When Aiden had been a brand-new M.D., compliments of a navy scholarship, his first assignment was as a GMO—general medical officer—aboard ship. It was a two-year assignment that dry-docked every six months for a few months. They put into port regularly, during which time he could see the world and feel earth beneath his feet, but his life was spent aboard ship. The medical officer was under a great deal of pressure 24/7—being the only doctor in charge of a complete medical staff and the only officer aboard who could relieve the ship’s captain of duty. He knew the pressure was extreme when he found himself taking his duty phone into the shower with him—that was over-the-top. They had also spent their share of time in the Persian Gulf, which meant giving emergency medical treatment to civilians in trouble—mostly fishermen or ship’s crewmen who didn’t speak English.
His reward for that duty was his residency in OB-GYN, which obligated him to more commitment to the navy. But it had been worth it—he took care of the female military personnel and wives of active-duty and retired sailors and marines. It was a good life. He had stayed in one place for a long time—San Diego.
Then he was due a promotion, and the navy felt it was time for him to go to sea again. It would have meant general medical officer once more—not in his specialty. There wasn’t a lot of call for an OB-GYN aboard an aircraft carrier. Aiden didn’t mind being out to sea so much, but he was thirty-six. It wasn’t something he talked about, but he felt there were things missing from his life. A wife and family for one thing, and he wasn’t likely to meet a woman who could fill that bill on a big gray boat. He needed to be on land.
Sometimes he asked himself why that even mattered—it wasn’t as though being on dry land had worked so far. Right after his stint as a GMO, at the age of twenty-eight, he’d met and quickly married Annalee, who had turned out to be a total nutcase. They were married for three whole months, during which she demolished every breakable object they owned. She had been volatile, jealous and crazed—her moods shifted faster than the sands of time.
That experience left him gun-shy and slowed him down a little, but a couple of years later he was ready to get back in the game, feeling older and wiser. Still, he couldn’t seem to meet any women who were contenders for the exalted position as his wife and the mother of his children.
But one thing was for certain—it wasn’t going to happen at sea.
Truth was, he just plain wasn’t ready to commit any more time to the navy. His brothers thought fourteen years, only six from his twenty and retirement benefits, made him nuts to get out. But in his mind, these were his best years. He was still young enough to be an involved husband and father if he ever met the right woman. At the retirement age of forty-two, starting a family would be pushing it.
He glanced at Erin. Her eyes were closed and she held his ice packs on her forehead and the back of her head. He’d like a woman who looked like that—but she’d have to be sweet and far less arrogant. He was looking for someone soft and nurturing. You don’t go looking for a hard-ass to be the mother of your children, and this one was a hard-ass. Of course, what was he to expect? She was a lawyer.
He chuckled to himself. She was probably a medical-malpractice attorney.
Feeling at least partially responsible for Erin’s bump on the head, Aiden hung out at the hospital for a while. Not anywhere near her, of course. He got her checked in to the E.R., made sure she had what she needed, explained her injury and loss of consciousness to the E.R. doctor and left her car keys with him so Erin could get herself home once she was cleared to drive. Then he went outside so his less-than-pristine musk would not offend anyone. And there he sat for close to an hour.
He was just about to swing by the E.R. before calling his brother for a ride home when who should happen to walk out of the hospital but Pastor Noah Kincaid.
“Hey, Aiden,” Noah said, sticking out his hand. “What are you doing here? You didn’t have an accident, did you?”
Aiden shook his hand. “No—I think I caused one. Are you heading back to Virgin River?”
“That’s my plan. What’s going on?”
Aiden quickly explained that he’d brought Erin to the E.R. in her car and was going to call for a ride home. “But before I leave, I want to check and see what the doctor has to say. I’m hoping he’ll tell me if there’s a clean CT. Then I’m clearing out of here before she sees me.”
“Fortuitous for the lady that if she had to have an accident, it was while there was a doctor around.”
“Well,” Aiden said, rubbing the back of his neck, “she doesn’t exactly know I’m a doctor.”
“Why didn’t you just tell her?”
“Truthfully? Because she has attitude. She called me a homeless, homicidal maniac who looked like Charles Manson—and she inferred that I didn’t smell great.”
Noah broke into a wide grin. “Flirting with you, was she?”
