KINGS MEADOW HAD A SMALL MEDICAL CLINIC THAT served the community as a hospital for noncritical cases. That was where the EMTs took Buck after stabilizing his wrist and ankle. Charity followed the ambulance from the market to the clinic and then sat in the waiting area, feeling guilty.
Why, why, why, did this have to happen? As if I didn’t have enough to deal with.
She’d felt the spiked heel of her shoe drop into a crack in the pavement of the store’s parking lot. If she hadn’t cried out in surprise, afraid she would fall . . . If Buck hadn’t shoved the shopping cart and grabbed for her . . . If none of those things had happened, maybe Cocoa wouldn’t have been startled and wouldn’t have darted behind him, the leash catching him at the knees. Cocoa was a medium-sized dog, but she was solid muscle from head to toe. She was strong enough to take down a man double Buck’s size.
The door to the clinic swung open, and Ken Malone strode into view, bright sunlight at his back. Unlike Buck, Charity had seen Ken on a few of her rare visits home. He was the principal at the high school—had been for about five years—and his wife, Sara, was a close friend of Terri’s.
Ken looked around. When he saw Charity, he walked in her direction rather than going to the reception desk. “Are you here with Buck?”
She nodded. “I’m pretty sure he broke some bones.”
“What happened?”
“He fell in the parking lot of the Merc.”
Ken’s eyebrows arched. “Fell?”
“My dog knocked him off his feet,” she clarified with great reluctance.
Buck’s brother might have had something more to say to that, but he was interrupted by the appearance of the doctor. Charity didn’t know the young-looking man in the white coat and assumed he was the new physician her mother had told her about. Gray something or something Gray. He’d come to Kings Meadow about eight months ago, if she remembered right.
“I’m Dr. Frederick.”
That was it. Dr. Gray Frederick.
“Are you Mr. Malone’s brother?” the doctor continued, looking at Ken.
“Yes. How is he?”
“He’s broken bones in his right wrist and ankle. Surgery isn’t necessary, but he won’t be very mobile for the next six to eight weeks. He can’t put weight on his ankle, and with the broken wrist, crutches won’t be of much use to him. He’s going to need help, especially at first. He tells me he lives alone.”
“Can you stay with him for a few days?”
“Is it that serious?”
“It would be better if he wasn’t alone right at first.”
Ken ran the fingers of one hand through his hair. “I can help out, but I can’t be with him 24/7. My wife’s pregnant and having a difficult time. I need to be nearby as much as possible for her and our three kids.”
The doctor’s eyes shifted to Charity. She supposed he wondered if she was the pregnant sister-in-law. Which she obviously wasn’t. But with the doctor’s gaze on her, her guilt over the incident surged back to life. “I’m staying next door to him for the summer. I . . . I can look in on him.” Oh, how difficult it was to say those words. She’d come here to work, not to take care of Buck Malone. Even if it was her fault he needed help.
Ken said, “We can count on his friends to pitch in too.”
“Good. Good.” The doctor nodded. “Then I’ll get back to my patient. You’ll have a bit of a wait before he’s ready to go home.”
“No problem, Dr. Frederick.” After the doctor walked away, Ken sat on the chair next to Charity. “This came at a bad time for everybody.”
“I . . . I’m sorry to hear about Sara having a rough go of it.”
“Thanks. The good part is that our kids are at an age where they can look after themselves for the most part. Our youngest, Jake, is ten.”
“Ten? Already?” For a moment she remembered what might have been.
Ten years.
Sometimes, maybe. Sometimes it crawls by.
She mentally slapped herself. Stop it! She hated the way her thoughts kept twisting, the feeling of being stuck in the past. Hated it. Even hated herself because of it. Why can’t I just move on? It wasn’t as if she hadn’t tried.
“Hey, listen,” Ken said, breaking into her thoughts. “Would it really be all right for you to check in on Buck every now and then?”
She drew in a long, slow breath, longing to say, No, come to think of it. It isn’t all right.
Ken didn’t seem to notice. “I know he’ll get help from friends. But, well, it would give me peace of mind to know you’re right there next door and willing and able to help if you’re needed.”
What choice did she have? The accident was her fault, plain and simple. Who better to help him? Besides, if she didn’t give aid to a neighbor and her mom heard about it, there’d be you-know-what to pay.
She rose from the waiting area chair. “Give me a call when you’ve brought Buck home.” Fishing for a business card, she handed it to Ken. “When the breeze is right, the signal is strong enough for you to catch me on my mobile phone. Otherwise call my parents’ house line.”
“I’ll do it.” He wiggled the card. “See you in a while.”
MEDICATION HELPED DULL THE PAIN IN BUCK’S body, but it didn’t help much with the worry circling in his head. He wouldn’t be able to walk for weeks. He was right-handed but had no use of his right wrist. He would have to contact his clients and either cancel their trips or find new guides for them. Either way, he’d lose important income and rack up debt at the same time. His high-deductible insurance would help cover some of the medical expenses but not much. Not enough. And who would feed and water his animals twice a day? Another favor to ask of someone. Not easy for a guy with an independent spirit.
“I’ll come over as often as I can,” his brother said as he drove toward Buck’s home. “Friends will pitch in. You know that already. Probably won’t have to worry about food the entire time you’re laid up. I bet there’ll be at least two casseroles delivered by the ladies of Kings Meadow before dinner tonight.”
Buck closed his eyes. Food didn’t sound too good to him. The drugs were making him dizzy and queasy. It was a rare thing for him to take even an over-the-counter pain reliever, let alone anything as strong as what they’d given him at the clinic, and he was definitely feeling it.
