The Wife He’s Been Waiting For Page 7

  “Fritters, Dr Mike?” Clarice called from the hallway. “Or a salad this time?”

  “Why do you even bother to ask?” he asked, standing up.

  “And what will you have?” Clarice asked Sarah.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Conch fritter? Conch salad? Conch chowder? We have conch just about any way it can be eaten, and if you know of a better way than I have to fix it, tell me and I’ll fix that.”

  “Conch?’ Sarah whispered to Michael. “What’s conch?”

  “Shellfish. You know, the big shell you can hold up to your ear and hear the ocean in it? That’s a conch shell.”

  “Cannot,” Lachelle said.

  “Can too,” Michael argued.

  “Cannot,” Lachelle said again.

  “You go bring me a conch shell and I’ll show you how you can hear the ocean in it.” It was an old myth, but a fun one.

  With that, Lachelle took him up on the challenge and went running out of the room. Sarah watched, amazed by her speed down the hall. With a pair of long pants on, no one would even know she’d had an amputation.

  “So, what kind of conch do you want?” Michael prompted, taking Sarah by the arm and leading her down the hall that went into the back door of the little café.

  Once inside, she did have to admit that it smelled wonderful. And she was actually hungry. Crawling under that jitney had worked up quite an appetite in her. “What are my choices again?”

  In the end, she settled on the fritters—little pieces of conch dipped into batter and fried, then served with a spicy sauce. Good choice, she discovered after the first bite. “It’s amazing,” she said, sitting across from Michael at a little table in the kitchen, one used by the cooks and servers when they wanted to take a break. The dining area was full, and a line of people waiting to get in spread all the way down the sidewalk. That’s what made this private little dining nook work out perfectly for them. “I had no idea there was such a thing as conch.”

  “It’s one of my favorite parts of the cruise, even though it’s not served on the ship.”

  “That, and sitting alone in a karaoke bar,” she commented, as a drop of the dipping sauce dribbled down her fingers and she unconsciously licked it off. “Funny, how we keep turning up in the same places, isn’t it?”

  “Maybe I am following you,” he teased. “Maybe it’s not a coincidence after all.”

  “If you are, you must be disappointed with what you’re seeing, because I’m not at all an interesting person. I keep to myself and don’t get involved in much of anything. I don’t sing karaoke in the lounge, don’t mingle with the people on the ship, don’t get wrapped up in the group tours off the ship. Meaning I’d think you could find someone better to follow than me.”

  “Actually, I think you’re interesting. The fact that you’re a doctor has caught my interest, anyway. And keeping that little bit of information from me when I was treating you is even more interesting. Of course, I can’t ask you about that, can I?” He arched a playful eyebrow.

  That was a definite hint, but she wasn’t going for it. She liked Michael well enough, even felt oddly attracted to him—likely because they shared the same profession—but that didn’t call for some kind of revelation, where she laid out the details of her husband’s death and her fiancé’s cancer, then explained that she’d quit medicine because as a doctor she’d realized how very little she could do, even when it had been for someone she’d loved at the time they’d most needed her. That she was a failure in the things that mattered,. No, that was none of Michael’s business, so she avoided the conversation altogether. “I collected stamps when I was a little girl, but I didn’t tell you about that either,” she said. “People are entitled to their privacy, Michael, and your knowing that I was a junior philatelist is private.”

  “Is that why you didn’t ask about Lachelle? You’re respecting her privacy?”

  “If I ask questions, then I have to answer questions. And I don’t want to answer questions, so I don’t ask.”

  “Well, it keeps things simple that way, doesn’t it?”

  Rather than nodding, she stuck another piece of conch in her mouth and chewed.

  “Car accident. Her father was driving, and they were hit by someone driving a truck. Her father was killed immediately, and Lachelle was thrown clear, but her leg couldn’t be saved. They tried for months. She had several surgeries, but the infection got the better of her. She was brave about it, though. Very pragmatic for someone so young, but you’ve seen how she is…brighter than most children her age. And very well adjusted.”

