Phyllis Halldorson - A Wife For Dr. Sam

Coralie proudly introduced her stepdaughters. Gloria was fifteen, tall with dark brown hair and brown eyes, and Amber, at thirteen, was short with blond hair and blue eyes. It wasn’t easy to tell who were the daughters and who was the stepmother. It was on the tip of Kirsten’s tongue to tease them about it, but she stopped herself just in time when she remembered that the almost thirteen-year age difference between Coralie and her husband was a sore subject with Jim.

According to Coralie he’d fought against falling in love with her because of it, and even though they were now married he was still embarrassed when someone mistook his new wife for one of his daughters.

Instead, she told the girls how pleased she was to meet them, and how much she was looking forward to her visit.

“I know you’re eager to meet Jim,” Coralie told Kirsten, “but he’s out working in the fields. He’ll be home in about an hour for dinner, and I’ve got the pot roast, potatoes and carrots cooking in a roaster in the oven. Gloria and Amber will do the last-minute things, so why don’t we go over to Jim’s dad’s house and get you settled in?”

“I’d love to,” Kirsten said enthusiastically. “Are you sure your father-in-law doesn’t mind me staying there?”

Coralie’s eyebrows rose. “Buck? Of course not. He’s happy to have somebody occupying it while he’s gone. The only thing he’s upset about is that he probably won’t be back from his old army buddies’ reunion in Missouri in time to meet you.”

Coralie had a last-minute discussion about dinner preparations with the girls, then joined Kirsten as they left the house and walked out to the car. It was only then that Coralie noticed the dents in the front fender and grille, which had been partially hidden by the shrubbery along the driveway.

“Kirsten, what happened to your car?” she asked. “Those dents look new.”

“They are,” Kirsten admitted. “I had a fender bender with another car between here and Grangeville.” She went ahead to explain what had happened. “I can’t deny it was my fault,” she concluded, “and the man I hit was really mad. I just hope my insurance will cover all the damage.”

Coralie looked at her askance. “You did exchange names, phone numbers and insurance companies, didn’t you? Who was he? Maybe Jim knows him.”

“Oh, yeah, we did all that,” Kirsten assured her. “He gave me a business card, but I tossed it in my purse without reading it. I’ll show it to you later.”

The two women took Kirsten’s car and drove approximately a city block through wheat fields to a beige cottage neatly trimmed in brown, which was set in the middle of a grove of huge, old shade trees. It was far enough away from the big house for privacy, but close enough to ensure against loneliness.

The cottage was considerably newer than the house and consisted of a living room, kitchen, two bedrooms and a bath. All the rooms were small, but it was ideal for one or two people. Kirsten and Coralie chatted happily as they unpacked Kirsten’s suitcases and put her clothes away.

“So, how are things back in Eureka?” Coralie asked as she put a stack of pastel-colored silk panties in a drawer.

“Well, we haven’t had any more of those California earthquakes that drove you away,” Kirsten answered.

Coralie shivered. “Thank God for that. After losing everything for the third time in six years in that last one, I just couldn’t stay in California any longer.”

“So you answered an advertisement in a magazine for a mail-order wife and wound up marrying the handsome hunk who placed the ad and living on a farm in Idaho,” Kirsten teased.

Coralie laughed. “It wasn’t as simple as that, as you very well know, but if I hadn’t run away from earthquakes I would never have met the man who turned out to be the love of my life.” She sobered. “And Jim is that, Kirsten. I firmly believe we were destined to be together.”

Now it was Kirsten who shivered. Was it possible that some couples were bound together by destiny?

Dr. Sam Lawford turned off the shower and reached for a towel, which he rubbed briskly over his trim, wet body, then knotted around his waist. As usual he was running late. He’d hoped to have time to unwind with a leisurely bath and a long, cool drink to revitalize his flagging energy. Instead, Thad Tucker’s youngest boy had stumbled while running with a wicked-looking knife in his hand, which his parents didn’t know he had, and Sam had spent the hour he’d saved for relaxation cleaning out the cut in the kid’s arm and putting five stitches in it.

Now he had just ten minutes to dress and drive out to the Buckley farm, if he was to arrive at the appointed time of six o’clock. Obviously that was impossible. He slapped shaving lotion on his newly shaved face, and rummaged in the dresser drawer for clean underwear.

What he really wanted to do was stay home, fix himself a thick turkey sandwich and stretch out with the new detective novel he’d received from the book club the week before. The last thing he wanted was to go to Jim and Coralie’s for supper. He loved Jim like a brother, and Coralie was a real sweetheart when she wasn’t singing the praises of her best friend, Kirsten something-or-other, whom he was supposed to meet for the first time tonight.

Sam hated blind dates, and it annoyed him no end when the wives of his friends insisted on playing matchmaker. He was perfectly capable of finding his own companions, and he had no intention of getting married.

He selected a pair of brown slacks and a short-sleeved green plaid shirt to wear. While summers in the mountains of Idaho were fairly mild, it was still too warm to be comfortable in a tie and sport coat. He wasn’t out to impress Ms. Whatever-her-name-was.

When he’d finished dressing, he ventured outside and was again jolted by the sight of the crumpled fender on his BMW. He’d only had it for a week, and in that time he’d protected and sheltered it like a baby. Then, in the blink of an eyelid, that sexy young airhead who didn’t have sense enough to keep her eyes on the road had run a stop sign and crumpled one side of its shiny white magnificence.

His rage ignited again. She had no business driving a car. She was a menace on the road. Who had issued her a driver’s license in the first place?

It was probably a man. All she would have to do was pout and bat her long, thick eyelashes at a man, and he would give her anything she wanted. Sam figured he should know. She’d even had him going there for a while.

When she’d first looked up at him with those wide doelike eyes, he’d felt a rush of tenderness that took his breath away. She’d looked so shocked and vulnerable, and for a moment he’d had an urge to take her in his arms and assure her that she was innocent of any wrongdoing. That he would take care of everything, if she would just smile at him.

He snorted with self-disgust as he backed the battered car out of the driveway. He’d been so swamped with patients all day that he hadn’t even had time to take it to the garage. Fortunately, the damage was only to the body. The V-12 engine still purred like a kitten.

As he drove down the tree-lined streets on his way out of town, his unruly mind returned to the accident and the woman responsible. Her driving skills left a lot to be desired, but her looks sure didn’t. Even though he’d been mad as hell at her at the time, he couldn’t help but notice her.

She was a real beauty. Quite tall, approximately five-seven to his five-eleven, and she’d fit into his embrace as if she’d been custom-made for him.

A wave of warmth washed over him and he groaned and shifted his thoughts back to the present. Obviously it had been too long since he’d had a date! He’d been so busy that he barely had time for sleep, let alone a social life.