# Unexpected Daughter

Suzanne Cox

He was born into luxury…Returning to Cypress Landing brings back the best–and worst–moments of Cade Wheeler' s life. Because the bayou was where he' d first tasted the sweetness of love and the bitterness of loss….She was born to be wild…Ten years ago Brijette Dupre had been a pregnant backwoods girl who felt her only choice was to accept the Wheelers' money–to leave Cade alone. She couldn' t know his family had lied to them both….Now Cade' s back. Considering their past relationship and current attraction, working with him is hard enough. Add to the mix his unknown daughter–the daughter Brijette had kept despite the Wheelers' demands–and it becomes close to impossible.

## “Dylan doesn’t bother me, and I didn’t ask you to stay in the car so you could thank me.”

At last Cade could get his mind back on track to the most important question he’d ever ask.

“Right.” Brijette brushed a stray wisp of hair off her face. “Which patient did you want to discuss?”

“I don’t want to talk about a patient. I wanted to speak to you in private.”

She squirmed in her seat and he imagined she knew what was coming.

“I want you to tell me who in hell is the father of that child.”


Dear Reader,

Sometimes we all have secrets we want to keep and preconceived ideas that are hard to let go. In this story, Brijette Dupre has to deal with both. But she’ll learn that occasionally when the truth comes out and we let go of our preconceptions, life can be all the richer for it.

I hope you enjoy Brijette and Cade’s story as I revisit Cypress Landing, Louisiana, and their volunteer search and rescue team. I love to hear from readers. You can send me a note at Suzanne Cox, 107 Walter Payton Dr., # 271, Columbia, MS 39429 or by e-mail to suzannecox@suzannecoxbooks.com. Be sure to visit me on the Web at suzannecoxbooks.com or superauthors.com.

Sincerely,

Suzanne Cox

## Unexpected Daughter. Suzanne Cox

www.millsandboon.co.uk

## ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Suzanne remembers writing her first stories when she was about nine or ten years old, and she’s been writing ever since. In February of 2002 she decided to try to get her writing published. On February 14, 2005, she sold her first book, A Different Kind of Man, to the Harlequin Superromance line.

While trying to decide what she wanted to be when she grew up—besides a writer—she worked a variety of jobs. She has a bachelor of arts in English with a minor in secondary education, a bachelor of science in nursing and a master of science in career and technical education with an emphasis in adult education. She’s also a National Board Certified Teacher in career and technical education. Along the way she’s worked as a high school English teacher, an elementary school teacher, a registered nurse on a cardiac unit, brain injury rehab unit and several different medical-surgical units. She’s also done stints as a home health nurse and a community health educator at a hospital. These days, when she’s not writing, she’s at her day job as an allied health instructor at a high school career and technology center.

In her spare time, when she can find some, Suzanne enjoys reading, painting, biking and fishing. She’s presently “livin’ her dream” in south Mississippi with her own personal hero husband, Justin, and her boy in puppy dog clothes, Toby, who masquerades as a miniature pinscher.

To my husband, Justin, for being perfect

even when it’s hard, like when

I’ve misplaced my checkbook, again.

To my friends at CLCC—Jan, Steph, Lisa,

Cathy and the guys, who are more like family than

anything else.

To my in-laws for just keeping me in the family

amid all this insanity.

## CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

EPILOGUE

## CHAPTER ONE

SWEAT TRICKLED DOWN the side of Brijette Dupre’s brow and a few loose strands of jet-black hair stuck to her damp chin. The ancient air conditioner in the other room did little good, especially in this heat. Brijette wiped her face with a paper towel as she counted sample packs of an antibiotic.

“He needs to take these three times a day with food and try to keep those stitches dry and clean. I’ll be here next Thursday all day and I’ll want to see that cut.”

The bony woman moved her head in agreement, her stringy hair falling into her eyes. She held on to the barefoot eight-year-old boy. Brijette made a last swipe with a sterile towel in an attempt to remove one more spot of dirt from the child’s skin. She wanted to tell the woman to take the kid home and give him a bath, or at least toss him in the creek. But you didn’t tell these people what to do or expect them to live by any other standards than the ones to which they were accustomed. She should know. She’d been one of them for the first seventeen years of her life.

Brijette helped the boy off the portable exam table and led mother and son to the door. The breath of cooler air made her wish she could leave the door open, but she couldn’t treat patients in front of the customers who came and went in the run-down store. Anton Guidreaux, who owned the place, had been good enough to let them use an empty storeroom attached to one side of his building as an exam room. As a nurse practitioner, Brijette worked under the license of the doctor in town. She normally practiced in the clinic with him, helping him see patients. But on Thursdays she came to the small community of Willow Point and offered medical care to those not likely to get it otherwise.

More than a few of the people in Cypress Landing wondered why she came here. They figured if those people wanted to see a doctor, they could come to town. Those people. Other folks in town made it sound as if she jetted off to another country every week. As though the simple people who still chose the life of the backwater and swamps were of a different species. This was Louisiana, not some Third World country. How would the woman who’d just left feel, sitting dirty with worn shoes in the pristine waiting room at the clinic in Cypress Landing? No, Brijette was doing what she had to, for them and for herself, or at least for the girl she used to be.

“Brij, I see trouble coming.”

Brijette left the storeroom, to see what Alicia was talking about. Alicia Ray was the nurse who assisted her at the weekly clinics in this rural community off the Mississippi River. Brijette joined her on the porch steps and unconsciously gripped the other nurse’s shoulder.

“Oh, no!” she whispered.

Ten feet away, a young girl staggered toward them with the help of a boy who looked as if he might faint or run at any minute. The girl struggled with her very large and very obviously pregnant stomach.

The two women jumped to the ground, grabbing the girl. With the young man’s help they managed to haul her into the exam room and hoist her up on the table, which was definitely not intended for delivering babies. Unfortunately, Brijette figured transforming the space into a delivery room wasn’t an option.

“Go see if you can fine a land-line phone—there’s no reception here on your cell. Call the clinic and have them get in touch with the helicopter rescue service. We’ll need it. Let them know what kind of situation we’ve got.”

Alicia hurried from the room and the boy followed her.

“You can stay if you want,” Brijette called to him, but he didn’t respond, shutting the door behind him instead.

“He’s scared,” the young girl on the table mumbled.

“What about you?”

She started to reply, then gritted her teeth and tossed her head from side to side in pain.

“What’s your name?” Brijette tried to hold the girl’s hand and dig into her supply box at the same time.

“Regina.” The word exploded on a whoosh of air from the girl’s mouth.

Brijette let go of Regina as the girl relaxed a bit, and moved to open another box. They didn’t stock delivery supplies. But unless the paramedics could materialize on the spot, she might have to deliver this baby with whatever equipment she could find.

“Yeah, I’m scared.”

Brijette glanced at the girl who watched her with wide, watery eyes. She’d almost forgotten she’d asked that question.

“Regina, have you seen a doctor during your pregnancy?”

