Under the Mistletoe with John Doe (4 page)

So how could she trust her instincts about John now, when she had even less to go on about him?

“A couple of police officers came by today,” he
said, drawing her from her musing. “They asked about the robbery, but I couldn't provide them with any information.”

She wished she could promise him that everything would come back to him someday, but there was a strong possibility that he wouldn't ever remember anything about the assault, just the things leading up to it and afterward.

“Were the officers able to give you any clues to your identity?” she asked.

“They told me that I'd had a little run-in at the bar with two local thugs who were harassing a cocktail waitress. They might have resented my interference and waited for me in the parking lot.”

So John had a heroic nature? Betsy hoped that was the case. She'd hate to think she was drawn to another loser.

Time and again she'd promised herself she wouldn't let Doug's deceit completely shatter her ability to trust a man in the future. And each time her father showed a kindness to her ailing mother, each time he'd kissed her cheek or patted her frail knee, Betsy was reminded that good men did exist, that they honored their marriage vows. That they stuck by their women through sickness and health and through thick and thin.

But was John Doe one of them?

She couldn't be sure. And she feared falling for the wrong man again. That's why she'd focused on her medical practice after her divorce. And it's why she'd poured her heart and soul into her patients and the hospital.

After all, she had a skill and a responsibility to heal.
And she wasn't going to let anyone or anything interfere with her calling again.

But now here she was, visiting a man she knew nothing about, thinking about him in a purely feminine way. And while she'd tried to convince herself that her interest in him was influenced by a desire to see him heal and get on with his life, she knew better than that.

She was attracted to her patient.

Or rather, to
a
patient. John Doe was no longer
hers,
so she could easily nullify the rule, at least in her mind. But her attraction to him was increasing by leaps and bounds, and that was unsettling.

He reached over and tapped the top of her hand, which was resting on the bedrail. His fingertips lingered on her skin for only a second or two, but the heat of his touch sent her nerve endings helter-skelter, her blood racing.

“What's the matter?” he asked. “What's bothering you?”

“Nothing.” She tried to smile, to shake it off. “Why do you ask?”

“Because you're wearing a pensive expression, one that tells me you're a thousand miles away.”

“No, I'm still here.” She forced her smile to deepen, her gaze to zero in on his.

He'd obviously picked up on the fact that she was distracted—but it wasn't because of another case or dilemma that worried her. It was clearly him causing her mind and thoughts to wander.

And she couldn't risk letting that happen. Whatever was going on between them had to be one-sided. And even if it wasn't, she couldn't stay at his bedside a
moment longer. Not when her body was going whacky, just being around him.

So she glanced at her wristwatch, then back at him. “I have a meeting with a colleague before my shift starts, which means I need to go.”

Honesty was always her policy, so even little white lies never sat easy with her. But she couldn't think of another excuse to leave.

“I'll see you tomorrow,” he said, as if her visits had become a ritual they both could count on—and look forward to.

She wanted to remind him that it wasn't a done deal, but she'd already tossed out Doc's offer for him to stay on the ranch. And John had agreed.

So she stepped away from his bed. “Have a good evening.”

“You, too.”

As she turned and walked out of his room, she picked up her pace as though she could outrun all she'd been feeling back there, but reality dogged her down the corridor and into the elevator.

John had only touched her—and just briefly at that. But the fact that she'd reacted so strongly to something so minor left her unbalanced and skittish.

She did her best to regain control of her senses, but it wasn't easy.

When the elevator doors opened on the second floor and she stepped into the corridor that led to the cafeteria, she tried another tack.

Okay, so she was sexually attracted to John Doe. What was wrong with that? It's not as though she had to actually act upon that attraction.

And there was probably a very good reason for it, too—one that went beyond the man's looks and the intoxicating sound of his voice.

She'd sworn off men and sex ever since she'd told Doug to pack his things and move out of the house they'd shared when they'd been together. She'd been determined to focus on her career, on her patients. And she wouldn't let a relationship get in the way of that again.

