Trouble in Tennessee

“I can’t believe you’re really coming!” Charity had squealed when she heard the news.

Neither can I, Treble had thought. “I should be in Wednesday afternoon. Or evening. I’m not what you call an early riser.”

“We’ll be watching for you. What are you driving these days?”

“Same car as always.”

There had been a brief pause before Charity said, “Maybe you should look into flights.”

Ridiculous. The nearest airport to Joyous was in Chattanooga. By the time Treble drove to Hartsfield—two hours early to allow for security and long check-in lines—caught her plane in Atlanta, deboarded in Chattanooga and met Charity’s husband for the ride to Joyous, it would have been just as quick to drive straight there. Besides, while Treble had talked herself into making this journey, keeping a getaway car at her disposal was mandatory.

“So much for being a reliable escape plan,” she growled at her motionless hatchback. She hadn’t expected a triumphant return, but she would have preferred something less embarrassing than being dragged into town limits by a tow truck.

Picking up her cell phone, she said a quick prayer that she could get a decent signal out here. She exhaled a whoosh of relief when the call to her sister’s house went through.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Charity. It’s Treble. I don’t suppose Bill’s there?” Bill worked in the office of a milk plant for Breckfield Dairy Farms and Creamery, but he’d been keeping sporadic hours to look after his wife. One of the perks of the CEO being your father-in-law. “I have a car question for him.”

“He and Dad went to look at some heifers one county over, but they’ll be back by dinner. Just how urgent is this question?”

Treble wondered how long it would be before any other drivers came down the two-lane road. “Oh…fairly urgent.”

“I knew it!” Charity’s voice took on a breathless, panicked rhythm. “That darn car. It’s crapped out on you, hasn’t it?”

As much as she would have liked to assure her sister otherwise, there was no escaping the reality of the situation. “Pretty much. But maybe we can save the I-told-you-so’s until after we’ve rounded up a mechanic?”

“Well, that would be Ronnie over at Carter and Sons, but Carter closes for a late lunch every day from two to three. How far away are you?” Charity listened, did some mental calculations, then decided, “I could have Doc Caldwell come get you. Ronnie can go back with the tow truck later, but there’s no sense in you just waiting on the side of the road.”

“Who is Doc Caldwell, and what makes you think he’s available smack-dab in the middle of the day on Wednesday?”

“A friend and sometimes fishing buddy of Dad’s. He’s Doc Monaghan’s replacement, moved to town right after Bill and I found out I was pregnant.”

Doc Monaghan had been the general practitioner in Joyous who’d told Treble’s mom that she was pregnant with Charity and later diagnosed Treble’s tonsillitis. He had to have been nearing seventy by the time Charity got married, so it was about time the town brought in someone else. Hopefully this Doc Caldwell still had a few good years left in him before retirement.

“As far as his schedule,” Charity continued, “he told Bill he didn’t have many appointments and could check in on me. I keep promising these men I won’t do anything more strenuous than get up to pee, but apparently they don’t believe me. I’d just as soon sic the doctor on you as have company show up when I’d rather be napping. Afternoons hit me hardest.”

Treble laughed. “If asking him to come get me will gain you a little peace, I suppose you should do it.”

Ten minutes later, Charity called back to say the man was on his way.

“Sorry I didn’t have any distinctive landmarks to give him,” Treble said, looking around at a whole lot of nothing. Wildflowers dotted the roadside, and bales of hay had been spaced across the meadow for unseen cows. Some people might find the pastoral scene beneath the blue sky and cotton-ball clouds soothing, but the charm had worn off, leaving Treble antsy for air-conditioning and antihistamine.

“Don’t worry,” Charity said. “He knows that if he sees Peggy’s Pancake House he’s gone too far. How many brunettes stranded inside old hatchbacks do you think he’s going to pass between here and there?”

“Good point.” So Treble settled into her car, which she was thinking of having compressed into a doorstop, and waited. She considered turning on the radio to help kill time, but taxing the battery was probably a bad idea.

To keep from screaming in boredom or thinking much about the inevitable moment she saw her stepfather tonight, she pulled out her omnipresent Sudoku book, but she couldn’t concentrate. Instead, she grabbed a small manicure kit from her duffel bag. Her fingernails were looking ragged and could use some attention.