The girl shook her head. Brijette didn’t bother to ask why not. At this point her lack of medical care couldn’t be helped. She piled the items she might need to use onto the tray by the table.

“How old are you?”

Regina stared at the wall, giving no answer.

“Don’t worry. Nothing’s going to happen to you or your boyfriend if you tell me.”

“I’m seventeen.”

“And your boyfriend?”

“He’s twenty-two, but he’s my husband. We’ve been married more than a year.”

“That’s good.” Brijette tried not to sigh out loud. What else could she say? She thought of her own daughter, Dylan, who still hadn’t reached her teenage years. Kids occasionally had to grow up fast and, like herself, Regina seemed to be one of them.

“Do you have family—mother, father, grandmother—we need to contact?”

“No. My mama and daddy moved a year ago. I didn’t want to leave my boyfriend, so they let me stay and get married.”

Brijette heard sad stories nearly every time she came here. This was simply another one to add to the list. What kind of parent dumped their teenage daughter off on her boyfriend because she didn’t want to move? In the middle of searching for a box of gauze, she paused. How could she be thinking like that? She knew exactly what kind of parent would do such a thing, one less mouth to feed and no kid hanging around your neck. Without her grandmother, that could very well have been her about to have a baby with no family to help.

Brijette pulled more supplies from a box. “Is it time for the baby to come?”

Regina’s brows knitted into a confused expression. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, how many months have you been pregnant? Is this your ninth month or is this baby early?”

The girl fisted the sheet covering her and didn’t answer.

“Regina, I really need to know if I’m going to deliver a premature infant.”

“I think it’s eight or nine months. I’m not real sure.”

If they ended up with a two-pound preemie Brijette would really be in a mess. Her mind raced to the few times she’d had to help DocArthur with emergency deliveries at the small local hospital in Cypress Landing.

She heard the door open as she finished tying a sterile towel to the metal rods on the side of the table, fashioning stirrups as best she could. As Brijette finished preparing the supplies, Alicia entered the room with Regina’s husband behind her.

“T.J.” The girl reached toward the young man. He looked as if he might keel over.

Brijette smiled at him. “I’m glad you decided to come in.”

Alicia began to help Regina remove her clothes and put on the hospital gown Brijette had unearthed from the bottom of a box.

With the girl positioned on the table, she moved the sheet to check her. Brijette sucked her breath in between her teeth and Alicia looked to see what was wrong. The nurse gasped. Brijette reached for sterile cloths, piling them at the end of the table.

“What’s the matter?” the girl asked as she groaned with a contraction.

“Nothing. Everything’s fine,” Brijette responded, which was true in a sense. She couldn’t see a thing wrong and the vital signs Alicia called out were good. But there was no way to monitor the baby, who didn’t plan to wait for the paramedics. The top of the head was already visible.

“Regina, on the next contraction, I need you to bear down and push.”

“Is the baby coming now?” Regina started to cry. Alicia wiped the girl’s face with a moist cloth. The temperature in the room had soared and sweat rolled from the four of them.

“I’m sorry, Regina, but this baby is coming now and I need you to work with me.”

WHEN BRIJETTE COULD finally step away from the table, she sighed at the sight of her blood-stained scrubs. After throwing her gloves in the garbage, she dumped plenty of antiseptic gel in her palm, rubbing it lightly on her hands and arms before wiping with a paper towel. Not exactly prescribed usage for the stuff but the sink was in another part of the store and this would have to do for now.

There was a banging sound outside and loud voices broke the silence that had finally settled in the small room. With only a brief knock beforehand, two paramedics rushed in with a gurney.

They stopped short at the sight of the healthy baby.

“Guess you don’t need us after all, Brij.”

She snorted at Michael, the lanky medic. “Well, it wasn’t by choice, I promise. At least you can give Regina and her daughter a quick ride to the hospital. I didn’t even hear the chopper come in.”

“I’m not surprised.” He paused as he and his partner eased mother and child onto the gurney. Alicia helped roll the bed to the door, while Michael stayed behind. “The chopper’s across the river. We’ll have to go back to it by boat. That’s where the nearest clearing is.”

“I guess if the two of them have made it this far, they can survive a boat ride.”

He didn’t respond but glanced around the room instead. “So, this is your clinic.”

“Yep.” Brijette grinned, realizing that most of the medical people in town knew she came here, but few had actually seen her exam room.

Michael took a deep breath. “Stinks like a pigpen, and it’s hot as hell.”

If she hadn’t been friends with the guy for years she might have been offended. “Thanks a lot. We did just deliver a baby in here. Besides, we don’t all have the luxury of an air-conditioned ambulance or helicopter.”

“Relax, I didn’t say you stink, which of course you do.”

She laughed and threw the near-empty bottle of antiseptic gel at him. He caught it with a grin. “I better go before your nurse and my partner drop our patient on the stairs.”

Brijette followed him out front. From there she watched as Michael trotted down the dirt road after Alicia and the other paramedic, who were rolling the gurney toward a waiting boat. The breath she’d been partially holding since she’d seen the girl struggling to the clinic slipped from her lungs and she leaned against the wall of the store.

“Whoowee, chère. Never ’spected that when you set up shop here.”

Brijette turned to see Anton Guidreaux sitting in a rocking chair several feet away. She hadn’t noticed him before.

“Neither did I, A.G.” Brijette pushed sweat-soaked hair off her neck. Anton Guidreux was too formal a name for him, so it had been shortened to A.G. long before she remembered making the trek to this place to buy flour, sugar and whatever else her grandmother needed.

A.G. got up to go back inside and paused to pat the top of her head as if she were still five. “Glad you were here, girl. Don’t never think folks ain’t proud to have you. Might not say it, but you know how that is.”

Her head bumped the wall as she nodded. “I didn’t come here expecting thank-yous.”

“Know that, chère. Don’t mean I can’t tell you thanks here and there.”

She bobbed her head again, staring at the floor as A.G. left her standing alone. After one more deep breath she went back to the exam room. Fanning the door, she tried to encourage a bit of cool air to come inside. She wrinkled her nose. Michael hadn’t been joking. The scent of sweat and blood hung in the room, making it positively reek. And me, too, she admitted with a wry smile. Disinfectant spray bottles sat on top of a box and she took one, squeezing the trigger, shooting generous amounts on the exam table.

“Are we done for the day?”

Brijette continued cleaning the table as Alicia rejoined her. “Unless it’s an emergency, we’re going to pack and go home. I’m exhausted. Besides, it’s going to take an hour to clean up and get the supplies loaded on the boat.”

With a shove, Alicia moved a box against the wall and began to mop the floor. In minutes, they were both dripping sweat again.

BRIJETTE SET the last plastic storage container onto the deck of the twenty-eight-foot fishing boat. She could get to her field clinic by car, but it would take hours, beginning with a ferry ride across the river. Traveling by boat made more sense. Alicia untied the vessel from the old dock and Brijette started the engine.

