VISITING THE FOOL’S GOLD nursing home was usually the highlight of Montana’s day. She loved bringing a vanload of happy dogs to the residents, enjoyed taking them around, watching them work their magic. By now she knew nearly every person at the facility by name, remembered who preferred a small dog to cuddle and who wanted to throw a ball for a bigger dog. She’d seen those who barely responded to their environment at all smile when nudged by a grinning service dog.
But today, as she parked and got out of Max’s van, she felt as if she were moving through water. She hurt all over, but not in a physical way. She hurt on the inside.
Simon wasn’t staying. Yes, he’d always said that and, yes, she’d understood the words, but this was different. This was her realizing that she was falling for a man who had no intention of sticking around even if he’d found something here he’d never find anywhere else. Whatever she felt for him, they would have no future. Even if he was willing to travel back and forth to Fool’s Gold, or if she was willing to travel to visit him every now and then, that wouldn’t be much of a relationship.
Deep inside, she’d always wanted a happy ending. True love, like her parents had. A long, successful marriage, kids. Sure, she wasn’t perfect, but the guy didn’t have to be, either. Unfortunately, the man she was very close to falling in love with would never be that guy. He wasn’t interested in marriage or kids or forever. He wanted to keep moving.
Telling herself he had the right to his own dreams wasn’t helping. She couldn’t seem to be rational about the situation, which meant she had to be extra careful when she was around him. Protect herself. While not seeing him at all was probably the most intelligent course, she couldn’t bring herself to simply walk away. So, for now, she would do her best to make sure she didn’t get hurt more than she already was.
She walked around to the back of the van and opened the door. The dogs were all staring at her, anticipation bright in their doggie eyes, but not one of them made a run for it. They waited until she’d snapped on their leashes, then one by one they politely jumped down. She had to help two of the smaller dogs, including Cece.
After closing the van’s rear door, she started toward the nursing home. The dogs led the way, passing through the automatic door. At the main desk, she greeted the receptionist and signed in.
“Everyone is looking forward to your visit,” the woman said with a laugh. “Just for the dogs’ entertainment, they’re going to be dancing.”
“I can’t wait.”
She went by the nurses’ station, to let them know she was here, then began the process of spreading around the dogs. Buddy and two others were given to the attendants in the main recreation room. The three medium-size dogs went to physical therapy. Cece and an equally small Yorkie named Samson would go bed to bed, visiting those who couldn’t get up.
“There’s my girl,” the first of the bedridden residents called as Montana walked into the room.
“Hello, Mrs. Lee. Cece’s very excited to see you.”
“And I’m excited to see her.”
Montana set the poodle on the bed. Cece immediately raced up to Mrs. Lee and put her tiny paws on the woman’s shoulders, then gently licked her cheek.
“I’ve missed you, too, sweet, sweet girl.”
“There you are.”
Montana turned and saw Bella Gionni, one of the salon owners in town. Mondays, when her business was closed, she volunteered at the nursing home.
“Hey, Bella. How are things?”
“Good. I’ve been hearing rumors about you and a certain doctor.”
Bella was a forty-something woman with dark hair and gorgeous eyes. She and her sister Julia owned competing salons in town. The sisters had been feuding for more than twenty years and no one knew why. To be loyal to one was to make an enemy of the other. Most people got around the problem by alternating between them. It was generally considered a much safer policy.
“I’m showing Simon around town because Mayor Marsha asked me to,” she said firmly.
“That’s a good story and I would encourage you to stick to it. Maybe someone will believe you.”
Montana laughed. “You’re impossible.”
“But in a good way, right?” She approached the bed. “Hey, Mrs. Lee, I see your favorite visitor is back.”
“She is.”
Bella petted the poodle, then glanced at Montana. “I have the list. Go deliver Samson to his fans.”
“I will. Thanks.”
Cece would spend about fifteen minutes with each of her “regular” residents. Bella would take care of delivering her where she was supposed to go, and kept track of time. Samson visited in the men’s wing. Another volunteer would meet Bella there and take charge of Samson. Having the help left Montana free to make sure the bigger dogs circulated evenly in the main recreation room.
Her visits usually lasted about three hours. She knew that by the time she left, close to noon, she would be feeling much better about herself and her life. It was impossible to watch the dogs in action and not be reminded how much good there was in the world.
She made a quick stop by physical therapy to check on her charges, then walked back to the front of the facility. As she approached the recreation room, she heard the sound of music and knew the dancing had begun.
Some of the residents simply swayed in their chairs. A few sang along with the music. But what Montana liked best were the old couples who still danced.
