A Marriage In Wyoming (The Marshall Brothers 3) (14 page)

Once the Alvarezes left, Rachel glared at Garrett. “Why did you stop me? We should clarify the situation.”

The smile he’d been wearing since he arrived disappeared. “Why?”

“Because it’s uncomfortable, having them assume that we’re...that we’re a couple. Embarrassing.” And painful. But she kept that part to herself.

“If you tell them,
they’ll
be uncomfortable and embarrassed. A nice evening will be spoiled. They mean well, so let’s just leave them with their illusion. Eventually...” He took a deep breath. “Eventually they’ll figure out the truth.”

He was tired, she realized. Without someone to perform for, all the energy of his personality had waned.

Garrett was suffering as much as she was.

“Here we are.” Alma emerged from the house with the cake and set it down in front of him. “For you.”

In a moment, he recovered the facade. “Wow! It must be six layers high.”

“Eight.”

“Incredible. I can’t wait to take a taste.”

“I’ll give you the recipe,” Alma told Rachel. “It’s much easier than it appears.”

She summoned some energy of her own. “I can’t wait to try it out.”

At the end of the evening, she stood with Garrett outside the Alvarezes’ front door to say good-night.

“You two shouldn’t wait too long to seal the deal,” Luis said them, shaking Garrett’s hand. “You’re not getting any younger.”

“Autumn is a lovely season for a wedding.” Alma folded Rachel into a hug. “We were married in October and couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day.”

Once they reached the street, Rachel found her voice. “I suggest a notice on the bulletin board at Kate’s Diner. Simple, succinct. ‘Dr. Vale and Pastor Marshall are just friends.’”

“Just
casual
friends,” Garrett added.

“Right.” She reached her car and leaned against the fender, closing her eyes. “I’m exhausted.” Garrett’s truck was parked behind hers. So at least he’d been prepared, when he came in tonight, to see her.

“And we have another two dinners to endure.” His gaze was bleak. “With more, I’d bet, in the planning stages.”

Another risk occurred to her. “If they learn the truth after the fact, they may think we deliberately deceived them.”

“A definite possibility.” He rubbed his hands over his face. “Anyway, it would be rude to try and get out of Friday or Saturday night. Maybe Dylan can spread the word on Sunday that we broke up. A mutual decision.”

“I suppose it’s the best we can do.” She attempted a smile. “At least they care about you.”

Garrett blew out a short breath. “Sometimes people care too much.” Turning on his heel, he went to the door of the truck, but then hesitated and retraced his steps. “I wanted to let you know—Lena had a low blood-sugar episode this afternoon. While we were fishing. Dizziness, confusion, clammy skin. I couldn’t get a call to go through.”

“Is she okay?”

“She’d brought her supplies, so I tested her and got some juice and a cookie into her. She recovered pretty fast.”

“What was her reading?” Hearing the number, she blew a silent whistle. “Now that she’s experienced the sensation, let’s hope she won’t wait as long to deal with it.”

“Anyway, I thought you should know.” He walked away again.

“Garrett?”

Though he stopped, he didn’t face her.

“You dealt well with a real emergency.” And not with prayer, but with cold, hard science. And no support. Lena was lucky to have him around. “Congratulations.”

After a moment, he said, “Thanks.” Then he climbed into his truck. At a loss, Rachel did the same, and they went their separate ways in the dark.

They met again Friday night at the Johnsons’ for Italian food, and on Saturday at the Wilkeses’, where they ate Tex-Mex with several other couples and played charades—a game at which Garrett proved to be a master. Rachel found his clues easy to read and their team won the match. The prize was his-and-hers argyle sweaters. Fortunately, the night was too warm to put them on.

Throughout the hours they spent together, Garrett met everyone’s expectations—he joked and laughed, listened and spoke, in the same lighthearted way they were used to. If his face was drawn, no one said anything. They didn’t notice that he played with his food but didn’t really eat. They didn’t see him at the end of the evening when he dropped the pretense and his strong, square shoulders slouched.

Rachel followed his example, doing her best to hide the despair. She responded to his wisecracks with her own grins, joining in on conversations with him as if nothing was wrong. They sat next to each other at tables and on the sofa, stood together by the pool. Their hands touched, occasionally, when passing dishes of food. Those were difficult moments.

More than once, she forgot they were pretending. When they were trading quips, when their gazes met and held, when they laughed together at someone’s comment...the rightness of their connection often overwhelmed her common sense.