She’d finished applying a second coat of metallic blue polish when a pickup truck rounded a bend up ahead and came toward her in the opposite lane. The scuffed white Chevy veered onto the grassy shoulder across the road and parked. From her position, Treble could tell it was a man driving, but between distance, dusty windows and the billed cap he wore, any other details were obscured.

Wondering if this was her stepfather’s buddy or just a random soul stopping to offer assistance, Treble watched with unabashed curiosity. The truck door opened and a pair of long, denim-encased legs unfolded. In addition to the jeans, the stranger wore a green polo shirt, the short sleeves loosely molding nice shoulders and revealing equally nice forearms. She climbed out of her car, experiencing a tingle of prurient appreciation over the man’s chiseled profile as he looked both ways for nonexistent traffic. The cautious habit made her grin, and she was still smiling as he reached her. As he got closer, she realized he was taller than her five foot ten by at least three inches.

Hellooo, Good-Looking Samaritan.

Beneath the Tennessee Vols cap he wore, he had thick brown hair and a fantastic face. Not blandly attractive in the urbane “metrosexual” way as some of her guy friends back in Atlanta, but rugged. Though he couldn’t be much older than Treble, there was a lot of character in the intriguing planes and angles of his face, the slashes bracketing sensual lips where dimples might appear when he smiled, the deep, deep blue eyes.

Charity had sky-blue eyes, nearly pastel. This man’s were dark like the ocean with serious potential for undercurrents that could suck a girl in without her realizing. Or protesting.

“Treble?”

Her body warmed when he said her name, making her feel silly. “You know me?” Had they gone to school together in Joyous? With her somewhat public antics, there were plenty of people who might recognize her before she recognized them, but she imagined this guy would have left an impression even as a teen.

“No, I haven’t had the pleasure.” He shoved the cap back on his head, that blue gaze sliding over her in assessment. “Keith Caldwell. Charity sent me.”

Treble was dimly aware of gaping. This broad-shouldered man with the piercing gaze and large hands, currently resting with thumbs hooked in his front pockets, was Doc Caldwell? Women in Joyous must be forming lines down Main Street just to get their temperatures checked—though a fever in the good doctor’s presence seemed a foregone conclusion.

HIS BRAIN ON autopilot, Keith extended a hand toward the woman in front of him. “Nice to meet you.”

There was a framed wedding picture on Charity and Bill’s mantel that included Treble, but the flesh-and-blood version looked less like the satin-clad demure brunette in the back row of a bridal party and more like the wild-child stories he’d heard since moving to Joyous. He’d never asked Harrison or Charity to expound on the gossip about the “ungrateful stepdaughter” and her unlawful habits of shoplifting and grand theft auto. Keith knew what it was like not to want to discuss a painful family past or self-destructive siblings.

“I’d shake your hand,” Treble drawled, “but I just painted my nails.” She waggled her fingers near her face long enough for him to notice the flash of blue, a color choice that made him think momentarily of frostbite.

He almost laughed at the irony since everything else about this woman said hot.

She wore a cropped black T-shirt, with sleeves so short it was almost a tank top, and denim shorts. While her outfit wasn’t unduly revealing for June, she definitely showed a tantalizing amount of supple skin. There was even a light sheen of sweat across her rosy cheeks. Whether she’d wanted her hair off her neck because it was cooler or she just customarily wore it up, she’d pulled the wavy mass into a haphazard topknot with a sparkly black barrette. Several strands fell free, however, giving her a look that was arrestingly bold when combined with her full lips, high forehead and the tiny cleft in her chin. Each detail from the almost indefinably exotic shape of her dark eyes to the sliver of bared skin at her midriff suggested she was a girl who liked to color outside the lines.

Or was he projecting based on speculation?

“You about done looking?” Treble asked, her tone amused.

Keith’s face warmed. He felt as awkward as a teenager caught ogling a hot substitute teacher. “Sorry. Guess I was surprised. For sisters, you and Charity don’t look alike.”

Treble’s eyes narrowed. “Half sisters. I’m sure as a doctor you understand how having different fathers leads to very different genetic makeup.”

