Love On Anchor Island: An Anchor Island Novel Page 4

  She sounded like Sid Dempsey, the resident boat mechanic who knew all things engine-related. “Your badass car is killing the planet.”

  “And that giant tugboat y’all use to get on and off this island isn’t?”

  Another point to the pint-sized debater. “I like my car,” Alex replied lamely.

  “I’m not surprised.” Tugging the zipper higher on her jacket, she added, “It suits you.”

  Clearly not a compliment. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Think about it,” she replied, breaking into a jog. “I’m sure you can figure it out.”

  Ponytail swinging, she took off down the narrow lane without a backward glance. Alex turned to look at his car. What had she called it earlier? Wussy? His pride took a hit as the insult sank in. “You don’t know everything about me, Ms. Chandler,” he muttered as she made the turn out of sight. “I might surprise you yet.”

  Chapter Four

  Every muscle on Roxie’s body ached. In the last two weeks, she’d lifted, pushed, swept, painted, and hammered more than she’d ever thought humanly possible. On the plus side, she’d had a hand in bringing two businesses back to life. On the downside, she could no longer lift her arms over her head.

  Which was why today she was on babysitting duty. Though the grown woman in the bed was proving more stubborn than Mary Ann on her worst day.

  “Callie, I’m sorry, but vacuuming is not on the list.” The list being a very short collection of things that the pregnant woman was allowed to do. Roxie had already stopped her from cleaning the blinds, moving her bed to the opposite bedroom wall, and getting on her knees to scrub the bathtub. “You’re only supposed to walk to the kitchen or bathroom. That’s it.”

  “But I’m losing my mind. I can’t spend one more minute in that freaking bed.” A foot stomp accompanied the declaration of rebellion, and Roxie wondered how she was going to win this particular battle.

  The orders had been explicit and firm. No strenuous activity of any kind. And there really was a list, printed in large font and taped to the bedroom door, the bathroom mirror, and the kitchen counter.

  “Let’s play another round of cards,” she offered.

  Ice-blue eyes narrowed. “You’re a nice person, Roxie. I’d hate to have to throw you out the window.”

  Sensing she might actually do it, Roxie racked her brain for some way to appease the expectant mother. She considered a walk to the mailbox, but if someone saw them outside and tattled, Beth would have her head. Pacing the room, Roxie reached the window and took in the view.

  “What about sitting by the water? It’s pretty much your backyard, and you’d still be resting, but not cooped up in here.”

  Connor was at preschool, so there was no reason they couldn’t leave the house.

  Lips pursed, Callie tilted her head. “It’s cold outside.”

  “Do you want to be warm, or do you want to be out of here?”

  “The babies must need fresh air, right?” she replied.

  “Right.” Roxie gathered the thick blanket off the foot of the bed. “You put on some warm clothes while I carry two chairs out to the sand. So long as we keep you bundled up, we should be fine.”

  She didn’t know that for sure, but if Callie could walk to the kitchen, surely she could take a few more steps out the back door. Roxie was down the stairs and into the living room with an armful of blanket when the front door burst open.

  “Never fear. Henri is here!” A slender woman with a shock of short, platinum blond hair whisked into the house, dropped a duffel bag beside the couch, and glanced around.

  “Oh, no,” came a voice from the corner.

  “I love you, too, Cecil.”

  The parrot cackled in response. Roxie had yet to get used to the talking bird.

  “Can I help you?” she said.

  The stranger offered a hand. “I’m Callie’s cousin, Henri. I hear she’s the size of a blimp, and the doc has sentenced her to bed rest hell.”

  “I’m bigger than a blimp.” The homeowner took the stairs one at a time, hand gripped tightly on the railing. “And you were supposed to be here four days ago.”

  “I had a signing I couldn’t get out of.” Once Callie reached the bottom, her cousin threw her arms around her neck. “You look adorable. How are Zane and Gray doing?”

  Were these more talking pets Roxie didn’t know about?