“If I had the slightest inclination to do harm, she’d be in a lot of little pieces right now. Very irritating woman. But I’d like to know she isn’t brain damaged before I leave the hospital. Can you wait ten minutes? Then give me a lift?”
“Sure,” Noah said. “I’ll walk in with you. Did you explain to the E.R. staff who you are?”
“More or less. I described the accident, her symptoms and response to the injury, and the nurse asked me if I had medical training. And then I told her the lady had decided I was a bum, without asking me who I was, and as far as I was concerned, she didn’t need to be enlightened.”
“Ah,” Noah said. “So she can feel really stupid when she finds out.”
“Noah, I swear, you really don’t understand…”
The two of them sauntered into the emergency room and up to the nurses’ station. “How’s the woman with the head injury?” Aiden asked. “I’m getting a ride home with the pastor, but before I leave, I wanted to check on her.”
“She’s going to be just fine,” the nurse said. “The doctor wants to admit her for the night for observation, however. Better safe than sorry.”
“Probably a good idea,” Aiden agreed. “Did her CT come back?”
“All clear,” the nurse said. “But she might have a slight concussion.”
“Did I hear you tell that vagrant my house will be empty tonight?” came a loud, demanding voice from behind a curtain.
Noah immediately started to laugh. Aiden just looked at the nurse. “A good bop on the head didn’t hurt her hearing, did it?” he said as loudly as he dared. “I’m getting out of here, but when she settles down a little, tell her I’m going to use her tub and roll around in her satin sheets.”
The nurse laughed at him. “I’m not getting into that, Dr. Riordan,” she whispered. “This is between you and the lady.”
He shushed her with a finger to his lips. “Believe me, there isn’t anything between us. And there isn’t going to be. Let’s go, Noah.”
When they were under way in Noah’s old blue truck, Aiden asked, “Are you in a big hurry?”
“I don’t have all day, but there’s no rush. Need to make a stop?”
“If I can find that cabin, can we swing by? I left all my stuff there. The stuff I hike with.”
“My pleasure,” Noah said. “How’s the hiking going?”
“Pure indulgence,” he said. “I’ve logged a lot of miles, seen a lot of the area, but I’ve never had time like this before. Sometimes I just hike around the mountains, the general Virgin River area. Sometimes I drive over to the coast or down Grace Valley way for a change of scenery. I’ve never felt better.”
“Good for you! Sounds perfect. You’ll have to go back to work eventually, I assume.”
“I spend a lot of time e-mailing friends and contacts, looking around at the possibilities, trying to avoid any offer that hinges on me starting right away. But I won’t hang out here any longer than midsummer.”
Aiden didn’t have any trouble directing Noah back to the cabin, and it wasn’t hard to locate the things he’d dropped when he’d played rescue squad to the dish with the attitude. The machete and staff were lying in the yard between the house and trees. When he picked them up he noticed someone had outlined a good-size square by digging a border, but the inside of the square was still grass, dirt and rocks. Hopes of a garden?
He grabbed the backpack, and in doing so, he noticed it looked as if she’d been attempting to plant a strip of garden along the back edge of the deck. Maybe the square in the yard was just too ambitious for her and she’d opted for a smaller, more manageable plot. The dirt was pretty packed and tough up on this mountain. It looked as though she had some semicomatose tomato-plant starters, a few marigolds that had dried into confetti and a couple of other plants with very uncertain futures.
Still balanced on the railing was a plastic watering can and on the ground, a couple of garden tools that looked to be about the right size for tending house-plants. Also, for no reason he could fathom, there was a big iron skillet on the deck.
Aiden took his things to Noah’s truck and tossed them in the back. “Gimme a second, Noah.”
“What’s doing?” Noah asked.
“I think she was in the process of trying to revive the poorest attempt at a garden I’ve ever seen. I’m going to give her dying plants a drink. It’ll only take a minute. Do you mind?”
“I’m good,” Noah said. “I don’t see a garden.”
“Yeah, I know. That’s the problem. Be right back.”
Aiden grabbed the watering can off the deck railing. He put the tools on the deck and sprinkled some water on the plants. Then he took the watering can around to the back of the house to refill it from the faucet and saw a nearly empty box of Miracle-Gro sitting there. It was going to take a miracle, he thought wryly. He filled the can and watered again, drenching her little garden. Then he left the empty can on the deck and jumped into the truck with Noah.
This was all very mysterious.