Summer in Orchard Valley: Valerie / Stephanie / Norah. Debbie Macomber
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thrilled that he’d even mentioned her, yet she experienced a growing sense of apprehension.
“He wanted to know where you were.”
“Did you tell him?”
“Of course,” Norah answered blithely. “He said he thought it was a good idea for you to get out of the hospital more. You’ve practically been living there ever since you arrived.” She slowly chewed another bite of her salad. “He asked me what I knew about Rowdy Cassidy,” she said.
Valerie put down her fork, her appetite having fled. “What did you tell him?”
“The truth. That I’ve never met the man, but Dad seems to think he’s wonderful. You probably weren’t aware of this, but Dad’s been following CHIPS ever since you started working there. He thinks Rowdy’s a genius. Funny, though—I got the impression that wasn’t what Colby wanted to hear.”
“The shrimp was on sale at Vern’s Market,” Valerie said, changing the subject abruptly, not wanting to talk about Colby. Not now when she felt so vulnerable, so conscious of the attraction between them. “Vern said he cooked it himself this morning.”
“You don’t want to talk about Colby?”
Valerie grinned. Her sister hadn’t graduated magna cum laude for nothing.
“You’re not going anyplace tonight, are you?” Norah asked next.
“I thought I’d drive in to the hospital and visit Dad, but other than that, no. Do you need me to do something?”
Norah shrugged. “I may be wrong, but I think Colby wanted to talk to you. I have a feeling he might call.”
Norah was right.
When Valerie returned from her trip to the hospital, her sister had left a note taped to her bedroom door.
COLBY PHONED. SAID HE’D TALK TO YOU IN THE MORNING.
Valerie read the message with mixed feelings. Thrill and dread went at it for round two, again evenly matched. She determined to forget everything—love, Colby, the future—for tonight. The morning would be soon enough to resume her worries. She craved the forgetfulness of sleep, the escape from thought and feeling.
Valerie had assumed she’d fall asleep with the same ease she had the previous night. For a solid hour she beat her pillow, tossed and turned in an effort to find a comfortable position. Finally giving up, she reached for the light on the bedside table and read until her eyes closed and the business journal slipped from her fingers.
But Valerie’s exhausted sleep wasn’t the restful oblivion she’d longed for. Colby wandered into her dreams like an uninvited guest.
He looked handsome, dressed in the suit he’d worn the night he’d taken her to the Italian restaurant.
“You’re not going to be able to forget me, are you?”
In her dream, Valerie said nothing, but only because she had no argument. She merely stared at him, adoring every feature, every movement.
A noise disturbed her, distracting her from Colby. Irritated, she looked over her shoulder to see what it was and when she looked back, he was gone. She cried out in frustration, the sound of her own voice jerking her awake. She was sitting upright in the bed, heart pounding furiously.
It took her another moment to realize there was some sort of commotion going on downstairs. She climbed out of bed and grabbed her robe.
From the top of the stairs, she saw Norah, laughing and crying at once. A battered suitcase stood on the floor, along with a leather coat and an umbrella.
“Steffie!” Valerie cried excitedly, racing down the stairs.
Her sister was home.
Seven
Colby picked up the clipboard at the foot of David Bloomfield’s bed, scanning the notations the nursing staff had written through the night. Although his eyes were lowered, he couldn’t help being aware of David Bloomfield’s cocky grin.
“You must be feeling more like your old self this morning,” he observed genially.
David’s smile widened. “I’m feeling more chipper each and every day. How much longer do you intend to keep me prisoner here? I’m itching to get home.”
“Another week,” Colby answered, replacing the clipboard. “Perhaps less, depending on how well you do.”
“A week!” David protested. “Are you sure you aren’t holding me up just so you’ll have an excuse to visit with Valerie?”
Colby’s hackles rose, and he was about to defend his medical judgment when he realized the old man was baiting him—and enjoying it.
“I’m going to have you transferred out of the Surgical Intensive Care Unit this morning,” Colby continued, “but first I want you up and walking.”
“I’ve been up.”
Colby glanced back at the chart, surprised to see no indication of the activity.
“I just didn’t let anyone know. I felt a bit dizzy, so I only walked around the bed. Not much of a trip, but it tired me out plenty.”
“You’re not to get out of this bed again unless there’s someone with you, understand?” He used his sternest voice.
“All right, all right,” David agreed. Stroking his chin, he studied Colby. “She’s pretty as a picture, that oldest daughter of mine. Isn’t she, Doc?”
Colby ignored both the comment and the question. “I’ll have one of the physio staff come down in a few minutes and we’ll see how well you do with your exercises. I imagine that by this afternoon you’ll have conquered the hallway.”
“From what I hear, that Rowdy Cassidy’s been calling her two, three times a day.”
Colby stiffened at the mention of the other man’s name. He’d tried to tell himself that Valerie would be happier married to Cassidy. They shared the same attitudes, beliefs and ambitions; together they’d take the business world by storm. Rowdy was exactly the type of dynamic personality who’d help Valerie fulfill her goals and dreams. She’d never be content as a physician’s wife, he told himself again. Nevertheless, he was having trouble accepting the obvious.
He’d never thought of himself as romantic. His career had consumed his life from the time he was a high-school sophomore. His much-loved grandfather had died of heart disease, and it was then that Colby had decided to become a doctor. Everything else had been subordinated to that goal. Only in the past year or so had he felt the desire to marry and start a family.
He’d acted upon that desire with methodical thoroughness, mentally tabulating a list of his wants and needs. He’d looked around at the single women in Orchard Valley and decided to date Sherry Waterman. If things didn’t work out with Sherry, Norah Bloomfield was next on his list, although he was concerned about their age difference.
Things had worked out with Sherry, at least in the beginning. He’d found her refreshing and genuine and fun. Problems crept up later, when he discovered that she was entirely predictable. Involved with a woman who embodied every trait he wanted in his life’s partner, he’d been … bored. He wasn’t sure anymore that he needed someone quite so even-tempered and domestic.
According to the schedule he’d set for himself, he should have been married by now.
He wasn’t.
To irritate him further, the only woman he’d been strongly attracted to in the past year was Valerie Bloomfield, and anyone with a lick of sense could see they weren’t the least bit compatible.
For months, long before his heart attack, David Bloomfield had found excuses to drag his oldest daughter’s name into their conversations. By the time he met Valerie, Colby was thoroughly sick of hearing