Part 3 (2/2)
”Sam.”
”Oh . . . thank you, Sam. I want you to know how glad I am you happened along and found Kate when you did. Storms off Superior can be bad business, and once in a while we lose somebody with winds like we had this afternoon.”
”I can believe it,” he said softly.
Ruth nodded. ”She would have been in even worse straits tonight, since it's supposed to drop down close to freezing. I'm sure she's thanked you, but I want to thank you, too-for Bourner's Crossing. Kate means a lot to all of us.”
He started to brush off Ruth's grat.i.tude, but she peered anxiously around him. ”How is she? Does she need anything?”
”I think she's asleep.”
”Oh. Well, I'll just go and check.”
Sam was was.h.i.+ng the skillet he'd used when Ruth returned.
She bustled into the kitchen, s.n.a.t.c.hed the b.u.t.ter dish off the table to put away, and let out an exasperated sigh. ”That girl!”
”Is she all right?” he demanded, his battered nerves reacting instantly to Ruth's tone.
”She's fine. Well, she's not fine, of course, but she's sound asleep. I didn't disturb her.” Ruth shut the refrigerator door, then proceeded to take his place at the sink, plunging her hands into the soapy water as she went on to say, ”Kate exasperates me sometimes, that's all. She works herself to the bone, doing for others, but do you know, if Sarah Winfield hadn't called me to say she saw you carrying Kate up her front walk, and if I hadn't called to see what was wrong, I bet she wouldn't have said a word to anybody about being hurt, not if she could possibly have helped it.”
Sam didn't doubt it. He'd heard Katie himself, lying through her teeth about how there was nothing wrong with her ankle an ice pack wouldn't cure. No, she wasn't a complainer.
”Not that she ever needs help,” Ruth continued, scrubbing at the potatoes and eggs stuck to the cast-iron skillet. ”She's as capable and dependable as the day is long. Comes from all those years of taking care of her family.”
A warning light went off in his head. He knew he shouldn't listen to any more of this, but simple male curiosity about the woman who'd stirred his senses made him say, ”Her family?”
Ruth was glad to satisfy his interest. ”Her mother died in childbirth when Kate was twelve and left John Morgan with six children, including the new baby. Kate's the oldest, so you see what I mean that she comes by her knack for taking care of others honestly. And a sweeter, nicer girl you'll never meet. Of course, I imagine you've already figured that out.”
The bottom had dropped out of Sam's stomach, and he offered no resistance as Ruth plucked the dish towel out of his hands to dry the skillet. Nor did he interrupt as she went on.
”Cal Drinker, in Ontonagon-he's Kate's family doctor and a friend of Bill Cabot's-Cal says if it hadn't been for her, John Morgan would've had to split up the children between his brother down in Grand Rapids and some cousins back east. But they got a neighbor to take care of the baby and the next youngest during the day, when Kate was in school. The rest of the time, that girl kept things running smooth as clockwork. Cal says they'd never have made it without her.” Pausing, a wet dishrag poised over the stove top she was about to wipe, Ruth murmured, ”I hope things around here don't fall apart without her.”
Then she gave Sam an anxious smile. ”I imagine she's just sprained her ankle some, don't you think?”
His stomach was churning. ”I'm no doctor, Mrs. D., but I'd guess it's broken.”
”Oh, dear.” Ruth dropped her rag onto the stove and turned to face him. ”I should call Bill Cabot. Kate said not to, but-”
”I don't think one night's going to make much difference,” Sam a.s.sured her. ”And Katie said she couldn't face riding to the hospital for an x-ray tonight. She's had a pretty rough day.”
With her brow wrinkled, Ruth shook her head. ”This could be bad. Laura Graff is due in a couple of weeks, and if this baby comes as fast as the first one did, Kate will end up delivering it. Of course, could be somebody besides Laura, too, since Bill and Kate are the only ones delivering babies in a hundred square miles, outside the hospitals.”
Ruth's frown deepened. ”I know she's been keeping an eye on a few folks who live outside of town. Lord knows what'll happen if there's an accident at one of the campgrounds. She and Bill between them have picked up the pieces since they took the ambulances away-filling in until the ambulance gets here. But Bill isn't up to traipsing over the countryside-ar-thritis, you know-though, knowing him, he'll try to do it, anyway.”
