Deep Haven [02] Tying the Knot Page 5

  “We’re pleased to have you. You’re not the only new face in town, by the way.” He stood and gestured to the door. “Dr. Jefferies, please come in.”

  A slim man, slightly taller than herself, pushed the door open with two fingers. His smile seemed genuine, and he extended a hand to Anne. “Richard Jefferies. Family practice.”

  His wide hand held hers a moment longer than necessary. She pulled away but noticed his gaze linger.

  “I see I arrived just in time.” He smoothed down a teal-and-brown tie and buttoned his lab coat.

  Anne frowned at a tremble in his hands.

  “Dr. Jefferies is taking over for Dr. Holm while he is on summer sabbatical.” Dr. Simpson came around the desk to clap the younger doctor on the shoulder. “He’s fresh out of residency at St. Katherine’s in Duluth.”

  “Good to meet you,” Anne said quietly.

  “Anne’s here to finish her internship in community nursing.” Dr. Simpson edged back toward his desk, perhaps to give her room to move past them in his cramped office.

  Dr. Jefferies didn’t budge. “Where are you from?” His brown eyes, muddy in color and depth, captured hers.

  “Minneapolis,” she heard herself say. What was it about him that sent her shivers?

  “I’ve been there a few times.” He backed away and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I love the Sculpture Garden.” He folded his arms across his chest; his tone spoke of interest.

  “Have you ever walked through the arboretum at night? It’s gorgeous.” Anne felt her tension dissipating. She was just a bad judge of character . . . always had been.

  “No, but Nicollet Avenue on a snowy night is something magical.”

  His short blond hair and clean-shaven chin gave him a cultured look, and the way he leaned against the file cabinet invited her conversation. “Yes, it is,” she agreed with a smile, giving him a second chance.

  He smiled back, and she recognized something more than polite attention in his sweeping gaze. A blush started at her toes.

  “Well, that’s nothing compared to our night sky. You both ought to spend some time walking the beach while you’re here.” Dr. Simpson returned to his wobbly metal chair. “Thank you for coming in, Anne. Oh, by the way, please stop by human resources and get your security pass card and ID picture taken, okay?”

  Anne nodded, clutching the folder to her chest, the one with her recommendation. “Nice meeting you, Dr. Jefferies.” She walked out before she babbled further and completely disgraced herself. Certainly Dr. Simpson wasn’t suggesting she and Dr. Jefferies should spend time—together?

  Then again, Deep Haven presumed an entirely different set of rules. Perhaps here men weren’t to be feared.

  She marched past Sandra, embarrassment fueling her steps. No, just certain men weren’t to be feared. The memory of last night shuddered through her, and she shivered again, a reaction to Noah Standing Bear’s suggestion that he drive her home.

  He’d stood there, one leg hitched over his bike, acting like she would be thrilled to hop on his danger machine, throwing all caution and common sense to the wind. She knew firsthand what kind of damage a motorcycle could do to a rider, and beyond that, she wasn’t going to let any man—let alone Mr. Standing Bear—within spitting distance of her safe haven. She’d come to Deep Haven specifically to avoid people like him. Noah Standing Bear profiled danger. The way he looked at her with his cocky grin, the wind tangling his black hair, those mysterious golden eyes kneading hers as if they held some sort of secret. No, she’d give him a wide berth if she ever saw him again.

  No doubt he’d do the same after her reaction last night. She’d slapped him and scrambled up the road toward home.

  She hadn’t stopped running until she slammed and locked her cabin door.

  Noah slung a stack of roofing material over his shoulder and climbed the ladder leaning against the lodge. Sweat carried chips of asphalt from the roofing tiles down his back and chest; his army fatigues were black and soggy. Still, the hard work kept his mind off a certain brunette that would skin him alive after she met with Dr. Simpson. He didn’t relish their next conversation.

  Not that the last one had gone well. He grunted as he hauled up the fifty pounds of tiles. His aching back was nothing compared to the pain he’d felt when she’d walloped him, knowing that his innocent words had elicited such raw fear in her. He’d stood in stunned silence as she ran off and felt dread seep into his bones.