She made sure her dogs were behaving and paying attention to each resident individually, then let her awareness return to those in the center of the room. As always, her gaze settled on the Spangles.
They’d been married seventy-one years. She knew—there’d been a cake for their anniversary last month. Despite the lines on their faces and the frailness of their bones, they were as much in love today as they had been all those years ago.
The facility had allowed them to room together, twin hospital beds pushed together. One of the nurses had told Montana that they fell asleep holding hands.
Watching them, the way they held each other, made Montana smile. This was how it was supposed to be, she thought. People could love each other until death parted them. Sometimes, at the end, love was all that was left.
Rather than being hurt or feeling rejected, she should feel sorry for Simon. He didn’t believe in couples like the Spangles. He believed in being alone.
As not seeing him again didn’t seem to be an option, she would simply have to remember that she wanted different things than he did. While being with him was fun and making love with him was extraordinary, at the end of the day, he wasn’t anyone she could depend on. Recognizing that now would allow her to protect herself. She hoped.
“I DON’T UNDERSTAND,” Fay said, from the other side of Kalinda’s bed. The girl’s mother was frantic, practically wringing her hands as she stood guard, desperate to do something. Anything.
“She has a fever and it’s climbing,” Simon told her.
Worse, Kalinda was barely conscious.
“I know that part. I sit with her every minute of every day. What I want to know is why now? What is happening to her?”
He closed the chart. “I don’t know,” he admitted, leading Fay into the hallway. “There are several possible causes. She could have an infection, she could have caught a virus or her body could be reacting to the burns.”
“But it’s been nearly a month since the accident.”
Fay Riley had no idea what her daughter had been through, he thought grimly. No matter that she’d stayed faithfully, had watched her suffer, had done her best to make things better. She couldn’t understand the depth of the damage, the incredible strain the injury put on the rest of the body.
He thought about explaining. There were technical words he could use, pictures he could show. But to what end? She would still be a frightened mother, dealing with a very sick child.
“I think it’s unlikely she has a virus. We’ll check for infection, but I don’t think it’s that, either. The healing process for what Kalinda is going through is massive. If we use the example of having to climb Mount Everest, then Kalinda has barely started on the plane trip taking her to Nepal.”
The woman stared at him. Her color drained as her eyes widened. “Are you saying she could still die?”
The truth was, she could die, he thought, but he wasn’t going to say that. Still, Fay must have guessed. Tears filled her eyes as she covered her mouth. Then she bent slightly and gave in to the sobs.
“I can’t lose her,” she gasped. “Not after all this. You have to save her.”
“We’re keeping her comfortable, helping as best we can. It’s up to her.”
Fay straightened and glared at him. “She’s only a little girl.”
“I know.”
He knew more than she gave him credit for. He’d been where Kalinda was now—suffering, close to death.
Fay continued to cry. He shifted uncomfortably, wanting to excuse himself.
“Maybe we should speak later,” he began.
She nodded and turned away.
He took a few steps toward the nurses’ station, then glanced back. Fay stood in front of the door to her daughter’s room, her arms wrapped around herself, her body still shaking from the sobs.
He’d faced situations like this before and usually found it easier on everyone if he simply walked away. Getting involved only complicated an already difficult process. Still, he found himself walking toward her, then pulling her around to face him.
“I’m sorry,” he told her.
She nodded once, then went into his arms.
He held her while she cried, knowing he had very little else to offer.
After a few minutes, the tears stopped.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, stepping back and wiping her face.
“Don’t be. You’re dealing with a lot.” He hesitated. “I really am doing my best to save her.”
“I know.” She swallowed. “I should get back to her.”
“I’ll be by in a few hours. If anything changes, have me paged.”
“I will. Thank you.”
He watched her go, then started down the hallway.
Kalinda needed more surgeries. The problem was he couldn’t do anything until she was stronger. The fever would leave her even more weak.
His time in town was limited. The way things were going, he would be lucky to operate on her twice before he had to go. She was facing dozens more procedures. Which meant someone else would be seeing her through the next few years.
Usually he didn’t mind if other physicians finished what he’d started, but something about Kalinda made the situation different. Maybe it was because she talked about wanting to be a doctor, like him. He could tell that her injury had already had a profound effect on the way she viewed herself and her future.
“Let it go,” he told himself as he checked his messages.
An hour later he was back in his office. There was no Cece to greet him. Montana had left a note saying she was taking the dog to a nursing home that day.
He found himself missing the small crate in the corner and the wildly excited greeting whenever the dog saw him. He’d never been much of a dog person, but Cece was changing his mind.
He buried himself in paperwork, catching up on his charting and scanning a couple of journal articles. Just before lunch, he heard a knock on his door.