She always remembered their true situation, though, and landed back in reality with a thud. Garrett and she were not a couple, and wouldn’t become one. His job and hers would be hampered, their relationships with the people in town threatened. Far safer not to try.

The phone rang on Sunday afternoon when she was trying—and failing—to focus on one of her favorite Louis L’Amour stories.

“Rachel, it’s Alma Alvarez. You poor thing—I just heard.”

For a minute, Rachel didn’t understand. “I’m sorry. Heard what?”

“About you and Pastor Garrett. You must be devastated.”

Dylan had obviously spread the news. “It’s been difficult.” That much was surely true.

“The way you two gazed at each other when you were at my house the other night, I would never have believed things weren’t perfect between you. The expression in his eyes...”

Not something she wanted to hear. “We’re planning to stay friends. Casual friends.”

Alma gave a short laugh. “I’ve never seen that work out. Once you’ve been passionate about a man, you never truly forget. But don’t worry,” she said in a more cheerful voice. “We’ve adopted you and you’ll stay part of the family. We’ll just be sure not to invite you and Garrett to the same events, that’s all. Maybe we can find you a handsome cowboy instead!”

At the end of the call, Rachel sat and stared at her phone. Alma hadn’t reacted to the “breakup” as expected. She hadn’t blamed Rachel. Or Garrett, for that matter. And she’d seemed just as interested in a friendship with Rachel as she had before.

She was just one person, of course. Others—Ms. Simpson, for instance—might respond differently. But then again...maybe the repercussions Rachel had anticipated wouldn’t occur.

Maybe their situation wasn’t as dire as she’d believed. Had this just been another example of her failure to trust?

* * *

G
ARRETT
FACED
M
ONDAY
morning with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. He’d fielded phone calls from church members until ten o’clock last night, all of them wanting to express their condolences over his breakup with Rachel—and probably to glean some details they could pass on. Upon finally falling into bed, he’d actually slept, but now was still tired. If he could have stayed under the covers all day, hiding from the world, he’d have done so.

Instead, he woke the boys and got them started on breakfast. He spent the morning in the corral, working with the kids on their bareback skills—Lizzie, in particular, was nervous about trotting without a saddle. After lunch, while Caroline and Ford supervised a hike in the foothills, he drove into town. Hayley Brewster had requested he visit.

He expected to find her tending the garden, her usual occupation during good weather, but her broad-brimmed straw hat and bright yellow gloves lay on a rocking chair on the porch. Behind its screen, the oak front door stood closed—another unusual sign. Wondering about the reason Hayley had wanted to talk with him, Garrett knocked on the door frame.

The wait seemed long, but at last the door opened. Hayley stood in the shadowed entry hall. “Hello, Pastor. Come on in.”

“No weeds to pull?” he asked, stepping inside. “You demolished them all?”

“No weeding today. Why don’t we sit down?” She led the way to the living room on the right side of the door. Instead of her normal brisk stride, her walk seemed slow and stiff, as if she’d hurt herself.

“Everything all right?” Still standing, he watched as she dropped into a cushioned recliner rather than her usual choice of a ladder-back chair. “How are you feeling?”

She waved away his question. “I didn’t ask you over to talk about me. Tell me the meaning of this nonsense between you and Dr. Vale.”

“Nonsense?” Watching her, he realized she was quite pale under her tan.

“First I hear you’re involved. Then you’re not.” Which—” Hayley gasped, and put a hand on her breastbone. “Which is it?” But her voice had weakened.

To hell with being interrogated. “Not. What’s wrong?” Bending over her, Garrett noticed moisture on her forehead, and her hair was damp above her ears. “Tell me what’s going on, Hayley.”

She gasped again. “I’ve...been having...these pains.” Her hand patted her chest. “They go away. Except today...they won’t.” Her attempt at a smile failed. “I’ll be fine.”

“God.” It was a prayer. “You need to see Rachel. Now.”

Hayley refused to be carried, so he kept his arm around her as she shuffled to his truck and climbed in. Behind the wheel, he took a couple of deep breaths, reaching for the equanimity Rachel had talked about. “Two minutes. We’ll be there in two minutes.”

They burst into the clinic in less than that. Allie stared at them through the reception window. “What’s the matter?”

“Chest pain,” Garrett said, as calmly as he could.

“I’m fine,” Hayley said again. “Don’t make a fuss.”

Allie had already come around to the door. “This way.” She motioned them into the first examining room. “Sit her on the table.” With Hayley seated, Allie nodded toward the hallway. “Out.” The door shut behind him.