  Better adjusted than most adults, too, Sarah thought. “So, you and Clarice…” she started to ask, but stopped. She didn’t ask, she didn’t answer. Although she was interested in the relationship.

  “We’re not involved romantically, if that’s what you were going to ask. Not Clarice and me. Not me and anybody. And in the spirit of being mysterious or stubborn, let’s just say that I don’t do it, I don’t talk about it and I don’t answer questions about it either.” He paused for a moment, then frowned. “Where have I heard that before?”

  “OK, I get it. And just so you’ll know, I wasn’t curious about your relationships,” she lied. In truth, she was, but they’d established their lines now. No crossing over them. “I was just curious how you two met, and how you came to be a consultant for her daughter. Since you’re on the ship, it seems it might have been difficult for you to find the time.”

  “In case you hadn’t noticed, that’s a doctor question. But you’re the one who won’t answer doctor questions, aren’t you, so that makes me the one who does.”

  His teasing was downright sexy. This was a man who had the power to distract her in ways she probably didn’t even know about. “You don’t have to answer anything. In fact, we can have a mutual understanding that we discuss weather and the ship’s shuffleboard game, and nothing else.”

  “Except I like to answer doctor questions.”

  “Unlike me,” she said. Michael wasn’t subtle in the least, and he didn’t even try hiding the fact. But she was curious about what he was hiding. Unfortunately, she couldn’t ask.

  “You said it. I didn’t. And just for the record, Lachelle and I met in a clinic in the States. One for amputees.”

  That made sense. He the doctor, she the patient. Sarah was glad for the girl because Michael seemed to be a compassionate man. “I’m glad it was you there with me today,” she said. “Even when I was practicing medicine, that kind of rescue wasn’t at all like anything I’d ever done, so when I found out that the person helping me was you…you don’t know how happy I was to have you there. I was scared to death, and there’s nothing mysterious or stubborn about that.”

  “Well, to be honest, I’d much rather be treating a good case of heartburn than driving a bus with two people underneath. But if me being there made you feel better, I’m glad I was.”

  “You did a good job, Michael. I think that if you ever decide to give up medicine you might find another career in driving a jitney,” she teased, even though her hands were shaking again as she thought about what had happened. This was pleasant though, eating informally here in the kitchen with someone she really did find herself liking more and more all the time.

  “So, what career do you find yourself in now that you’ve given up medicine? And for the record, that’s not a doctor question. It’s more about lifestyle, and you didn’t put that on the taboo list.”

  “Maybe it’s not specifically a doctor question, but it’s getting awfully close to the edge.”

  “Close, but not over.”

  She stared at him for a moment, the expression on her face giving away nothing. “I’ll concede you the point. Just this once.”

  “Just this once?”

  He cocked a playful eyebrow. And infuriatingly, playful eyebrow. The gesture was pure sex, filled with all the innuendoes something so simple could be, and it was all she could do to drag out the answer. “I, um…I
have no career at the moment. I’m just…I’m just living life as it comes.” He knew exactly what he was doing to her, taking pleasure in it, damn him. “Going on holiday, seeing the sights.” To avoid the spell he seemed to be putting over her, she stared intently into the dipping sauce. “No real plans yet, which is fine because living day to day is all the challenge I want. I have the money, and the time, so why not?” She instantly regretted giving him so much insight into her life, but Michael was so easy to talk that her talk turned into babbling.

  “I’m a little surprised by that. You don’t seem like the kind woman who’d want to be idle for very long.”

  She dragged another conch fritter through the dipping sauce, then debated whether or not she could eat another bite. Rather than deciding, she simply held onto it for a minute. “I’m not idle so much as I’m doing all the things people promise themselves they’ll do once they retire and never get around to doing for whatever reason. I just decided to take an early retirement and start on my list now, rather than later.” Not a good explanation, but it would do. And true to her fashion, it skirted the truth.