“Come in.”
He knew better than to expect Montana, but he was still disappointed when a tall, well dressed woman entered his office.
“Dr. Bradley,” she said with a smile.
“Dr. Duval.”
The hospital administrator was one of those frighteningly efficient women who managed to get her point across with a single lift of her eyebrow.
“How are you enjoying your time here in Fool’s Gold?” she asked, taking the chair across from his.
“Everyone has been very friendly and cooperative.”
“That’s the kind of town we are.” She glanced toward the corner where the dog crate was kept. “I see Cece isn’t with us today.”
“No. Montana wanted to take her to a local nursing home.”
“Interesting young woman, our Montana,” Dr. Duval said. “It took her some time to decide what she wanted to do with her life. Working with the therapy dogs seems to be her calling. She’s done some extraordinary work.”
In his experience, hospital administrators focused on the logistics of running a hospital. There were a thousand details to be managed—personnel, patients, supplies. Usually those in charge were not familiar with things like therapy-dog programs and how well those running the programs were doing in their personal lives. But very little about Fool’s Gold was like any place he’d ever lived before.
“I heard Kalinda is having some trouble,” she continued. “Such a small child to endure such a horrible accident. If the dog helps, I’m grateful you’ve allowed the dog to be here.”
He knew there was more to the conversation. Dr. Duval hadn’t stopped by just to chat. So he leaned back in his chair and waited.
The wait wasn’t long.
“As we discussed when you first came here,” she began, “we’re having a fundraiser in a couple of weeks. I wanted to confirm that you’ll be attending.”
He doubted that confirm was the right word. She was here to make sure he planned on attending, and if he put up a fuss she would find some way to force him. He knew the type. Dr. Duval was the kind of woman who got things done, which made her someone he respected.
He didn’t want to go to the fundraiser. Being the focus of attention in a room with two or three hundred people was his personal idea of hell. But it was one of the costs of doing business.
“I’ll be there.”
She looked both surprised and relieved. “I’m glad to hear that. Having you here is an incredible gift, but you don’t come cheap.”
He smiled. “I’m confident the cost is worth it.”
“It is.” She leaned toward him. “You could have charged us more. Your fee is the least of it.”
“I get more than enough out of what you pay me.”
What he did had made him relatively well-off. He didn’t need to gouge local hospitals for sport. Most of the costs of having him came from the fact that he required the hospital to allow uninsured patients free of charge. If someone needed his help, they got it, regardless of their ability to pay.
This forced the hospitals to raise money both before and after his visit. But it meant children like Kalinda had a chance.
She rose. “I look forward to seeing you at the fundraiser. Will you be bringing anyone?”
There was Montana. While a part of him wanted to see her dressed up, wanted to spend the evening with her, maybe even dance with her, he had his doubts about this kind of event.
“I haven’t decided.”
Dr. Duval’s gaze was steady. “Let me know either way, so we can accommodate your guest at the table.”
She left.
Simon drew in a breath. What he should do for Montana was at odds with what he wanted to do for himself. He didn’t usually indulge in moral dilemmas. But then he didn’t usually indulge himself with women like Montana.
DENISE WAS GETTING a little concerned that the people at the winery tasting room were going to start charging her rent. She supposed she should find a second place for her string of hideous first dates, but the tasting room was so convenient. They served “small bites” of food, the wine was excellent and she doubted there was a better view in a fifty-mile radius. All of which were very helpful when one was meeting strange men.
Her latest first date was with a man named Art. They’d met online, something she didn’t usually do, but…desperate times and all that. He’d been in the “over fifty” section. No more younger men for her.
As she walked into the tasting room, she searched for a man who looked like the picture she’d seen on her computer. He’d had nice eyes and slightly graying hair that was a little curly.
“Denise? I’m Art. Nice to meet you.”
It was all she could do to keep her mouth from falling open. The man standing in front of her was barely her height, nearly as wide as he was tall, with a few wisps of white hair. She saw some resemblance to the man in the picture she’d been sent, but the man in front of her was more his father than anything else. She’d been looking for a guy in his fifties. Her date had to be pushing seventy.
“Art?”
“Yep. Nice to meet you. I’m a little surprised.”
He was surprised? If they had a contest about that, she was pretty sure she would be the winner.
“You look just like your picture,” he told her. “That almost never happens. Lucky me.”
“Yes, lucky you,” she murmured.
They got a table on the patio. It was barely four in the afternoon, but an awning protected them from the sun. The server came around and they each ordered a glass of wine. Red for her, white for him. Art asked for a couple of cubes of ice in his. When the server flinched, Denise did her best not to cringe.
