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“We like to think we’re a friendly sort. Can I prove that by asking if you’d like to come over for dinner? I’m sure you’re getting tired of restaurant food. I have my grandmother’s recipe for fried chicken, and I make a mean berry pie.”
Long-term relationships were out of the question. Not only was he always moving from place to place, but he didn’t see the point. He wasn’t the sort of man who did forever. Still, when a woman indicated she was intrigued, he paid attention.
A companion for dinner and someone in his bed every now and then was all he wanted. All he required. Under other circumstances, he would accept Nora’s invitation to dinner. But he couldn’t.
Despite her easy smile and the hint there was more on the menu than dinner, he couldn’t say yes. When he looked at her all he saw was a woman who wasn’t Montana. Short hair instead of long. Blue eyes instead of brown. Until today he had considered women interchangeable. He might like one more than the other, but the difference wasn’t measurable or important.
“Thank you,” he said. “But I’m going to have to decline.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Really?” She hesitated for a second. “Are you sure?”
Simon stood. “Very.”
Perhaps he should have said more. Offered some kind of explanation. But what was there to say? That he was obsessed with another woman? One he barely knew?
He stepped into the hallway and was relieved to see Kalinda’s mother walking toward him.
“She’s sleeping,” Fay said. “She’s resting more comfortably. That’s good, right?”
“She’s healing.” Simon hoped Fay wouldn’t notice he hadn’t answered the question. At this point in Kalinda’s recovery, staying alive was good. Everything else was negotiable. Kalinda could turn with no notice, no warning. That was the hell of what he did—there was never a sure thing. Alistair always said they did their best and that was enough. Simon didn’t agree.
“That little dog helped,” Fay continued. “Cece. Montana said she would bring her back whenever we wanted. Is it all right if I call her?”
Simon rarely had to choose between what he wanted and what a patient needed. Not that there was a choice. Kalinda would come first. “Of course,” he said with an ease he didn’t feel. “As long as your daughter is holding her own, the dog can visit. Whatever we can do to help her.”
Fay squeezed his arm. “Thank you,” she breathed. “I’ll call Montana right now.”
He watched her hurry away, already pulling her cell phone from her jeans pocket. In a few seconds she would hear Montana’s voice. Simon knew things were bad when he felt jealous of that.
He had to get a grip. He barely knew the woman. Maybe he needed vitamins.
Before he got any further in his self-diagnosis, one of the nurses came running toward him.
“We just got a call about an accident,” she said urgently. “A boy. He’s twelve. Fireworks. That’s all I know.”
Simon ran to the stairs and started down. The other woman was still talking but he wasn’t listening and soon he was out of earshot. His mind cleared.
He’d seen the damage fireworks could do to the human body. A familiar, cold rage returned. Other people might enjoy the Fourth of July, but he loathed the holiday. Parents who let children play with fireworks should all be shot. Or set on fire themselves.
He let himself experience the anger until he stepped out of the stairwell and onto the ground floor. As he ran toward the emergency room, he let all the feelings go. He allowed himself only concern and the knowledge he would do everything in his power to fix what had been broken.
“I KNOW WE’RE SUPPOSED to eat outside,” Montana’s mother said. “It’s tradition and all. But I feel like I’ve paid my dues. We ate in the backyard all the time when you were little. I dealt with the bugs and ants enough to last a lifetime. Besides, we’re all grown-ups.”
Montana did her best to keep her mother from seeing her amusement. They went through this every summer. For a woman who loved to garden, Denise was oddly reluctant to eat outdoors. Snacks were fine, but something about a meal eaten on the grass made her mother crazy.
“We’re not all adults,” she said just to tease. “Reese is only ten and Tyler just turned eleven. I won’t even mention Melissa, Abby and Hannah.”
Her mother sighed. “So you’re saying that if I was a good grandmother, I’d serve dinner outside?”
Montana laughed, then walked over to her mother and hugged her. “You’re an excellent grandmother. Nobody cares if we eat inside or outside. We’ll go out later.”
“If you’re sure.” Denise shook her head. “I don’t know why I’m so frantic. I guess it’s because nearly everyone will be here and that hasn’t happened in a long time.”
It was true, Montana thought. Only Ford would be missing. Her youngest brother was currently on a Navy ship in the Indian Ocean. Kent, the middle Hendrix brother, and his son Reese would be joining them. They hadn’t made it for Christmas, something Denise had been unable to let go. Montana didn’t know all the details. Kent and his ex-wife had been finalizing their divorce.
Unlike many women, Kent’s ex didn’t want custody of their son, although she expected to see Reese whenever it suited her. Montana’s understanding of family law was that a parent had to pay child support or take custody so that the responsibility of having a child wasn’t reduced to mere convenience.