  To keep from answering another of his questions, she popped the conch into her mouth, instantly regretting it as she was so full already. But she forced herself to chew, then swallow. Then she stood. “Look, I think I’m going to head back to the ship now. I know we’ve got another three hours in port, but I’m not really in the mood to be a tourist any more today.”

  “I’ll go with you,” he offered, dropping his napkin to the table and standing up, too.

  “You don’t have to. I’m sure Lachelle would love to spend more time with you. And maybe you see other patients here…”

  “Lachelle is out playing with her friends, and I have no more patients.”

  She wanted to ask if he and Clarice might like some time alone, in spite of his denials of a romantic relationship with her, or anybody else, but out of respect for his personal boundaries she didn’t. “You don’t have to babysit me. I’ll be fine. No more crawling under jitneys unless absolutely necessary.”

  “I have duty in an hour,” he said, heading over to where Clarice was giving instructions to one of the cooks. “So we may as well walk back together. And with the way that outfit looks on you, you probably need a male escort to protect you.”

  He eyed her up and down, not in the clinical way a doctor would but in the way a very appreciative, very hungry man might. Like the man he would protect her from on the street. None of that was lost on her, and she did have the decency to blush. But Michael didn’t see that as he was busy giving Clarice a very circumspect kiss on the cheek. Definitely not the kiss of a lover.

  For some strange reason Sarah felt better about that. But it did make her wonder, because a man like Michael shouldn’t have sworn off that kind of relationship the way he’d claimed he had.

  Sarah said her farewells to Clarice, then to Lachelle, who was in the yard when she and Michael stepped outside. “You coming back with Dr Mike next time?” the girl asked, as she hugged Michael around the waist and pretended she wasn’t going to let him go.

  “I wish I could, but I’ve got someplace else to go after this cruise.” She wasn’t sure where. The truth was, she hadn’t made any plans. Not in a very long time. Something would come to her, however. It always did. “But the next time I’m in Nassau, I’ll be sure to come see you.” She had no plans to return to Nassau, but she could. Living the way she did, there was nothing to stop her.

  After walking a few blocks, dodging the blatant comments from strangers about the way she looked—mighty hot mama, they were calling her—and shrinking from the blazing stares, Sarah and Michael finally retreated to the relative privacy of a cab for the rest of their journey back to the ship. But in the cab, an old rattletrap of a car that smelled of human bodies and tobacco and had badly ripped seats, she and Michael barely spoke, which was odd as the condition of the seat practically forced her into his lap, they had to sit so close to each other. Good thing she’d had a quick bath, she thought as her shoulder wedged into his arm.

  “So, have you ever been to the Bahamas before?” he finally asked, as it became apparent they were stuck in a traffic jam, going nowhere any time soon.

  “No. Never been on a cruise, never been to the Bahamas.” Stiff conversation. Very stiff.

  Another minute passed before he spoke again. “If you don’t consider it private, could I ask where you’re from?”

  “Chicago, born and raised.” She might have asked him the same, but at that moment the cab lurched forward several car lengths, then stopped again. “Do I make you nervous?” she asked impulsively.

  He bent to her ear. “You don’t but your clothes do.”

  She glanced down, shocked by what she saw. Her short shorts had crept up as far as they could go. Likewise her shirt. In attempting to get settled in the back of the cab, apparently her clothing had…shifted. Indecently so. “You’re a doctor,” she whispered back, trying to force her clothes back into the right position as the cab driver glanced in his rear-view mirror to see what all the whispering was about. “This shouldn’t disturb you.”

  “I’m not on duty. I’m allowed to be disturbed.”

  That was kind of cute, actually. And she was flattered. Not so much that she’d ever wear these clothes again, though. Or anything like them. But after being so long without a man, it was nice knowing that she still did have the power to attract one. Too bad she didn’t want one. But one year married to one man, then a year and a half engaged to another…the third time wasn’t going to be the charm. She simply wouldn’t let that happen.