As she steered the boat away, she caught a final glimpse of the wooden store on the slight rise above the water. Past the store sat the small community church with white paint peeling off the walls. A couple of wooden houses on stilts were visible in the distance. They were a ten-minute ride from the river and another ten minutes to Cypress Landing. A trip she knew well. She’d made it more times than she could count, and the summer after her senior year in high school she’d made it every day to work at the tire factory in Cypress Landing and, frequently, the coffee shop on Main Street. But that was another life.

The Mississippi loomed in front of them and Alicia grabbed a handhold as the boat lurched into the faster-moving water. Brijette slowed the engine.

“Can you believe what we did?” Alicia shouted above the hum of the motor.

Brijette stared at the river in front of her. The thought of all the things that could have gone wrong with the delivery hadn’t actually hit her until now. Her legs turned to jelly and she leaned against the seat behind her. She and Alicia had brought a life into the world. What would’ve happened if they hadn’t been there? What if the girl had delivered at home or in the back seat of a car? Or even worse, on the bottom of a rusty aluminum fishing boat as she tried to get to a hospital?

“I’m glad you were there with me,” she shouted back at Alicia. To her dismay, her throat clogged and her eyes filled with tears. Getting all weepy wasn’t her style, but she’d never delivered a baby by herself before.

A hand touched her arm. “Don’t worry, me, too.” Alicia pointed to her own cheeks, wet with tears, and started to smile. They were both laughing with tears trickling down their faces as the boat bumped toward Cypress Landing.

“I HEAR YOU HAD an adventure today.”

Brijette chuckled, stacking the last container in the storage room at the clinic. “It was more of a nightmare than an adventure, Emma.”

“Well, the baby and mama were both fine, so you must’ve done a great job.”

“Nature did the work, I just…caught the package.” She glanced at her soiled clothes and shook her head at the clinic’s longtime receptionist. “I need to go home and clean up.”

“Doc Arthur wants to see you before you go.”

“I’m on my way.”

Located a block off Main Street, the clinic was actually an antebellum home that Doc Arthur had refurbished to use as his business nearly thirty years ago when he’d first arrived in Cypress Landing. Brijette crossed the lobby and went down the hall to his office. Tapping on his half-open door twice, she pushed into the room.

“Emma said you wanted to see me.”

“Brijette, come in. Good work you did today.”

“Like I told Emma, I didn’t do much. The baby came without much help from me.” She didn’t bother to say how petrified she’d been that something would go wrong or that the baby would be premature.

“Still, you were there. You do good work in that community.”

She shrugged. “I hope so.”

The older man tapped his fingers on the armrest of his chair. “You do, and don’t ever forget it.”

“What did you need me for?” She didn’t want to sound as though she was rushing him, but she was beginning to smell herself, which wasn’t a good thing.

He sat back in his chair, shoving papers across his desktop. “You know I’ve been having problems with that valve in my heart. They say I can’t put off the surgery much longer.”

Brijette rubbed her hands together in her lap. Doc Arthur had been like a father to her since she’d lost both parents when she was young. He needed the surgery, but she wasn’t sure how they’d make it at the clinic without him. She sat a little straighter in her chair. Wait, as a nurse practitioner, if there was no doctor here then she couldn’t work.

“Don’t panic, I’m not going to close and make you find a new job.”

“I’m sorry. Was I that transparent? You know I’m worried about you, but I have to admit I really love my job and all the people I work with, especially you. I’d hate things to change.”

“Unfortunately, I will have to make a change. I’m bringing in another physician.”

“But, that’s great. We’ve been so busy.” She couldn’t stop smiling, not just because she’d get to keep working here, but because they’d needed help more than she was willing to admit to Doc Arthur.

“I hope he’ll want to stay, but in all honesty he’s only coming to help out while I’m at home recuperating. He’s planning to open his own clinic in Dallas later on.”

“We’ll have to make him fall in love with Cypress Landing.” Brijette couldn’t imagine that would be too hard.

The older man studied the far side of the room and she wondered if they were finished. She leaned forward to get to her feet and Doc Arthur suddenly started speaking again. “He’s been here before. You know him. That’s why I wanted to see you.”

Brijette narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“It’s my nephew, Cade Wheeler. You remember him, don’t you? The two of you were friends that summer he visited, before he started medical school and you and your grandmother left to live with your aunt.”

Despite the air-conditioning, a droplet of cold sweat formed at the base of Brijette’s neck and began a slow trickle down the middle of her back. She’d come a long way since that summer and could happily live the rest of her life without seeing Cade Wheeler again. For a brief second, she thought she might get a new job else-where—possibly, New Orleans. But she loved her life in Cypress Landing, and she couldn’t imagine trying to raise her daughter in the city. The mention of his name made her insides gel with fear. She’d prepared for this possibility, had tried to tie up the loose ends, but her plan had never really been tested. That was about to change.

“Yes, I remember him.”

“Good, I know you two will be able to work together.”

She could only move her head slightly in agreement. Beneath her feet, the floor seemed to tilt.

## CHAPTER TWO

THROUGH THE WINDOW, the silvery water of the creek rippled beyond the edges of the white sand banks. Cade Wheeler leaned against the kitchen counter as he set his glass in the sink. A ham sandwich and iced tea were the extent of his lunch—not exactly like dining at one of his many lunch haunts in Dallas. But he definitely wasn’t in Dallas now. When he’d first begun working at the busy family practice in the city, life had been idyllic. Or at least that was what his mother kept telling him. His clients had been the wealthy and often self-absorbed. When he wasn’t seeing them in his office, he tried to avoid them. Occasionally, when his mother insisted, he’d attend the same functions as they did on the weekends—extravagant parties or golf outings. Life had taken on a surreal facade as he worked diligently to build his image as family physician to the upper crust. It should’ve been easy, should’ve felt right—after all, he’d been part of the upper crust his whole life.

From his office window in Dallas he’d had a view of the designer shopping village across the street, and he’d occasionally wondered if somewhere along the way he’d made a career mistake, perhaps even a life mistake. He had. He should never have imagined he could work there when his heart wasn’t in it. One ugly incident at the clinic had exposed the truth about who his friends really were. Most of his colleagues had turned their backs on him when he’d needed their support. Even his mother had been damaged in the fallout. He might not have agreed with her ideals, but he’d never wanted to see her treated badly. Their idyllic life had been forever changed. Where exactly that change would take them remained to be seen.

Empty boxes surrounded him. The wood floors in the kitchen glowed with a new unscuffed coat of varnish. Cade recalled the owner’s reluctance to rent the expensively renovated old home. The man had been hoping to sell the place, but after a year on the market and not even one offer, he’d finally acquiesced to the inevitable. A little money each month was better than none.