Which part was she touchy about, Charity or the father situation? Harrison certainly looked tense whenever someone made mention of his stepdaughter. The last thing the older man needed right now was more tension, although that was something the family would have to sort out themselves.

For now, best to change the subject to something that didn’t make her glare daggers. “What all do we need to grab out of your car before we lock it up and go?”

“I have a couple of suitcases in the trunk.” She turned on her heel and headed toward the back of the vehicle.

Keith wished he could realistically offer to help get the car started, but his specialty was fixing people, not automobiles. He’d leave the mechanical maintenance to the professionals. Treble hefted two bright red suitcases, and he reached to take them from her.

She frowned, not letting go. “I’m able-bodied, Dr. Caldwell.”

“And so gracious,” he said mildly. “Why do I feel like we got off to a bad start?”

Silently, she handed over the cases, then ran a hand through her hair as if she’d forgotten it was pulled back, further dislodging ringlets that fell into her face. “Sorry. It’s been a stressful day.”

“Well, don’t worry. Ronnie will take care of your car, for sure.”

Treble laughed dryly. She followed him to the truck, strangely rigid for a woman with blue fingernails and carefree curls. There was more on her mind than automotive problems, but he didn’t pry. She didn’t owe him explanations in return for the ride. In fact, Keith frequently sought out chances to do favors for Harrison Breckfield and Charity.

Keith had first seen moving to Joyous as an escape—from the double loss he’d suffered in Savannah, from the chaos of working in an Atlanta E.R.—but it had become more than that. With the endorsement of the town’s leading citizen, Keith had gradually become a true part of the community. He had a brand-new life and was aware of how much he owed to Harrison’s support. When you were replacing a town institution like Doc Monaghan, people didn’t warm to you right away. Some old-timers didn’t cotton to the idea of progress and had repeatedly stressed the way Monaghan had done things. Meanwhile, husbands and fathers expressed discomfort—and occasional outrage—at the thought of Keith examining their wives and adolescent daughters. A few people had actually chosen to drive to the GP in nearby Devlin rather than visit “that young newcomer.”

Harrison Breckfield, however, had been propelled into the downtown clinic five months ago when he’d experienced chest pains. After a brief subsequent stay at the county hospital, Harrison had taken Keith under his wing. He’d invited the younger man to dinner, given him a tour of the original Breckfield Dairy—part of a Southeastern empire with its own line of milk, yogurts, cottage cheese and desserts—and made it clear to the townspeople the new doctor was to be trusted and accepted. Following that first dinner at Harrison’s gigantic house, office appointments had doubled and other invitations had gradually trickled in. Keith loved this town, its slow rhythm and the way he’d been accepted here. Though it would be crass to think of them as replacements for the sister who drowned or the father who later died, Harrison, Charity and her husband were the closest thing to family Keith had found since his mom remarried while he was away at college. If only Keith could pay back the older man’s generosity by getting Harrison to take his heart problems more seriously….

Temporarily lost in thought, Keith hadn’t realized how quiet it was in the cab of the truck.

“Um, Keith? Is it cool with you if I turn on the radio?”

“Of course. Sorry, I’m usually more companionable than this, I was just thinking about…a patient.”

“Stumped by a medical mystery?” she asked. “I occasionally tape episodes of House.”

He laughed. “Nothing that dramatic. And only a really talented actor can pull off that bedside manner. The people of Joyous expect someone more traditional.”

“You got that right,” she muttered, a scowl darkening her face. But then she forced a smile and reached for the radio dials. A twangy ballad about a redneck Romeo seeking his honky-tonk Juliet spilled from the speakers.

“Yeesh.” She punched the buttons quickly.

“Not a fan of country music?” he asked. There were a few other options in this neck of the woods, but not many.

“My view on music mirrors my philosophy on men,” she told him with a mischievous glance. “I don’t have just one type, but I am selective. That song was bad on many levels. Ah. This is more like it.” She’d landed on a classic rock station for the opening chords of a late-seventies hit.

Keith smiled as he turned up the volume. “This one’s a little before your time, isn’t it?”

“Baby, I’m timeless.” She flashed him a grin that nearly had him skidding off the road.