  “I’ve told you. I am not naming the twins Zane and Gray.”

  “How about Ralph and Waldo?”

  “How about you go screw yourself?”

  The newcomer glanced Roxie’s way, brows arched high. “Someone is not herself these days.” Helping Callie to the couch, Henri said, “Who is our cute friend over here?”

  As the miserable woman lowered onto the couch with a moan, she said, “Henri, Roxie. Roxie, Henri.”

  “We were just going to sit outside,” Roxie explained, hoping the change of scenery would perk up her charge. “I was going to move some chairs down to the beach.”

  “I’ll help,” Henri said with a smile and followed Roxie onto the back deck. Once outside, the lightheartedness disappeared. “How is she?”

  Surprised by the change in tone, Roxie’s brain took a second to catch up. “Okay, I guess, but she’s going stir-crazy, and I don’t blame her. She’s been stuck in this house for two weeks.”

  “We talked about this when she found out it was twins. She’ll do whatever’s necessary to protect those babies, but I know my cousin. She hates to sit still.”

  Happy to have an ally, Roxie whispered, “An hour ago, I caught her trying to move furniture.”

  “Damn.” Henri pointed to the chairs around them. “Which ones are we taking?”

  Unsure, she said, “Which one do you think she’ll be more comfortable in?”

  Henri snorted. “Comfortable is off the table at this point, don’t you think? Let’s take the two Adirondack, and we’ll put Cal on the lounger.”

  They put the plan into motion and minutes later returned to the house.

  “We’re ready,” Roxie said, gathering pillows off the couch to prop around Callie. “Take your time and be careful on the steps off the deck.”

  “I don’t want to get up,” Callie said with a pout. Henri and Roxie exchanged an exasperated look. “Can someone move the stool over here and help me lift my feet?”

  “I can do that.” Henri lifted her feet while Roxie put the pillows back where they were, and then tossed the blanket over Callie’s legs.

  “Thank you,” Callie mumbled before her head dropped back. “I just need to sit here for a minute.”

  Seconds later, soft snores filled the silence.

  “I guess we aren’t going outside.” Henri removed the flannel she wore over a gray hoodie and plopped down in a blue chair next to the fireplace. “We might as well get comfortable, too.”

  Roxie hadn’t had a second to breathe since arriving four hours ago and gladly took the suggestion. “Did you say you had a signing?”

  “Yep. I write romance novels.”

  Not the answer she expected. “Really? I’ve never met a writer before.”

  “That’s probably for the best. We’re awkward, neurotic creatures.” The author ran a hand through her pixie cut. “Are you new to the island?”

  “I am. Beth Chandler… I mean Beth Dempsey is my cousin.” The name change still threw her. “Technically, we’re second cousins since our grandmothers were sisters, but we were close as kids.”

  “So you’re here on vacation?”

  She wished. “A working vacation of sorts. I came to help with the hurricane cleanup.”

  Henri kicked her feet up on the coffee table. “How did you end up babysitting my cousin?”

  “Beth took pity on me. After two weeks of working my ass off, I could barely move last night.”

  “Your ass looks good to me.”

  The remark took Roxie by surprise, but she quickly caught on. “Thanks for the compliment. My last boyfri
end said something similar.”

  The blonde didn’t miss a beat. “That might be the smoothest I’ve ever been let down.”

  “I doubt that,” she said with a grin.

  Throwing an arm across the back of the chair, Henri grinned back. “You’re probably right. So last boyfriend. No current one?”

  “Nope.” And Roxie liked it that way.

  “Any interesting candidates here on Anchor?” She looked to the ceiling in thought. “Last I recall, there are only a few single men under fifty on this sandy little oasis. The only one I can think of at the moment is the doctor. Alan something, I think.”

  “Alex,” Roxie corrected. “Alex Fielding, and that’s a no.”

