Phyllis Halldorson - A Wife For Dr. Sam

He looked at his watch, muttered something impatiently, then stepped back several feet along the road and called to her. “Walk over here to me.”

This man was getting to be a real pain, she thought. “I told you, I’m just fine. You don’t need to worry about me,” she called huffily.

“Maybe so,” he answered, “but please do as I say. I have important appointments to keep.”

There was a no-nonsense quality to his tone that indicated he was used to having his orders obeyed, and she was sure it would just be a waste of time to argue.

Taking a deep breath she put one foot in front of the other, then let loose of the door and started toward him. The road surface was rough and her dizziness increased, but she continued to concentrate on not stumbling.

She was almost there when she stepped into a pothole and was thrown off balance. Gasping, she threw out her arms as the man caught her and held her close against him. Her flailing arms circled his neck and she buried her face in his shoulder and clung.

He was strong and muscular, and there was a faint woodsy aroma about him. She wasn’t sure if it was shaving lotion or just the natural scent of the mountain forest.

She was still trembling, but didn’t know if it was shock from the collision or pleasure aroused by the protectiveness of his embrace.

But it wasn’t an embrace. He was simply holding her up to keep her from falling flat on her face. What on earth was the matter with her anyway? It wasn’t as though she’d never been held by a man before.

He didn’t seem in any hurry to let her go, but that was probably because he wasn’t sure what to do with her.

Reluctantly, she raised her head, unwound her arms and pushed gently away from him. Her dizziness had receded, but still the man kept one arm around her waist as they walked back to her car.

“I…I just stumbled,” she assured him. “I really am okay, but thanks for your concern. By the way, shouldn’t we exchange names and addresses? My insurance will pay for the damages to your BMW.”

As soon as she uttered the words she knew she’d spoken unwisely. She shouldn’t have admitted to being at fault until she talked to her insurer.

They reached her four-year-old navy blue Mustang, and he withdrew his arm from around her and reached in his inside coat pocket. “I’m in a hurry,” he said as he withdrew a business card and handed it to her. “If you’ll just write down your name, address and the name of your insurance company I’ll get back to you later. You do live around here, don’t you?”

She unzipped her purse and tossed his card inside, then rummaged around until she found a note tablet and pencil. “No, I don’t,” she answered, “but I’m visiting here for the next few weeks. I’ll give you that address, too.”

She scribbled the information on a sheet of the tablet, tore it off and folded it, then handed it to him. He shoved it in his pocket then helped her into the car and shut the door. “Start the engine,” he said.

She turned the key and the motor purred.

“Looks like it will run okay,” he observed. “You go on ahead. I’ll stay behind you until we get to Copper Canyon to make sure it doesn’t stall.” He backed away from the vehicle. “I’ll be in touch, and for God’s sake watch where you’re going.”

True to his word he followed behind her until they came to the pretty little village, almost hidden from the road by huge old evergreen and shade trees. Then he turned off on one of the side streets while she kept going on the main artery through the town and beyond.

A few miles later she saw the rural mailbox labeled Buckley and turned onto the long driveway that led to the white two-story farmhouse surrounded by trees. There were several outbuildings, including a big red barn. Everything looked just as Coralie had described it in her letters and phone calls.

Kirsten parked beside the house and got out, but as she came around the back of the car she heard a screen door open and close and Coralie came bouncing down the front steps, a welcome smile on her face and her arms out-stretched. The two friends hugged, then leaned back to look at each other.

Kirsten had never seen Coralie look so happy. She positively glowed, and there was no need to ask if her marriage was all she’d expected it to be. It obviously was. Her straight blond hair was still shoulder length and parted in the middle, but now she had it tied back with a scarf, and her deep blue eyes sparkled with happiness.

“You’re positively radiant,” Kirsten told her. “I guess your pen-pal farmer turned out to be Prince Charming in disguise.”

Coralie laughed with delight. “You better believe it,” she agreed. “Just wait till you meet him. I’ve got the perfect man for you, too.”

“Oh, no,” Kirsten said with a grin. “If you’re talking about your husband’s best friend, Dr. Sam, whom you’ve written so much about, you can forget it. I’m not looking to be fixed up with a groom, either homegrown or mail-order. I’m content to bask in your happiness.”

“That’s nonsense,” Coralie said, “and you know it. Happiness isn’t contagious, it can’t be caught. You have to experience your own, and as I’ve told you, Sam Lawford is an ideal candidate for a husband. He’s almost as handsome as my Jim, plus since he’s one of only two physicians in town his financial future is assured. Even more important, he’s one of the nicest, most considerate men I’ve ever met. Next to Jim, of course.”

Kirsten opened her mouth to protest, but Coralie’s chatter didn’t skip a beat. “Besides, everything’s all set up. I’ve invited him for supper tonight so you two can meet. You’ve only got a month to get to know each other,” she added. “There’s no time to waste.”

Kirsten could see that she might as well accept the inevitable. After all, Coralie was her hostess, so she couldn’t very well be rude and refuse to go along with her plans.

“All right,” she said, striving for a light tone. “But I work with physicians all the time. Couldn’t you have fixed me up with someone different? Maybe a plumber or a banker?”

They both laughed, but Kirsten quickly sobered. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but please, don’t push this matchmaking bit If there’s a special man out there for me I’ll find him without anyone’s help.”

Coralie apparently caught the wariness in Kirsten’s voice, and her radiance faded a bit as her gaze roamed more inquiringly over her friend. “You’ve lost weight,” she observed with a frown. “And you didn’t have any to lose. You look pale, Kirsten, and tired. I can see why your doctor wouldn’t let you go back to work for another month. Do you still have that last spot of pneumonia on your lung?”

Kirsten grimaced. She didn’t like being reminded that she’d been seriously ill during the past two months. “You never forget that you’re a nurse, do you?” she grumbled affectionately. “Well, I’m a nurse, too, so please accept the fact I know what I’m talking about when I tell you the virus has been wiped out, the pneumonia is all cleared up and the asthma attacks are under control. The only reason I can’t return to work at the hospital right now is because my immune system has been weakened and the doctor doesn’t want me exposed to all the germs that float around a medical facility.”

“Yeah, well…” Coralie sounded unconvinced. “I’m going to see to it that you get plenty of rest and healthy meals during the month you’ll be here. Right now, though, come meet my two beautiful stepdaughters.”

Inside the house was just as old-fashioned and homey as it was on the outside. The rooms were large, the ceilings high and the furniture mostly antiques that had been in the family for generations. The air was redolent with the aroma of roasting beef, and Kirsten remembered that they served dinner at midday on the farm.