Joan Kilby - Child of Her Dreams

Maybe, she thought, as she watered the potted plants, Ben would decide she’d done such a wonderful job today he would hire her. The tasks were so different from what she was used to and so relatively stress-free that working here would seem like a holiday. As a bonus, she’d get to know Ben Matthews.

And if he got to know her, he’d see she wasn’t the irresponsible, self-indulgent person he obviously considered her to be. Okay, maybe she used to be that way, but she’d been given a new slate, so to speak, to write on as she would. All she had to do was figure out who she was and what she wanted to do with her life.

She was gazing out the window of the empty waiting room, watering can forgotten in her hands, when Tod and his mother emerged. Carrie Wakefield’s face looked pinched and white, and Tod was very quiet.

“Bye, Tod.” Geena put down the watering can and walked them to the door, holding it open as the little family filed through. “Bye, Carrie.”

She watched them from the window as they climbed into a battered Honda Civic and drove away.

Ben came and stood behind her. “Tod has acute lymphocytic leukemia.”

“Oh, no.” Geena made a soft sound of remorse in her throat. “That sweet little boy. How bad is it? Is it treatable?”

“Pretty bad, but yes, it’s treatable. He’s going into the hospital for chemotherapy tomorrow.” Ben sounded detached, but Geena could see in his eyes that he was deeply distressed. “He was diagnosed early. With treatment, he’ll be fine. Just fine.”

She wanted to believe him. She did believe him.

“You were a big help today,” he said, turning to her. “An amazing help. Thank you.”

Geena shrugged, ridiculously pleased at his praise. Would her little fantasy come true? “I enjoyed it. In fact, I could come in again tomorrow if you want me to.”

“Ah.” Ben grimaced. “I appreciate your offer, but I’m after a qualified RN to act as a nurse receptionist. With such a small practice I need someone who can take blood samples, tend to small wounds, that sort of thing.”

“Oh, of course.” Blood rushed to her cheeks. What was she thinking? Of course he’d want someone qualified. Not her, whose only talent was looking beautiful.

“I’ll pay you for today, of course,” he said quickly.

As if this was about money. She gave him a brilliant smile. “Absolutely not necessary. As I said, I enjoyed it.”

Moving past him, she returned the watering can to the kitchenette and got her purse out of the desk drawer.

“Don’t forget to get those blood samples taken and make an appointment with the nutritionist,” he said.

“I won’t.” She paused at the exit to give him a cheery wave and another smile. “Ciao.”

She kept her head high until she was around the corner from the clinic, then, despite all her training in deportment, she couldn’t help but let her shoulders slump.

That she’d saved enough to enjoy a wealthy lifestyle for the rest of her life, even if she never worked again, made no difference. That hundreds of men at one time or another had vied for her attention made no difference. Ben Matthews wasn’t impressed by beauty or money or fame.

And face it, if you took away those things, what did she have? Nothing.

Deep inside, she knew she was somebody, but no one besides her family ever bothered to look past the surface to see the real her. Especially not intelligent, educated men like Ben.

“HAVE ANOTHER chocolate doughnut,” Edna said, pushing the plate toward Ben.

Edna Thompson, the elderly woman who owned the bed and breakfast where Ben was staying until his rental house became available, had coffee and doughnuts waiting for him every day when he got back from work. She loved to talk about her health, or lack of it.

“Did I mention I have a pain here, in my left hip?” She slapped the bony buttock beneath her floral cotton shift, just in case Ben had missed that anatomy lesson. “What do you suppose it is?”

“Possibly referred pain from your lower spine,” Ben said around a mouthful of doughnut. “Come into the clinic tomorrow, and I’ll check it out.”

“Maybe I will. It’s a pity you’re moving next week. Having a doctor in the house is nice—kind of like having my own personal physician.” Edna got up from the table and went to the fridge.

Ben reached for the copy of the Hainesville Herald Edna had left on the table and skimmed the headlines. Hot debate raged over whether the town needed a traffic light at the corner of Main and Dakota.

“I heard Geena Hanson was helping you out in the clinic today,” Edna said, busily placing frozen sausage rolls from a commercial package onto a foil-lined baking tray. “That girl is skin and bones. Ruth—that’s her grandmother and my best friend—tells me she just pushes her food around her plate. Can’t you do anything for her?”

“I’m trying. She needs to recognize she has a problem before she can fix it.”

He was still puzzled by Geena’s disappointment—which all the smiles in the world couldn’t hide—at not being given a job at the clinic. Although probably she found life in Hainesville slow and simple after the jet-set scene. The town was a culture shock to him, too, but for the opposite reason. Paved streets, abundant consumer goods…heck, even electricity in every home was a big step up from where he’d been. People in small towns were pretty much the same the world over, though, friendly, a little nosy, but always willing to help their neighbor.

Edna shook her white head. “It’s not healthy for anyone to be that thin. Did I mention I had another gall bladder attack?”

“Maybe you should have it out.”

Edna glanced up. “You think so?”

“I could do it right now, if you like,” Ben suggested, straight-faced. “I used to operate in far more primitive circumstances in Guatemala. I’ll just go get my bag with my scalpel.”

Edna jerked back. “No way are you cutting me open on my kitchen table—” She broke into laughter as his mouth began to twitch. “You wicked boy!”

“Sorry, Edna,” he said, chuckling along with her. He rose and put his arm around her shoulder. “How about letting me buy you dinner at the Burger Shack tonight?”

Every Friday night he treated himself to a Humungoburger, onion rings and chocolate milk shake. A large chocolate milk shake. A dinner like that was probably murder on his cholesterol count, but what the heck, that was why he jogged.

“Why, thank you, Ben. But Friday night is my regular bridge night with the girls. We all bring a little something to snack on while we play.” She crumpled the sausage roll package and threw it in the trash. “Say, you won’t tell anyone these aren’t homemade, will you?”

“My lips are sealed.” Who would he tell? Although he liked the town and its people well enough, he hadn’t yet made friends.

“The other gals are good cooks, but me—I don’t have the knack. I tell them the sausage rolls are my grandmother’s recipe.” She grinned evilly. “But I buy them in Simcoe.”

Outside, a car horn beeped. “That’ll be Martha,” Edna said. “She’s still got her license.”

Edna took up her cane, but before she could reach for the tray of sausage rolls Ben said, “Allow me,” and carried them to Martha’s car. The early-model Volvo was in pristine condition. Ben speculated that Martha had been driving it since it rolled off the production line in 1958.

After Edna and Martha drove off, Ben sat in the wooden deck chair on the porch, savoring the balmy evening and the sweet scent of virburnum growing in big pots by the steps. The light hadn’t yet begun to fade and children were playing scrub baseball in the vacant lot down the street. An older couple out for an evening stroll waved to him from across the street. Ben waved back and realized suddenly what he liked so much about Hainesville. It was roughly the same size as the small Texas town he’d grown up in.