“So tell me about yourself,” Denise said, knowing she was stuck for at least half an hour. Then she told herself she shouldn’t be so quick to judge Art. He was probably a very nice man. If she gave him a chance, maybe they would hit it off.
“I’m retired,” he began. “I live east of Sacramento, in a nice little mobile-home park. Got me a double-wide. But I’m thinking of moving to Florida. Love Florida. There’s lots of fishing. You fish?”
“Not so much.”
“You should try it. It’s great fun. I’ve been looking at some real estate online. I can’t decide between a condo or a patio home. I don’t want to worry about a yard.” He grinned. “At my age, you always got to be concerned about a heart attack.”
The server returned with their wine and a mini quesadilla.
Art swirled his glass, clinking the ice cubes together, then took a sip. He smacked his lips together. “That’s a fine wine.” He looked over the quesadilla. “I’m really not supposed to have a lot of cheese,” he said, then grinned. “What the hey. You only live once, right?”
He picked up the whole quesadilla and swallowed it in two bites. Then he looked at Denise. “Did you want some of that?”
“I guess not.”
Art seemed unfazed by her response. “We can order another one.”
“That’s okay. I’m not hungry.”
They spent the next ten or fifteen minutes discussing the ins and outs of retirement financial planning. Art was very proud of his 401(k). He also told her in great detail what she should look for when she had to pick a Medicare supplement.
“I’m a few years from Medicare,” she said faintly.
“It’s never too early to start getting prepared.”
“I suppose.”
So far she hadn’t touched her wine. As a rule, she didn’t like to have a glass without having something to eat, but she wasn’t going to order more food. That would not only be awkward, it would mean she would have to stay longer.
She checked her watch. It had only been twenty minutes. Was there something wrong with the earth’s rotation? It felt like an hour had passed. She sighed.
“What else do you like to do?” she asked. So far they had only talked about Art, but she was okay with that. It wasn’t as if they were going to have a relationship.
He set down his glass and leaned toward her. If she didn’t know better, she would swear he was leering at her.
“I still enjoy those bedroom games,” he said with a wink. “I wouldn’t mind doing a round or two of the escaped prisoner and the warden’s wife, if you’re interested.”
Denise opened her mouth, then closed it. She felt herself blushing and hoped no one had heard him.
She stood. “I don’t think so. It was very nice to meet you, Art, but it’s time for me to go.”
He grabbed her hand. “You’ve been widowed ten years now. You’ve got to be hurting. I’m willing to help, offer what I can.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
She didn’t know whether to laugh or scream. Frankly, the best idea seemed to be throwing his ice cubes with white wine in his lap. But that would cause a scene and she wasn’t that kind of woman. More’s the pity.
“Goodbye,” she said firmly, as she put her handbag over her shoulder.
She turned and marched purposefully toward the exit. The stone path was a little uneven and as she rounded the corner she nearly lost her balance. Before she began to fall, she felt someone take hold of her arm and steady her. For one horrifying moment, she thought that Art had followed her. That he was the kind of man who didn’t understand the word no.
She straightened and looked at the man who had rescued her.
Frying pan, meet fire, she thought, staring into a familiar pair of dark blue eyes.
She might not have seen Max Thurman in nearly forty years, having spent the past year avoiding running into him, but she sure recognized him. He had the same broad shoulders, the same muscled build. And, dammit all to hell, the man still looked like a god in jeans.
“Denise?”
Max stared at her. She thought he looked more pleased than surprised, but she wasn’t sure. Just as unsettling, her stomach went all fluttery, and she felt nervous, as she had when she’d first met him. She’d been seventeen and he’d been twenty. A man, while she’d still been on that cusp between girl and woman. The night of her eighteenth birthday he’d helped her cross over.
He grinned. “It is you. I’ve been hoping we would run—”
Into each other? Not likely. She’d done her best to make sure that never happened. She’d wanted to avoid any moment like this one.
“I have to go,” she said desperately, interrupting him.
She couldn’t talk to him now, not like this. Not after all this time. What if he saw Art and thought they were together? What if he said she looked old or…
Her mind was close to exploding with hideous scenarios. So much for the years adding serenity and grace.
Then she did the only thing she could think of. She ran.
SIMON STOOD IN FRONT of Montana’s door. He’d done his best to avoid her and instead had found himself missing everything about her. Being intelligent didn’t seem to play into his decision-making process. The need to see her overwhelmed everything else.
He raised his hand to knock, then heard a strange sound from inside. It was almost a cry, but one he couldn’t place. Was he interrupting something?
The thought of her with another man enraged him and he pounded his fist against the door. Who could she be with?