  She hated him.

  And he needed her. He groaned, set down the tiles, and sat on the roof, breathing hard. If only she knew of his profound gratefulness for her help. Pastor Dan and the missions committee had agreed to meet again in a week to finalize their funding, and if he didn’t have Anne Lundstrom convinced by then, he’d have to shut down the camp before it even launched. He couldn’t imprison her at Wilderness Challenge, even if a little time at camp facing the very people she was dodging might make her realize that city kids needed the same things as all kids . . . unconditional love and hope. Maybe she’d rethink that not-for-all-the-money-in-the-universe attitude about city living.

  He wasn’t a fool. He saw her hackles rise when he’d mentioned the city the first day they met by the beach, and something about his suggestion to drive her home had pushed that fear into action. Some sort of emotional nightmare had fueled the smack she’d given him. She was wounded, and judging by her reaction, it wasn’t something she’d heal from quickly.

  Unfortunately, Noah wasn’t a doctor. And he seemed to be ripping open old scars every time they met. God, I don’t know what You’re doing, but something is up with this lady, and I’d like to help. You brought her into my life, and I have to believe it’s for good.

  A white-breasted nuthatch landed on the roof ten feet away and chipped at a piece of stripped wood. Noah watched its tiny black head as it bobbed and rooted for seeds; then he leaned back and let his face absorb the full blast of the noon sun, relishing this quiet moment.

  Above him, towering oak rubbed shoulders with beech, basswood, birch, and a generous mix of balsam fir. The air, redolent with pine and a hint of lake water, spoke of peace, of escape. God had led him right into the lap of this forested luxury when an old pal from Bethel College mentioned the camp was for rent. Built as a private fishing retreat on tiny Mink Lake, it had been purchased by a denomination and remodeled into a camp, complete with lodge, a cook’s shack, an outfitter’s cabin, and cement pads for tents nestled at the end of overgrown footpaths.

  From his perch on the roof, Noah could trace the layout of the fifteen-acre camp, including the waterfront and the campfire pit with its rough-hewn rows of benches in a semicircle, to a field of purple violets and coneflowers, where they’d play capture the flag, soccer, and group-challenge games. The leaders at the church denomination had cut him a God-helmed deal. Hopefully, Noah could live up to the Almighty’s expectations.

  Noah’s stomach growled, but he ignored it. He had a Snickers bar in the fridge downstairs. Any needs beyond that would require a trip into town. He was willing to starve in order to finish the roofing job today.

  He heard gravel crunching from across the lake, where the road wound around the water, and he rolled over to track the vehicle. When he spied a black Explorer churning up dust, he grimaced. He made a mental note to keep Miss Lundstrom a good distance from the camp bus—she drove like a maniac.

  He was climbing down the ladder when the SUV pulled in. Noah clambered under the porch roof for his shirt. Cleaning up would be futile. He already knew what she thought of him.

  Since he had home-court advantage, he ducked inside the lodge and watched her exit her vehicle and wander around the weed-rutted courtyard. She looked so sleek in her black pants and crisp white blouse that it made him feel like roadkill. Noah grabbed his baseball cap and snuggled it down over his head to hide the grime. He hated to imagine what could be snagged in his two-day stubble.

  She sauntered toward the porch. “Hello? Anyone here?”

>   “In here.” Noah met her at the door.

  Her shock glowed neon on her face. She went white.

  Noah winced. “Hi again,” he said softly.

  “What are you doing here?” She backed away, as if she’d seen a ghost. He let her go, then followed a moment later. She stood in the sunlight, rubbing her arms and staring at the sky.

  “I’m roofing the building.” He grimaced at his cowardice. Lord, give me the right words.

  She turned and surveyed his work. “You’re a handyman?”

  “Among other things.”

  “Rock collector and jack-of-all-trades.” She regarded him with cool interest while she twirled her keys round and round her index finger. “So, how’s your leg?”

  He didn’t miss the way she flinched slightly when she asked, and it bolstered his courage. Maybe the memory of his sacrificing his skin for her dog would mitigate her less-than-stellar opinion of him.

