Within My Heart (36 page)

Again Rand surprised her when they passed the Health Suite. She tugged on his sleeve, slowing her steps. “Do you think we could stop in and see Ben and Lyda for a moment? The boys would like to say hello, and I’d like to show them where you performed Ben’s surgery.”

He glanced down the hall, then stepped closer. “I promise, we’ll do both of those things before the evening’s over. But for now, we have reservations we need to keep.”

She glanced at the boys, then back at the Health Suite, a little disappointed Rand had not been more sensitive to her request. Then again, she had the impression he’d gone to a great deal of trouble to plan the evening.

“Shall we?” he said softly, offering his arm.

She tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and they continued down the hallway, the boys beside them, gawking and whispering to each other.

When they rounded the corner, a young woman standing by a door at the far end straightened in recognition. Rachel remembered her. Brandon Tolliver’s assistant.

“Dr. Brookston, I’m so glad you arrived.” Warm welcome shone in Miss Valente’s face. “Mrs. Boyd, how are you this evening?”

“Very well, thank you,” Rachel answered, and made quick introductions between Miss Valente and the boys. Rachel couldn’t remember a more polite staff, which was befuddling considering Brandon Tolliver’s demanding, ill-tempered disposition. Rand had shared with her that Mr. Tolliver was not at all pleased with Ben and Lyda’s continued presence at the resort, but apparently Rand had managed to reach some sort of agreement with him.

A glimmer similar to that in the doorman’s smile shone in Miss Valente’s as well. “Everything is prepared as you requested, Dr. Brookston. If there’s anything else you require”—she directed the statement to all of them—“
please
ask for me.”

“Thank you, Miss Valente.” Rand briefly took her hand. “For everything.”

“It is very little, Doctor, compared to what you have done for us.” Miss Valente’s retreating footsteps barely made a sound on the plush carpet.

Rand winked at the boys. “Are you ready to eat?”

At their simultaneous nod, he opened the door.

For a moment, Rachel could only stare. She heard a gasp, then quickly realized it had come from her. She stepped into the private dining room, her focus drawn to the sweeping view that lay beyond the panoramic window—the vista she had admired just moments ago. Only now a sunset of crimson and gold blazed over the whitecapped peaks. Her gaze went to the table set with china and crystal, and with flickering candles spiraling high, and to where Ben and Lyda sat waiting.

Ben peered around the candelabra and waved. Lyda grinned and scrunched her shoulders as though the excitement of the experience was too much to hold inside. Rachel couldn’t have agreed more.

She heard Rand whispering beside her and turned to see him on his knees, eye level with Mitch and Kurt. The boys hung on his every word. She couldn’t hear what he was saying, but her sons each shook his hand as if sealing a deal. They walked to the table, looking more like little men than boys at the moment. They hugged their uncle Ben and aunt Lyda, then slipped into their seats.

Emotion welling in her throat, Rachel tried to etch the details and nuances of the moment into her memory, wanting to be able to take it out and relive this feeling again. She’d forgotten what it had felt like to be cherished, to be treated with such forethought and tender concern. There had been moments like this with Thomas, but he’d been gone for so long it seemed. . . .

And until recent days, until
Rand
—her throat tightened to an ache—she’d not allowed herself to imagine what it would be like to have that kind of love in her life again.

“May I escort you to your chair, madam?”

Blinking back tears, she nodded, warming beneath Rand’s attention. He showed her to her seat and lingered for a second, tenderly caressing her shoulder before taking his chair.

Servers promptly appeared with delicate crystal bowls of chilled fruit—bits of apples, oranges, and pears—all covered with a tangy sauce that tasted of summer and of warmer climes. Next came an entrée that Rachel didn’t recognize, but that Francesca, the woman serving them, explained was the specialty of the resort.

“It is called lasagna, madam,” she said, her accent thick and her enunciation flawless. “The recipe belonged to my great-grandmother—God rest her soul.”

Rachel’s mouth watered at the layers of melted cheese, meat, and noodles. “It looks delicious.” And the aroma . . . heavenly.

Servers replenished baskets of hot crusty bread and butter before they were even emptied, and Rachel knew her boys would be talking about this meal, and this evening, for weeks to come.

Ben grinned from across the table, raising his wineglass. “It’s good eatin’ here, isn’t it?”