He waited while she called, “Just a minute.” Then the door opened.
Montana stood in front of him, wearing shorts, a cropped T-shirt and little else. Desire joined fury as he pushed past her and entered her living room.
“Where is he?”
He glanced around, expecting to see wine and candles. Instead the drapes were open, along with the windows. There was no evidence of a romantic evening. Where he thought he would find a man, he saw three black-and-white puppies fighting over a sock. One of them yipped, replicating the sound he’d heard before.
He turned back to her and saw she held another puppy in her arms.
“Where is who?” she asked, tilting her head as she stared at him.
“I… No one.” Feeling stupid, he shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “Hi.”
“Hi, yourself. Is everything okay?”
He nodded. “Should I have called first?”
“Probably, but it’s okay that you didn’t.”
“You have puppies.”
“Four of them. Both their parents are great service dogs, and part of a breeding program. I’m keeping the puppies with me at night for a couple of weeks to help assess them. Max has them during the day.”
“He’s giving you the rough duty.”
“I’m the junior staff member. It’s part of my job.”
He tried to figure out what she was thinking. Feeling. When he’d last seen her, they’d argued. No, that wasn’t the right word. Whatever it had been, they hadn’t been getting along. Although he’d planned to spend the night with her, he’d ended up leaving.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes. Are you?”
Very few people asked him that. He was the one in charge—the one who made the decisions, changed the lives.
“I thought you were mad at me,” he said.
“I was never mad.”
She set down the puppy. It raced off to join the others fighting with the sock. Sounds of their happy yips and growls provided surprisingly pleasant background noise.
“I missed you,” he admitted.
“So you decided I was seeing someone else?”
“Not until I got here and heard strange sounds.”
“You don’t date much, do you?” she asked.
“I don’t date at all.”
“I know there are women. You’re too hunky for them to ignore you. So what do you do with them?”
Hunky? No one had every described him that way. The thought was distracting. He was a freak. A monster. How could she see him so differently?
“I sometimes meet women. But it’s usually…light.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Let me guess. Dinner and small talk followed by mutually satisfying sex.”
“Something like that.”
She stared at him.
“Fine,” he ground out. “Exactly that.”
“Then, you leave them.”
“Then I leave.”
“Are you ever sorry? Do you ever miss these interchangeable women?”
“No.”
“Are you going to miss me?”
Now it was his turn to stare, to take in her wide eyes, her long blond hair, the shape of her mouth. He would know her taste or scent anywhere. There could be a thousand women in a dark room and he would have no trouble finding her.
He crossed the room and kissed her, doing his best to memorize her touch. She leaned into him, her arms wrapping around him, holding him close.
Her body tempted him and he used his hands to rediscover her curves. It was only an incessant tugging on the bottom of his jeans that caused him to draw back.
He glanced down and saw one of the puppies chewing on the fabric.
“Who are you?” he asked, bending over and scooping up the dog.
The puppy was more white than black, with a happy face and floppy ears. He relaxed as Simon rolled him onto his back and held him against his chest.
“That’s Palmer,” Montana told him. “There are three boys and one girl. Palmer, Jester, Bentley and Daphne.”
“Palmer, huh? That’s a big name to live up to.” He held the dog in the air as he spoke. Palmer swiped his tongue across Simon’s chin.
“You’re a natural,” she said.
He chuckled. “So, what’s the drill?”
“I do my best to tire them out, then we have a potty break before bed. About two in the morning I get them all up for another potty break, then we sleep until about five-thirty.”
“Grueling.”
“They’re worth the trouble.”
“Want some company?”
“You mean you want to stay here tonight?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“I’m not sure.”
Her answer burned down to his soul. He felt as if she’d hit him with the side of a car. “I see.”
“No, you don’t. You didn’t answer the question.”
It took him a second to remember, then he took her hand in his and kissed her palm.
“I’m sorry. I thought I had.” He looked at her. “I will miss you, Montana. For the first time in my life, I’ll regret leaving someone behind.”
She squeezed his fingers, then pulled her hand free.
“Okay, then. We’re going to play fetch. With nine-week-old puppies, it’s kind of an imperfect version, but it’s lots of fun.”
She walked over to the entertainment center in the corner and took four small balls off the top shelf. When she pushed them, they made a sharp, squeaking sound. All four puppies slid to a halt and turned to face her. Their ears were raised, their tails wagging in anticipation.
“Ready?” she asked, grinning.
The puppies were already running down the hall.
She threw all four balls at once. Barks exploded as the small dogs scrambled for a ball. Montana laughed and raced after them. Simon watched her and the puppies and knew that regret didn’t come close to what he would feel when it was time to leave.