Close To Home (Westen Series) (8 page)

Emma snorted. “Doc, you’re as naive as I was. The DNA tests came back unmatched.”

“How?”

His incredulous tone pleased her sense of outrage. He sounded exactly as she had that day in court when her world fell apart. Then the dawning light of understanding filled his face.

“He rigged the results.”

“Exactly.” Emma nodded. “Only by this time I was out of money. I couldn’t afford to fight him and raise my sons. So I came home to Weston worse than just a divorced single mother.”

“What do you mean? Your life, future and livelihood had been stolen from you. What could have been worse than that?”

She swallowed hard then stared straight into his eyes when she answered. “I came home labeled an adulterer.”

“
A
n adulterer. He has the affair and you come away with the bad reputation?”

Such pain crossed her beautiful features at his words that it tore at his gut. It wasn’t right for her to feel so badly. He suddenly wanted to hit something, preferably her ex-husband’s face. With great determination he reined in his temper. “So he got everything out of the divorce. No alimony, no child support.”

“He didn’t get everything.”

Something in her voice caught his attention. Hope? No. Satisfaction. “What didn’t he get?”

“He didn’t get my boys.” Her lips lifted in a victorious smile. “So in the end, I won what truly mattered.”

Clint reached out, laying his hand on hers. The heat between them surprised him. “Yes, you did. They’re great kids.”

She studied him for a moment. “Then why are you trying to take them away from me?”

“I’m not trying to take them away from you, Emma. I just want to be sure they’re safe.” He knew she couldn’t understand how much he needed her boys to grow up safe and happy. Or how he woke up in the middle of the night sweaty with panic from the nightmare of losing Johnny Wilson over and over again.

“They’re safe, Clint. I promise you that.”

He stroked his thumb gently across the top of her knuckles, feeling the tender skin from where she washed her hands so frequently. “Tell me about the town watch. Why did my uncle set it up for you? Why not just take the boys to a day care?”

As if she suddenly realized they were holding hands, she tugged her hand from beneath his then laced the fingers of both her hands together.

There wasn’t any hesitancy in her words, no sign he should doubt her story.

“The Watch has actually been in action for five months since my father died. We didn’t expect his heart to give out so suddenly. He hadn’t complained of chest pain or anything.”

“If he’d had chest pain, he might’ve been hiding it from you. Especially if he’d known how much stress you were already under.”

She nodded and gave him a small smile. “That’s what Doc Ray said. Daddy knew how much we all depended on his strength that he was in denial about his own health.”

“So that’s when my uncle came up with this plan?” He nudged her back to his original question.

“Yes. Mama was too devastated at the time to really care for the boys, who’d just lost the only man in their lives. So Doc Ray and Caroline stepped into the void.”

He nodded, remembering all the things he learned at his uncle’s side throughout the years. “They never had kids of their own, but they loved helping anyone with kids who needed it. Just like they did for my mom with all of us when we were small.”

“Exactly. I think they got as much from the boys as we did from them.” She pulled a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. “At first it was mostly your Aunt Caroline and Harriett taking care of the boys before their afternoon kindergarten class the last two months of school, then on the mornings after I worked all night at the hospital.”

“I thought you worked at the café.” How many jobs did this woman have?

“I do. I also work at the county hospital four nights a week as a scrub tech in the obstetrics department.”

She took another drink of her juice. The muscles of her neck extended as she swallowed. Suddenly, he wanted to swallow, too.

“This was to be the hardest summer, and hopefully next year the boys would be old enough to be in a day camp. The watch is a group of friends of Mama’s who agreed to help babysit the boys so I can sleep. It was only supposed to be for one week, so I thought it would work out.”

“Couldn’t you sign them into a day care for one week? I mean, would that expense really have cost you that much?”

“All the local day cares were one hundred and twenty-five dollars a week per child. And they wanted a minimum commitment of a month.”

Clint let out a low whistle. He had no idea childcare could cost so much. “That’s a thousand dollars.”

“I could have afforded it, although it would have been a tight squeeze for me, but Doc Ray insisted I try this.”

“Why?”

