Bachelor Cure (13 page)

‘Says who?'

‘Says Hannah. It'd be all right if she was right…'

‘If who was right?'

‘Tessa. Tess says…' Henry paused for a moment to cough. He was still as weak as be damned. It took him two minutes before he collected himself enough to continue, but Mike waited as if he had all the time in the world. This was important.

And finally it came. ‘Tess says it's not just she and me and Doris,' Henry managed. ‘It's…'

‘It's?'

Henry hesitated, and then his face creased into a shame-faced grin. ‘It's you, boy,' he confessed. ‘Tess told me she intends to marry you.' Then, as Mike's face stilled, he hurried into an explanation.

‘Oh, she was just kidding, mind. I told her I wouldn't have her wasting her life here and she said, nonsense, her intended husband lived here and she had no intention of leaving. Ever. So I thought…' He smiled. ‘Maybe it's nonsense but I thought…just for a bit, until I felt more myself…I'd let myself believe it. Only…I told Hannah, just as a joke, like. And Hannah says that's crazy because there's no way you'll ever marry anyone, even someone like Hannah or Liz Hayes, much less Tessa.'

Good grief. What was he to say to this?

‘But, Henry, I've only known your granddaughter for three days,' Mike said helplessly. He was totally at sea here. It was as if he were being washed by waves he couldn't even see. ‘That's crazy.'

‘Yeah.' Henry grimaced. ‘But Tess said three minutes was enough for her. She knew.' He sighed heavily and tried to twist in bed. His paralysed side held him back. He gave a grunt of frustration and Mike moved to ease him over.

‘Her grandma was the same,' Henry said finally when he was comfortable again. ‘Tessa's grandma took one look at me and told me that was
it
. Forget bachelorhood, she told me. I was the one. It took Ellen a year to talk me round, but I might have saved myself the effort of fighting. Marrying Ellen was the best thing I ever did. But you…'

‘But I'll not be talked around,' Mike said heavily. ‘This is nonsense.' He took a deep breath. ‘So is the thought of a nursing home for you. There's a job and a life for your granddaughter in this valley without me in the equation. So let's just make you comfortable and get you back onto your feet and back to Doris. Doris…now, there's a nice, uncomplicated female.'

‘Ain't no such thing,' Henry said morosely. ‘Uncomplicated female? Hah!'

 

Mike spent most of what little remained of the night staring sleeplessly at the ceiling. About dawn he fell into an uneasy slumber but at seven Strop heaved himself up on the bed and took over the pillow—and by eight Mike was up and ready for work.

In work lay his salvation.

Sunday morning was his easiest time, and it was often his only rest for the week. There was no surgery. He ran an evening clinic for urgent cases—mostly just to lighten his load on Mondays—but apart from emergencies he was free.

There was nothing urgent happening in the hospital this morning, and after Tessa's intervention there was nothing hanging over from the day before.

He let Sally go home with her relieved parents—proudly carrying her ‘toe ring'. He talked Jason through accepting a full tear of his Achilles tendon and the possibility of fixing it in the valley if Tessa's registration came through. He made sure Myrtle was comfortable and settled and still determined to stay
where she was, and then he turned his attention to the rest of the day.

Tess was nowhere to be seen. He'd visited Henry but Henry was visitor-free and sleeping soundly, no doubt tired after his busy social life the night before. Louise was acting charge nurse, cheerful and still slightly flushed after her night at the ball.

‘Tess went out to the farm early,' she told him. ‘She's moving there today.'

Great. That meant he had the hospital to himself.

The day suddenly seemed drab and totally uninteresting.

There was one really nasty task that had to be done. Sam Fisher's dental records had been dropped off at the surgery the night before. Mike mentally squared his shoulders and headed down to the morgue.

By the time he'd finished making absolutely certain that what lay there was definitely what remained of Sam, the day seemed more than just drab. He was depressed past belief.

Hell!

So, now what?

He collected Strop and emerged from the hospital to brilliant autumn sunshine. The day was gorgeous. He stood in the car park breathing in huge lungfuls of fresh air, trying to drive away the smell and remembrance of what he'd just done.

Who'd be a doctor?

