The Bluebird Bet. Cheryl Harper
know she was back and ready to get started. The kitchen was appalling, every room required work and the whole farmhouse needed a coat of paint, but the potential was all there.
Elaine was hit by an unexpected wave of excitement. The renovation would be expensive and a lot of hard work, but the reward, a home that connected her to some of the happiest times in her life, was worth it. She couldn’t remember wanting anything as much as she wanted this.
In only one day, she’d pinned her hopes on a long shot.
Okay, Elaine, too emotional. Take a deep breath.
She did. Then she got out of the car like a totally rational person and almost made it to the steps when she could feel someone watching her. Dean was near the dock again. Deciding that she should begin as she meant to go on, she marched down to meet him.
“I’m back.” What a terrible opening line, Dr. Obvious. “Which room should I take?”
He waved his filleting knife, and they both watched a bit of...fillet plop into the water. Dean studied her face, waiting for a reaction. She stepped closer. “Hmm, you’d never make it as a surgeon.”
Then she raised her eyebrows at him. She was a doctor. A little bit of gore had no effect on her.
“Take any guest room you want. They’re all the same. Dusty. Stuck in the past.”
She nodded. “Okay. Thank goodness that’s easy enough to change.” Pleased with that parting line, she spun on one heel and bit back a curse as she nearly toppled right off the dock. Determined not to look at him, she pretended she was absorbed by the beauty of the inn. And she was, even if it was hard to see.
For the first time in a while, taking a break from the emergency clinic seemed like a good plan. She could weed the garden, try to rescue Martha Collins’s roses.
Before she went inside, she paused to look at the bluebird boxes on the hill. She couldn’t see any birds, but she remembered how much she’d loved to wait for them. Before the trips to the inn, she’d never seen a bluebird, so every single sighting had added to the magic of Spring Lake. Her parents got along here. Her mother smiled, and her father laughed.
Even then she’d been more scientist than fairy-tale princess, but the bluebirds seemed to promise happy endings. The nesting boxes had faded like the rest of the place. She should research how to fix them up. The Bluebird Bed-and-Breakfast needed bluebirds.
AFTER A LONG, sleepless night, Dean slipped out the front door and headed to the dock. The sun was rising over the lake. Watching the light spread across the calm surface was the only compensation for being unable to close his eyes without nightmares shaking him awake. A week of peaceful mornings like this had started to work a little of the familiar magic.
He cast his line and pretended to fish. If his father saw him, maybe he’d see it as a sign of progress. And maybe he’d decide to join him.
Steady, quick footfalls distracted him from his accidental meditation. He looked over his shoulder and winced at the morning stiffness of his old injuries, large and small. Elaine Watson didn’t even glance his direction as she ran by.
Joggers usually seemed to be suffering, but Elaine’s face was as calm as his own. And she was fast.
Of course she was. He had a feeling if she committed to something, she did it well. She probably ran because it was good exercise, but she excelled at it because she saw no other option.
“Must be exhausting.” He’d never aspired to be the best. Adventure and the chance to make a difference had been enough to keep him going. For a long time anyway.
Anyone who became a doctor had to have that same desire to help, didn’t she?
Dean’s shoulders slumped as he turned back to the water and closed his eyes. He didn’t really want to have anything in common with Elaine Watson.
“Jogging? Probably is exhausting.” His father held out a mug and sat next to him. “Guess it doesn’t matter if you enjoy it.”
Dean sipped his hot black coffee and felt the satisfaction spread all the way to his bones. “Thanks, Dad. This hits the spot.”
“Don’t tell the doctor. Little bit of caffeine’s good for the soul, I’m convinced.” His father cast his line, and neither one of them said anything for the longest time. The fish weren’t biting. Everything was quiet.
His father’s silence matched Dean’s mood. The tense restlessness was missing, and Dean appreciated the break. They were both content to sit there, staring out across the lake. He lost track of how long he waited for a bite.
“I’ve missed this,” Dean said. “Peace. Quiet.” He lifted his fishing rod and reeled in his useless bait. He might do better with a new lure, but that would require effort. This morning was nearly flawless as it was. He shifted, cast his line again and ignored the mental picture of Elaine’s disapproving stare.
“No one trying to shoot you with a long-range scope. No threats of drinking bad water or falling off a mountain.” His dad sighed. “It’s the little things.”
Dean’s rusty laugh was loud in the still morning. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“If your mother was around, she’d already have us jumping, ticking off the to-do list.” The click of his father’s reel was comforting, a sound that would always remind him of home.
“I expected the doctor to have already sounded an alarm, mustered the troops and conquered something.” Dean checked his watch, the one he could dump now that he was back in Tall Pines. Everything moved at its own pace in this town. “I mean, it’s almost eight. Daylight’s wasting.”
His father nodded. “You could both stand to do a better job at relaxing.”
“I am sitting at the end of a dock, not catching fish. It doesn’t get any more relaxed than this.” Dean shifted his pole and watched the ripples in the water.
“Sure. After staring out the window all night long. I bet that’s pretty relaxing, too.” His dad didn’t look at him when he added, “We have a doctor in the house. She might be able to help.”
“I don’t need any help,” Dean snapped. “I’m fine.”
How did his father know about his long nights? Dean stood up so quickly he had to take a step back from the edge of the dock or risk landing in the lake. Another surge of those ridiculous emotions, this time anger. He had to get a grip.
“Sorry, Dad. I appreciate you worrying about me, but losing sleep is no big deal. I’m sure once I settle in to the routine, that’ll get better. Maybe I’m still in the wrong time zone.” The one where bad memories lurked.
“Sure.” His dad glanced at him over his shoulder. “And maybe it’ll take you a while to see that you could use some help. Believe me, I understand that. When you get the help you need, you’ll wish you hadn’t waited. I have Elaine to thank for that bit of wisdom.”
Instead of tossing his fishing pole into the water to make a loud, satisfying splash, Dean carefully reeled his line in. He’d been mulling over yesterday’s revelation that the doctor had saved his father’s life. “Care to explain why you couldn’t tell me about your health scare, Dad?” He didn’t want to start a fight, but he had to know. “Seems like a heart attack or whatever it was would make the weekly update.”
His dad sipped his coffee, and Dean wasn’t sure he was going to answer.
“Did you believe I wouldn’t care?” Dean crossed his arms over his chest, afraid of the answer. Just like that, it was hard to catch his breath again.
“You know, some things are hard to put into words.” His father didn’t turn to look at him. “Losing my wife was the