Rachel laughed and lifted hers in suit. “It most certainly is.”

In the midst of her laugh she caught Lyda’s gaze, and they stared at one another for a moment, the conversation and laughter swirling about them. Instinctively she knew what Lyda was thinking and could almost feel the solid
tick-tick-tick
of the clock, and of the passing of their time remaining with Ben.

Then Lyda blinked. Focused joy returned to her eyes. And again Rachel understood. Lyda didn’t want to think about any of that tonight, about life without Ben. And neither did she.

Somewhere between dessert and coffee, when listening ears and watching eyes were occupied, Rachel leaned close to Rand. “Thank you,” she whispered so only he could hear. “And to answer your earlier question . . . yes, Rand, I trust you.”

Later, seated by the hearth in the Health Suite, Rachel giggled as she watched Rand and the boys huddled together over a microscope.

“Dr. Brookston, I can see his legs!” Kurt peered down through the lens at the bug. “And they’re
hairy
!”

“And look at his eyes,” Mitch added, jostling his brother out of the way for another quick peek. “His eyes are huge!”

Enjoying their banter, Rachel glanced at the patient room where Ben and Lyda had stayed for almost two weeks. The absence of light beneath the door told her they were already in bed. They’d enjoyed the evening as much as she had and appreciated what Rand had done, but Ben was ready to go home. He’d said as much to her following dinner. Lyda was ready too, in a way, but Lyda also wanted Ben to be where he could receive the best care, which was at the resort, with Rand, for the time being. A cough had started deep in Ben’s chest, and Rachel feared his being up and about had taxed his strength more than he’d let on. Still, she was grateful Rand had included her dear friends. It couldn’t have been a more perfect evening.

Dinner had been as delectable as it was exquisitely presented, and then there was the “viewing of the stars.” From a private fourth-floor balcony, Rand had set up a telescope and shown them constellations she’d never heard of, much less known how to find in the night sky. The boys were mesmerized and asked a hundred different questions, for which Rand had known the answers or promised to read until he discovered them.

She yawned as she sat by the hearth, the sumptuous meal and enjoyable evening bringing contentment she hadn’t felt in a long time.

She hated to admit it, knowing what type of man Brandon Tolliver was, but Tolliver was sitting on a gold mine. He’d built a magnificent property in one of the most beautiful places in the country, with amenities that rivaled any she’d heard of or read about. She’d underestimated the boon the resort would bring to Timber Ridge—to the businesses and trades, to the community as a whole. And perhaps, if all went as planned, for her ranch as well.

As Mr. Westin had pointed out, more people meant an increased demand for beef, which she would be able to provide. She hoped.

The main door to the suite opened and she turned, expecting to see Miss Valente. But—as if her thoughts had summoned him— Brandon Tolliver strode toward her instead. She rose from her chair, glancing to see if Rand had noticed. He wasn’t looking her way.

“Mr. Tolliver. How are you this evening?”

“Extremely busy, Mrs. Boyd.” He glanced around. His focus snagged on Rand and the boys. “Having a little family gathering, are we?”

In that instant, Rachel wondered whether Rand had told Tolliver about their activities at the resort that evening. On the chance he hadn’t, she didn’t want to be the one to alert him. Yet she didn’t want to lie. . . .

“I asked Dr. Brookston to show the boys where he and I conducted the surgery on Mr. Mullins, and he was kind enough—”

“He and I?” he repeated, a sardonic grin tipping his mouth. “I didn’t realize you were trained in the medicines, Mrs. Boyd.”

Her face heated. “That’s not what I—”

“No doubt there are a great many things you fail to realize, Tolliver,” Rand said, appearing at her side. His smile—cool, detached—was not one Rachel recognized. “Mrs. Boyd did a great service to Ben Mullins, and to me. I couldn’t have conducted the surgery on my own, as I’ve told you before.”

Tolliver stared, his expression changing from cynical to amused. “I trust you enjoyed—or
are
enjoying—your private little soirée?”

Rand tensed beside her. “Yes, we are. Very much.”

Rubbing his jaw, Tolliver slowly looked between them, as though trying to ascertain the nature of their relationship. Rachel grew uncomfortable beneath his attention.