It did have advantages. One of them lay just before him. His Aston Martin was the pride of his life. It was a bit dog-haired, but it was still gorgeous.

It needed a woman in the passenger seat, he de
cided, looking at it with affection. Not a dopey Basset. To really set it off, it needed a woman, with red hair flying free…

Oh, terrific. He was going nuts here. What the hell was he thinking of? He'd known Tess for three days and he was going nuts.

Strop cast him a reproachful look and he laughed and climbed into the driver's seat. ‘OK, I'm not thinking of replacing you. Or maybe I could get you a cushion so the gearshift doesn't bruise your butt.'

More dirty looks, and Mike grinned. Strop knew the priorities. He needed no one else in this car. No one!

Maybe he should go and collect Liz. She'd always come for a drive with him. But…she didn't like Strop.

So… He'd go for a drive with just Strop.

He didn't. Instead, he nosed his beloved car northwards, up toward the mountains. He had his phone on his belt. He could be contacted if needed. He'd just see…

And the sleek sports car purred its way straight to Henry Westcott's farm, and it turned into Henry's gate as if it were magnetised. It was just to see that Tess didn't need help, he told himself firmly, but he didn't believe it for a minute.

It was just because he wanted to see Tess. Hell, he had the self-control of a mating newt!

 

Tess was in the shed with Doris. Today she was dressed for farm business, with stained jeans that were just a tad too tight—gloriously too tight—a work-
stained T-shirt and a gorgeous blue scarf, tying back her red curls.

As Mike entered the shed, Strop at his heels, he found her squatting beside the piglets, deep in conversation with Doris.

‘I don't know how you can tell them apart because I can't,' she was telling the sow. ‘You need hospital wristbands. Trotter bands. Though this little one…he's fatter than the rest. Let's call this one Mike, shall we?'

‘Why? Because I'm fatter than the rest?'

‘Oh…' Tess swung around to face him, and her face flushed scarlet. ‘Whoops. I didn't know.' She scrambled to her feet, and then she smiled and there was no disguising her pure, unmitigated pleasure that he'd come. Mike felt himself warm from the toes up at her welcome. ‘I didn't dare hope you'd come,' she told him.

‘So this is a private name-calling ceremony?'

‘It's a family affair,' she agreed. ‘Just me and Doris and the kids.'

‘Are we intruding?'

‘No, not at all,' she said cordially. ‘Unless Strop is interested in piglet.'

‘Only roasted. That old idea of catching and killing your own meal was bred out of Strop's remaining brain cell generations ago.'

Tess grinned as Strop wandered outside to see if roast pork was somewhere else. ‘Then Doris and I are really pleased to see you,' she said.

The warmth grew warmer—and Mike struggled to keep his face straight.

‘So…why are we calling the fat pig Mike?'

‘Well…' Tess had her equilibrium back now. She picked up the proposed Mike piglet and surveyed him, nose to nose. Unbothered, Doris suckled on. Some sows took umbrage to having their family handled, but as far as Doris was concerned Tess, it seemed, could do anything she liked.

‘Is it just because he's fat?' Mike enquired again, inspecting the piglet closely.

‘Well, there is that,' Tess agreed. She grinned and checked Mike out. It was all Mike could do not to blush as her assessing gaze raked him from the toes up. ‘But you're not really fat,' she added kindly. ‘You're just…well, just sort of muscled.'

And then Tessa's grin deepened and she swung the little piglet around so his tail was in the air. ‘But there's another resemblance. Look at this. He
does
look like you, Mike Llewellyn. He has the cutest butt!'

‘Gee, thanks!' The girl was incorrigible. Hell, he
was
blushing.

She chuckled, unabashed, and gently laid Mike Piglet down on the straw with his brothers and sisters. Mike Piglet headed teat-ward, seemingly at the speed of light, and Tess chuckled again, before turning back to Mike Person.

‘You know, you look really appealing when you're embarrassed,' she told him kindly. ‘You're almost as cute as little Mike and his brothers and sisters—Oinks One to Seven.'

And then she really looked at him. Her smile died and her eyes became searching.

‘Mike, what's wrong?'

