last night, but now, in the light of day, he could see something different about her.
Her formerly skinny frame seemed riper, more lush than he remembered. Why hadn’t he noticed it last night? Of course, they’d been in the middle of a major disaster. But in the morning light he could see that Macy had matured and filled out.
“Nice to see you again, Macy,” he said, trying to sound cool and collected. “I wish we could talk, but I’m outta here. Got to go see where my services are needed with the cleanup.”
“Oh. Okay. That’s fine,” Macy said, an expression akin to panic in her wide, hazel eyes. Her hand was still raised as if frozen in place. Slowly, she lowered it to her side and seemed to relax. “I have to speak to your grandmother before I go to the clinic this morning. Don’t let me keep you.”
Block stepped aside and gestured inward. “She’s in the kitchen.”
Macy brushed past him leaving faint traces of soap or perfume in the air. Peach? Whatever it was, it smelled damned good.
Shaking his head and grinning, Block hustled to his SUV.
MACY CLOSED her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief, though she didn’t relax until she was certain Alex had driven away. Then she pulled herself together and hurried into the kitchen.
She was still tired, but she painted a smile on her face and knocked on the door frame. Willadean had insisted that she let Cory sleep over, rather than wake him. It had saved her from having to settle him down, and she’d been able to get to sleep all the sooner. But she wouldn’t dream of leaving for the clinic without saying goodbye, so here she was.
“Good morning, everyone,” she said, with false cheer. She hurried to Cory sitting at the table and kissed him on the top of his dark head. “I just wanted to check in with my two favorite people before I headed off to the clinic this morning.”
“Did you see that great big man?” Cory asked, reaching up to hug Macy with sticky hands.
Macy backed up half a step and looked at Willadean. “Sugary cereal? He’ll wear you out by the end of the day.”
“Can’t cook,” Willadean said. “The power’s still off. One little bowl of cereal won’t hurt him just this once.”
Somehow, Macy didn’t think that this was the first time. Otherwise, why would Willadean have the fruit-flavored stuff on hand? She arched an eyebrow. “Seems like cornflakes would be better for everyone.”
“Hey, you didn’t answer my question, Mama. Did you see the great big man?” Cory pressed.
“Yes, son. I saw him.” She turned to Willadean who was buttering a piece of cold corn bread. “I didn’t know Alex was going to be in town. Will he be here long?”
“Did you have any breakfast?” Willadean asked, carrying on her campaign to see that Macy ate. “There’s corn bread and cold ham that’ll just spoil if somebody don’t use it.”
“I had a peanut-butter sandwich, and that’ll hold me till I get to work. I have some microwave lunches I can heat up there. At least the clinic has a generator.” Was Willadean avoiding her question? “You didn’t say what Alex was doing here,” Macy reminded the elderly woman.
“Oh, don’t you remember I told you that I’d be having company coming for my birthday next week? Since Alex hurt his leg, he can’t do that jumping out of airplanes stuff anymore, so he’s interviewing for a job at the recruitin’ station in Florence. And he’ll be stayin’ here long enough to be at the party.” Willadean paused and smiled. “It’ll sure be good to have him back home where he belongs.”
Macy wasn’t certain she could second that, but perhaps Alex would stay busy with storm cleanup, have his interview and return to his base. And maybe he wouldn’t get the job. “I saw Alex last night, and he mentioned the interview,” she said. “He was helping with the tornado cleanup. I noticed he was limping and tended his knee.”
Alex hadn’t told her much at all. He’d just swept her off her feet and all but kissed her senseless. Well, actually…she reminded herself, she’d kissed him first. Then he’d kissed her back. Ten years ago, having Alex pay attention to her would have been a dream come true, but now she had a feeling that it was going to be a nightmare.
Macy couldn’t bear the thought of Alex being so close, even for just a week. With his grandmother only next door, she would be bound to run into him time after time. She wasn’t sure she would be able to handle that. Not after…
No, she wouldn’t think about that.
Cory yanked on Macy’s white lab coat. “He was really big. Maybe a hunnerd feet tall!” Cory said, spreading his arms expansively.
Willadean laughed. “He’s not that big, but he is a good-sized man.” She looked at Macy. “I reckon you’d best go on. Me ’n’ Cory will be busy all morning getting the yard cleaned up.”
“All right,” she said slowly. She reached down to hug Cory. “You be a good boy for Gramma Willadean,” she said, then planted a kiss on his sticky cheek.
Cory kissed her back. “You know I’m always good for Gramma,” he said. Then he turned back to his cereal.
“Cory child will be fine here today just like always. I can find plenty for him to do even if the power stays off.” Gramma Willadean chuckled. “What do you think I done with Alex’s father way back in the days before I had television?”