“It’s too much house for you,” his mother had griped when she’d seen it, for the five minutes she visited. He gazed across the yard once again. Sure, the rambling two-story contained more rooms than he’d ever use, but the huge master suite with its luxury bathroom had been like an oasis in the desert of this town. The final draw had been the very scene in front of him. Nowhere in Dallas did you get a house or apartment with a view like this from your kitchen window. Willow trees bent toward the gurgling water of the creek, surrounded by grainy sand. Green grass dotted with oak, hickory and pine trees took up the space in between the water and his house. He’d signed a lease for six months; after that he’d leave Cypress Landing and open his own clinic in Dallas. It was the only life he really knew and he’d promised his father just before he died to make sure his mother’s life remained as unchanged as possible, which meant Cade needed to be in Dallas, where his mother was happiest. For now, he’d enjoy the view.

A tree limb flopped at the edge of his yard and he thought he saw something moving near the water. An object appeared to fly through the air and land with hardly a splash in the middle of the stream. It was a fishing cork. Another soon appeared a few feet away from the first. Trespassers already. Whoever had tossed the cork in the water might not know the house was occupied now. The idea of a couple of old men shouting, drinking beer and generally interrupting his quiet afternoons on the patio made him decide to go down there to make sure the fishermen knew he had taken up residence.

Cade let the screen door slam behind him intentionally, but neither cork moved. Still invisible behind the edge of the trees, the fishermen either hadn’t heard him or just didn’t care. People had different ideas about property and propriety. If they wanted to call him an ass from the city for asking them to leave, that would be okay.

You don’t belong in that town. Never will. His mother’s words from years ago echoed in his ears. But that wasn’t true. He had fit in and would have gladly stayed forever. That was before he’d learned that even simple country people had hidden agendas. Coming back now had been a matter of obligation, a show of respect for his uncle and nothing else. Starting his own clinic in Dallas wouldn’t be easy, but at least he knew what to expect from the people there.

Cade nearly walked on top of the fisherman before he realized it. One lone fisherman with two homemade cane poles—or should he say fisherwoman…or fisher-girl. Ragged, cut-off blue-jean shorts revealed a pair of spindly legs connected to dirty bare feet. Muddy tennis shoes sat beside the trespasser. The girl pulled at her blond ponytail, then wiped a gritty hand across her forehead.

“Hi. You’re the guy that’s renting that house.”

“How do you know that?” His eyes narrowed. Was she psychic? And weren’t kids taught not to talk to strangers?

“I was in the car yesterday when my babysitter, Norma, brought you that cake. You’re a doctor and you work at Doctor Wheeler’s clinic. She said you were a nice young man, so I figured you wouldn’t mind if I fished at your house.”

What was he supposed to say to that? If he sent her packing, would she go and tell the whole town what a mean guy the new doctor was? Finally, he sighed and stuck out his hand. “I’m Cade Wheeler. You seem to know everything else about me.”

She giggled as she laid the poles on the ground and scrambled to her feet, placing her damp, grimy hand in his. Huge green eyes fringed with thick lashes studied him briefly before she sat down again.

“Wanna fish? I got two poles.”

The moment had arrived when he could let her know, in no uncertain terms, that he didn’t want people fishing in his yard. What if she fell in the water, drowned and the parents decided to sue him? Or worse, what if someone came along and suspected he was some kind of child molester, hanging out with a young girl he didn’t even know. He knew what he’d do in the city: run back to the safety of his house. But the country was different. People knew their neighbors and took care of each other and their kids. Overhead, the sun fought its way through the leaves and flickered in the emerald eyes shining up at him. Well, hell, he couldn’t resist that, could he? He couldn’t be mean to the kid.

He sat on the bank and held out his hand. She grinned, passing him the extra pole. “I’ll fish with you for a minute, but then we probably need to let whoever’s in charge of you know where you are.”

She nodded. “I’m Dylan. That’s a big ole house just for you, or do you have some kids coming later?”

“No, it’s only me.” The girl sighed and he hated having to dash her hopes of future playmates. “You live around here, Dylan?”

“Not too close. A few miles that way on the other side of the road.” She waved her hand in the general direction. “I stay with Mrs. Norma during the day when my mom works. Mrs. Norma lives right there.”

She pointed up the creek to a clearing a few hundred yards away, where the creek disappeared around a bend. The frame house had probably once been part of the same property as the house he now rented. But over time, as with many things around here, the property had likely been sold for cash.

“Your mom and dad work in Cypress Landing?”

She didn’t reply immediately, watching him instead, as though trying to deciding how much information she should give a stranger. He wondered how old she might be. He’d seen kids in his clinic but guessing their ages hadn’t been one of his strong points. This one could be anywhere between eight and thirteen.

“My mom works in town.” She didn’t supply more, but gripped her pole when she noticed that her cork had disappeared. Pulling her line in with no fish attached, she dug into a plastic cup sitting next to her, producing a soggy piece of liver to put on her empty hook. “Mrs. Norma keeps this for me in the freezer for bait.”

“She doesn’t care if you’re fishing here by yourself?”

“I probably shouldn’t go this far, but there aren’t any fish behind her house. I can swim and this creek isn’t more than waist-deep. Besides, she’ll come look for me in a few minutes.”

As if on cue, a figure appeared at the clearing. Dylan waved and the woman moved out of sight.

“She’s probably coming.”

Within minutes Dylan’s babysitter had negotiated the path to where they were sitting. Cade handed his pole to Dylan and got to his feet.

“Dylan, you shouldn’t be this far from the house by yourself.”

“I know, but I wasn’t catching a thing there, haven’t in days. This is Cade. You brought the cake to him yesterday, remember?”

Norma relaxed. She obviously hadn’t recognized him immediately. He offered his hand.

“It’s good to see you again. I really enjoyed the cake.”

She frowned at the child, who chose to ignore both of them to focus on the corks bobbing in the current. “I hope she’s not bothering you.”

He glanced at the skinny blond girl, feeling the tug of what he was missing as a single man with no kids. Something he’d been feeling a lot lately. “No, she can stay. I’ve got to finish unpacking.” He was such a pushover.

“As long as you don’t mind, she can stay for one more hour. Your mom will be by to get you soon.”

Dylan nodded.

“I’ve got to get back to the house. I left a roast cooking.”

“Nice to see you,” Cade called as Norma hurried down the path.

“You, too.”

He stood for a minute, watching Dylan toss the line of each pole into the water.

“She seems like a nice lady.”

The girl studied him between her long lashes. “She is. I’ve been staying with her since we moved here three years ago, after my grandmother died. We’d been living with her and my aunt in Layfayette, but my mom wanted to come here.” She stopped abruptly, as though she had decided she’d shared too much.

He waited for another minute, then remembered he needed to be emptying boxes. He had to go to the clinic in the morning to start learning the office routine before his uncle left. Doc Wheeler had tried to get him to wait until Monday, but he figured he’d need as much time as possible with the old man there, so going in on a Thursday made sense to him. What else would he be doing other than shuffling boxes around?

“I don’t have a dad.”

He jerked his attention to the girl, wondering where that statement came from.

She must have realized his confusion. “You asked if my mom and dad worked in town. I told you my mom did, but I don’t have a dad. I mean, I do have one—I guess everybody does—but I don’t know him. He didn’t want kids, so he left before I was born.”

