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“Home. I’ll call a cab and I can take Madi and all her food and belongings over to my apartment.”
“I can’t let you do that. I don’t even know you.”
“Madi knows me.” Offering her support to that statement, Madi pressed close to Harriet, licking her face adoringly.
Ethan tried not to think about all the potential pathogens she was spreading. “Are you allowed pets in your apartment?”
“I would never live anywhere that wouldn’t let me keep a dog. I often foster animals for the animal shelter.”
And now she wanted to take Madi. She was offering to remove his problem.
He was sorely tempted to let her do exactly that, but then he remembered his promise to his sister.
He thought about Karen, lying in hospital anxious about her dog.
“I can’t let you do that.”
“You don’t have a choice, Dr. Black, because I’m not leaving Madi here with you.”
Had Debra really said Harriet was gentle and mild?
Clearly she didn’t know her well.
He breathed deeply. “Can we start this again? I had a long day. A difficult day. I returned home to mayhem. I’ve needed an adjustment period, that’s true, and it’s also true that I have almost no experience caring for animals, but this dog is precious to my sister and my niece and I will do whatever it takes to make her happy while she’s staying with me.” He couldn’t believe he’d just said that. “But I’m going to need you to help me because, as you rightly say, I know nothing about dogs. And before you think that disqualifies me from caring for her, I should emphasize that I’m a quick learner.”
“I don’t think it’s in Madi’s best interests to stay here.” She stared at him for a long time and he sensed she was trying to read him.
“Look—have you eaten?”
“Excuse me?”
“Have you had dinner? It’s late. I’m hungry and I worked right through without lunch. My job doesn’t leave much time for food or bathroom breaks. You might as well join me and we can talk this through. I need to convince you I can be a good temporary home for Madi, but I can’t do that while you’re sitting there covered in snow glaring at me as if I’m an axe murderer. So let’s have dinner.” Why was she still staring at him? And why did she look so horrified? “I’m hungry. You must be too.”
There was a pause.
“I—I don’t think that’s a g-g-g—” She broke off, visibly dismayed.
He wanted to tell her that it wasn’t a big deal. He almost finished her sentence but then remembered his old girlfriend telling him it was the worst thing you could do for someone who stammered.
So he stayed silent and waited. Listened.
When it came to clearing up the mess left by a dog he’d lost his cool, but with this he had endless patience.
There was a tense silence.
Still he waited. He saw her throat move as she swallowed. Saw her draw in a breath and brace herself to try again, like a swimmer about to plunge into deep water that had already tried to drown her once.
“—sensible.” She changed the word and it came out smoothly, but he didn’t see relief in her eyes. He saw embarrassment.
“I’ve made you nervous because I barked at you.” He wondered whether to be blunt or tactful. He went with blunt. “You stammered, and I’m guessing that was because of me.” The deepening color in her cheeks told him he was right. “You mostly have it under control, is that right? And then I walked in here with my big mouth and my insensitive ways and it came back.”
There was a pause and for a moment he thought she wasn’t going to reply.
“Y-yes.”
Knowing that made him feel almost as bad as she did.
“Why? What is it about me that triggered it?”
“You were angry. I’m not g-g-g—” She stopped, frustration in her eyes.
He could feel her agony. He witnessed people’s agony daily, but witnessing it and being the cause of it were two different things. This time he was feeling it with her and it was a profoundly uncomfortable experience. Clearly he wasn’t as emotionally numbed as he’d thought. He had his usual urge to fix it, but this time he wasn’t dealing with blood or broken bones. He’d inflicted damage for which there was no easy fix.
She took another couple of breaths and tried again. “Angry people upset me.” She stooped to pick up her bag, stuffing everything back inside. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters, and not just because you’re going to be helping me with Madi. We’re going to figure this out.”
“I c-c-c—” She closed her eyes briefly. “Can’t work with you.”
He felt a flash of concern.
If Harriet refused to help him then he was in serious trouble.
“I handled the situation badly. I’m sorry and I want us to start again. You weren’t mad with Madi when she destroyed my apartment. You understood that there was something going on underneath. That she was upset.” On impulse, he dropped into a crouch and held out his hand to Madi. “Come here, girl.”
The dog looked at him warily and he couldn’t exactly blame her.
Obviously deciding his contrition was genuine, she trotted across to him.
He stroked his hand over her head, feeling silken fur under his palm. “Good girl. Lovely girl. Most beautiful dog in the world.” Madi sat down and looked at him. Ethan looked at Harriet. “If she’s ready to give me another chance, surely you can too?”
Harriet straightened and slid her bag onto her shoulder. “That’s a low trick, Dr.—”
“Ethan.” He said it softly. “My name is Ethan. And it’s not a trick. Stay for dinner. Dinner and one conversation. That’s all I’m asking.”
CHAPTER SEVEN (#ulink_707a1da6-0451-55d1-afcd-878e570f8268)
DINNER?
It had taken all her willpower to bring Madi back to the apartment. Given the choice, she would have taken the dog straight home. Then she would have called Debra and suggested that her brother, no matter how skilled he was in the hospital setting, wasn’t good with animals.
But she knew, deep down, that her prime reason for doing it wouldn’t have been about Madi. It would have been about her.
She’d stammered. Not only that, instead of standing her ground and using all the strategies she’d learned as a child, she’d run away. That depressed her almost as much as the knowledge that she’d retreated when she should have advanced.