But she was only human, with sexual needs and desires that had been dormant for too long. So it was just her hormones at play. Her body was merely reacting to its basic need for sex and zooming in on a possible candidate.

That's all it was.

She just needed a sexual release. But where did she find a potential partner, especially in Brighton Valley? And what about the hours she kept?

It was going to be tough. Especially when John Doe was the first sexual interest she'd had since she and Doug had split.

But there was no way she'd sleep with a patient. Especially one who had no idea where he'd come from or where he was going next.

Of course, with John Doe living only a couple of yards away from her house, she feared she was fighting a losing battle.

A
fter her shift ended the next morning, Betsy once again took the elevator up to the third floor. But this time she was going to stop by John's room for practical reasons.

When she reached his doorway, she found him standing at the window, looking toward a copse of trees and scanning the hills that surrounded the medical center.

He was wearing a hospital gown, which was tied in back, and she couldn't help but smile. Those ugly, frumpy garments weren't the least bit flattering on patients, but the one he had on looked pretty darn good on him.

She had to admit that that was because his loose-fitting gown gaped open a bit, revealing a stretch of skin at the shoulder—and another near his butt.

As if sensing her presence, he turned and met her gaze.

“Good morning,” she said. “It's nice to see you up and around.”

He shot her a smile that nearly took her breath away. “I was just checking out the view.”

She'd been doing the same thing, only not on the rolling hills and the stark bushes that had been full of colorful blooms a few months earlier.

He made his way back toward the bed, but instead of throwing back the blanket and climbing between the sheets, he took a seat in the chair next to it. “I'm really looking forward to getting out of here. I keep sensing that I have something to do, someplace to be.”

She was sure that he did. But his other life had been temporarily denied him.

“That may be a good sign,” she said.

“Me wanting to get out of here? Or feeling like I've dropped the ball?”

“Both. Your injuries are healing, and you're a healthy man. Lying around all day has got to be boring.” She entered his room and took a seat at the edge of his bed. “You had a life prior to the accident. There must be a lot of things that need doing. And if you feel pressed about something, then one day soon it will all come back to you.”

“I hope you're right.”

She nodded at the built-in wardrobe where patients could keep their personal property. “Do you mind if I take a look in there?”

“Why?”

“Because the clothes you were wearing the other night are in there. And because they're dirty and bloody. I thought I'd wash them for you so you don't have to
wear a hospital gown home—not that it doesn't look dashing.”

He glanced down at his chest, then tugged at the cotton fabric. “I guess this isn't what all the ranch hands are wearing this year.”

“No, I'm afraid you'd get a couple of laughs. Especially if you add a pair of cowboy boots to round out your ensemble.”

A grin tugged at the side of his mouth, and his eyes glimmered. “Now that's a lousy visual.”

“On you? I'd have to see it,” she began, then reeled in her thoughts. What in the world was she doing? Flirting with him?

As much as she'd hoped to avoid John Doe for the rest of his stay in Brighton Valley, she had to face the facts. He'd been invited to stay at Doc's ranch, and he'd accepted.

He also had nowhere else to go.

So she crossed the room to the little closet and pulled open the door. A white plastic bag in which one of the nurses had packed the dirty clothes he'd been wearing sat next to a dusty pair of expensive Italian shoes.

Again, she was reminded that he hadn't been dressed like any of the men who called Brighton Valley home. He was going to need something suitable to wear on the ranch—jeans and boots for a starter.

Leaving the loafers behind, she removed the bag and shut the closet door.

“Can I look at those before you take them?” he asked.

“Of course.” She carried the bag to him, then waited as he peered inside.

“Do they look familiar?” she asked.

He slowly shook his head and handed them back to her. “I wish they did.”

Her heart went out to him, even though she wished it hadn't. And she felt herself being drawn closer to him, more involved.

“Then if it's all right with you,” she said, “I'll take these home with me, wash them and bring them back this evening when I come to work.”

“I hate to have you go to the trouble.”