  She hadn’t run into the doc since the day he’d nearly run her over. At least not beyond a wave of acknowledgment from next door when they happened to be outside at the same time. Beth hadn’t brought him up again, and Roxie had been too busy to think much about him, though he did creep into the far recesses of her mind more often than she cared to admit.

  “Why not? If I recall correctly, he isn’t bad on the eyes, seems like an honest guy, and there’s the MD cherry on top. What’s not to like?”

  The looks assessment she couldn’t argue with, but Alex had one major trait going against him. “He’s a man.”

  Blue eyes narrowed. “Did you just switch teams on me in the last twenty seconds?”

  “No, it’s just that my last relationship didn’t end well.” The understatement of the year. “Nor did most of the ones before it. I don’t think I’m cut out for all that love stuff.”

  “You can’t say things like that to a romance writer. Everyone deserves a happy ending.”

  Roxie knew better. “Trust me. If you knew my track record, you’d agree.”

  After a weighted pause, Henri said, “You never know. Callie said the same thing before coming here, and look at her now.”

  They both glanced over to the sleeping beauty. “She’s so big,” Roxie whispered.

  “She’s also awake,” Callie said. Lifting her head, she met Roxie’s gaze and thankfully didn’t appear offended. “Henri is right. You never know. This island has a way of putting people together.” Dropping her feet to the floor, she sighed. “Now help me up. I’m ready for that fresh air.”

  Henri bounced to her feet and offered her cousin both hands. Getting her upright took a great deal of effort, and Roxie couldn’t help but feel bad for the poor soul. If Beth’s munchkins weren’t enough to keep her on her birth control, watching Callie endure this misery was certainly doing the trick.

  “The charts are pulled for tomorrow, and I’ve made the reminder calls,” Flora said. “Do you mind if I head out? Emma has a project due tomorrow, and she needs my help.”

  Alex looked up from the file he was updating. “That’s fine. I’m leaving soon anyway. I need to check on Callie Edwards.”

  Flora Meyer had been Dr. Tobin’s nurse before Alex took over the practice, and he wasn’t sure what he’d do without her. Emma was her teenage daughter, who had different-colored hair every time Alex saw her.

  “How long do you think we have before those babies make their entrance?”

  “With luck, at least another month.” He closed the file and rose from his chair. “Sam says she’s struggling with the bed rest, so I’m sure she’d like it to be sooner.”

  “Carrying one was bad enough. I can’t imagine carrying two.” Flora retrieved her purse from a bottom desk drawer. “Stephen says he’ll be happy to help with the delivery if you need him.”

  Flora’s husband rotated with three other doctors in the Edwards Medical Center ER. The couple lived on Hatteras Island, where most of the other doctors resided as well.

  “I appreciate that.” The office phone rang while she was headed to the door. “You go on,” Alex said. “I can get this.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course. See you in the morning.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Alex,” she said and closed the door behind her as he reached for the receiver on her desk.

  “Fielding Family Practice, Dr. Fielding speaking.”

  “What the hell are you doing answering your own phone?”

  Alex ran a hand through his hair. “Hello, Dad.”

  “Don’t you have a receptionist?”

  A receptionist for an office this small was impractical, but then Dr. David Fielding, one of the most renown neurosurgeons on the East Coast, didn’t know the meaning of the word practical.

  “I was just leaving to see a patient, Dad. What do you need?”

  “Since when do you go to the patients?”

  “Since the patient is thirty-two-weeks pregnant with twins and suffering gestational hypertension. I’ve put her on bed rest, and I’d rather she not come to me.”

  What sounded like a slamming door echoed from the other end of the call. “That’s an OB’s job.”

  How long were they going to have these debates? “It’s my job, actually. Is something wrong with Mom?”

  “No. Your mother’s fine.”

  “Then I need to go.”

  “Son, what you need is to come home. Stanton Biggs is taking a position in Chicago, and that leaves an opening for you. You’ll have his office and a docket of patients ready and waiting.”