  “I’m fine, thanks. I cleaned it and put ointment on it, like you suggested.”

  She nodded, but her wariness felt like a wall between them. “I’m here to see the director.” She scanned the lodge, then stared at an army tent airing out over a makeshift clothesline. Its open flap shifted in the breeze. “What is this place called?”

  “Wilderness Challenge. Would you like a tour?”

  She glanced at him, and a tiny smile poked through the wall. “Yes.”

  His heart did a tiny jig. “It’s a small camp. Only twenty kids, but we have a great program planned, and I hope it’s really going to change lives.” He motioned to a trail between two trees and she moved toward it. “We sleep in army tents, but someday maybe we’ll build cabins.”

  “Was this always a camp?”

  “Fishing lodge. I rented it cheap about six months ago and spent the winter weekends remodeling the inside.”

  She went silent. He saw her swallow—hard. “You’re the camp director.”

  He shoved his hands into his pockets, fighting every impulse to drop to his knees and tell her that he hadn’t meant to deceive her by omission last night. That he’d had every intention of confessing, but it had been forgotten between the attack of her mountain-sized dog and Anne’s resounding slap. Most importantly, he wanted to assure her that he’d keep her safe.

  Instead, he gave her his most apologetic smile and shrugged.

  Instant fury clouded her eyes and she shook. “Did you plan this? Are you stalking me?”

  He blew out a breath, feeling punched. “Of course not. I need help, and God provided you.”

  His confession didn’t have the calming effect he’d hoped. Her face paled; she blinked. Then, in a pinched voice, “He provided me?”

  “Without you, my camp loses its funds.” He hated the desperation in his voice. “I need a full-time nurse on staff in order to get the church to back me.” He turned away, embarrassed by his raw need and the fear that it was scribbled all over his face. “And when you . . . uh . . . sputtered to a halt right in front of my eyes, I had to believe it was divine intervention.”

  “Divine intervention?” Her tone made him cringe. “I think it’s down-to-earth deception! Coercion. Try slave labor.” She shook her head and shot past him. “This has to be some sort of sick joke—”

  “No joke. I talked to Doc. He okayed it.”

  Anne whirled, white with fury. “Okayed it? Sure. Fine.” She shrugged, as if suddenly confused. “Why didn’t you just knock me over the head last night and drag me up here by my hair? I mean, that’s what a normal, red-blooded caveman would do.” She put a hand to her forehead while Noah fought to close his open mouth.

  “I can’t believe it,” she mumbled, as if he weren’t standing there. “I’ve escaped the world of gangbangers and death by drive-bys into a world of Neanderthal chauvinists who’ve never heard of the—” she looked at him now and glared—“Emancipation Proclamation!”

  “Now, c’mon, Anne.” Noah had to admit that from her vantage point it did look very . . . ugly. “We didn’t mean to—”

  “Wait!” She stared at him with a look of pure horror. “You expected me to stay here with . . . with . . . you?”

  He took a deep breath, kept his voice steady. “That’s the general ‘camp nurse’ idea. Being on site in case the kids need you.”

  “Kids?” She raised her hands, palms up, as if waiting for him to produce them.

  “They’ll be here in a couple of weeks.” He took a step toward her, a desperate feeling knotting in his gut. “Look, I didn’t commit a felony. I mean, you are working for the doc, right?”

  “That doesn’t mean I can be loaned out like a lawn mower.” She looked pointedly at the lodge. “I don’t see any other staff.”

  “They arrive on Saturday.”

  She regarded him with a stare that could freeze a slug. “Saturday? So until then it’s you and me, happy campers ten miles from the nearest telephone?” She clenched her teeth, then defied physics and spoke through them. “I. Don’t. Think. So.”

  That crouching tiger–cat analogy was right on the money. He expected to see claws any second. “Listen—” he smiled ruefully—“I’m not Bigfoot. I won’t hurt you.”

  She flinched, and for a desperate moment, he saw something vivid and painful flash in her eyes.

  “I don’t get it,” he said. “I hardly know you, yet you’re shaking like I’m Jack the Ripper.” He closed his fists in his pockets, willing himself not to reach out to her. Her broken look told him she needed the comfort, but his gut said she’d flatten him faster than Joe Louis would.

