Dianne Drake - P.S. You're a Daddy!

Joey, a stocky man with thick black hair, shook his head as he peeked over the half-door in the next stall at Nell, who was ready to give birth any time. “I watched you at the races last spring, in Kentucky. Watched you get so excited when Donder almost won the Derby. I saw love in your eyes for that horse, Beau. I know you’re not dead in your emotions like you think you are. Just holding it back.”

“Emotionally dead is easier.”

“Or safer. But that’s going to change. Mark my words, when the time’s right to move on, nothing’s going to hold you back.”

“I’ve been ready to move on for two years.” And everything was holding him back.

“And yet you haven’t,” Joey quipped. “Strange how that works, isn’t it?”

Joey was right, of course. But Beau didn’t have to admit that out loud because, in ways he didn’t want to deal with, he was just fine being held back. It kept him away from the possibility that what he’d gone through once could happen again. Admitting you’d been so blind and, on top of that, so insanely stupid on so many levels … No, there would be no repeat acts for him, and the only way to guarantee that was to keep his distance. Big distance.

“What’s strange is standing here talking to you about my love life when I’ve got fences to mend out on the back forty.” Barring emergencies, no more patients for the day and no house calls for the evening. With any luck he’d be so worn out by nightfall that, for once, a good night’s sleep—out there—would come easily. Then he’d get an early jump on it in the morning and be back here by noon to open the clinic. But he had to quit talking first. And quit moping as well.

“So which one you running away from? Thinking about that whole mess you had with your wife, or the problems you’ve got going with Brax?”

Leave it to Joey to turn one emotional train wreck into two. He loved the man, knew he only wanted to help. But, damn, not this way. “I’ve got no problems with the old man,” Beau snapped. “Just a difference of medical opinion.” Big difference of opinion.

Joey chuckled. “Your way, his way. Two stubborn men who don’t want to budge. Glad the extent of my medical knowledge doesn’t go beyond applying a bandage and some good, old-fashioned horse medicine.”

True, they were alike in a few ways. Stubbornness for stubbornness, maybe they did match up, but only a little bit. “OK, so maybe we have some similarities. But the old man thinks he can practice medicine again, and I know he can’t. It’s time for him to retire.”

“Two peas in a pod. Actually, let’s make that two peas in separate pods since you’re not seeing eye to eye on pretty much anything right now.”

It bothered Beau more than he let on. He liked being here, on Brax’s land, close to nature, in a place where no one could touch him. It let him remember the best times of his life when he and his grandfather would go out to mend fences together then stay over for a camp-out.

He missed those uncomplicated days. Missed his once uncomplicated life. But the complications came from so many directions now—some of his doing, some from Brax’s physical condition. Too many bitter pills to swallow.

“That’s why I’m going out for the night. Brax and I need some space. There’s too much conflict going on in the house and it’s not good for him.”

“Not good for you either.”

“But I’m not trying to recover from a stroke.”

“A little space might be good. I’ll give you that. But what if Nell decides that tonight’s her night? Or there’s a medical emergency?”

“Call me.” He patted the pocket of his chambray shirt, where his cellphone was tucked away. “Or come get me in the helicopter.” Yes, Brax had a helicopter. A necessity in these spread-out parts for a GP who still made house calls. “And I’m fine to be out there by myself, brooding about my life and all the things I can’t fix, so quit worrying about me, OK?” Actually, he was looking forward to going up to his spot to contemplate his past, present, even his future. Because right now it was one big blur, and he wasn’t sure about any of it.

“You up on the ridge all alone, your grandfather holed up in his study all alone … Like I said, different pods, same peas.”

Beau chuckled, and patted Joey on the back. “Leave me the hell alone, will you? The last thing I need is all that perception hanging around me, making too much sense.” The truth was, he was still in a wallowing mood, and he’d become damned good at it.

“You’re not going to find a better view anywhere in Sugar Creek,” Kelli Dawson said, as she pushed back the double doors and invited Deanna to step outside onto the porch to the see the view. Kelli was the rental agent, giving Deanna the grand tour of her home for the next month. “Hot tub in the left corner, porch swing in the right. And look at everything you can see from here.”

It was breathtaking, Deanna did have to admit. And the photos Kelli had e-mailed didn’t do this cabin justice. “But you’re going to sell it?”

“I’m just the listing agent. My client wants to sell, but it’s been on the market a year now and nobody’s interested. Sugar Creek is a nice town, but it’s small, too isolated. Our doctor here has to use a helicopter to make house calls.”

Braxton Alexander was the doctor, but she needed to hear it acknowledged. “Your doctor is …?”

“Doc Brax. Wonderful man. Everybody loves him.” That was encouraging. It was nice to know the baby’s daddy was liked. “He’s been an institution here for ever. Delivered most of the babies around here. Including me!”

No way …! According to the donor card, Braxton Alexander was thirty-six. Was she chasing after the wrong person? Wasting her time, not to mention her emotional investment, in the wrong place?

“And he’s still delivering babies?”

“Not since his stroke. He recovered from it pretty well. Needs a cane sometimes to help him get around better. But I’d still let him be my doctor if he hadn’t quit, because his mind’s as sharp as ever. By the time my grandpa was Doc Brax’s age, he was forgetful and he just seemed so withered up. But Doc Brax looks good for his age, and Joey, the man who runs Braxton Acres, says he’ll be able to get rid of his cane any day now.”

“How old is Doc Brax?”

“Seventy-five, I think. Could be seventy-six.”

Not the baby’s daddy, then, unless the sperm bank had got that wrong, too. “He’s the only doctor in this area?”

“He was, until his grandson Braxton, known as Beau took over. Good doctor, but not friendly like his grandfather. People don’t think he likes being back here … He used to be the town troublemaker when he was a kid. But he does what he’s supposed to now, and he’s as good as his grandfather, so the rest of it doesn’t really matter.” Her smile widened.

“Upstairs you’ll find the game room and TV. Downstairs you’ll find the laundry and a couple of extra bedrooms. And on this level … you’ve seen it all. The kitchen, the great room. Oh, and there’s a whirlpool in the master suite.”

“It’s lovely,” Deanna said absently, her mind still on the Braxton Alexander who’d fathered Emily’s baby. Good doctor a plus, lacking in personality a minus. Troublemaker as a kid an even bigger minus! “I think everything will suit me just fine.”

“You can call out for groceries, too. Number’s by the phone. If you want to hole up for the entire month and never leave, you can. So, what was it you said you were going to do? Write a book?”

Sugar Creek, where everybody knew everybody else’s business. That could work to her advantage, or against it. One way or the other, she was going to have to be very careful here, because her business was nobody else’s. “Something like that.”