It occurred to him that, since moving to Joyous, he’d been subjected to a much different male-female dynamic than he’d known in his twenties. Lately, potential romances involved aging couples with single daughters inviting him to Sunday dinner or available women bringing him frozen casseroles and gelatin molds. Treble hadn’t meant anything by her throwaway comment, but there was a lot to be said for a brazen smile and baby-doll T-shirt over a strawberry gelatin salad.

Not that Keith would ever do more than appreciate from a cautious distance the smile that belonged to the notorious prodigal stepdaughter of Harrison Breckfield. As appealing as she might be, the woman had trouble written all over her, and that was the last thing Keith needed in his new life.

Chapter Three

By the time they’d rolled into town on picturesque streets flanked by storefronts and pink flowering crepe myrtles, Treble was so tense she felt as if her neck muscles might actually shatter. If Keith had noticed, he hadn’t commented. About all he’d done was occasionally bob his head in an endearing manner along to guitar riffs and drum solos. Maybe he was oblivious to her stress, but weren’t doctors trained to be observant? She’d flinched when they’d passed the town limits sign.

Technically it read Welcome To Joyous, Home of Famous Breckfield Ice Cream, but judging from her suddenly clammy palms and the unpleasant way her stomach had flipped, it might as well have proclaimed, Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here. Get a grip, girlfriend. Nothing scares you, remember? Well, except low ratings and spiders. She was only human.

A fan had asked her once if she ever worried about losing her train of thought or not knowing just the right comeback. Treble could say she truly wasn’t too worried about that. Saying something that got her called into the boss’s office the next morning was possible, but speechlessness? Unlike her. In fact, in times of nervous crisis, she usually talked more, relying on her radio persona until she felt balanced again.

She relied on chatting now. “Will you be taking me straight to my sister’s or are we going to the garage first?”

“Your call.”

“I do like an accommodating man.”

He shot her a quick look with those too-dark blue eyes. A shiver—the good kind—rippled through her.

“Penny for your thoughts,” she said.

The corner of his mouth quirked. “Doctors make decent money, even out here. I can afford to keep this to myself.”

“Spoilsport. Do you need to rush back to the practice?” she asked. “I missed lunch and owe you for the ride. I could buy us some barbecue.”

“Not necessary. This was a favor for Charity. But if you’re hungry, I’ll stop and eat with you.”

A favor for Charity. There’d been a protective note in his voice. If her sister weren’t so happily married, Treble might have entertained a twinge of envy. As it was, she found herself curious.

“So…you’re pretty good friends with my family?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She waited for him to elaborate before realizing he’d completed the thought and showed no signs of voicing another. Treble was nothing if not hardheaded, a trait her mother had remarked upon often. “How did you meet them?”

“In a town this size? I’ve met most everyone.”

She already knew he wasn’t as talkative by nature as she was, but now she got the distinct impression he was actually stonewalling her. Did he not want to discuss her family? It wasn’t as if she were a stranger nosing around for Breckfield secret recipes, for crying out loud. She was making small talk. Okay, and prying a little, too, but they were her family.

Maybe she should tackle his instead. “Do you have relatives in the area?”

“No.” His jaw tightened in punctuation.

Well, she was just batting a thousand. By the time they parked in front of Adam’s Ribs, her appetite was no longer her top concern. What had Keith heard about her? Charity wouldn’t have said anything bad, not purposefully, but the doctor was a friend of Harrison’s. Had her stepfather disparaged her? Was he glad she’d done the sisterly thing by coming home, or did he wish she was still in another state? Treble told herself she didn’t personally care, she just didn’t want any latent tension or awkward moments upsetting Charity this late in a complicated pregnancy.

Whatever bad karma was responsible for her defunct car apparently hadn’t finished toying with her. Feeling borderline apprehensive already, the last person she needed to see the second she stepped into the smoke-scented restaurant was Rich Danner. Now you know that’s not true, Treb. It could have been Mitchell Reyes… But her mind immediately shied away from that memory and the pain associated with it. Rich Danner was bad enough.

He’d been a high school senior, two years older than her, the year her mother had been killed by a drunk driver. Treble had desperately needed solace and felt outside the circle of grief Harrison Breckfield shared with his younger natural daughter. Blindly adoring, Treble had turned to Rich.