As he stood there, Rachel stepped out of the other room. “Garrett?”

“Hayley Brewster is having chest pain.”

“So Allie said. We’ll take care of her.” She put a hand on his arm. “Try to relax.” Then she knocked on the door and went into Hayley’s room.

A minute later, Allie rushed out and down the hall, leaving the door open. Rachel stood beside the exam table, performing chest compressions on Hayley’s motionless body.

Without pausing, she glanced at him. “Call 911. She’s had a heart attack.”

Chapter Thirteen

Allie hurried into the exam room with the defibrillator.

“Get the patches on.” Rachel continued with chest compressions while the nurse charged the machine. “Ready?” Lifting her hands, she said, “Now.”

Hayley jerked and then gasped. “Oh, my God!” She glared at Rachel. “What was that?”

Rachel pulled the edges of the patient gown together over Hayley’s chest. “Your heart stopped. We gave you a shock to start it up again. I’m sorry—I know it hurts.”

“Like being kicked by a mule.”

Garrett came to the door. “The ambulance is on its way. Was that Hayley’s voice I heard?”

“Pastor.” Hayley stretched out an arm. “I’m in trouble here.”

He stepped in and held her hand. “Dr. Vale’s taking care of you. Just try to relax and let her work.”

Grateful for his comforting presence, Rachel proceeded with the measures necessary to stabilize Hayley for the ride to the hospital. She checked the EKG frequently and was relieved that another defibrillation wasn’t required.

The noisy arrival of the EMTs in the front of the office startled them all. Rachel briefed them on the situation and what she’d done, handing over the EKG strip. With admirable efficiency, the two men took over, bringing in a stretcher and preparing their patient for transport. “We’ll carry her to Casper,” the driver told Rachel. “It’s the closest hospital for cardiac care.”

But Hayley protested leaving. “I don’t want to be alone. Pastor Garrett, please come with me.”

He bent over her, clasping her hand. “You won’t be alone.” His voice was low and soothing, his gaze, holding hers, steady and confident. “God goes with you, watching over you every moment. And you have the hearts of all your friends. Just close your eyes and remember those who love you.”

The fear eased out of Hayley’s face. Eyes closed, she nodded. “You’re right. I’ll be okay.” She folded her hands together at her waist as the stretcher rolled out the door. Garrett followed.

Rachel stripped off her gloves. “Good job,” she told Allie. “We’ll now return to our regularly scheduled program.”

But when the nurse left the room, Rachel took a moment to sit down. She’d had an instant of alarm when she recognized the patient. Hayley was a beloved figure in Bisons Creek and in Garrett’s church. With him standing there watching, Rachel had experienced an intense pressure to save this life.

Then her training had kicked in and she’d done her job, aware of whom she was working on yet able to remain objective. In the process, she’d begun to accomplish the purpose that had brought her to Bisons Creek—making a difference in the well-being of the community. The community of which she was gradually becoming a part.

And that surprised her. The townspeople hadn’t waited for her to save a life before taking her into their homes, their hearts. Most didn’t even seem to care whether she went to church or not. She had arrived with good intentions and they’d simply made her welcome.

Would it be that simple with Garrett? Could they possibly work this out?

In her preoccupation, she jumped when Allie came to the door. “Ms. Simpson is still waiting in exam room two.”

“Right.” She hurried down the hall, expecting a tongue-lashing. “I’m so sorry,” she said as she opened the door. “The emergency was a matter of life and death, I’m afraid.” Shoulders squared, she faced Ms. Simpson, prepared for the worst.

But Dorothy’s expression was somber, and she seemed pale. “I opened the door,” she said in a subdued tone, “to hear what was happening. Hayley Brewster had a heart attack?”

“I can’t share medical information,” Rachel said, as kindly as she could manage.

“Is she all right?”

“They’ll learn more about her condition when she gets to the hospital.” In sympathy, she added, “Garrett Marshall is with her.”

“I have to go.” Dorothy got to her feet. “I have to be there for her.”

“But we haven’t gone over your results—”

“Another day.” Without ceremony, she brushed by Rachel and left the room.

With patients scheduled for the remainder of the afternoon, there wasn’t a chance to follow up on Dorothy Simpson’s reaction. Once they’d closed the clinic and locked the front door, however, Rachel asked Allie to satisfy her curiosity.

“Are Dorothy Simpson and Hayley Brewster close friends?”