‘There's nothing—'

She took a step forward. ‘Oh, God… Is it Grandpa?' The colour drained from Tessa's face and he spoke quickly to reassure her

‘Henry's fine.'

‘Then why do your eyes look like that?' And then Tessa's face cleared as she figured it out. ‘Oh, Mike. I forgot. I know what it is. The dental records arrived last night. You've been identifying Sam.'

She could read him like a book! He took a step back, as though putting distance between himself and Tess, but Tess wasn't having it. She walked over and gave him a king-sized hug, and it was all he could do not to hug her back.

‘I should have come with you,' she said softly. ‘I could have helped. It must have been awful.'

‘No.'

‘Oh, no,' she jeered. ‘Not awful. Don't forget, I saw him, Mike. It
was
awful. And you were his friend.'

‘Tess…' He stopped, unable to go on. For the life of him he didn't know what to say, or how on earth to respond. Since his mother had died all those years ago, nothing and no one had been allowed close. To have this girl know intuitively what was wrong…and to hug him like this…and to care…

The sensation was insidious in its sweetness.

‘It's OK. You can admit it was awful, but at least now it's done. And the end for Sam must have been fast.' She gave him another hug and stepped back so
she could see him again while he was still figuring out how to respond. But he didn't need to respond.

‘Come in and see what I've done to the house,' she begged, and she took his hand and dragged him out of the barn before he could protest. Her hand held his in a grip which warmed him from the fingers up and which wouldn't be denied. There was nothing for Mike to do but be propelled forward.

She didn't stop until she reached the kitchen, and he stopped, stunned, as he walked in the door. What she'd done here…

The place had been transformed.

It was clean for a start. The house in Henry Westcott's care had been left to deteriorate. Henry's wife had been house-proud, but after she'd died Henry had simply not cared. He'd kept it clean enough basically, but that had been all.

The last time Mike had been in here—the night they'd found Henry—the place had been dark and smoke-stained and dreary. But now…

‘How long have you been here?' Mike asked faintly, staring around at the transformation.

‘Since about seven. I couldn't sleep. Louise's mum snores and Louise was due on duty early, so we had breakfast together and talked about how wonderful Harvey Begg is. She even loves his Volvo.' Tessa's voice sounded awed. She smiled and kept on.

‘I left her stargazing and hiked in to the hospital, said hi to Grandpa, who was snoring as loudly as Louise's mum, and then borrowed a pile of cleaning stuff from the store. I needed more but Mr Harcourt, the man who owns the hardware shop, was picking
up his newspaper from his front lawn as I drove past. I know him from yesterday when I treated his cough. I was very kind about his smoking habits—apart from telling him he'd be dead in two years if he didn't cut down, I wasn't threatening or anything.'

Tess paused to catch her breath, and then she kept right on going.

‘Anyway, Mr Harcourt was embarrassed about being caught in his pyjamas. They have yellow ducks all over them! They were a gift from his wife, he says, though I don't know whether I believe him. I think he likes them. And he was smoking again this morning! Honestly, I think the man smokes in his sleep. So I gave him another lecture and asked if I could get some whitewash and some stove black. And he was so nice—he gave me the key to the shop.'

She meant he was so flummoxed, Mike thought blankly. Anyone would be.

And William Harcourt… It couldn't have happened to a nicer man. Yellow ducks, eh? Mike's lips gave an involuntary twitch.

‘So then I scrubbed and scrubbed. This place looked dingy but, in fact, it's just the smoke stains all over the stone walls from the fire stove. I'm sure Grandpa doesn't keep the vents open like he should and it's so bad for his health. I cleared everything out and whitewashed the walls, and I blacked the stove and then I hauled everything back in here—hasn't it made a difference?'

It certainly had. Mike could only stare.

‘I need help to hang the curtains again,' she told him, not giving him time to comment. ‘I washed them
early and I was just going out to see if they were dry when I got sidetracked with Doris and the kids. I'll go and get them now. Isn't it lucky you came?'

And she flew out of the kitchen, leaving Mike staring after her.

She was like a whirlwind, a crazy, wonderful tornado that picked everything up and whirled it around and set it down…different.