Not her problem, she reminded herself as she set the table. It would be good to see her brother and her nephew. Reese was always fun, even if he did kick her butt at computer games.
She finished putting out the glasses. Most of the food had been prepared. The ribs were ready to go on the barbecue. Four kinds of salad were in bowls in the fridge, and frosted brownies tempted her from the counter.
“Your sister should be here soon,” her mother said, glancing at the clock on the wall.
She meant Nevada. The single sisters arrived early to help. Until a couple of months ago, Dakota would have been with them. She had Finn now, not to mention her daughter, Hannah. And she was pregnant.
Montana wondered what that must feel like. To know you had a baby inside you. As far as she knew, her sister hadn’t felt any movement in her growing tummy. Still, the realization that a life was inside her must be powerful stuff.
Fierce longing swept through her, startling her with its intensity. She wanted to fall in love and get married and have kids. She’d never been that passionate about the subject before. Maybe because she hadn’t figured out what she wanted to do with her life. But now she was settled in her job and ready for the next step. Unfortunately, no guy lurked on the horizon.
Without wanting to, she remembered Simon’s kiss. But he’d made it clear that he didn’t plan to kiss her again. While technically kissing wasn’t required for pregnancy, she had a feeling it helped. Besides, she didn’t want just a baby, she wanted a husband. Simon didn’t strike her as the sort of man who’d settle down.
“Are you all right?” her mother asked.
“Fine. Just thinking about Dakota’s baby.”
“Hannah is going to enjoy having a baby brother or sister.”
Montana thought of her sister’s adopted daughter. She’d only been a part of the family for a couple of months, but already no one could remember what it had been like without her. She had spent the first few months of her life in an orphanage in Kazakhstan yet she’d adjusted to the family as if she was blood.
“Maybe she’ll have twins,” Montana said with a grin.
“Don’t let your sister hear you say that,” her mother warned.
Montana laughed. “More grandchildren for you.”
“I wouldn’t say no. But she might want to go more slowly. So … are you seeing anyone?”
The question was asked casually enough, but Montana wasn’t fooled. Her mother would want details. Not that she had any to share. She hadn’t been on a date in months. And her tour of town with Simon didn’t count, even with the kiss.
“No, are you?”
Her mother leaned against the counter and sighed. “I’ve been on a few dates, but nothing special.” She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t understand it. There are so many younger men asking me out. Why? Where are all the good men in their fifties and sixties?”
Montana looked at her mother. Denise was as pretty as she had been twenty years ago. She could also fit in the same clothes. Her blond hair was short and stylish. She understood why younger men were interested in her mother, even though she didn’t want to hear about it.
For a second, she thought about mentioning Max. Her boss was about the right age and in the year Montana had known him, he’d never been out with anyone. At least she didn’t think he’d been on a date. They didn’t exactly talk about their personal lives. So, he was a possibility. Except for the issue of the name Max tattooed on her mother’s hip. Whoever that Max was, their relationship had been very intense. There might be name associations her mother wouldn’t appreciate.
“Your sister told me about your conversation with Mayor Marsha,” her mother said.
“We really don’t have to talk about that.” She glanced at the clock, wishing someone would show up. Anyone would be a distraction.
“It’s nice of you to help the town. What’s he like?”
“Quiet.” A great kisser. But that was a factoid she was not going to share with her mother.
“Do you think you’ll be seeing him again?”
Before Montana could figure out how to answer, the phone rang.
Saved by the bell, she thought humorously.
Her mother reached for the receiver. “Hello?”
Montana turned toward the refrigerator to get herself something to drink. But a sixth sense made her turn around.
“Are you sure?” Denise asked, her face going white. “I’m sorry. Of course you’re sure. Yes. We’ll be right there.”
She hung up the phone, then pressed her hand against her midsection. Tears filled Denise’s eyes.
Montana was at her side in an instant. “What is it? What happened?” She could feel her mother shaking.
“There’s been a car accident. Kent and Reese. They’re on their way to the hospital.”
Montana was already grabbing her purse. “We’ll meet them there.”
CHAPTER FIVE
MONTANA TOLD HERSELF to keep her attention on the road. What she wanted to do was panic. Instead, she was going to be strong. If anyone had the right to freak out, it was her mother.
“I wish they’d told us more,” her mother said, clutching her hands together and straining in the seat as if willing them to go faster.
Montana resisted the urge to speed. They were driving through the center of town and there were pedestrians everywhere. She wasn’t willing to hurt someone just to get to the hospital a few seconds more quickly.
“Two more minutes,” she said, signaling to turn into the hospital parking lot. “I’m going to pull up in front of the emergency room. You go in and I’ll park.”
Denise nodded and jumped out of the car.
Montana found a parking space, but before getting out, she paused and sent off a brief prayer that everyone was going to be all right.
