Her Fresh Start Family. Lorraine Beatty
tongue. “Do you usually tell newcomers how to dress when they arrive in town, or is it just me that you’re finding fault with? First you hint that I might like to take advantage of the Tranquility Spa, and then decided my shoes were dangerous. Now you’re telling me my wardrobe is all wrong. Your hospitality needs some work.”
Bret gripped the steering wheel. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you or suggest that you needed some kind of makeover. You’re perfectly fine the way you are.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“I just meant you’d be more comfortable if you dressed differently. Less fussy and more relaxed.” He sighed. “I’m going to shut up now. I’m only making things worse.”
“Yes, you are.” She regretted snapping at him. After all, he had no idea what she was facing today.
“This is me trying to be helpful. I promised Kitty I’d look out for you, get you settled and make sure you were comfortable. I guess I’m not real sure how to do that.”
“Stop trying. I’m fine. Really. I don’t need any help.”
“Right. Except to get back and forth to work.”
She shot him a glance, but when she looked at him, she saw the sly smile and the twinkle in his green eyes, and her irritation vanished. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be so sensitive. I’m nervous. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen patients.”
“You’ll be fine. I’m sure it’s like riding a bike.”
“I hope so. I don’t want to let Kathryn down. She’s done me a great favor in letting me fill in for her.”
“How so?”
She took a moment to gauge how much to reveal. “My job was eliminated. Her offer was a blessing. I jumped at the chance.” Maybe she’d jumped too quickly. “I hadn’t expected things to be so different down here.”
Hastings wasn’t Chicago. There, she’d been able to blend into the crowd and live an invisible existence. Here, her clothes, her hair and her manner made her stick out like a sore thumb. She was used to being a controlled professional, never letting her emotions show, nor allowing herself to feel them. Over the last year, those emotions had started to build up, threatening to rise to the surface, and she feared that when they grew strong enough, they’d explode and consume her. She knew expressing emotions, dealing with grief and loss, was the only healthy way to get through a traumatic experience. Somewhere along the way, she’d become stuck. She couldn’t go back, and she was too afraid to move forward.
“And I’m not making things any easier. I promise, I’ll keep my opinions to myself from now on.”
He really was a nice man. “And I promise, if I have questions, I’ll come to you for help.”
“Sounds like a good compromise.”
In her office, she settled in behind her desk, making sure her patient notes were ready. Dottie reassured her that Mrs. Alexander was a nice lady, who mainly needed someone to listen to and reassure her that she wasn’t crazy. Dottie felt sure after Nina saw the first patient, she’d regain her confidence.
Thankfully, Dottie’s prediction proved correct. Nina’s self-confidence grew after seeing her first patient. However, the second appointment that morning didn’t go as well. The patient was unhappy that Kathryn wasn’t there. She tried to reassure the gentleman, but he left with obvious doubts about her ability to help, which only added to her anxiety about the Widow’s Walk Club that night. If only she could see the women individually, instead of in a group.
After eating a quick lunch she’d had prepared by her hotel’s room service to bring with her to work, she was ready to tackle the afternoon. She’d have to find restaurants nearby, because the cost of having a lunch prepared by room service every day was too expensive.
Picking up the mail Dottie had placed on her desk, she scanned the flyer printed on light blue paper. Hastings Military Appreciation Day. The event Bret had mentioned. The flyer urged the tenants in the building to get involved and volunteer. Nina’s conscience sparked. Despite her experience with the service, she held great respect for the military. Maybe there was something she could do to help. Something small that would be helpful but wouldn’t get her too deeply involved. Shoving the flyer into her desk drawer, she set the idea aside for her to consider later.
Her next three sessions were uneventful. She doubted she’d done more than hold their place for the time being, but at least she hadn’t upset anyone. Nina opened the large file on the widows’ therapy group, hoping that reading through it one more time would boost her confidence and give her an idea of what to expect.
Bret appeared in her doorway. “I’ve come to take you to a party.”
The last thing she wanted to do now. The mere thought of meeting a bunch of strangers set her nerves on edge. She shook her head. “I’m not much for parties.”
He smiled and came toward her, reaching for her hand. “You can’t say no. This is mandatory.”
Sweat broke out on her palms. “No. Really, I don’t have time.”
“But everyone is looking forward to meeting you.” He tugged her to her feet.
Reluctantly, she stood and took a step, but the carpet once again snagged her stiletto heel, and she pitched forward. Bret’s arms wrapped around her rib cage, but her forward momentum twisted her ankle, leaving her right shoe stuck in the carpet.
A sharp pain lanced up her calf and she cried out.
In one smooth motion, Bret picked her up and carried her to the sofa, and then he knelt down and took her ankle in his hands, gently touching, twisting and probing, examining for any serious damage.
“Where does it hurt?”
“Nowhere now. I think it’s all right.” She started to tug her foot from his grasp. His touch was doing strange things to her system. His gentleness and concern warmed her heart, but she didn’t need the tingles that were shooting up her leg. His head was bowed over her ankle as he checked for injury, and she wondered if his dark brown hair was as soft as it looked. Her cheeks flamed. What had gotten into her?
Bret looked up and smiled. “Looks like no harm was done. See how it does when you stand on it.”
He held out his hand, and she slipped hers into it, acutely aware of the warm strength in his touch. Gingerly, she tested her foot. No pain. She grinned. Crisis avoided.
“Good.” He retrieved her shoe from the carpet snag and handed it to her. “I still think these shoes are dangerous.”
“You may be right.”
“So, are you ready for the party?”
Her good mood died. Why couldn’t he just leave well enough alone? His gallant rescue didn’t change the fact that she didn’t want to mingle with a bunch of strangers.
“No. I’m sorry, but I really don’t have the time.” She turned her back, hunching her shoulders. He’d probably be angry with her.
Bret exhaled a heavy sigh and touched her shoulder lightly. “I didn’t mean to pressure you. I wanted everyone to meet you.”
Nina’s irritation waned at the sincerity in his deep voice. He meant well, and he did have a way of making her feel better, but he had no idea what she was facing. “No. It’s not your fault. I need time to adjust. Everything here is so different.”
“I suppose we do take a little getting used to.”
“Maybe next time.” How could she explain that this was a difficult time of year for her, which only added to her stress. She’d hoped the move here would keep her too busy to dwell on the anniversary, but it wasn’t. She glanced at her phone. “I have a patient due in a few minutes, so if you’ll excuse me...”
He held her gaze a moment, his green eyes probing and filled