Debbie Macomber - Summer in Orchard Valley - Valerie / Stephanie / Norah

That was home. She lived in her Houston condo in an exclusive neighborhood. She’d had a decorator choose the color scheme and select the furniture, since she didn’t have the time for either task. A housekeeper came in twice a week to clean. The condo was a place to sleep. An address where she could pick up her mail. But it wasn’t a place of memories and it wasn’t home.

She read an article in the same magazine about herb gardens. Gardening had always been her mother’s hobby, but every now and then Valerie had helped her weed. The times they’d spent working in the garden were among the fondest memories she had of her mother.

Perhaps in an attempt to recapture some of that simple happiness, Valerie had bought several large plants for her condo. But the housekeeper was the one who watered and fertilized them, since Valerie traveled so much.

Neither a home, at least not like the one she’d been raised in, nor a garden seemed to be in her future. Colby had recognized that from the beginning. Just as well, although it hadn’t warded off the magnetic attraction between them.

Valerie’s mind wandered to their exchange the night before. Their kissing was undoubtedly a mistake, but it was understandable and certainly forgivable. Both were emotionally drained, their resistance to each other almost nonexistent. Yet Valerie couldn’t bring herself to regret the time she’d spent in Colby’s arms.

It hurt a bit that he was avoiding her, because it told her he didn’t share her feelings. In those moments with Colby, Valerie had experienced something extraordinary. She’d always considered romantic love a highly overrated commodity. Dr. Colby Winston was the first man who’d given her reason to reevaluate that opinion—despite the fact that a relationship between them had no possible future.

Just when she was beginning to think he planned never to seek her out again, Colby surprised her. Norah had gone to talk with the nurse who’d been assigned to care for their father, and Valerie sat alone in the SICU waiting room, shuffling through her thoughts. Colby was on her mind just then—not that he was ever far from it.

She happened to glance up as he walked in. He was wearing a dark gray suit; she didn’t think she’d ever seen a handsomer man. Not even Rowdy Cassidy.

Their eyes met and held. “Hello,” she said, with a breathless quality to her voice. Over the course of her career, Valerie had made presentations before large audiences. Her voice carried well, yet with Colby she felt like a first-grader asked to stand before the class and confess a wrong.

“Valerie.” He paused and cleared his throat, then began again, sounding stilted and formal. “I’ve tied up everything here and I’m addressing a seminar this evening at the university. However, I have time for a bite to eat before I leave. Would you join me?”

“I’d be happy to,” she answered.

“I thought we should eat someplace other than the cafeteria.” His voice was more relaxed now. “There’s an Italian restaurant near here that serves excellent food.”

“Great.” Valerie brightened until she realized he hadn’t chosen the restaurant because he had a craving for spaghetti. He wanted to talk to her somewhere away from the hospital. Somewhere he could be assured none of his peers would be listening.

After leaving a message for Norah, they left the hospital in his car, a late-model maroon sedan. Sitting beside him, watching his strong, well-shaped hands on the steering wheel, gave Valerie a sense of intimacy, a feeling of familiarity.

The restaurant, a fairly new place she’d never visited before, was elegantly decorated in black and silver. The lighting, low and discreet, created a welcoming ambience.

“You didn’t need to pay for my dinner to apologize, you know,” Valerie said, reading over her menu. She quickly decided on a bowl of minestrone soup and fettuccine with fresh asparagus. No wine, because it would send her to sleep.

“Apologize?” Colby repeated.

Valerie lowered her menu and, crossing her arms, leaned toward him. “Not apologize exactly. You brought me here to tell me you’re sorry about what happened last night, didn’t you? I mean, it’s fairly obvious, since you’ve been avoiding me all day. But don’t worry about it,” she said off-handedly, “I understand.”

He scowled and set aside his menu. “Sometimes I forget how direct you can be.”

“I’d rather have everything out in the open. There’s no need to concern yourself with … what happened. I—needed you, and you were there for me.”

His scowl intensified. “In other words, any man would have suited your purposes?”

“No,” she said. “Only you. What we shared was very … sweet. I’ll always be grateful to you for letting me cry.”

“It’s not the crying that concerns me.”

“The kissing was very special, too,” she said softly.

“Yes, I suppose it was. But it might be best to forget that, uh, particular part of last night.”

The waitress approached with pad and pen in hand. They placed their orders, then Valerie resumed the conversation. “Maybe you can forget the kissing,” she said in a mild tone, “but I don’t think it’ll be possible for me.”

Colby’s gaze left hers. “Personally, I don’t think I’ll be able to forget it, either,” he said.

They both fell silent but a faint smile curved her lips as she savored his words. He’d tried to dismiss the attraction between them and couldn’t. Neither could she.

“It doesn’t change anything,” he told her, his voice calm and resolute.

He’d meant everything he’d said earlier; that much Valerie understood. She couldn’t change who she was. Easy as it would be to fall in love with him, Valerie knew she’d never be truly happy as a homemaker. She had too much ambition, too many dreams. A business career was what she wanted, where her skills lay, and she couldn’t relinquish that any more than Colby could give up his medical practice.

“Your father’s doing remarkably well,” Colby told her in an obvious attempt to change the subject.

Valerie was delighted. Norah had told her repeatedly what excellent progress their father was making, and it was thrilling to have it confirmed.

“I’ve got him listed as critical at the moment,” Colby went on, “but I have a feeling he’s going to surprise us all and live to be a hundred.”

Valerie beamed Colby a happy smile, hardly able to speak for the emotion clogging her throat. “We owe you so much, Colby.”

He shrugged off her thanks and seemed grateful that the waitress appeared just then to deliver the first course of their meal.

The soup was delicious, but after a few spoonfuls Valerie was finished, her appetite gone. She managed only a taste of her fettucine. Colby glanced over, frowning, when she pushed the plate aside.

“Is something wrong?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“You hardly touched your meal.”

“I know.”

“What’s wrong?” he pressed.

Valerie lowered her eyes. “I was just trying to decide how I was going to leave you, Colby, and not cry.” She hadn’t meant to sound quite so serious; she’d meant to sound wryly amused.

Her words silenced him. His eyes met hers, and when he spoke, his voice revealed his sincerity. “You’d be very easy to love.”

“But.” She said the dreaded word for him.

“But we both know it wouldn’t work.”

“You’re right,” she said convincingly. Why wouldn’t her heart listen?

“Valerie.” Her father smiled weakly as she entered the cubicle in SICU. His hand reached for hers, brought it to his lips. “I wondered when I’d see you.”

“I … went out for dinner.”

“All by yourself?”