  “Well, just maybe it has something to do with the ‘hardly know you’ part.”

  Her sudden sarcasm felt like a knife in Noah’s ribs. “Okay,” he said, “so we’ll get to know each other, be friends—”

  “Not on this side of eternity.” She whirled and stalked toward her SUV. “I’m sorry. I’m not doing this.”

  He was hot on her heels. “What do you mean? Okay, you don’t have to show up until Saturday. It’s not like I’m going to need a nurse between now and then.” He didn’t mention the fact that he felt like he was bleeding from a hundred tiny cuts. “After that, it gets easy. You don’t even have to talk to me. All you have to do is hang out for the summer in this incredibly gorgeous place, patch up the kids when they fall, administer cold packs now and then. How hard can that be?”

  “Not hard.”

  “Then what is it?” He braced his hand on the door of her Explorer as she tried to open it.

  She looked up at him, and the smallest hint of pure terror entered her eyes. “Get away from me.”

  Anger bubbled into his chest as he recognized the expression on her face, the set of her jaw. This wasn’t fear—it was prejudice. She didn’t want to help him because she believed everything she saw on the outside and refused to see beyond her preconceptions. He fought the same disease with the kids on the street. Ignoring her dark look, he edged in. “You don’t even care that the kids won’t have a camp, do you?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I do care. But how can I work for—”

  “Someone like me?” His voice raised in challenge.

  Her eyes sparked. “Yes.” She crossed her arms.

  “You know only what you see. Not who I am.”

  “I see a man who nearly ran me down last night. That tells me all I need to know.”

  “You saw a man who wanted to introduce himself properly. A man who cared that you were going to be spending the summer with him. A man who saw in you potential and hope.”

  “A man who wanted to use me to get money.”

  He closed his eyes, looked away. “I’m sorry.” He cupped a hand around his sweaty neck. “You’re right. I didn’t consider your feelings. I just assumed you’d want to help.” He turned back and saw that she’d raised her chin, a give-me-a-big-stick expression in her simmering eyes. “Please forgive me.”

  She tightened her glare, but moisture glistened in her eyes. So, Miss Tough-as-Steel had a heart under that po
lished veneer.

  Suddenly, she yanked open her SUV door and dove inside.

  He remembered her cold stare long after she’d gunned the motor and raced down the gravel road.

  4

  Anne’s SUV spit gravel as she floored it around Mink Lake. What had the trauma counselor told her? Deep, calming breaths. Physical reaction to emotional invasion was typical.

  Despite the fact that Noah had seemed . . . well . . . kind . . . even desperate in his attempts to keep her calm, her heart pounded out a staccato rhythm of pure fear. Slave labor. Someone was going to hear about his attempts to use her, and in about twenty minutes she planned to rip her resume out of Dr. Simpson’s hands and head it for—

  Where? Deep Haven had always conjured up feelings of peace and refuge. She needed that in her life more than she needed her self-respect.

  But she wouldn’t stay there with him. In a nightmarish, backwoods tangle of shadows and sounds ten miles from the nearest telephone? No way. His words rang in her ears: A man who wanted to introduce himself properly. Who cared that you were going to be spending the summer with him.

  “Ha!” she slammed her fist against the steering wheel. She wouldn’t spend a minute, let alone the summer, with prehistoric, chauvinistic Noah Grizzly Bear.

  A man who saw in you potential and hope. Anne gritted her teeth, forcing herself to ease off the gas lest she take the bend in the road on two wheels. Potential and hope. Now how could he see something she didn’t have? Her potential had nothing to do with a bunch of rich suburban kids needing a nurse nanny. As for hope, any fragments had been excruciatingly demolished a year ago when a bullet ripped through her body. In its wake remained a consuming fear.

  Anne swallowed the bitterness that still pooled in her mouth at the recollection of that day. She knew that she ought to be well along the healing road, but she couldn’t hurdle the fact that God had allowed her life to spiral into darkness. She couldn’t trust Him. This latest fiasco was perfect proof.