She hurried across the parking lot and through the automatic doors. Relief washed through her when she saw her brother Kent holding her mother. He looked shaken and pale, and had a bandage across his forehead, but otherwise he was all right.
Kent looked up and saw her. He freed one arm and held it open to her. She ran into his embrace.
“I’m okay,” he was saying. “Reese is going to need surgery.” His voice shook as he said the words. “He got cut pretty bad. Mostly his face, some on his arm. They’re telling me the injuries aren’t life threatening, but they scared the hell out of me.” He swallowed.
Montana sensed he wanted to say more, to share the experience. But he was holding back because of their mother. No doubt he was concerned that too many details would upset her. Montana had a feeling that the details involved a lot of bleeding and knew her brother was making the right decision. They could catch up on the specifics later.
She drew back slightly and studied him. Like his brothers, Kent was tall and broad shouldered, with dark hair and dark eyes. He looked a lot like their dad. Handsome, with an inner strength.
“Where is Reese now?” Denise asked.
“Being prepped for surgery.”
Before he could say more, a doctor approached him. The badge on her coat said Dr. Lawrence. Montana had seen her around the hospital and knew she had a good reputation.
“Reese is just fine,” the doctor told Kent. “He’s calm—we’ve given him something for the pain. He should be in surgery in the next half hour or so.” She gave them a warm smile. “The best news I have to give you is that the doctor who will be working on your son is extraordinary. I would go so far as to say gifted. If there is one surgeon I would pick to work on my child it would be Dr. Bradley.”
Montana blinked at her. “Simon is going to do the surgery?”
“You know Dr. Bradley?” Dr. Lawrence asked.
She felt everyone looking at her. “Yes. I take one of my therapy dogs to see one of his patients.” She turned to her mother and brother. “Simon, ah, Dr. Bradley, is a renowned plastic surgeon. He mostly works on burn patients.”
Dr. Lawrence nodded. “That’s true. He’s just finishing up surgery on a boy right now. As soon as he’s ready, we’ll take Reese in to him. The surgery itself shouldn’t take very long.”
They were given a few more details, told where to wait. When Dr. Lawrence left, Montana took her mother’s arm and leaned against her brother.
“It’s going to be okay,” she told him. “Dr. Bradley is the best.”
“I’m relieved,” Kent admitted, leading the way to the waiting room.
They settled onto surprisingly comfortable chairs, clustered close together. Their conversation was more idle chitchat than anything meaningful. Just something to pass the time while they each privately worried.
Nevada showed up next. Dakota was there a few minutes later, baby Hannah in her arms. Hugs were exchanged while everyone was brought up to date. Then Ethan and Liz arrived and they went through it all again.
As everyone talked, Montana realized this was what families did. They comforted each other, they waited in hospitals, they prayed. No matter what happened, she would always have this. People who loved her and would worry, and wait. She was one of six children and didn’t know any other way to live.
Out of nowhere, a thought occurred to her. What about Simon? Who waited and worried for him?
SIMON MADE THE LAST, impossibly small, even stitch. The procedure had been straightforward. The cuts looked worse than they were. Not too deep, not too wide. There might be some minor scarring but he doubted it.
He stood in the operating room while the boy was wheeled to recovery. Most surgeons would have left already. He didn’t linger out of concern. Instead he waited because he knew what was next. He would go tell the family that everything was going to be fine. That the worst the boy would have was the faintest hint of a scar. Nothing frightening. Barely noticeable.
They would be grateful. The families always were. They would surround him and thank him and want to offer him something. The women would try to hug him and the men would shake his hand. He went through it hundreds of times and he never found it easy. He didn’t want their thanks. All he wanted was to slip away. To take on the next case, to lose himself in the work.
This time would be especially awkward. According to the nurse, his patient was Montana’s nephew. He would be forced to see her again, to stare into her dark eyes and know that he couldn’t have the one thing he most wanted. Worse, he would have to do it in front of her family.
He doubted she would say anything. She was too kind for that. But she would be thinking it. That he had kissed her, practically forced himself upon her. It had been so unlike him.
Knowing he was putting off the inevitable, he walked to the waiting room. He saw them at once, the large family clustered together, talking, comforting one another. He’d been told that waiting was the worst and he believed it. At least he was always busy doing something.
In the second before they noticed him, he saw Montana had sisters. No, more than that. He saw the identical bone structure, the shape of the eyes that was exactly the same. Minor differences caused more by time than DNA.
A triplet. She hadn’t mentioned that. And brothers. She came from a large family, something he couldn’t relate to. How did people find quiet with that many family members around?
Montana glanced up and saw him. “Dr. Bradley.”
Everyone shifted, allowing one of the brothers and the petite, pretty woman in her fifties to move toward him. Montana’s mother, he realized, taking in more similarities.