Cade couldn’t be sure what had brought on that outburst but Dylan had returned to eyeing her cork, anxiously waiting for a fish to take it under.

“I’d say that was his loss.”

She gave a soft smile. “Why don’t you have children?”

He decided he definitely should have stayed in the house. Kids asked too many questions. “I don’t know. I guess I’m waiting for the right woman to have them with.”

Dylan rubbed her thumb against her pole and seemed to ponder that for a moment. “You mean, you’ve never met a woman who could be the right one? Not once?”

It took him a second to answer. When he did, the words were much more wistful than he had intended. “I did once. But she didn’t feel the same way.”

“And I’d say that’s her loss.”

He laughed at the silly grin she sported. He saw the end of one pole bob and noticed her cork had gone under the water. Swinging the pole in the air, she brought the silvery catfish to the bank.

“I knew there were fish here, Mr. Wheeler,” Dylan shouted and grabbed the fish to remove it from the hook.

Cade smiled as she grappled with the slippery thing. “I better get back to unpacking. And you can call me Cade. None of that mister stuff.”

The girl nodded, busy sliding the fish into a bucket of water she’d brought. Cade had always liked the fact that having fun in Cypress Landing often didn’t include a party, a golf course or a group of people you didn’t care anything about. Maybe spending time here wouldn’t be so bad.

DYLAN HELD HER POLES as she watched Cade walk back to his house. Tossing the lines into the water again, she looked at her watch and decided she might as well go. She pulled the lines in and wound them around the poles, then dumped the single fish back into the water.

“I’ll be back for you another time,” she whispered.

She started down the path to Mrs. Norma’s house. Her friends would say Cade was cute, and he was. But he was older too, maybe even older than her mom. He was fun like a dad might have been if she’d had one. She twisted around to get one last look at him before he went inside and decided she wouldn’t tell her mom she’d met Cade right away. She might not like Dylan being friendly with a stranger. Her mom and Cade would be working together, and soon enough, he wouldn’t be a stranger. If she ran and jumped in the car when her mother came to pick her up, Mrs. Norma wouldn’t have time to tell her. She smiled at her neat plan and hurried on to the house. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a boring summer after all.

THE SMELL OF HAIR SPRAY in the nurse’s thickly teased gray hair had become noticeable. At least, it had Cade crinkling his nose. For the fifteenth time this morning, she frowned and gritted her teeth at him because he had to ask her where to find something, bandages this time. Either Mary Carson was mad about his being there or else she was generally in a bad mood. He wasn’t sure which. Today he’d run nonstop from patient to patient, often dressing wounds and giving a shot while Mary was busy helping his uncle. They’d had to eat their lunch of take-out po’ boys in the little kitchen at the back of the clinic in between seeing patients. Cade knew one thing was certain: the nurse practitioner would not be going off on Thursdays anymore with the clinic’s only other nurse in tow to see patients for free somewhere in the backwoods. When Uncle Arthur left, she’d have to stay and help him here. No wonder his uncle’s heart was bad, if he had to work with this little help. Sighing, Cade pushed open the door to one of the examination rooms, prepared to dress another wound.

“I’M GOING TO CALL and have the receptionist make you an appointment to get hyperbaric treatments for the sore on your calf.” Cade took a final look before pressing the last piece of tape on top of the dressing. He still had another patient waiting and the hands of the clock were already approaching half-past five.

He noticed that both the older man on the table and his wife standing next to him looked perplexed, which told him he’d forgotten to use people speak instead of doctor talk.

“You need to go to Baton Rouge and have special treatments to help your leg get better. You’re diabetic, which means you don’t heal as easily as most.”

The woman fidgeted with her threadbare handbag. “What’s a hyperbark treatment?”

Cade made a mental note to be clearer in the future. He’d been accustomed to his patients often having as much knowledge as he did concerning their diseases and potential treatments.

“It’s nothing to be worried about. They’ll put you in a special machine that puts you under pressure. It makes your body heal faster.”

“How often I gotta go?” the man asked, wiping at the last few wisps of oily gray hair on his head.

“I don’t know. It could take several treatments.”

“I ain’t got the time or transportation to get to Baton Rouge several times. I need to work, and my old truck can’t take long trips.”

“It’s less than an hour.”

“That’s a far enough piece for some folks.”

“Your leg might never get well if you don’t go.”

The man glared at him, and Cade tried to maintain his most professional demeanor and not show his ever-shortening temper.

“Where’s little Brij? She always fixes me up fine without any trips out of town.”

“I don’t know Brij. But I know you need to go to Baton Rouge.” Cade’s voice modulated an octave or two louder than he’d intended.

“I wanna see Brij and see what she thinks!” the old geezer responded in a voice that rattled the walls. Behind Cade the door to the room swished open and he dreaded the sight of the scowling Mary Carson.

“What’s the problem?”

He didn’t look up immediately, but he noted that this wasn’t Mary’s voice.

“I’m trying to talk with a patient, if you don’t mind,” he barked, turning angrily toward the door. He’d really had enough of people second-guessing his opinion. He was the damned doctor, after all.

“Brij, I got another sore on my leg.”

The old man sat quietly waiting as doctor and intruder stared at each other. Cade knew shock registered on his face, but he couldn’t control it. Brij was obviously short for Brijette, a name he would’ve shot to the moon and back to keep from hearing again. Now the woman had materialized in front of him.

“What are you doing here?” He tried not to wad the patient’s chart in his hand.

She stepped into the room, shutting the door behind her. Green scrubs skimmed over more curves than he remembered, but her silky hair remained jet-black. He wondered, when she let it loose from the tight knot, if it would flow halfway to her waist like it used to. The skin on his chest tingled at the memory of the midnight strands washing across his body, and his hand rubbed the tingling spot automatically, as if the silken pieces had actually touched him.

“I work here.” She passed in front of him to stand next to the patient while he tried to drag his mind to the present, to remember the truth about her.

“You can’t.”

She glanced at him, then began pulling at the tape on the dressing he’d applied only minutes ago. “I can and I do. But don’t you think we should discuss this later?”

Cade hated to admit she made good sense. He stood by while she examined the wound, wanting to tell her she had no business coming in here undermining his authority. She’d likely recommend a hoodoo magic mud potion for the guy and in a few weeks they’d be sending him to a surgeon to have the leg removed.

“I recommended hyperbaric treatments. I believe they have the equipment for that in Baton Rouge.” He waited patiently for her to argue and possibly offer to say a few words over the leg. She’d always had a way with what she called swamp medicine. He called it mumbo jumbo.

“I’m afraid Dr. Wheeler is right.”

“But why can’t I use that red stuff you gave me before?”

“I don’t think that will work. This is much worse than what you had before. I’ll see that Emma schedules transportation for you when she makes the appointment.”

The old man and his wife nodded while Brijette taped the dressing in place. Cade followed her so closely he nearly bumped into her when she stopped in the hall.

“I appreciate you not offering some other treatment to my patient.”

She shrugged. “You ordered what was appropriate.”