She inhaled deeply. “The extra money for the day care would set back my plans by at least six months. Doc Ray wanted me to stick to my goal.”

Curiosity nipped at him. “What plans? To go back to med school?”

“No.” She gave a harsh laugh. “So, you’ve heard of that fiasco in my past, huh? I don’t have the resources or the time to pursue that any more. In fact, after my last experience with medical students and doctors, I am pretty much cured of
that
particular dream.”

“Then what are you saving for?”

“I want to go back to school to be a nurse.”

She lifted her chin a bit, as if she expected him to belittle her dreams. He planned to disappoint her. Her desire to finish her education after putting it on hold for so long deserved his admiration. And right now the world needed more good nurses.

“Good for you.” His praise surprised her. He wanted to laugh, but resisted.

“You aren’t going to condemn me for putting my dreams before the safety of the boys?” Her eyes widened, then narrowed as if she waited for the other shoe to drop.

He wondered how many people had criticized her through the years.

“Despite the impression you have of me, I admire you for wanting to finish your education. My goal here is to simply see that the boys don’t end up seriously injured while you do.”

She relaxed a bit. “The worst time of the day seems to be just about lunch time. I think once they’re back in school full days, the problem will solve itself.”

“That leaves three days.”

“Four. School starts the Tuesday after Labor Day here.”

“How many days do you have to work in that time?”

“I work tonight at the café, and the weekend at the hospital. So three more days.” She tilted her head to the side, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth in a gentle nibble. Mesmerized by the sight, heat surged through Clint.

“Who watches the boys while you’re at the hospital?” Even to his own ears the roughness of his voice made him sound like an inquisitor again. He swallowed hard then rephrased his question. “I mean, if you work all night, who stays with the boys?”

“Oh, I just leave them locked in the house alone with Mama and pray they’re all here in the morning.”

“Excuse me?” Clint’s eyes snapped up from her lips to her eyes, which sparkled with amusement.

“You really do think the worst of me, don’t you?” Laughter burst from her. Then she studied him for a moment. “You don’t have any idea, do you?”

“Any idea of what?” Somehow he’d lost the thread of the conversation.

“Who is the one person most people in this town are afraid to rile?”

Clint racked his brain. The sheriff was a strict law enforcement man, but no one really feared him. The mayor was nothing more than a sugarcoated politician. His uncle, as the town doctor, had the respect of the town, not their fear. Dawning shot over him. “Harriett.”

Emma grinned at him, then lifted her glass to drink the last of her juice. “Yep. Even my boys wouldn’t dare give her trouble.”

“You’re right. Neither one of us will have to worry about them at night.”

Laughter sounded from upstairs. With a scoot of her chair, she stood. “The boys are awake. Now, if we’re agreed there is no real conspiracy here to try and fool you, Doctor, I need to check on them and get ready for my shift at the café before Rachel gets here to take her shift with Mama and the boys.”

He knew a dismissal when he heard one. Standing, he returned his chair back to the table, then followed her out. On their way through the house, he noticed the further demolition of the front parlor. “Who’s doing the work on your house?” he asked, stopping on the first step off the porch.

She stood holding the door, the sun shining on her coppery hair. “You won’t believe me.”

“Sure I will.”

Emma stepped back in behind the safety of her screen door. “I’m doing it,” she said before quietly closing her door.

Clint stood on the porch steps staring at the house for a moment. A deep chuckle rumbled out of him. The woman never seemed to stop surprising him. He shook his head and headed back to his own house, assured he didn’t have to worry about Emma and her boys any longer.

A movement from the side yard caught his attention.

Miss Isabelle had wandered from the back porch into her rose garden. He could hear her softly singing the words to the old forties song,
Mares Eat Oats
, as she snipped some of her flowers. A soft smile played on her features and she seemed to be completely oblivious to his presence.

He wondered if the elderly woman’s spells were as harmless as Emma believed or if something more serious might be the cause. Uncle Ray’s files might prove interesting reading this afternoon.