“I’m sure I don’t know,” Macy said as she turned to leave. And she wasn’t sure of another thing. Did she want Alex Blocker to stay in town, or did she want him to leave? If she thought she could count on him over the long haul, she supposed she’d love him to stay. But then, she didn’t know what she’d do if Alex stayed around long enough to start asking questions about her son.
BLOCK DROVE through streets striped with long shadows painted by the morning sun and littered with fallen branches and tattered leaves. Amazing how such an ugly night could lead into such a beautiful morning. The sky was crystal-clear blue, almost as if the storm had swept it clean.
He breathed deep of the crisp, clean air through his open car window. They might have had a pretty fall in a few weeks, but the storm had taken care of that, ripping most of the leaves from the trees before they had a chance to turn. At least the damage in Gramma’s part of town had been minimal.
Macy had looked gorgeous in the morning light, Block remembered suddenly. She hadn’t looked half-bad last night, either, in spite of her fatigue. But Block had a bad feeling that sunshine would do nothing to improve the appearance of that trailer park today. Still, he couldn’t have stayed at Gramma’s house with her waiting on him when there was so much to be done here. Sure, there was some minor damage at Gramma’s, but it could wait.
He turned the corner and saw what was left of Faron’s Trailer Park. As he’d predicted, the light of day had done nothing to improve the appearance of the trailers turned on their sides, roofs gone, metal twisted and shredded. Seeing it now, he marveled that he’d been able to pull anyone out alive. At least today, the fires that had given the scene such an eerie glow were no longer burning, but the acrid smell of smoke and burning wires still hung in the air.
Block parked at the little strip mall across from the trailer park and wondered where to start, who to see. As he climbed out, he spotted the man from the drugstore vainly trying to lift a huge pecan limb off of his car.
“Hey, buddy,” Block called. “Let me give you a hand with that.”
Now he felt useful. Anything to keep from thinking about his past, his future, or Macy, the girl who’d gotten away. Or wondering why he’d let her.
MACY HADN’T been able to see the damage to the clinic the night before. The walls and the windows were intact, but the gently sloping roof had taken quite a hit. Though she couldn’t tell exactly how badly it was damaged, a large section of shingles had blown away, and one of the pines that had provided welcome shade in the summer leaned against one side. There didn’t seem to be any structural damage to the building, but the tree would have to be felled, and the roof repaired…with money she didn’t have. There was insurance, but the deductible was so high, that Macy doubted it would be of much help. So much for trying to keep the premiums low…
Macy sighed and pushed her car door open. Last night when it was still raining, at least, the interior had remained dry. Maybe she could postpone the repairs until the more serious damage around town had been taken care of. The building might not look pretty right now, but it was functional.
She just wondered how long she could put off the repairs. The clinic barely broke even most of the time. Many of her patients paid what they could, some in produce or jellies and jams, and others depended on less-than-adequate insurance programs. And many times she’d done with less to make sure that her staff was paid. At least, she lived in Aunt Earnestine’s house free and clear.
A vehicle pulled up, and Macy turned around to see if she already had a patient. She was pleased to find a utility truck turning into the parking lot.
“Morning, Doc,” the driver said as he climbed out and tipped his hard hat. “Figured getting your power back on was a priority.”
“Yes, thank you,” Macy said as she stepped out of her own car. Just seeing the power truck was enough to energize her and brighten her day. And her clinic, she thought with a wry chuckle.
Maybe the situation wasn’t quite as desperate as she’d first imagined.
She collected her medical bag and purse and hurried to unlock the front door. If she didn’t hurry, she wouldn’t be organized before the first patient arrived today.
THE HARD WORK kept Block from thinking about the interview scheduled for later that week, or wondering about Macy or the change in the town. He had mixed emotions about Lyndonville. When he was growing up it had seemed such an unfriendly place, and for a kid growing up on the wrong side of the railroad spur, life had not been easy. Yet, people he cared about lived here.
He cut the power to the chainsaw and stopped for a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow. If he’d thought about it, he could have brought a sweatband from his workout clothes, but he’d had to make do with a red railman’s bandana the guy from the drugstore had given him. Funny, he didn’t even know the man’s name.
Block had been one of the first in line to purchase a gas-powered chainsaw when the hardware store opened, and now he was working his way through the town, clearing streets and cutting up broken limbs wherever he was needed. He’d learned to use the saw in the air force, and cutting down broken limbs or cutting up fallen trees wasn’t that much different than creating and setting up an airstrip out of nothing in the middle of nowhere. And he was doing something useful.
He looked up and was surprised to discover that he’d worked his way over to Macy’s clinic. Had his choice of direction been intentional?