Rand shifted his weight. “Is there something I can do for you, Tolliver? Or is this one of your rare social calls.”

Rachel blinked, surprised to hear Rand speak so bluntly to the man who was, in effect, his employer. But Tolliver didn’t seem to mind. In fact, his grin said he was enjoying the exchange.

“My purpose in stopping by is twofold, Doctor. I want to confirm that you’re going to be here Saturday. I’ve got a group of men coming in for the grand opening who are eager to meet you. I’d like for you to tell them about the surgery you performed and provide a tour of the facility. Give them a good show, so to speak.”

Looking slightly ill, Rand nodded.

“And secondly, I want to make sure that the understanding we reached regarding Mr. Mullins’s recuperation—which is stretching my patience, mind you—is still intact.”

Rand nodded. “It is. I’m planning on moving Mr. Mullins back to his home as soon as he’s able. By Monday at the latest.”

“Monday?” Tolliver shook his head. “I said through tomorrow, Brookston.”

“I agreed to Friday
if
Ben’s condition warranted him being moved, which it doesn’t. I made it clear to you that—”

“Come Saturday morning, I need this medical facility cleaned and in order, ready to be toured.”

A muscle tensed in Rand’s jaw. “Mr. Mullins has experienced some minor setbacks. He’s not as strong as I expected him to be at this stage, and it’s inadvisable for him to be moved right now.”

“Take my carriage.” Tolliver gestured as if the matter were settled. “Just be sure and have it back here by Saturday morning at six o’clock.”

Rand didn’t answer immediately. “I don’t think you understand what I’m saying to you. If I try to transport Ben now, especially with the roads the way they are—”

“I understand your predicament, Brookston. But you need to understand mine. I’m running a resort here. Not a hospital. And certainly not some two-bit, bleeding-heart—pardon the pun in this instance—clinic that exists to serve the masses.”

Rand fisted his hands, and Rachel moved closer to him, hoping he wouldn’t do anything rash. Especially with the boys watching.

“Look around you, Doctor,” Tolliver continued, his arm sweeping the space. “All of this was built with money belonging to some very powerful men. And those men arrive Saturday morning to see what I’ve done with that money. And—I’ll leave it up to you as to how you get it done—Mr. Mullins is not to be here when they arrive.”

Silence stretched the seconds.

Rachel saw movement from the corner of her eye. Mitch and Kurt stood by the microscope, confusion on their faces. Kurt took a step forward, but Rachel shook her head ever so slightly. He stopped.

Rand took a deep breath. “Are there any rooms available at the resort this weekend? I’ll pay for Ben and Lyda to stay here, if that’s what it takes.”

Tolliver laughed, then shook his head. “Don’t forget, Doctor, I know how much you make. And believe me, you can’t afford it.” He turned and was almost to the door when Rand called his name. He looked back.

“I know this weekend is important to you, Tolliver.” Rand’s voice was surprisingly even and controlled.
Too
controlled, considering Tolliver’s blatant disregard for Ben. “The only thing we have to determine now is
how
important.”

Tolliver’s eyes narrowed. “Exactly what does that mean?”

Rachel watched Rand, eager to know the answer to that question herself.

“It means that I’m assuming you’d be disappointed if these visitors were unable to meet the physician who performed the
revolutionary
surgery conducted right here in your very own resort. I’m guessing they’ve already received copies of that special edition of your newspaper.”

Rachel cringed at the sarcasm in Rand’s tone, and even more at the hardening in Tolliver’s expression. She got the distinct feeling there was an entirely different conversation going on than the one she was listening to.

Tolliver retraced his steps. “I suggest you tread carefully, Dr. Brookston. I have a long memory, and I’m a very influential man in this town.”

A smile crept over Rand’s expression, calm and unfazed. “And may I suggest you do the same, Tolliver. I’m the only physician within a fifty-seven-mile radius.”

29

R
achel couldn’t believe the transformation in Ben and Lyda’s store, and in such a short period of time. Beside her, Lyda scooted closer and tucked her hand through the crook of Rachel’s arm.

“What do you think?” Lyda whispered, a watery smile in her eyes, and in her voice.

“I think you and Ben and Mr. Westin have done an extraordinary job, Lyda.” She squeezed her friend’s hand. “And that Ben’s going to be very pleased when he comes home and sees it.”