* * *

Two days later a knock, followed by two hushed voices, drew Clint’s attention from the Journal of Geriatric Medicine he’d been studying for the past hour at his desk. Recognizing the voices beyond his door, he smiled to himself. His prediction at the beginning of the weekend that he wouldn’t worry about Emma and her boys any more didn’t include the frequent visits the boys made to his office. Although each time Harriett or whoever watched them came with them, he would’ve preferred to see Emma walk through his door.

“Come in, Ben and Brian.” He set aside the papers in his hands, leaning back in his chair. The boys opened the door and peeked into the room.

“Hi, Doc!” they called out, neither one coming past the door’s threshold.

They exchange a suspicious look.

Intrigued, Clint cocked his head to the side and studied them closer. “What’s up, guys?”

“You ask him,” Brian whispered.

Benjamin whispered something back, but Clint couldn’t quite make out what.

“He’s a doc, Ben. He has to help us.” The younger brother pushed his older brother into the room.

Clint waited patiently while the older boy decided whether to trust him or not. For some reason waiting for this small boy to choose positively in his favor made him as nervous as interviewing for med school had years ago.

Benjamin thrust his good hand into his pants pocket and eyed him challengingly. “Doc, ya fixed me and Bri up real good the other day. We gots to know if ya is a really good doc.”

“I’d like to think I am,” Clint answered as honestly as he could. Where was Ben headed with this line of questioning? “Something wrong with your arm, Ben?”

“Nope. We gots to know if ya can fix something harder. Like say, could ya fix a frog, or even a puppy?”

Clint struggled to keep from grinning at the two very serious boys. He remembered how high a frog or even a puppy ranked in importance to two six-year old boys.

“Well boys, I suppose if it were an emergency, I could see to fixing a frog or a puppy. Why? You have a frog that needs fixing?”

“A puppy.” Brian moved into the room. For the first time Clint saw the wiggling bundle in his jacket. “He has a hurt paw.”

As if on cue a solid black head poked out the jacket’s collar. Brian unzipped it the rest of the way. Ben helped him pull out a black and white puppy of mixed breeding. Somewhere between a Collie and a Labrador, if Clint had his guess. The boys set the pup on the desk. By the way it hopped around on three paws, Clint could tell the front right one had indeed been hurt.

“How did this happen?” Clint picked up his patient and examined its paw. The puppy whimpered when he ran his hand across the injured area.

“We don’t know.” Brian shrugged his shoulders.

“We found him in a sack on the side of the road.” Ben leaned his elbows on the table and braced his chin in his hands.

Brian assumed the same position as his brother. “When we opened it, Hoppy just sorta hopped out at us.”

Clint looked into two pairs of concerned brown eyes. “Guess that’s how he got his name, huh?”

They both nodded solemnly.

“Well, let’s take Hoppy to the x-ray room and see if we can get—” he took a quick check at the underside of the pup “—him to lie still long enough to take a picture of his paw. Okay?”

“Sure!” Brian said.

“We can make him hold still, can’t we, Bri?” Ben pulled three pieces of candy from his pocket. “Hoppy likes lemon drops.”

The boys followed Clint and their new friend down the hall.

“Yeah,” Brian added as they went into the x-ray room. “It’s just like the magic lollipops we had. We give one to Hoppy, and he’ll hold real still for ya, Doc.”

“I bet he will.” Clint set the small furry bundle on the table. Immediately both boys scooted up beside him, patting him and feeding him candy. The pup’s tail wagged as he sat. Clint adjusted the x-ray machine so it would shine right on Hoppy’s paw. Then he lifted the heavy lead apron, draping it around the boys so that each could keep a hand on the puppy.

“Why do we gotta wear this?” Brian asked.

“Because,” Clint said, stepping behind the concrete barrier, “we want to see what’s wrong with Hoppy, not see what’s inside of you. Everybody hold real still.”

He pushed the button to click off a picture, then he removed the apron from the boys. “You take Hoppy on back to the room where we put on the casts. I’ll be there in a minute to tell you if his paw is broken or not.”

It took both boys to get the pup off the table, each using his good arm. Clint fought the urge to help them in their struggles. Apparently in the past week, they’d managed to overcome their broken arms by working in tandem when necessary.