She offered him a smile. “Don't worry about it. You'll be carrying your own weight before you know it.”

“You can count on
that.
”

He'd said it as if he meant it, and she believed him.

Or did she just want to believe that he was conscientious and responsible?

She lifted her wrist and checked her watch, even though there really wasn't any reason to. The motion had become a signal she used to make her excuses and leave, to let people know that she had a schedule to keep—whether she did or not.

“Well,” she said, “I'd better go. I'll see you tonight.”

“Thanks,” he said. “I really appreciate all you've done. You've gone above and beyond for me, and you don't have to.”

No, she didn't. And she probably
shouldn't.
But every time she gazed into his eyes, every time she spotted his vulnerability and sensed how lost he was, she couldn't seem to leave well enough alone.

“Just pay it forward,” she said, letting him know there
weren't any strings attached, that she was just doing a good deed.

Then she left his room, took the elevator down to the lobby and headed to the parking lot. After climbing into her Honda Civic, she started the twenty-minute drive back to the ranch.

She had to give the poor guy credit. He'd been dealt a bad hand and was taking each day as it came. But for the time being, he didn't have anything but the clothes he'd been wearing on Wednesday night.

As she spotted a Wal-Mart sign up ahead, it dawned on her that John was going to need more than a single outfit and shoes. And without giving it much thought, she pulled into the driveway and parked near the front door.

Then she took a quick peek into the bag of dirty clothing. The pants, a top-designer brand, had a thirty-four-inch waist, and the shirt and jacket were both size large.

She had a feeling John wasn't the type to shop for clothes at a discount store, but this was the best she could do, the best she was
willing
to do. Her time was limited today, and she wasn't going to hang around town until one of the nicer clothing stores opened. She really needed to go home and get some rest before her next shift started.

Twenty minutes later, she returned to her car carrying several bags filled with things John would need—shaving cream, razors, a popular aftershave, a toothbrush and toothpaste. She also picked up socks, boxer shorts and Wranglers, as well as a couple of shirts and a rugged
pair of boots that were on sale, something suitable for walking around the ranch.

Okay, so her credit card had taken a direct hit, but he couldn't very well get by without a change of clothes or toiletries.

By the time she arrived at the ranch, Doc was out in the yard waiting for her. But that didn't surprise her. The two had grown close over the years, and he thought of her as a daughter.

“You're late,” he said, as he approached her car, clearly worried. “I was just getting ready to call and see what was keeping you. I was afraid you might have fallen asleep on the way home and run into a ditch.”

“I'm all right, Doc.”

A crisp morning breeze kicked up a hank of his white hair, and he crossed his arms. “You can tell everyone else that you're holding up just fine, but I know you've been burning the candle at both ends.”

At one time, Dr. Graham had been the only physician in the valley, and Betsy wasn't doing anything he hadn't done every day of his fifty-year practice.

“The night shifts are tough,” she admitted, as she pulled the blue plastic bags from her car. “But I've got a day off tomorrow. I can catch up on my sleep then.”

“What'd you do?” he asked, nodding to the bags she held. “Go shopping on the way home?”

“I picked up a few things for John Doe. All he has are the clothes he was wearing.”

Her friend and mentor grimaced. “You didn't need to spend any money. I've got plenty of old clothes he can wear. In fact, I've already gathered them together and have them ready for him.”

“But they might not be the right size.” And even if John could make do with an elderly man's hand-me-downs, she doubted that the younger man would like wearing them. Doc may have been dapper in his day, but his sense of style was probably a little old-fashioned or bucolic for a man like John.

A man like John.

And just what kind of man was that? The irony struck her hard, and she let out a weary sigh.

Still, she carried her purchases, as well as John's laundry, into Doc's house.

“Do you mind if I use your washing machine?” she asked.

“Of course not.” He followed her to the service porch, where he kept his washer and dryer.

He watched as she set aside her purchases, then opened the white plastic bag and dumped out the dirty clothing onto the worktable next to the appliances.