Ethan Black was still waiting for her answer. “I understand your dilemma. I’m the cause of your stammer, so why would you stay? But, Harriet, that’s on me. I’m the one with the issue here, not you.”
He didn’t get it. And why would he? This was huge.
She felt as if she’d regressed fifteen years. Was this a one-off? Would it keep happening now? Would she be unable to speak without worrying if the words were going to come out the way she wanted them to? Would it be like school, when there were times when she’d only spoken if she absolutely had to?
She was desperate to call her twin and talk it through, but that wasn’t an option. She couldn’t tell her sister that she wanted to be independent one minute, and then call her in hysterics the next.
She had to find a way through this. But how, when the feeling of panic was a tight ball in the center of her chest?
And she realized with a flash of insight that the “challenges” she’d been setting herself hadn’t really been challenges at all. Where was the challenge in walking in high heels? Who even cared if she could walk in high heels?
This was the challenge. Staying where she was, when all she wanted to do was leave.
Saying yes to dinner when her lips wanted to say no.
“I d-d—” Hot with humiliation, she almost turned away and gave up but something inside her kept her feet glued to the floor.
She met Ethan’s gaze and braced herself for sympathy or, worse, pity, but saw neither.
“This isn’t my area of expertise,” he said. “If you’d slashed yourself with a knife or fallen out of a window, I’m your man, but I’m not afraid to admit I’m out of my depth here. Tell me how I can help you.”
He was asking how he could help.
No one ever did that.
They finished her sentences. They made assumptions. They talked over her. They gave up waiting for her to say whatever it was she was trying to say.
Ethan did none of those things.
“You c-c-c—” The frustration almost made her burst, but Ethan waited quietly. Patiently.
The one thing she didn’t associate her stammer with was patience. Not her own, or other people’s. But Ethan was patient. She didn’t get the sense that he was itching to get on with the next thing. Which was unusual. Nor did she get the impression that he was judging her the way most people did. So many people seemed unable to accept any variation on their view of “normal.” As a child she’d discovered that anything that made you different, made you stand out, also made you a target. In the jungle of the playground, differences were seen as weaknesses, and weaknesses were rarely celebrated. People thought she was gentle, but Harriet knew that wasn’t accurate. She wasn’t particularly gentle, whatever that meant, except perhaps with animals. She was tolerant. She accepted differences. And it seemed that despite his earlier anger, Ethan Black did too. Recognizing that diffused some of the tension building inside her. “You can’t help me.” This time the words came out unrestricted.
He paused. “In the past, what would you have done that has helped?”
Breathing. Relaxation. She’d even tried hypnosis once, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. Instead she breathed, forcing herself to relax. She was not going to walk out. If she walked out she would lose all respect for herself.
She was going to stay. Talk to him. Have dinner.
That was today’s Challenge Harriet.
And it was probably the biggest challenge she could have given herself.
He walked to the fridge, pulled out a bottle of white wine and then removed two glasses from a cabinet.
He poured the wine and then held out a glass to her.
She took it from him. “Thank you.”
This time the words came out smoothly, and she felt weak with relief.
Maybe this would be okay. Maybe this wasn’t a disaster.
He leaned against the counter, the subdued lighting in the kitchen creating a false air of intimacy. It bathed the apartment with a soothing glow that nudged the edge of romantic.
Or maybe that was just the way her mind worked.
Ethan Black would probably be appalled had he been able to read her thoughts.
She wasn’t a fool. She was well aware that he wasn’t interested in her personally. What he was doing was managing a situation he believed he had caused. She was employed by his sister, who, presumably, he didn’t want to upset. More importantly, he needed her to help with Madi. After the vanishing act she had pulled earlier, presumably he was afraid she might walk out and not return.
If he’d known her, he would have known that wasn’t a possibility.
Harriet would never leave a dog in a situation she felt was bad for them, and although she had no doubt Ethan was a good person and a great doctor, she wasn’t convinced he was good for Madi.
In reality it wasn’t his fault that she wasn’t good with strangers.
That was her problem. She was the one who had to deal with it.
She tried to relax the tense knot in her stomach. She tried telling herself he wasn’t a stranger. Not only had he treated her ankle, he was Debra’s brother and she’d known Debra for years. He hadn’t shouted because he was angry with her. He’d shouted because he was angry with himself. Because he hadn’t been able to save that patient.
She couldn’t even begin to imagine how that must feel. She wanted to ask him, but right now he was focused on her.
“How long has it been?”
Taking a slow, deep breath and looking directly at him, she tried again to speak. “A few years.” The words emerged with no problem. No barrier.
“Years?” Ethan put his wineglass down slowly. “Then I’m doubly sorry.”
“Why?”
“Because I triggered something you had under control.”
“It’s my stammer. Not your fault.”
“We both know that’s not true. I was rude, which is inexcusable. I made you anxious.”
“I find it difficult to talk to people I don’t know. I’m not good with strangers. I’m shy—” She hated saying it. Immediately she wanted to follow up by saying that shy wasn’t the same as weak. “And I have no idea why I just told you that. The one thing I don’t do is divulge personal information to people I don’t know.”
“I’m a doctor. It’s different.”
Was that it? Maybe it was.
He sat down on one of the chairs by the kitchen island and gestured for her to do the same.
“Did you see a speech therapist?”
“For a while. Maybe I should do it again.”
“I don’t think you need that. You just need to relax and take your time. And not hang out with guys like me.” His tone was dry. “You’re not alone, you know. Aristotle had a stammer. So did Charles Darwin.”
“King George VI.”