More than a decade later and he was still good-looking, she noted dispassionately. Was there no justice in the world? Ex-boy-friends who casually took your virginity, then moved on to college and older girls, were supposed to go bald and develop a paunch. It should be a law of physics. Rich’s black hair was close-cropped, but showed no signs of male pattern baldness. His body was as lean as ever.

Rich had been enjoying a plate of the best spareribs in the state, but looked up as if he’d felt her watching. For a second he was frozen with surprise. Then his lips curved into a slow, meaningful grin. As if he was remembering the “good times” they’d shared.

Good times that had ended one muggy August night. “It wouldn’t be fair of me to ask you to wait until we can be together again,” he’d cooed with persuasive and patently false caring. “I’m moving on, and you’ll be here with football games and high school dances you shouldn’t be cheated out of. There will be plenty of guys your age who want to go out with you.” Yeah, especially after Rich shot off his mouth about how willing she’d been in the backseat of his dad’s Cadillac.

Looking away from Rich, she whirled around so quickly she almost collided with Keith, Treble conjured a bright smile and equally bright tone. “It’s been forever since I ate here. What do you recommend?”

“I’m fond of the pulled pork sandwich.” He raised an eyebrow. “I would have you pegged as a woman who liked to decide her own order without advice.”

Pouting prettily, she wagged a finger at him. “Shame on you, judging so quickly. Wouldn’t it be more fun to get to know me? I don’t bite. Well, rarely.”

He studied her, looking unimpressed. “Are you always so…flirtatious with virtual strangers?”

Embarrassment warmed her cheeks, but she refused to get defensive. “That was just joking around, Doc. If I decide to flirt with you, trust me, you’ll know.” Irritating man. She hadn’t been coming on to him. She’d been anxious after his responses—make that non responses—about her family, and seeing Rich had been the toxic icing on the cake. Would it have killed Keith to smile back at her? Surely a guy who looked like this had some experience bantering with women.

“If you decide to flirt,” he said blandly, “give me a heads up so I can be elsewhere. I prefer genuine to calculated feminine wiles.”

No wonder the man was good friends with Harrison. Two like-minded judgmental sticks-in-the-mud.

A gangly teenager with minor acne and major amounts of musky aftershave cleared his throat, making it clear Keith and Treble were blocking the entrance. The doctor mumbled an apology and steered her away with his hand on her elbow. His touch was gentle but seared her skin nonetheless.

She jerked her arm away, then sighed inwardly. Now she probably looked petulant on top of everything else. What if she approached the situation as she would a caller she had inadvertently offended? Debate and sassy comebacks were good for the show, but there was a line she didn’t cross when it came to antagonizing listeners. Why not just try the direct approach?

“Sorry if I was snippy there for a moment.” Unwilling to discuss the family part of how difficult coming home was, particularly when she had a feeling Keith was already prejudiced on the subject, she gave him the other half of the truth. “There’s an ex-boyfriend of mine in here.”

She gave Keith credit for not turning to scope the ex in question, which Alana would have done immediately. Then again, Alana was a friend with a vested interest in Treble; Keith most likely didn’t care.

“Bad breakup?” he guessed.

With aching, unwanted clarity, she remembered crying all night over the one-two punch of losing her mother, then her first love. She’d gone behind Harrison’s back and against his wishes to see Rich; learning that her stepfather had been correct in his assessment had only made her angrier. How could Harrison be so perceptive when it came to a teenage boy he barely knew yet remain so blind about how much Treble needed him?

She swallowed. “Bad enough. I wasn’t trying to use you to make him jealous or anything. I haven’t even thought about him in years. It was just disorienting, walking through the door and…Sometimes we’re not prepared to come face-to-face with our past, you know?”

“Yeah.” He glanced away, but not before she saw the sudden intensity in his eyes.

Her earlier annoyance faded into curiosity. She knew what her issues were. What lurked in Dr. Caldwell’s past that he’d rather not face?

LUNCH WITH Treble reminded Keith of his first-year labs in med school. Part of him had enjoyed the challenge while the rest of him was edgy because he’d sometimes second-guessed whether he knew what the hell he was doing.