“Since they were in school together. Seems strange, doesn’t it? Mrs. Brewster is so nice and Ms. Simpson...isn’t. They’re both gardeners, and I guess that’s what draws them together. That and their faith. The two of them are dedicated to the church.”

Rachel recalled the way Garrett had eased Hayley’s panic over being alone. His presence and his reassurance had made a significant difference in the older woman’s outlook. Such confidence could only be a positive influence on her condition.

As she hadn’t done in years, Rachel found herself envying that circle of trust.

At the hospital in Casper, she found Garrett and Dorothy Simpson in the waiting room.

“Blocked arteries,” Garrett reported as she joined them. “Which the doctors say they’ve opened. She should be home in a few days.” His relieved smile didn’t conceal the traces of stress and worry on his face.

“We haven’t been able to visit her.” Dorothy sat holding her purse tightly in her lap. “She must feel so alone.”

Rachel sat down beside her. “She’s been pretty busy being treated,” she said gently. “And she’s had lots of nurses and doctors around her. I’m sure they’ll let you in when she’s settled.”

Dorothy nodded but didn’t seem convinced. Her stern gray gaze met Rachel’s. “Thank you for your expertise, Dr. Vale. You saved Hayley’s life today.”

Seated on her other side, Garrett put a hand on Rachel’s arm. “I haven’t had a chance—”

“How is she?” Jim Bolan stopped in front of them, with Martha right behind him. “What do you know?”

Garrett stood to shake Jim’s hand and relay the news.

Martha took his place beside Rachel. “I just can’t believe this happened. Mrs. Brewster always seemed so well. It would be just terrible if we had lost her.” She took Rachel’s hand in both of hers. “Thank God she could get to your office for help. It’s a miracle that you are here for us in Bisons Creek. Just a miracle.”

Rachel wanted to set the record straight. “Garrett was actually visiting Hayley. He was the one who brought her to me. He’s the hero in this situation.”

“Well, of course.” Martha hopped up to give Garrett a hug. “You’re so wonderful. We all would be lost without you.”

Flushing, Garrett patted her shoulder. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

A nurse appeared at the doorway. “Mrs. Brewster can have visitors,” he said into the sudden silence. “Two at a time for five minutes.”

Dorothy got to her feet and, without a word to anyone, followed the nurse.

Luis and Alma Alvarez arrived while she was gone, along with another couple Rachel didn’t recognize. She was introduced to the Fergusons as “our Bison Creek miracle worker” and barely refrained from cringing.

Then Dorothy tapped her on the shoulder. “Hayley wants to talk to you and Pastor Garrett.”

As they went down the hallway, Garrett said. “You really were terrific this afternoon. I’m so grateful—”

Rachel held up a hand. “If you use the word
miracle
, I’ll slap you.”

He feigned alarm. “I wouldn’t dare.”

But Hayley did. Holding hands with both of them, she looked from one to the other. “The two of you worked a miracle for me today. Thank God for you both.” Her expression grew mischievous. “It’s a sign that you’re meant to be partners.”

Garrett’s chuckle sounded forced. “Maybe you’re still under the influence of some of those drugs, Hayley. But I’m glad you’re so much better than you were earlier. Is there anything you want from home? I’d be glad to bring a bag.”

“Dorothy will take care of that. She’s a curmudgeon, but she means well.” She squeezed his hand, then let go and waved him away. “Now I want to speak to the doctor. You inform everybody that I’m fine and I’ll see them tomorrow. No more visitors tonight.”

“Sleep well,” he said and, with a nod at Rachel, left the room.

“I’ll come again,” Rachel said. “We don’t have to talk more tonight.”

“Yes, we do. I’ve been considering your situation these past weeks. Now I’m here on the edge of death and I’d better speak up in case I don’t get another opportunity.”

“That’s not going to happen.” Rachel pulled over a chair and sat down. “But I’m listening.”

“I wasn’t afraid to die,” Hayley said, her voice more tremulous than usual. “I’ve had a terrific life, great friends, a wonderful husband. The one thing I regret—we didn’t have kids. Just didn’t happen, though we tried. And that’s what I want to say to you.”

She closed both her weathered hands over Rachel’s. “You’re an honorable person, and you probably won’t make terrible mistakes. What you’ll regret, at the end, are the things you didn’t do. Chances you didn’t take to feel and to be. People you didn’t love because you were afraid.”

Rachel gazed at her, speechless.