So much for problems and solutions, Sam thought. Taking a step backward, toward the doorway, he began, ”Well, listen, Mrs. D.-”
”Goodness!” Ruth shuddered. ”The more I think about it, the worse it looks. I guess you don't know until you face losing somebody how indispensable they've become. And Kate's gotten to be Bill Cabot's right hand-or I guess I should say his right knee, since it's his knee that gives him the most trouble.”
”Yeah, well . . .” Sam cast a glance toward the doorway. ”I'm sure you'll all work out something. But, listen, I'm a little worried about getting back out that road in the dark. I think I'd better get going.”
”Now, hold on.” Ruth's anxious frown disappeared instantly, replaced by a no-nonsense look. ”There's no point in your leaving town without the things you're going to need in that cabin. Kate told me you were asking about groceries, and Ed said to send you over to the store. He'll meet you there.''
Sam's heart was pounding as he thanked Ruth and said goodbye, leaving her in the kitchen to put away the dishes. He strode through the dining room, grabbing his jacket as he pa.s.sed the chair where he'd left it, managing to get three feet from the front door. Then, most unwillingly, he came to a stop.
He stared at the door, his forehead and upper lip beaded with sweat, his insides twisted in knots. Move it, the voice in his head ordered. Get out of here-now! But he couldn't move, and he had that feeling in his gut that he wasn't going to make it.
Dammit, why did it have to be her? Why, of all the people who could have been hurt in that storm, did the one he'd found have to be the town nurse? The one person n.o.body could do without. Pregnant women who might not make it to the hospital, hunting accidents happening where the old doctor might not be able to get to them: Yes, people needed Katie, and it was going to make their lives miserable-if not downright dan-gerous-if she couldn't do her job.
And what about her? What about the woman who'd taken over raising her brothers and sisters when her mother died? Katie had gone on to make a career of taking care of people, but who was taking care of her? How was he supposed to turn away from her? How was he supposed to fight this thing inside him that urged him to give her back some of what she gave to others?
How could he justify walking out that door?
The answer came in hard, absolute terms: He couldn't.
”Ah, h.e.l.l,” Sam muttered, his hand skimming over his face and around the back of his neck. What was one lost battle, anyway? G.o.d knows, there'd be others-others he'd have a better chance of winning than this one.
Whirling away from the door, he walked purposefully toward Katie's room. When he got to the doorway, he paused, and the tortured expression on his hard features softened as his gaze swept over her, lying on the bed.
Her eyes were closed, and her hair lay fanned across the pillow. He'd never in his life seen such hair- a curtain of toasty golden-brown ripples-and it framed a face that maybe wasn't beautiful but couldn't have been any sweeter or more honest. A small, turned-up nose and soft, rosy lips and a stubborn little chin that all went so well with her warm brown eyes. Her bathrobe was long and pink; it tied at her waist and, above the belt, lay open far enough to reveal little rows of lace across the top of her white flannel nightgown. The nightgown had pink flowers on it, too, and Sam couldn't remember any woman he'd known wearing a nightgown like it. But then, he hadn't known many women like Katie, and it fit her just right.
As he stood there, his eyes taking in the lush, womanly, curves of her thighs and b.r.e.a.s.t.s, the torment and the gut-wrenching ambivalence drained out of him. The decision was made. He wasn't going to fight it anymore. And, oddly enough, looking at Katie, he didn't feel as if he'd lost a battle. No, for once, this just might end up being a pleasure.
Half awake, Kate sensed someone in the room with her. As exhausted as she was and as groggy as the pill had made her, the pain wouldn't let her fall asleep. She opened her eyes but couldn't quite focus on Sam, standing at the foot of her bed. He looked so tall, she thought, in her low-ceilinged house.
”I thought you'd lef',” she said, slurring the edges of the words.
”Not yet,” he replied. ”You're supposed to be asleep.”
She yawned. ”I am. Mos'ly . . . Sam?”
”Hmm?”
”T'morrow . . . when you go t' Cressie and Steve's t' get your key . . .”
”Yes?”
”Tell Cressie I won' be out, okay? She'll hafta bring the baby in t' see Doc.”
”They have a sick kid?”
”Uh-uh. New one. Due for three-week check.”
”I'll tell her. Listen, Katie, about tomorrow . . . I'll run you down to Ironwood.”
She looked at him, blinking in surprise. ”Sam, you don' hafta do that. There's lotsa people-”
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