Rocky Mountain Redemption Page 7

  Ready compassion welled up inside her. She set her hand on his arm and gave a light squeeze.

  “You’re welcome anytime. You know that, Luke.” Ben’s low voice startled her, sending a tiny shiver of pleasure straight down her spine.

  She glanced up to see him leaning against the door-jamb, his arms draped in casual ease at his chest, his legs crossed at the ankles. His steady, discerning gaze seemed to peer straight through to her soul.

  She scrambled to cover the bitter scars grooved in her heart from years of regret and shame, but felt like her attempts fell short and that he could see everything.

  “Were you sleeping, Callie?” He pushed away from the doorway, his intense gaze shifting not one inch from hers. A tender, thawing kind of smile tipped his lips, warming her from the inside out, even though she wasn’t the least bit cold.

  “No, no. I was wide-awake.” She fumbled with the quilt.

  “Cross my heart,” Luke added, shooting up from the bed as he drew an invisible X over his heart. “I didn’t wake her. She kinda looked like she’d been gushin’ some, but she wasn’t mad or nothin’ when I came in here.”

  Without even touching her, Ben grabbed her attention, compelling her to look into his eyes. “I didn’t think she’d be mad, Luke,” he finally said. “I just don’t want her rest being disturbed, that’s all.”

  Callie glanced up to see Luke hook his thumbs in his pockets then gesture back at her with his head. “She yer girl? I figured she was, seein’ as how she was layin’ here and all.”

  When Callie’s cheeks grew hot with an instant blush, she berated herself for acting like a ridiculous schoolgirl. This man had taken her in as his patient, then as an employee. He was her deceased husband’s brother. And a low-down thief, spending Max’s inheritance before Max could even get his hands on it—by all Max had ever said.

  Or was he so bad?

  The less-than-exemplary titles she’d tacked on Ben were beginning to hang on threads.

  “No. She’s not my girl.” His crystal-blue gaze sent her heart fluttering inside her rib cage. “Right now, Miss… Callie is a patient here. Someday when you’re a doctor, you’ll need to make sure that your patients get plenty of rest, too—so that they recover fully. That’s why Callie is here.”

  Luke angled a perplexed look her way. “She looks fine to me.”

  Smiling, she glanced from the boy to Ben. “You’re a very smart young man, Luke. Very perceptive, indeed.”

  “Appearances can be deceiving,” Ben argued. “She may look better and feel better, but if she gets up and resumes activity too quickly it could cause her to relapse.”

  “Relapse?” Luke’s brow creased.

  “It means that she’d get sick all over again.” Ben peered down at the boy with steady patience. “We don’t want that, now, do we?”

  “No, sirree.” Luke stuck his face in Callie’s line of vision. “Miss Callie, I think you should be lyin’ down. When yer sick, ya gotta make sure you get rest. Jest like Ben said.”

  “You’re going to make a good doctor someday,” Ben remarked with a satisfied grin.

  “Ya got any stitchin’ that needs to be done on ’er, cuz I can hold ’er down for ya. T’ain’t nothin’ for me to do seein’ as how small she is,” he noted, pointing at Callie as though she wasn’t even in the room.

  “I’m sure you’d do a fine job, but I don’t need to perform any stitch work today.” Ben passed an all-innocence glance her way, prompting an unavoidable grin.

  “It’s a comfort to know that you would help me, Luke,” Callie added, despite being ganged up on. “Really. Thank you for the offer.”

  “It’s almost suppertime, so if you’re hungry, Callie, I’ll bring you a plate of food.” Ben raised his brows in question.

  She nodded, suddenly famished.

  “You’re welcome to stay for supper, too, Luke.”

  “Awww! I gotta git home ’fore Ma wakes and finds that I ain’t made supper yet. She’ll wring my neck.”

  “I’m glad you stopped by. Don’t forget your coat and the sweater I fished out of my drawer for you. You might need it. It’s cold out there.”

  “I won’t. Thanks for the food. It was real good.”