“And Charity offered to look in on you since she’s staying right next door.”
Buck pictured blue eyes and dark-blond hair and high heels, but he couldn’t pull up the entire face. His head was stuffed with cotton. Ken asked a question, but Buck couldn’t make sense of his brother’s words . . .
The next thing he knew, Ken’s vehicle was parked close to Buck’s back door and his brother stood at the passenger’s side door, ready to help him out.
“Think we can manage this?” Ken asked.
Buck blinked a few times. “Yeah, I think so.”
He twisted slowly on the seat and set his good foot on the ground. Ken reached in, putting his hands beneath Buck’s arms, and heaved him up and out of the car. He then stuck a crutch under Buck’s left armpit.
Buck swayed unsteadily. “I think my good leg’s made of rubber.”
“Not sure I can carry you, bro, but I’ll try if I need to.”
“No. I can do this. Just give me a second. The meds they gave me aren’t playing nice with my equilibrium.”
Ken held Buck steady until he was ready to try hopping on one foot toward the door, using the crutch on his left side and his brother on his right. It took awhile, but eventually they made it into the house. They stopped in the living room and Buck dropped onto the sofa.
I’m as winded as an old man.
Ken went to the bedroom, returning with pillows to prop up Buck’s leg. “What else can I get you? Need help into the bathroom?”
“Just some water, I think.”
“And the telephone. You’re going to have to call for help when nobody’s here with you.” Ken walked to the kitchen as he spoke, raising his voice a little while in the other room. “No trying to get around yourself. No weight on that ankle. You’ve got to follow doctor’s orders or you’ll pay for it later.”
Buck groaned. Having to ask for help didn’t come easily for him. He was the one used to helping others, not being helped.
I can do for myself.
Ken returned with a bottle of water and the telephone. “Don’t do anything stupid, Buck, while you’re here alone.”
“I won’t.” He closed his eyes. “All I want to do is sleep right now. Just let me go to sleep.”
His brother might have spoken again, but Buck heard nothing more.
When Buck managed to resurface, he discovered Charity seated in a chair on the opposite side of the living room, tapping her fingers on the keyboard of her laptop. Ken must have left. But how long ago? He shifted his position on the couch. The movement drew Charity’s gaze from the laptop screen.
“Hey,” he said, his voice gruff in his ears. “What’re you doing here?”
If his question insulted her, she didn’t show it.
“Sorry. That was rude.” He pushed himself to a sitting position. The room swayed but then righted itself again. “Ken asked you to look after me, didn’t he?”
“Yes.” She nodded.
Despite her guarded expression and his muddled brain, he guessed the reason she was there. “You don’t have to feel guilty, Charity. It was an accident.”
“I know.”
“Is your dog okay? I didn’t fall on him, did I?”
This, at last, softened her expression. “No, you didn’t fall on her. Cocoa’s fine.”
“That’s a relief.” He held out his right arm and stared at his cast. Beneath it, he felt a dull throb of pain. Nothing unbearable, but definitely there. He swung his right leg around to rest on the coffee table. The pain was worse in his ankle.
“Can I get you anything?” Charity set her laptop on an end table and rose to her feet.
Bare feet, Buck noticed, with bright-pink polish on her nails. For some reason that made him want to grin.
“Would you like something to eat? There are a couple of casseroles in the fridge. Your pastor’s wife brought them over.”
Ken was right on that one.
“Not yet. Not feeling very hungry. But my horses will be.”
“Your brother said they’re taken care of and you aren’t to worry about them.”
Buck reached for the bottle of water on the coffee table, held it between his knees while he removed the cap with his left hand, and then took several long swallows. It helped the scratchiness of his throat. Only, the less he drank, the less often he would need to use the bathroom, so that was something he ought to consider. And how was he going to get there when the time came? It wasn’t like he wanted to ask Charity—a never-married female and no relation—to help get him there. Besides, she was a slip of a thing. He doubted she could lift anything heavier than an unabridged dictionary.
As if reading his thoughts, she walked to the corner of the room nearest the front door. “Mayor Abbott was in Boise on business when he learned about your accident, and he rented this for you from a medical supply store down in the valley. He delivered it a bit ago and said you need to call the store with your insurance information.” She rolled a three-wheeled scooter toward the sofa. “You put your right knee on this padded rest and hold on to the handlebars. With that cast on your hand and arm, it won’t be easy, but it’ll be better than a wheelchair, and Ken said you can’t do crutches. Ready to try it out?”
He answered with a slight shake of his head.
“Tom Butler volunteered to stay with you at night for as long as you need him.” She checked her wristwatch. “He ought to be here soon.”
“I don’t think I’ll need him to stay.”
“The doctor thought it would be a good idea until you’ve mastered the scooter. At least one night.” She pointed at his cast. “Because you can’t use your wrist. That’s going to make things lots harder than you think, he said.”
Buck was about to insist more strenuously that he didn’t need anybody to look after him. Instead, he paused, considering the situation. Actually, it might be nice to have Charity around. He was laid up for weeks. He might as well enjoy the time off in the company of a pretty woman. Besides, she intrigued him. “Small-town girl makes good” and all that. Not to mention how standoffish she had been toward him. She presented something of a challenge, and that might make the coming weeks of idleness less tedious and boring.
“All right,” he said, shrugging in a show of surrender. “I give up. If the doctor thinks I need help, I’ll listen to him. I don’t want to make the injuries any worse than they are now.”
He grinned and Charity, as though sensing his thoughts, eyed him warily. He schooled his features to innocence.
Oh yeah, this was going to be fun.