“Well, thank you very much, considering that I am the doctor here.”

“And I’m the nurse practitioner. I happened to have seen that patient several times before. He doesn’t take care of himself like he should. But I guess you didn’t see much of that where you came from.”

He frowned. “So what was the red stuff you gave him before? A potion you whipped up from the eye of a lizard and some swamp root?”

A cool mask settled on her face. He didn’t make a habit of belittling people’s backgrounds, but she had made him this way, showed him what really mattered to her. So what did he care if he hurt her feelings?

“Actually, it was a new wound medication we’ve just gotten in. I’ve used it occasionally with good results.”

He hadn’t expected her to answer, and when she did he realized not only did he sound like a complete ass, but they’d drawn a crowd. Two patients from other rooms waited in the hall, watching them. Emma, the receptionist, peered around the corner and a blond girl he’d never seen before appeared near the back door with a plastic box in her arms. She was wearing scrubs, so maybe she worked here, too.

Rather than respond, especially since there wasn’t much he could say, he strode to Emma’s desk and dropped the man’s chart on the counter.

“Schedule hyperbaric treatments for him—it’s in the chart.” He glanced toward Brijette. “And transportation.”

Whatever “transportation” meant. He hoped Emma knew what to do. He didn’t wait for an answer, but left the desk and stomped to his uncle’s office. On the way, he pulled the prescription pad from his pocket. How he’d overlooked her name on it all morning, he’d never know. Maybe his brain had been selectively blocking everything about Brijette Dupre from his mind, including her name printed right in front of him.

## CHAPTER THREE

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL me Brijette Dupre worked in this clinic?”

His uncle leaned away from his desk. “Why don’t you sit down, Cade?”

Cade walked across the small office and dropped into a chair.

The older man sighed. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure what existed between the two of you all those years ago. I knew you didn’t part…happily. I figured you might not come if you knew she worked here. I hoped once the two of you met again, you could get past your differences.”

Realizing his lungs might burst from holding his breath, Cade let the air slip between his teeth in a soft hiss. He’d made an idiot of himself in front of his uncle. Uncle Arthur knew he and Brijette had been more than friends, but if Cade acted like a scorned lover, everyone would think he still had feelings for her.

“I’m concerned she’ll practice her brand of medicine in this clinic on patients I’m responsible for.”

“What brand of medicine do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean—all those voodoo, hoodoo remedies. I know her grandmother taught her that stuff.”

“She does know the old customs, but she’s a licensed nurse practitioner and that’s what she does here.” Doc paused for a moment, his brows knitting together. “Brijette’s completely ethical and would never jeopardize a patient’s health.”

Cade twisted in his seat. “Well…I’m not sure if I trust her.”

His uncle smiled. “You’ll see she’s completely trustworthy. Remember she was only seventeen when you were here before. Whatever happened, just keep that in mind. You’ve both done some maturing since then.”

He nodded, unwilling to say what he was really thinking, which was that certain people never changed. Instead he moved on to another topic of concern.

“If I’m going to run this clinic, she’s not going to be off on Thursdays. I’ll need her here.”

Doc sat forward, crossing his arms on the desktop. “No, she won’t go for that. Besides, she’s not off on Thursday. She has a makeshift clinic in one of the small communities near the river, taking care of patients who can’t make the trip here to see a doctor.”

“She’ll have to postpone it until you’re able to work again.”

His uncle straightened, his features hardening. “No, Cade. I’ve worked this clinic by myself and you can, too. If it’s too much for you, I’ll postpone my surgery until I find another doctor to help while I’m away.”

If he’d wanted a reason to leave, he had one now. He could say it was too much work and take off to Dallas immediately. He studied the slightly pasty complexion of the man in front of him. He actually owed his uncle more than a few months’ work at his clinic. The man had taught him about life, and not the high-society life his mother had so wanted him to adhere to.

Cade had spent his first twenty or so years learning how to live with the country-club set from his mother and father. When he’d come to Cypress Landing, he’d seen how much his uncle cared for his patients and the community in general. People truly respected the man, and not because he had money. Uncle Arthur didn’t have a multi-million dollar business. Cade had never known another doctor who really helped people like his uncle did, and it had inspired him. He’d begun to see a different kind of life than what he’d always known with his parents.

After everything had gotten so ugly, he’d decided he’d been mistaken about what life in Cypress Landing would be. So he’d gone to work in Dallas at the ritzy clinic and found that unreliable and untrustworthy people weren’t confined to one geographical location. He’d been happy here, at least for a while. He could do this. Besides, half his boxes were unpacked and he’d made one friend already, if you could call the little blond trespasser his friend. He needed more time away from Dallas, to get that nasty taste out of his mouth. No, he’d stay here and deal with Brijette Dupre. How hard could it be?

ANYONE WHO PASSED HER in the aisle of the small pharmacy would have thought she was in the throes of debating what type of lotion best suited her. She hadn’t really looked at the bottles lined meticulously on the shelf, even though she did intend to buy one. Instead she kept seeing the image of Cade unwavering in her mind. His blond hair still hung long across his forehead, shoved slightly to one side to show off his green eyes. On the outside Cade hadn’t changed much at all; she wondered if he was still the same on the inside.

Anger and shock, that’s what she’d seen on Cade’s face. Doc Arthur hadn’t told him she’d be in the clinic even though he’d told her a few weeks ago his nephew was coming. Had he been afraid Cade would be a no-show if he knew she’d be around? Did the old man know everything that had happened years ago? She hoped not. He didn’t act as if he knew a thing, but he could know the whole story and be faking it for her benefit. He might have even realized the truth. That idea made the cold sweat pop up on the nape of her neck again. Doc was like family to her. He wouldn’t betray her, even though Cade was his real family, would he?

“Brijette.” The voice of the pharmacist at the back counter brought her mind into the present.

Thankful to be able to stop herself from that line of thinking, she grabbed the nearest bottle of lotion and hurried to the rear of the store where Elliot Arneaux, the pharmacist and owner, bagged several bottles of pills for the elderly Mrs. White. The lady waved at Brijette when she left, and Elliot motioned for her to come behind the counter.

“What’s wrong, Elliot?” She leaned her hip against the cabinet.

“I won’t keep you long, but I wanted to show you this.” He held a piece of paper in front of her.

It was a prescription written from one of the clinic’s pads with her signature at the bottom. On closer inspection, however, she saw that it wasn’t her signature but a fair likeness. A sick feeling started to grow in the pit of her stomach.

“Elliot, this is for OxyContin. You know I don’t write scripts for narcotics like that. DocWheeler writes those.”

The pharmacist frowned. “I thought so, but I figured with Doc Arthur sick, you might have done it without thinking. I didn’t know the guy who brought it in. I told him I’d have to check with the clinic before I could fill it. He wandered around the store, like he was waiting for me to call, and the next thing I knew he was gone.”

Brijette passed him the prescription, trying to keep her fingers from shaking. “You’ll have to report this.”

“I’m going to. I wanted to talk to you first.”

