LITMIR.BIZ

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Snyder. The idea pleased—and troubled—her.

      Despite the occasional, confusing times he stomped out of her room with no explanation, she liked him. But she didn’t dare get close to anyone.

      And he had a preexisting relationship with Alicia Frost. The reporter.

      “What are you thinking about?” Frannie asked, startling Polly.

      Polly realized she had been staring sightlessly toward the tiny breakfast nook. She made herself smile. “Just how nice everyone has been, especially you, and Clifford, and—”

      “Dr. Snyder,” finished Frannie. “He certainly has taken you on as a mission. It’s like he’s from one of those old cultures in which if you save someone’s life, you’re responsible for her forever.”

      “That’s impossible!” Polly took a step backward so abruptly that she startled Laurel, who began to cry. “Oh, Laurel, I’m sorry. Everything’s okay, sweetheart.” Polly danced around the living room, but the motion didn’t settle the baby in her arms. “Maybe she’s hungry,” Polly said to Frannie. She sat on the sofa, arranged a blanket over her shoulder and began nursing the baby. She loved the warm, loving bond nursing created between Laurel and her.

      But she couldn’t concentrate on it now. She didn’t look at Frannie. She didn’t know what to say.

      The last thing she wanted was for Reeve Snyder to feel responsible for her. Only she had responsibility for Laurel and herself.

      No matter how unnerving that responsibility was.

      Taking a chair across from Polly, Frannie returned to the subject as though Laurel hadn’t interrupted. “Don’t worry that Reeve will continue to feel responsible for you. It’s not in his nature, believe me. He can be charming. But it’s an act. Ask any nurse at Selborn Community. Or even Alicia—I know she came to see you when he was in your room. After what happened to him, he isn’t interested in attachments to any woman.”

      Polly should have been reassured. Instead, she felt worse. “What happened to him?”

      “He lost his wife and baby in a horrible accident.”

      A knot twisted deep in Polly’s stomach. “Oh, no! How?”

      Frannie glanced at her watch. “It’s a long story and I’d better get back to the hospital.” The abrupt change in subject told Polly she wouldn’t hear more from Frannie now about Reeve Snyder’s loss.

      But her mind was spinning. He had been married. He had suffered unbearable heartache. Poor man. He had helped her, even if his moods shifted as swiftly as a sudden snow squall. Maybe that was a result, somehow, of his grief. How recent had it been? If only she could—

      But she could do nothing to ease his loss. She couldn’t even deal with her own.

      “Now you just get settled in here,” Frannie said as she stood to leave. “My aunt Esther—”

      “Did I hear my name?”

      A large woman in a loose, flowered caftan stood in the doorway. She had a wide nose on which wire-rimmed glasses perched, and her hair was a soft mop of brown waves in which silver was beginning to take over.

      Frannie smiled. “Aunt Esther, I’d like you to meet your new tenant, Polly Black.”

      “Welcome,” the woman said in her booming voice, but her gaze was on Laurel, who had finished eating and was squirming on Polly’s lap. Esther held out her arms. With just a moment’s hesitation Polly handed her the baby.

      “Oh, you adorable thing,” Esther crooned. Only after she had nestled Laurel over her shoulder and begun to sway gently on her thick legs did she turn her blue eyes, magnified by her glasses, on Polly. “Frannie tells me you’re settling here and that you’ll be working part-time for the medical center. Any time you want a baby-sitter, day or night, even while you’re working, you tell me. I adore babies.”

      Polly froze. Someone else was acting as though she were helpless. But this was help she really needed.

      She would pay Esther. It would be a business transaction.

      “Thanks,” she said graciously. She let her body relax. It was good to know she had alternatives.

      And, perhaps, friends.

      STIFLING A YAWN as he walked down the corridor after doing his hospital rounds, Reeve inhaled the ubiquitous odor of disinfectant. The yellow walls of the medical center’s office annex reminded him of sunshine, but their brightness failed to perk him up this afternoon. He’d had a late night; an elderly patient had slipped in his shower, and Reeve had come in to handle his treatment.

      Reeve stopped at his office door, hand poised on the knob, as a squeak from down the hall caught his attention.

      Polly Black pushed a stroller toward him, one that had seen better days. In it was the baby, Laurel, propped up with blankets. She was wide awake, her large blue eyes staring merrily ahead, tiny arms waving.

      They stopped in the middle of the hall, and the squeak ceased. Reeve found himself grinning. “Hi. I thought you were discharged from the center this morning.”

      “I was. But I wasn’t allowed to explore as a patient, and I wanted to see where I’ll eventually be working. It’s windy out, so I cut through the office building. Didn’t want Laurel to get too blown.”

      “Of course. Frannie told me you’re staying at her aunt’s place down the block. Are you okay to walk around like this? You look a little tired.”

      “I’m taking it slow and easy. We won’t be out long.”

      Polly’s bruises and cuts had faded, and the bump on her forehead had nearly disappeared. She looked slender in her cinched plaid top and slacks. Her cap of dark curls framed a face with perfect bone structure. Her full, pink lips, smiling in what seemed like a perfectly innocent and friendly manner, nevertheless reminded Reeve of his too-frequent urge to kiss her. The thought, as usual, caused a chain reaction—warmth that crept up his body, a tightening in his groin….

      Alicia had attempted to get him interested since his wife had died. She had tried too hard. But Polly…

      “Your stroller makes a lot of noise,” he said, to change the direction of his thoughts.

      She looked abashed, and that made him feel ashamed of his criticism. “Sorry,” she said. “I borrowed it from Frannie’s sister and didn’t know how to make it stop squeaking.”

      He stared at her in surprise. The solution seemed elementary to him.

      But maybe not to everyone. Certainly not to Polly. “Oil. Or WD-40. I probably have some in my office. Come in, and we’ll find out.”

      The small squeak pursued him into his office as Polly followed with baby and stroller. Sure enough, he had a can of spray. Waiting until Polly picked up the baby, he used the spray liberally on the wheels, then tested it. In moments, the squeal was gone.

      “Thanks,” Polly said. “You’ve saved me again.” A flush immediately crept up her lovely face, and her hand went to her mouth. “But that doesn’t mean you have any responsibility—” She stopped, reddening even further.

      She charmed him, with her sweet blushing. He wanted to take her into his arms, baby and all, and assure her that helping her had been his pleasure.

      How ridiculous. What was it about this woman that caused him to forget professionalism and turn into a drooling idiot?

      It was the baby, of course. And his memories.

      And this woman had a husband somewhere—former or not—who had the right to see his daughter.

      “Don’t worry about it,” he said, keeping his tone level. “My responsibility is to the medical center. You wouldn’t want that squeak disturbing the patients, would you?”

      “Of course not.” She looked even more disconcerted.

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