  Alex didn’t want Stanton Biggs’ office or anyone else’s. “I don’t know how many times I have to say this, Dad. I’m happy here. I don’t want what you and Tanner want.” Tanner was his older brother, a sought-after cardiologist who was also operating out of his father’s practice. “Why can’t you understand that?”

  “You’re wasting your talents down there. This isn’t what you went to medical school for.”

  “This is exactly what I went to medical school for,” Alex argued, struggling to control his temper. “To help people.”

  “Don’t you have any ambition?” he countered. “Son, the Fielding name means something around here. It’s respected.”

  “Are you saying I’m not respected here? Because you’re wrong.”

  “I’m saying that you’ve had your little adventure playing small-town doctor. Fine. Now it’s time to come home, take this position, find a wife, and stop wasting everyone’s time, including your own.”

  Alex’s patience snapped. “This is the last time I’m going to say this. I am not leaving Anchor Island. And if I ever do, it will not be to return to Philadelphia to fulfill some ridiculous idea of a Fielding dynasty that you’ve created in your mind. This life was good enough for Grandma, and it’s good enough for me.”

  “I never should have let you spend your summers in Tunkhannock.”

  Thank God he had. Not that his mother would have let him veto their summer visits. She’d made sure both of her boys got quality time with her parents. Sometimes Alex wondered if she’d wanted to prevent them from following in their father’s footsteps. If that was the case, her youngest got the message, while the oldest missed it entirely.

  “Why won’t you listen to reason?” his father snapped.

  What an ironic question. “Dad, I have to go. My patient is waiting.”

  Alex hung up the phone, well aware that he’d not given a specific time for his visit to Callie Edwards. Hands clenched at his sides, he breathed through the stress and frustration, as he had since learning the technique in middle school. The constant pressure applied by his father had put Alex on edge throughout his childhood. When he’d acted out in eighth grade, getting into three fights in less than a month, Mom had gone against her husband’s wishes and put him in therapy.

  He was grateful to this day. The pressure had continued through high school and well into college, but once he’d announced his decision to go into medicine, the situation had improved. They would never be close, but his relationship with his father eventually grew less combative.

  Moving to Anchor Island had obviously not been a popular decision, but he’d meant what he said. Alex liked his life here. In three short years, he’d built a practice
and a life. That his own happiness meant so little to his father proved that he’d made the right decision by stepping out on his own. Snagging his coat off the hook near the door, Alex put the call out of his mind. A patient needed him. That’s what really mattered.

  Chapter Five

  They had just gotten Callie back to her room when the doorbell rang.

  “Are you expecting someone?” Henri asked as she tucked the blankets around Callie.

  The exhausted woman rolled her head from side to side on the pillow. “I don’t think so, but if it’s a well-meaning neighbor, please tell them to come back another time. Like, in six months.”

  “We’ll do that,” Henri said, nodding for Roxie to get the door and send away whoever was there.

  As she hurried down the stairs, the bell rang again. Someone needed to learn a little patience.

  “Incoming,” screeched Cecil from his perch. “Intruder approaching.”

  Callie had explained that her pet had once been part of a circus act. That must have been some act.

  “Coming,” she called so the visitor wouldn’t ring the bell again. “Callie is—” she started but went silent upon seeing Alex on the doorstep.

  He looked… different. Tense. Guarded. Roxie was more accustomed to seeing this expression in the mirror, not on the jovial doctor next door.

  “Hi,” he said. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  She didn’t expect to see him either. “They didn’t have anyone to stay with Callie today, so I got the job. She said she wasn’t expecting anyone. Did she know you were coming?”

  “I told her I’d stop by, but I didn’t give a time.” Alex slid a hand in his pocket, and Roxie noticed the black bag in his other hand. “Can I come in?” he asked.

  “Oh, yeah. Right.” She stepped back. “Sorry.”

  There was something about the other, more laid-back version of Dr. Alex that made it easy for Roxie to give him a hard time. But all she wanted to do right now was ease the lines around his eyes and make him smile. A clear indication that she’d lost her bloody mind.