“Thanks. This could get me in trouble if it’s happening in other towns. You guys do monitor these narcotic scripts, right?”

“Yeah, we report excessive narcotic prescriptions from individual doctors. But we’re small, and I know most of the people who come in here. In some other town this would’ve been filled without a question.”

The sick feeling in her stomach began to spread. She didn’t need another problem to add to her list. A prescription with her name on it that she didn’t write definitely fell in the territory of trouble, especially when it was for a narcotic with a very nice street value. Brijette decided she’d have to talk with Matthew Wright as soon as possible. If this had been happening in other pharmacies, the sheriff of Cypress Landing would know, and if he didn’t, he’d check with the city police. Noticing the time on her watch, she hurried to the front to make her purchases. It was late and she still had to pick up Dylan.

GRAVEL CRUNCHED under her tires as Brijette began the quarter mile trip off the highway to her house. The small white clapboard was like a hundred others in the area. Most had been part of a larger plantation at one time or another. She and Dylan had lived in different phases of remodeling for the past three years, while they turned the once ragged place into a comfortable home for the two of them. The blue Tahoe bumped hard in a rut in the drive and Brijette made a mental note to borrow the neighbor’s tractor and box blade to grade the road this week.

“Isn’t that Mr. Robert’s truck?”

Brijette glanced toward Dylan, who she’d just picked up from Norma’s, then she spotted the dual-wheeled truck parked in front of her house. That was convenient. She wouldn’t have to go to Robert Hathorn’s house to ask permission to borrow his tractor, she could ask him now—although the reason he was here would likely cause her to go to his house anyway, or at least to his barn.

Shoving the SUV into Park, she lowered the window. Dylan hadn’t even bothered to undo her seat belt. “That crazy horse of yours get loose again?”

The older man stuck his upper body through the window of his truck and banged his hand on the door. “I don’t know how he did it. Jumped the fence this time, I guess. Think you could help me find him?”

“Sure, I can help you. How long has he been gone?”

“Maybe two hours. I put him in the field and went to town. When I came home, he was gone.”

Brijette waved to him before raising her window to follow the man to his house, not far from Norma’s.

Beside her, Dylan sat straighter. “He should get rid of that horse. He runs away all the time.”

She could see the light in her daughter’s eyes. Despite her complaining, Dylan was obviously excited to have a change in what must have been a boring day for her. The girl reminded Brijette of herself when she was younger. When her grandmother used to take her into the woods to trail an animal, or frequently a person, her senses would be firing, trying to decipher every nuance of her surroundings.

Brijette had learned more about the woods and the land when she was young than many people would ever know. Some people said she had a special gift, or “the sight,” because she could follow a trail so easily and so well. Brijette considered her ability more akin to having very good intuition—at least, that’s what she liked to label the feeling she got when she was on a hard track. She’d moved away from here to go to college where she’d discovered organized search-and-rescue groups and she’d begun adding professional training to her home-taught knowledge. Now she was a member of Cypress Landing’s volunteer search and rescue team, which often meant local people came calling for her help when they needed to find lost pets—and high-dollar horses, of course. But the lessons she’d learned from her grandmother were important ones that she wanted her own daughter to appreciate, lessons that couldn’t be bought with money.

When they came to a stop at Robert Hathorn’s house, Dylan leaped from the truck and bounced on her toes.

“Ready?”

She nearly laughed at the girl, who took off toward the wooden fence. “Don’t step in front of the gate, Dylan. There’ll be enough tracks there already. We don’t need to add more.”

Dylan paused to glance at her. Brijette didn’t have to be close enough to see her to know that she was rolling her eyes. “I know that, Mom.”

All three of them stopped at the edge of the gate. Robert waited behind them while she and Dylan squatted to get a closer look at the ground. Over time the grass had been worn away, leaving only dirt, which was helpful for her.

She tapped Dylan’s shoulder. “Let’s take a walk around.”

Dylan straightened and they started a slow march along the perimeter of the fence that surrounded the pasture. Brijette knelt several times to study the grass or a weed that was bent at an unnatural angle. When they’d made it all the way around, they checked inside the pasture area and finally returned to where Robert waited patiently. Dylan stuck her hands into her pockets. Brijette knew her daughter was glad she didn’t have to tell Robert the bad news.

“That stallion is worth a lot of money, isn’t he?”

Robert frowned at her, pushing back his red hat to scratch his forehead. “Of course he is. He’s one of the top quarter horses around here. I get several thousand dollars stud fee and I could easily sell him for four or five times that. Why?”

“The horse didn’t jump the fence, and he certainly didn’t open this gate and close it by himself. He was stolen. See this—” Brijette motioned for him to come closer, then pointed “—these aren’t your boot tracks. Someone came here, went in the pasture and got the horse. They circled him around and shut the gate, which was really stupid, because if they’d left it open you’d have been more likely to think he’d gotten away on his own.” She took a breath, caught a glimpse of Robert’s wide eyes and stopped. He must have been more attached to that horse than she’d thought.

She put a hand on his arm. “Why don’t you go call the sheriff? Dylan and I will follow the trail to see where it goes. They probably put him in a trailer, farther away from here. I’ll take my cell phone and call you when I find where.”

Robert started toward his truck. He stumbled once and Brijette wondered if she should check on him. But he righted himself.

Turning toward the field, she saw Dylan nearly at the woods. “Come on, Mom. They went this way. That’s Mr. Robert’s favorite horse and he paid a whole bunch of money for him.”

Whoever had taken the horse had also taken the path of least resistance in their escape. The trail led straight to a worn path that followed the creek along Robert’s property. In a few minutes they passed Norma’s yard. Dylan raced ahead of her, and she was satisfied to let the girl lead the hunt herself. However, Dylan picked up the pace considerably and, before she realized it, her daughter was out of sight. Brijette increased her speed. She wasn’t afraid Dylan would get hurt in these woods, but she didn’t want her to stumble onto a horse thief.

Farther ahead, she heard Dylan’s voice shouting. The words brought her to a dead stop. Pure fear sent her into an instant run, ignoring the thin tree limbs that slapped her face and body. Her daughter was saying the name “Cade” and another voice answered—a deeper one.

Brijette broke through the last of the bushes onto the thick carpeted grass of Cade’s yard. Or at least she guessed it was Cade’s. Robert Hathorn had been trying to sell the house, a piece of the family property his great-great-grandfather had built. It had been on the market for months since he’d had it remodeled. She’d never imagined Cade would be living here, but he could certainly afford such an extravagance. Lord knows he had the money.

On the patio, Cade Wheeler stood next to a smoking grill watching Dylan gesture wildly. Even from here Brijette could hear the rumbling of his laughter at her daughter’s antics. Dylan could be quite dramatic in a hilarious kind of way when she embarked on sharing a story, especially one that involved tracking. Brijette hurried toward them. She had to be careful now, for Dylan’s sake as well as her own.

She was almost on top of them when she heard Dylan say, “It’s my mom.” Cade turned toward her, and for the second time today the color drained from his face. She wondered how many of these shocks his heart could take.