As she separated the dark slacks from the white shirt, shorts and socks, she asked, “Do you have any colors I can put in with his pants?”

“Yes, but just leave those things right there. You're getting those dark circles under your eyes again and you need to get some rest. I'll take care of that for you.”

“All right.” She lifted the lid to the washer and dropped the slacks inside. Then she leaned forward, went up on tiptoe and brushed a kiss on Doc's wrinkled cheek. “What would I do without you?”

“Run yourself into the ground, I suspect.”

She smiled and gave him a hug. “Thanks, Doc. Then I'll just take this other stuff into the spare bedroom and lay them out for him. After that, I'll go home, take a hot
shower and fix a cup of chamomile tea. I'll probably be asleep before you know it.”

She gathered the Wal-Mart bags, and as she headed for the guest room, Doc tagged along behind her.

“I wish you wouldn't have spent your hard-earned money on that fellow,” her friend said. “He's probably going to leave town within the next couple of days and take all the new things with him.”

Doc had a point, but this was the holiday season, a time of goodwill and glad tidings. “The expense won't break me. Besides, you remember what the Good Book says, ‘It's more blessed to give than receive.'”

As she laid out the shaving gear and toiletries she'd purchased, Doc left the room and returned with a stack of clothes. “These pants used to fit me before I had that gall-bladder surgery last spring. If they're too big around the waist, he can use a belt to cinch 'em up. And he can cuff them if they're too long.”

“I'm sure he'll appreciate the gesture.”

At least, she hoped he would. There was so much about the man she didn't know….

“This is just a temporary fix,” Doc said. “I'm sure his memory will eventually return, and when it does, he'll head back to wherever he came from.”

That was true. John Doe was just passing through her life—here today and gone tomorrow.

And whether she'd be happy about that or not was left to be seen.

 

Dr. Kelso discharged John on Friday, which worked out well since Betsy was off that day and could drive out to the hospital to pick him up.

When she entered his room, she found him dressed in the outfit he'd been wearing when he'd arrived at the Stagecoach Inn last Wednesday night, the one that Doc had laundered and she'd pressed for him. Black slacks, a white shirt and expensive leather shoes.

“It looks like you're ready to go,” she said.

“I'm waiting for someone to bring a wheelchair, which seems crazy to me. I can walk.”

“It's hospital policy.”

“That's what the nurse said.”

For an awkward moment, silence stretched between them, and while she probably ought to make small talk to break the tension, she sketched a gaze over him.

Just as she'd suspected, he stood over six feet tall, with dark hair that curled up at his collar and eyes that could soften the hardest of hearts. He looked sharp and stylish, and she could easily imagine the impression he'd left on the rednecks and cowboys who'd been at the honky-tonk last Wednesday night.

Witnesses had said that he'd left the bar alone. And if that were the case, then he'd done so by choice. Any woman on the prowl—married or single—would have jumped at the chance to go home with him.

Maybe he hadn't been interested in romance.

And if not, she wondered why. Was he already committed to someone?

The moment the question crossed her mind, she realized she was trying too hard to read into things. His memory would eventually return, and when it did, she'd have the answers she needed.

Or, at least, he would.

Shrugging off her curiosity the best she could, she said, “I'm sure the wheelchair is on its way.”

“I hope so. I'm also going to have to stop by the accounting office, but that won't take long.”

She supposed it wouldn't because he didn't have the means to pay the bill. But neither of them broached that fact.

“Maybe they can put me on some kind of payment plan,” he said. “It's also possible that I have health insurance and the details will come to me later. Either way, I'll make it right.”

She hoped he meant that for several reasons. First of all, the hospital was already struggling to make ends meet, and they didn't need one more financial burden. And second, she wanted to believe that integrity came natural to him.

He certainly seemed convincing, but that was left to be seen. So far, the only things Betsy knew about John were guesswork and hunches.

And given her track record, who knew how accurate those would prove to be?

“Tell you what,” she said. “I'll get my car and pull it up to the curb in front of the hospital. You can find me when you're done in the office.”