  “I thought I might find you here,” Michael said, sliding into the seat next to her. The same dark corner of the same karaoke lounge. Tonight the singer wasn’t so loud or off key. And a few more people had found this hidden little gem, so they didn’t have most of the place to themselves like before. But Sarah’d been there an hour, in her regular out-of-the-way booth, sipping ginger ale and wondering if he might meander in.

  “It’s as good a place as any to spend time,” she said, watching the waitress take note of Michael. She literally perked up, primped her hair a little, tugged the neckline of her black blouse a little lower and undid an extra button. It was clear that Michael could have his pick of them if he wanted. For a moment she almost regretted the boundaries she’d established, because she sure wanted to ask him why he didn’t want his pick. Especially with a waitress who was doing everything she could, except make an announcement over the karaoke machine, to attract Michael’s attention.

  “Not really,” he said, as he gestured her over to the table. “But it’s a habit that won’t get you into trouble.”

  Oh, I see trouble, Sarah thought as the waitress slithered her way up to the table.

  “The usual, Doctor?” Heidi asked. She was almost breathless, and it wasn’t from over-exertion.

  “I’m not in the mood for a Cubano tonight. Just bring me a diet soda and a basket of pretzels.” Heidi looked almost crestfallen as she scampered away, like she took Michael’s change in order personally.

  “That’s not a proper meal,” Sarah said, trying to sound light about it. “After all the lectures you’ve given me on the subject of proper dietary habits…”

  “Do you always listen to what the doctor says?” he asked, relaxing into the booth. “Because you don’t seem like the type.”

  “Depends on the doctor. I’ve known a few whose word I’d take as gospel, and a few I wouldn’t trust as far as I could throw them.”

  “So, when the pretzels arrive, if I were to tell you that they are a perfectly balanced meal, lots of vitamins, good nutrition, would you take my word for it?”

  Sarah didn’t even hesitate. “I’d take your word, Michael. I may not practice as a doctor any longer, but I’m still a pretty good judge of one.” The next thing out of her mouth would have been something about why such a good doctor was limiting himself to a ship’s practice, but Heidi plunked down the basket of
pretzels at that moment and Sarah shoved one in her mouth before she asked a question that would, on some level, involve her with Michael in something more than a casual chat in a dark little karaoke lounge.

  “Delroy’s in Intensive Care,” he said, picking up a pretzel, studying it for a moment then dropping it back into the basket with a weary sigh. “They removed his spleen, surgically repaired his arm, splinted his broken leg, stitched up numerous cuts. He has a concussion, but he’s beginning to stir so they don’t anticipate permanent brain damage. Oh, and they discovered four broken ribs. His surgeon told me that one was so badly separated that if Delroy had been dragged out from under the bus, the rib would have gone right though his lung, and he’d probably have died on the spot, owing to all the other injuries and blood loss. You had a good instinct with that one, Sarah. You saved the boy’s life.”

  “That’s good.”

  Michael didn’t answer for a minute, and when he finally did, he seemed almost angry. “Did you hear what I said? I just told you that you saved the boy’s life, yet you seemed…unaffected. I don’t understand that. I’m emotionally drained, and I wasn’t under that bus. You were, and you’re so…”

  “Uninvolved,” she said, trying to sound detached and dispassionate when, in fact, she was so elated that Delroy would recover that what she really wanted to do was grab Michael, hug him, kiss him. But what she was putting on for him now was part of the facade, and she was good at it. Well practiced. “I did what anybody would have done, but that doesn’t give me any kind of a bond to the boy. I’m glad he’s going to be fine, and that’s all there is to it.” Except the part of her that wanted to get up on the table and dance. That’s the way she used to be, though. Good news for the patient became her own good news. Bad news, and she suffered right along with them.