Summer in Orchard Valley: Valerie / Stephanie / Norah

Valerie was grateful her features were outwardly composed when Colby entered the cubicle a few minutes later. He read over the clipboard that outlined her father’s progress, then made a brief notation.

“He’ll sleep now,” he said, guiding her out of the room.

“What’s happening?” she asked once they’d left the Coronary Care Unit. “Why is he so much weaker than before? It’s like watching his life ebb away. Surely you can do something?” She heard the note of hysteria in her own voice and didn’t care. Perhaps she was being selfish in wanting him to live when he so clearly wanted to be released from life. But she loved him so desperately. She needed him, and so did Steffie and Norah.

“We’re doing everything we can,” Colby assured her.

“I know—but it’s not enough.”

“Valerie, trust me, I love that crotchety old man myself. I don’t want to lose him, either.” He led the way to the elevator. “Come on, I’ll buy you some dinner.”

When she declined, he said, “Well, at least a cup of coffee.”

She was on the verge of pointing out that there was coffee in the waiting room, then hesitated. He was right. She needed a break, even if it was only ten minutes in the hospital cafeteria.

They rode the elevator down to the basement and walked into the large, open room, which was mostly empty now. Colby reached for a serving tray and slid it along the counter, collecting a green dinner salad, a cellophane-wrapped turkey sandwich and coffee. Valerie surveyed the cottage cheese salad with the limp pineapple and instead grabbed a bottle of cranberry juice. She wasn’t at all hungry, although she’d eaten very little in the past few days.

He withdrew his wallet and paid the cashier, then carried the tray to a table at the back of the room, near the window.

He chose one far removed from any of the occupied tables, and that started Valerie’s heart pounding with a renewed sense of anxiety. Colby had brought her here to face the inevitable.

“I’m going to lose my father, aren’t I?” she asked outright, determined to confront the truth head-on.

Colby looked up, his dark eyes filled with surprise. “Not if I can help it. What makes you ask?”

She slumped against the back of the chair, so relieved that it was all she could do not to weep openly. “I thought that was why you brought me here—what you intended to tell me.” With trembling hands, she picked up the bottle of juice and removed the top.

“We aren’t going to lose him.” He spoke with such fierce conviction that she realized his will to keep her father alive was as strong as her own.

“How long have you known my dad?” she asked, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the table.

“A few years now.”

Valerie vaguely recalled hearing Colby’s name mentioned once or twice, but she couldn’t remember when or for what reason. With her hectic work schedule she’d been home only intermittently. Her last visit had been nearly six months ago, although she phoned weekly.

“We met soon after your mother died,” Colby explained. “Your father made a generous donation to the hospital in her name.”

Valerie knew that David’s contribution had been large enough for the hospital to begin construction of a new wing. The irony of the situation struck her for the first time, and she drew in a deep, painful breath. The new wing housed the Coronary Care Unit.

“By the way,” she said, feeling obliged to apologize—or at least acknowledge his reputation. “I understand that I was, uh, mistaken earlier in what I assumed about your skills. I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry.” He shrugged. “It happens all the time. But back to your dad—he and I play chess once a week.”

“You ever beat him?”

Colby grinned. “Occasionally, but not often.”

Valerie was good at chess herself, which was hardly surprising since her father had taught her to play. One day, perhaps, when all of this was over, she’d challenge Colby to a game. Odd how easy it was to assume they’d continue to know each other…. “He’s very proud of you,” Colby said casually as he unwrapped his sandwich.

Valerie suppressed a sudden urge to giggle. “So … he mentioned me before his attack.”

“At every opportunity.” He frowned as he said it. He was, no doubt, thoroughly sick of the subject.

Valerie settled back and crossed her arms, enjoying herself. “In other words, Dad’s preoccupation with matching the two of us up isn’t something new.”

Colby paused, averting his gaze. “Let’s put it this way. He wasn’t quite as blatant about it as he’s been the past few days.”

“You must’ve been curious about me.”

“A little.”

“And?” she said. “What do you think?”

Colby lifted his shoulders, as if to say she hadn’t impressed him. Or was he saying she hadn’t disappointed him?

“That doesn’t tell me a thing,” she complained.

“You’re everything your father said and more,” he muttered, obviously hoping to satisfy her and at the same time put an end to the conversation.

Valerie knew it was sheer vanity to be so pleased. Still, although he might have intended his remark as a compliment, she didn’t read any admiration in his eyes. If Dr. Colby Winston was attracted to her, he concealed it well. She hated to admit how much that wounded her pride. The truth was, she wanted him to be fascinated with her. She wanted him to feel enthralled, enchanted, impressed—the way she was with him. Because, despite herself, and despite their awkward beginning, despite the prospect of a relationship with Rowdy Cassidy, she couldn’t get Colby out of her mind.

In a strictly objective way, Valerie knew she was slim and attractive. No matter what her father said about her hair, it was styled in an exuberant tangle of russet curls that highlighted her cheekbones and unusual gray-green eyes.

Those eyes were her greatest asset in the looks department, although her mouth tended to be expressive. Being tall, almost five eight, was a plus, too. Norah was barely five three, and the entire world seemed to tower above her sister. When Valerie wore heels, there wasn’t a man in her field she couldn’t meet at eye level, which she considered a definite advantage.

“You don’t like me, do you?” she asked bluntly.

Her question clearly took him aback, and he didn’t immediately respond. “I don’t dislike you,” he finally said.

“I make you nervous?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then what is it?” she prodded. “Don’t worry. I’m not planning to fall in love with you. As I said before, there’s someone else on the horizon. I’m just … curious.”

“About what?”

“How you feel about me.”

His mouth tightened, and Valerie could tell he wasn’t accustomed to dealing with a woman as direct as she was. Most men weren’t. Valerie didn’t believe in suggestion or subtlety. The shortest distance between any two points was a straight line. She’d learned that in high-school geometry and it had worked equally well in life.

“I think you’re very good at what you do.”

He was sidestepping her question and doing a relatively competent job of it, but she wasn’t fooled. “Which is?” she pressed.

“Functioning in a male-dominated field.”

“Are you implying I’ve sacrificed my femininity?” She couldn’t help sounding a bit sarcastic.