  “Come again just as soon as you can. Promise?” Ben held out his hand.

  “Promise.” Luke clasped Ben’s hand in an exuberant handshake then headed toward the door. “Good meetin’ ya, Miss Callie.”

  “Nice to meet you, too, Luke.” Callie smiled and waved.

  Luke came to a sliding halt then suddenly backtracked. He stood on his toes and crooked a finger, motioning Ben down, ear level. “She’s a perty lady,” the boy whispered, his words reaching her ears as Ben slowly stood, sliding his pulse-pounding gaze and heart-seizing half smile to Callie. “Real perty.”

  Chapter Seven

  Ben had barely gotten a wink of sleep. His thoughts had been consumed with Callie. Her health. The way she’d been so kindhearted and engaging with Luke. The quick, intelligent responses she’d given. The delicate, lovely features etched with artistic perfection on her face.

  In three short days, she’d acquired his attention, and he was pretty sure she hadn’t the foggiest idea she’d done so, either. He’d been nothing but professional in his care of her, but it had taken uncommon restraint.

  When he’d happened upon her conversation with Luke yesterday, he’d stood mesmerized by her tender ways and warm smile—he’d never seen her smile. It had forced his heart all the way up to his throat, and he’d been thankful they hadn’t seen him standing there, if for no other reason than that he’d had time enough to find his voice again.

  He stepped up to the porch, waving to Sven Olsson, the lumber mill owner, as the man drove his wagon through the sloppy streets. The foot and a half of snow that had covered Boulder in a thick white blanket the night Callie had arrived was now a sludgy mess of mud and slush. With the mild temperature that bathed the valley this morning, the snow would probably be a memory by tomorrow.

  He unlocked the door to his office, his mind settled, as it had nearly every waking moment for the past three days, on Callie. This whole thing was as complicated as it could possibly be. When he stopped to consider the tangled mess, his head spun in outright confusion, leaving him feeling strangely out of sorts.

  Striding into the front room with the basket containing her breakfast, he caught sight of the Help Wanted sign that was still propped against the window. He grabbed it, reminding himself as he shoved it under a pile of papers that there were several reasons why he should rethink his decision to hire her. And at least a dozen reasons why he should tug his heart away from the direction it seemed committed to traveling in.

  He’d been silently naming those reasons off all morning long.

  Callie had been married to Max. He sighed—that was a huge reason. And Max had betrayed Ben and his brothers, storming out of their lives with their money and anything else of value—another big reason. Also, Callie seemed set on remaining closed off, and as far as Ben was concerned, openness and honesty were non-negotiable elements in any relationship.

  And both Joseph and Aaron had expressed reservations about her presence here. Most often he trusted their judgment, but he wasn’t so sure this time. This morning when Aaron had swung by for a cup of coffee before work, he’d urged Ben again to reconsider his dealings with Callie. Although Ben had come to her defense, he couldn’t ignore the tiny niggling of doubt eating at him.

  Walking down the hallway to her bedroom, he started when he glimpsed Callie dressed and sitting on the edge of her freshly made bed. He instantly furrowed his brow and gave his head a frustrated shake.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” He came to a sudden stop just inside the doorway. “It’s way too soon to be up, Callie. You’re not ready yet.”

  “I’m fit as a fiddle,” she responded with honey-dripping innocence. Clearly avoiding his admonishing gaze, she painstakingly smoothed a hand over her dress.

 
; Though she was still pale, she looked beautiful. The soft lavender print got along so well with her fair complexion and the auburn hair she’d plaited loosely down her back. The color gave her still-too-pale skin some semblance of life—though the pink tint coloring her cheeks made him instantly suspicious that she’d been pinching them for effect.

  “I brought your breakfast.” He placed the heavily laden basket on the table, bracing his hands at his hips as he tried his best to look stern. “And yes. I absolutely think you’re up too soon.”

  “Nonsense.” Callie stood then quickly grasped the bedpost with a trembling hand. The forced look of confidence etched in her features didn’t fool him one bit. “If I spend one more hour in bed—I’ll be impossible to be around.”

