Cheryl Wolverton - Among The Tulips

“You speak—”

“—English? Yes. There are few of us in town who do.” He smiled. “I’m Dr. Gaulkner.”

“She wants to know if it’s safe to stay with me until she recovers,” Victor interjected into the conversation before Annie could say anything.

The doctor lifted his eyebrows and turned toward Victor. He laughed outright. “Safe? Now what a question. Many people, they would appreciate to answer that.”

Turning back to Annie he said, “He is more safe than staying in an hotel alone. And if that no reassures you, I’ll give you mine home phone number where that you can contact me. You should be grateful that Victor, he is taking such time out of his schedule to tend for you.”

He smiled at Victor. “If you have the questions about mine instructions I’ve given you for her, you ring me.” He scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it to Annie.

It was a set of numbers.

“Mine number. Ring me up.”

He turned and walked away.

“Wait. How much do I owe? Where do I pay? Do you take travelers’ checks?” She gasped, her hand going to her mouth. “Oh, no, they’re in the car!” Panic built again.

“It’s already taken care of,” Victor said. Catching her hand, he pulled her attention back to him. “I had my driver, who wasn’t driving me at the time, by the way, go by and collect your things. Leaving them in an unattended vehicle wouldn’t be wise.”

He continued to hold her hand, stroking it gently.

She noticed that.

And he had a way of using his eyes that captured and held her attention.

He was a very physical person.

Nervously, she licked her lips.

He smiled slightly, noticing the gesture.

“I’m indebted to you,” she said simply.

“Consider it payback for the wreck I caused,” he corrected with an odd look on his face.

Finally, she nodded.

“You know, you’re not what I expected,” he murmured softly.

“Oh?” she asked.

He glanced down at her neck.

She fingered the small cross, not understanding.

He obviously wasn’t going to explain. He changed the subject. “Can you stand and move into the wheelchair?”

“Where are my clothes?” she asked, a bit of a blush working its way to her cheeks at having to ask a stranger such a question.

He pointed and she nearly groaned when she realized they were next to her on the end of the bed.

“Let me change,” she said, embarrassed that a stranger was standing here, helping her and she was dressed in next to nothing.

He nodded and stepped past the partition, pulling it closed to give her some privacy.

She took stock of her body. She already had some darkening areas on her chest. And her neck and shoulders hurt too. As a matter of fact, her lower back hurt, she realized as she dropped her skirt over her head and buttoned it around her waist. But the pain was pretty blunted. The medication, which muted the pain, made her woozy as well.

“Ready?” Victor called finally.

“Ready,” she replied, and thought she was more than ready to sit down as she dropped onto the edge of the bed.

He returned and ran his gaze over her.

“Amazingly enough, it only hurts when I move,” she quipped.

“You’re still doped up from all the medication they gave you.”

She glanced down at her hand and found a small bandage where an IV had once been. “Oh, yuck. I’m a mess.” Her clothes were bloody and on her legs, now bare of hose, she could still see some remnants of blood.

“You can have a hot bath when we get home. Come on, let me help you.”

He reached up and slipped his hands under her arms.

She gasped at the strength in those hands.

How long had it been since a man had touched her so intimately? The closest she’d been to a man in four years was an occasional hug at church.

It was very disconcerting.

“What is it?”

She glanced up and realized her face was only inches from his. She couldn’t help but think how handsome he was and how very masculine.

“Are you hurting?” he prompted when she didn’t answer.

Jarred by the second sentence, she nodded. “Everywhere.”

He turned with her and helped her into the wheelchair. “I have a housekeeper who’ll help you bathe if you need to. In the meantime, let’s just concentrate on getting you home and rested. I have a feeling you’re going to be hurting a lot more before this is over.”

“I have a feeling you’re right.” She smiled gently.

The man who had originally woken her up returned with a pair of crutches. He took control of the wheelchair and passed the crutches to Victor. With a smooth motion he turned and wheeled her out of the room. The hall was long, a dingy gray-blue and very old looking. Light bulbs dotted the ceiling along the corridor.

At the end of the hall they came to electronic doors that opened to a driveway where a car was waiting.

People with cameras were there, and they immediately started snapping pictures. “Oh, no.” Annie reached up self-consciously and pushed at her hair. “This is awful.”

She glanced down in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry for this,” Victor said and stepped up to the large dark vehicle that sat at the curb. A man was waiting and pulled the door open.

Victor slid in and allowed the other person to lift Annie into the car. “Is this the car I hit?” she asked, confused.

“No.”

“Is this your car?” was her next question. It was a luxurious car with thick plush seats and a window separating the front from the back.

“Yes.”

Annie suddenly had an inkling that this man must have money. No one she knew drove around in a car like this. No one that she knew could afford to. She leaned her head back into the soft seat and sighed as it cupped her sore body. “I guess this was what Cinderella felt like when she got into the coach.”

The driver got in and started the vehicle. They drove slowly until they were past the people who were snapping pictures.

He didn’t blink at anything that went on, simply sat next to her as they exited the parking lot.

Perhaps the locals always reacted this way? Maybe the ones with cameras had simply been the press wanting pictures of the people in the wreck? A few of the photographers looked awfully young to hold jobs though. But then, she’d heard that people overseas started work younger.

“Where are we going?” she asked when he didn’t elaborate about the car or comment on the cameras.

“I live about fifteen minutes outside of town. We’ll be there shortly.

“See that valley with the sheep over there?”

Annie followed his finger to where he pointed. “It’s beautiful.”

“I live about ten kilometers on the other side of it to the east. I have a nice home that’s isolated. I raise horses there.”

He had to be rich.

Perhaps he was someone important to Holland. “Do you raise tulips?”

The man slowly turned his head and stared at her. His gaze met hers and then touched on her features, causing her cheeks to warm.

Those eyes could hold a person indefinitely. Finally he asked, “Why did you choose Holland to visit?”

It was said kindly, not condemning or rudely. And she felt he was really interested.

“I’ve heard that it was a beautiful place. I love tulips. And I’ve always wanted to see a windmill.”

“Why did you pick this town?”

“I asked the travel agent for an out-of-the-way place that would be nice to visit. She said there were some famous people who lived here and they had several tourist attractions. Though it was off the beaten path, Europeans liked to frequent it when they visit, she said.”

“They do have a nice retreat here,” Victor agreed. “About thirty more kilometers north. And they do have a world-famous poet who lives just down the road from me. He’s won several honors.”