Hayley sat forward in the bed. “You can’t let hard times and hard-hearted people dictate your perspective on life. In this world, you have to choose to trust, dare to be open to all the possibilities. This old woman can assure you, what you stand to gain is far more than what you risk.”

As Hayley reclined against the pillow, a nurse stepped up beside the bed. “Mrs. Brewster should rest now.”

Rachel stood up and slipped her hand free. “Yes, she should.” Leaning over, she kissed the older woman’s cheek. “Thank you,” she murmured. “I will remember.”

“I’m counting on it.” The irrepressible reply came with a wink.

Garrett waited in the hallway. “You’re smiling, so the talk can’t have been too serious.”

Rachel headed in the direction of the waiting room. “Some advice from ‘the edge of death.’”

“And what was that?”

She quoted, “‘You can’t let hard times and hard-hearted people dictate your perspective on life.’”

“Ah. I never doubted that Hayley Brewster was a wise woman.” He blew out a breath and rubbed a hand over the nape of his neck. “It’s been a long day.”

“You can go home and get some rest. Mrs. Brewster is in excellent hands.”

“I’m still on duty.”

They came to the door of the waiting room and Rachel noted that even more church members had arrived, so the gathering now resembled a cocktail party. “Do they expect to be able to visit her?”

“Not tonight. They’re just celebrating Hayley’s survival, her life in general. You could call it an informal service of thanksgiving.” Taking a deep breath, he straightened his shoulders. “And I should be in there. I’ll make your excuses.”

His tired eyes met hers, and she wanted more than anything to ease the load on his shoulders, restore his resilient spirit.

“It’s still early,” she said, surprising herself. “I’ll come in with you.”

* * *

B
Y
W
EDNESDAY
NIGHT
, Hayley’s room resembled her garden, filled with blooming flowers of every color and variety.

“You’ll have to hire a van to get these home tomorrow,” Garrett joked when he walked in. “Or maybe a tractor trailer.”

“They’re all beautiful, but I can’t keep them. Some of the folks from church will be taking them to nursing homes.” She frowned at him. “You’re seeming awful weary, Pastor. You’re not supposed to run yourself ragged coming here so often for me.”

“You’re not to blame. We’re baling hay on the ranch this week, as well as keeping the kids occupied. We took them up to Lake DeSmet to go boating yesterday. It’s a demanding job, making sure seven kids don’t drown.”

“And maybe you’re not sleeping too well, fretting over a certain pretty doctor in our town?”

Garrett shrugged a shoulder. “It will get better. I hope.”

A knock on the door heralded the arrival of the person under discussion. “What will get better? Is something wrong?” She’d obviously come from work; she still had her white coat on over a pretty green dress.

“Not a thing.” Hayley held out her hand for Rachel to take. “But as I just told the pastor, you shouldn’t wear yourself out driving down here.”

She did seem drained, her face pale. “I have to keep track of my patient. Is she behaving herself?” she asked him with a teasing lift of her brows.

The conversation remained lively, but Rachel seemed preoccupied. Her laugh didn’t come as easily; her smiles seemed forced. Judging by Hayley’s narrowed eyes, she noticed the same thing.

The Johnsons arrived for a visit, and so he and Rachel left together, which gave him a chance to investigate. “Everything all right?”

After a moment, she said, “Of course. I’ve just been...busy.” With a shake of her head, she made a visible effort to brighten up. “Is there a crowd in the waiting room again tonight?”

There was, and she joined him as she had Monday and Tuesday, listening to and empathizing with folks as they shared their worry and relief. He heard the
M
word frequently—miracle—and suspected how the idea must grate on Rachel. But she never betrayed her personal doubts.

The visitors left in twos and threes until, at last, they were alone.

“And then there were none,” Garrett commented. “I don’t know about you, but I’m talked out.”

Rachel didn’t answer. Standing by the window, she stared through the blinds into the night, her arms hugging her waist.

He stayed where he was, giving her space. “Are you okay?”

She didn’t move. “Not really.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing. All the gratitude, though...it gets to be too much.”

“Salt in the wound?” he guessed.

Her brows lowered in a frown. “There’s no wound.”

“Oh, Rachel, of course there is. You’re deeply injured. That’s why you’re angry.” It was past time to confront her demons.

“Well...” She drew a deep breath. “Yes. I’m angry at the man who cheated my mother.”

“That’s a start. Did you ever get to tell him so?”

“I was never able to speak to him.”

“You should have been able to yell at him, confront him with what he did.”

She met his gaze, a reluctant smile curving her mouth. “That would have been great.”