  Crossing his arms at his chest, he moved a step closer. Then another. “Hmmm…that would be interesting.”

  She flicked her attention to him. “Believe me, you wouldn’t want to see it.”

  “It’d be nothing new, seeing as how you’re being impossible right this very minute.” He snapped open the basket and unloaded the contents, the unmistakable look of awe as she peered at the food tugging at his heart.

  When she hugged her arms around her middle, it accentuated how thin she was, a small detail which he was determined to remedy. Starting now. She needed to put on weight, and if he had to sit with her at every meal and make sure that she ate, then he would. Gladly.

  “Have a seat.” He gestured to one chair as he pulled another one up to the table.

  He watched her closely, and though his hands itched to steady her, he willed them to remain fixed at his side. He was fully prepared to catch Callie again if she weakened—which was highly likely given the way perspiration beaded her lip.

  Once seated, she unwrapped the large hunk of cheese as he poured her a glass of milk. “So, what task would you like me to start with this morning?”

  “I’d like you to start by crawling back in bed after you’ve finished eating,” he urged. “That would be the best and only start as far as I’m concerned.”

  She broke off a piece of cheese and popped it in her mouth. “That’s not likely to happen, so unless you make another suggestion, I’ll find things to do myself.” She slid her gaze around the room before she lifted the lid off the four eggs, three biscuits, generous portion of gravy and five thick slices of smoked bacon. “Oh my, this smells delicious. Did you make all of this?”

  “Wish I could take the credit, but this morning Katie brought over enough to feed a small army,” he answered, watching as she dug in to the cast-iron crock.

  Almost as an afterthought, she pulled a napkin out of the basket and laid it over her lap, one-handed, since she kept her other hand clamped tightly around the fork. The way she closed her eyes as she chewed and savored each bite pierced his heart. She was so much like the strays he’d taken in, eating their food as though they might not live to see another meal.

  “Taste good?” he asked, smiling.

  Nodding vigorously, Callie covered her mouth with her napkin. After she swallowed she said, “This is wonderful. Just wonderful.”

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  “Oh, I love breakfast.” She speared another chunk of gravy-covered biscuit then shot him an after-thought kind of gaze. “Would you like some?”

  “No, thanks. I already ate.” He couldn’t help but grin at the way she seemed almost relieved.

  Bite after bite after bite, she made quick work of the large meal. And he decided, somewhat unexpectedly, that he rather enjoyed a woman with a healthy appetite, instead of the usual picking at food and moving it around on a plate.

  She chased down a mouthful of eggs with several swallows of milk. “Can’t you think of a task you’d like me to do? Surely there’s plenty of work to be done.”

  “First day up and you’re already complaining about the living conditions?” he asked, grinning.

  “I’m terribly sorry, but have you looked at these windows?” She nodded toward the glass panes directly in front of her as she bit down on the last hunk of cheese.

  He glanced at the windows. “I know, it’s a hazy view, isn’t it? I like to think that it creates a sort of blissful mood with the sun shining in.”

  When she ignored his sarcasm, forking the last of the scrambled eggs into her mouth, he added, “I’ve never claimed to be a stellar housekeeper.”

  With a light elegance that contrasted sharply with the hearty way she’d just eaten, she dabbed her napkin to her mouth. “Stellar would undoubtedly stretch the truth.”

  Sliding a fingertip down a glass pane, he affirmed her claim as he shifted his gaze back to her. “Stubborn for you, however, wouldn’t stretch the truth one bit.”

  When she turned to look at him, he couldn’t tear his gaze from the lovely blue of her eyes, like an early spring sky. He looked deep, but found it disconcerting when he couldn’t seem to see past the protective barrier she’d erected. It was as if she’d firmly locked away any deep emotion or poignant memory, and the empty look he found there made his heart ache for Callie.

  “I believe you’ve made note of my stubbornness more than once,” she breathed, laying her fork down into the empty cast-iron crock. She dabbed at her mouth again. “Please, tell Katie thank you. That was—it was delicious.”

  “I will.”

  Her hand drifted to her neck as she fingered the locket with the lightest touch, peering out the window for a long while.

  Ben lifted the crock back into the basket then rested his arms on the table, watching the way her face shadowed ever so slightly, as though some memory haunted her. “You must’ve been quite a match for Max, seeing as how he had a willful streak in him a mile wide and equally deep.”

  Callie clutched the napkin on the tabletop, her knuckles whitening with force. “My life with Max is not your concern.”

  Ben furrowed his brow. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  He tapped the table with one solitary finger. “Callie…if you were married to Max then you’re my concern.”

  “I’ve done fine on my own, this far. I don’t want to be your concern.”

  “You’re his widow.” He crooked a finger under her chin and gently turned her head to face him. “Of course you’re my concern. You don’t have a choice.”

  The fleeting look of distress that passed over her fine features made him want to sweep her off her feet and carry her through every difficult thing she faced.

  “I want to help, Callie. God knows I’ve been praying for you, but unless you’re willing to open up, I can only take care of the outward things you need.” He held her gaze. “I can make sure you have a warm comfortable dwelling, good food and a decent wage. And I can protect you from the elements. But I can’t protect you from whatever it is that makes you so wary and guarded with me.”

  Callie pushed up from the table and walked slowly toward the doorway. When she sidestepped then grabbed the thick wood trim as if to steady herself, Ben trained an eye on her every move, her every breath.

  She had undeniably captured his attention. She was beautiful, delightfully stubborn, and she was his only connection to Max.

  The times he’d tracked Max down with Joseph, they’d found him at a gambling table. There’d been no warm greeting or farewell hug. The last time, Max had barely spared them a glance for a good ten minutes then he’d followed them outside, carrying on about how broke he was, how he needed their help. After he’d lamented about how hard he had it, they’d handed over a fistful of money, and he’d proceeded to thank them with a series of sarcastic, scathing remarks.

  The whole thing had finally gotten to Ben. He’d been used one too many times. Infuriated by Max’s total disregard for family and the way he was raised, something in Ben finally snapped. The quiet patience that usually was his guiding force was long gone and instead, years of frustration and anger he didn’t even know existed had boiled to the surface. To this day he couldn’t believe the words that had spewed from his mouth.
At the time it had felt like a huge relief, a weight off his soul.

  It hadn’t taken more than a few hours for him to realize that his remarks were nothing but vengeful and caustic.

  And as it turned out, they were the last words he’d ever said to his brother.

  The blatant reality of that stung with burning, debilitating force.

  Max had died.

  And Ben couldn’t make amends.

  He felt himself slipping further and further into regret. Guilt ate at him, even more so now that he couldn’t take back the last, awful words he’d said to his own flesh and blood.

  When he heard Callie’s feet shift on the hardwood floor, he was instantly jerked from his haunting thoughts. He watched to see if she was steady as he crossed to her.

  “I don’t know the first thing about what happened with Max,” he finally said, stopping just behind her. “But I can imagine there was plenty. And if ever you want to talk about it, I want you to know that I’m a good listener.”

  On a muffled cough, she hugged her arms to her chest.

  “You were married to my brother. Do you know what that means?”

  “Apparently not,” she breathed. Then did a slow turn to face him, sliding her arms down to her sides and pulling her shoulders back. The look she gave him—as if she were facing a firing squad—well, that nearly broke his heart. “But it appears you’re going to tell me, Doctor Drake. So go ahead.”

  Ben gently grasped her thin shoulders and looked deep into her eyes. “It means that we’re family. I don’t know what that means in your book, but in mine it means that we take care of one another.”

  She barely breathed, confusion momentarily flitting across her face, leaving behind a very empty gaze that pierced his heart.

  “My brother Joseph and I came after him a few times,” he continued, gauging her response as he slid his hands from her shoulders. “Did you know that?”

  Her brow furrowed. “You did?”

  He nodded.

  “I wonder why he never told me that.”