Dylan was pulling at her, dragging her closer to him.

“Mom, this is Mr. Cade. I met him when I was fishing. He’s going to work with you. Have you met him yet?”

“What are you doing here?” The words came out with far more force and heat than Cade had intended, effectively stopping Dylan’s chatter. From the corner of his eye he could see that she had gotten very still. The little trespasser, his fishing partner, was Brijette Dupre’s daughter?

“I guess you did meet her at the clinic.” Dylan ground her toe against the patio concrete and Cade cringed slightly. It wasn’t the kid’s fault her mom was…well, what she was. A word that would adequately describe Brijette defied him.

“That’s right, Dylan, I work with Dr. Wheeler at the clinic. Now come on, we’ve got to finish tracking Mr. Robert’s horse.”

The girl tossed her mother a look that Cade wouldn’t have thought kids learned until they reached at least seventeen and believed they knew everything.

“Get real, Mom. You don’t think I dumped the trail like that, do you?” The girl snapped her fingers when she said the word “that” and Cade had to fight to keep from smiling. She pointed to the yard behind his garage. “The trail ended right there. A truck and trailer were parked where you couldn’t see them. Maybe Mr. Cade stole the horse.” She winked at him.

This time he couldn’t stop the smile. “Dylan, I told you it’s Cade, no ‘mister,’ all right? And no, I haven’t stolen a horse or even seen one.”

Brijette moved to the grassy area Dylan had pointed to. The young girl hurried over to her and motioned for Cade to follow. He obeyed without a second thought.

“See, Cade.” Dylan pointed to the grass, which he could now see had been flattened.

“Mr. Wheeler or Dr. Wheeler, Dylan,” Brijette interrupted, and Cade reminded himself to be angry, though with Brijette’s daughter around it was difficult. Oh, well, that was all it took. The fact that she was Brijette’s daughter immediately made him fume again.

“He told me to call him Cade.”

Brijette glared at him. “You haven’t seen anyone around today?”

He shook his head. “No, but I was at the clinic at eight this morning and didn’t get home until six.”

“Your house okay? Nothing missing, nobody broke in?”

“Everything’s exactly as I left it.”

“Probably thought the house was still empty.” This she mumbled more to herself than to him. She retrieved a small cell phone from the chest pocket of her scrubs and dialed a number while walking away from them. Cade hurried to the patio, remembering that he hadn’t even put his steak on the grill yet.

“I’ll tell my mom we’re eating supper with you as soon as she gets off the phone.”

Damn, he’d completely forgotten he’d given the invitation.

“Mom, Cade invited us to eat with him, okay?”

Brijette dropped the phone into her pocket, and at last he got to see her look shocked. “I’m sure you misunderstood Dr. Wheeler, Dylan.”

Dylan’s lips curved into a pout. “No, I didn’t. He said me and my mom should stay for supper. He said it right before you got here.”

“Hmm. I really don’t think we should impose on Dr. Wheeler. Come on, let’s go.” She focused her attention on him. “The sheriff will be around to check the area.”

Brijette began to stride across the yard toward the creek.

“But, Mom, he invited us and he’s new here. He needs to have company so he won’t have to eat all by himself.”

“Dylan, I told you once and I’m not going to say it again. And since when did you start whining?”

Dylan didn’t move from where she’d positioned herself next to him. Brijette frowned at her from across the yard. Were those tears he saw in the girl’s eyes? He sighed and shuffled like a prisoner until he was in front of Brijette.

“I did invite Dylan and her mom for supper. It won’t take long to get two more steaks ready, so stay. Seeing as we’re going to be around each other a lot the next few months, we might as well get used to it.”

Brijette glanced past him to where Dylan awaited the verdict on the patio.

“You didn’t know I was her mother when you gave that invitation or you wouldn’t have done it. I don’t want her to think she can start whining and get her way.”

“You’re right. I wouldn’t have given the invitation if I’d known who her mother was. But I did give it, because I like Dylan. And I still do, despite who her mother is. She seems to be a good kid. Wonders never cease, do they?”

He spun on his heel. This round went to him. Brijette’s tight jawline and partially opened mouth gave him a slight feeling of satisfaction. He chose to ignore the other feelings seeing her again caused.

Stopping on the stairs to the patio, he looked back. One more thing he had to get straight. “Oh, and Brijette, my name is Cade, not Mr. Wheeler, not Mr. Cade and damn sure not Dr. Wheeler. People who know each other as intimately as you and I don’t usually use that kind of formality.”

THE THREE OF THEM finished their meal much faster than Dylan would probably have liked. When Cade offered them a ride to Mr. Robert’s to get their car, Dylan was thrilled, but Brijette would rather have crawled through the woods on her hands and knees than spend more time with him. He’d acted as though she’d said they were going to wade off into the swamp when Brijette told him they’d go through the woods back to their car. In the end it had been easier to agree than to try and explain her reluctance to Dylan.

Dylan wanted to sit up front by him, but he held open the back door and motioned for her to get in, forcing Brijette to take the passenger seat. Dylan asked him questions from the back seat during the ride. He didn’t seem to mind and Brijette was just thankful that she didn’t need to join in. When they stopped at Robert’s, the house was dark and his truck was gone.

“Do you think Mr. Robert is trying to find who took his horse, Mom?”

“He’s probably at the sheriff’s office. Now, thank Cade for the supper so we can go. It’s late.” She was desperate to extricate herself from this situation.

Dylan already had her seat belt off and she pushed herself between the front seats. “Thanks for the supper, Cade. We’ll have to do it again soon. Maybe you can come eat with us one night.”

Brijette pushed her into the back. “Dylan, good grief.”

Her daughter wasn’t the least perturbed by the reprimand. She was grinning herself silly in the back seat while Brijette was trying to decide if she could take a leave of absence from work. But there’d be no avoiding Cade. She had to work with him, but she didn’t want her daughter to be so awestruck by him. That could only lead to trouble. Brijette reached for the door, but Cade caught her arm. “Wait, Brijette. Dylan, go wait in the car. I need to talk to your mom about a patient and we have to do that in private.”

Dylan nodded and slid from her seat, kicking gravel all the way to their SUV. At least he’d made her mad in the end. She hoped Dylan would stay miffed at Cade for, oh, the next six months.

The lights from the dash glowed on Brijette’s skin and Cade had to tell himself twice to take his hand off her arm. Some things never changed and that shotgun-blast feeling he got from touching Brijette Dupre was one of them. He didn’t want to remember how her skin felt under his fingers, but he did. She faced him and he could feel his body leaning toward her, something about those dark eyes… He forced himself to straighten and put more distance between them. Thankfully, she spoke and that bewitching spell broke.

“Thanks for being so nice to Dylan. I’ll try to make sure she doesn’t worry you at your house.”

“Dylan doesn’t worry me, and I didn’t ask you to stay in this car so you could thank me.” At last he could get his brain on track and onto the most important question he’d ever asked.

“Right. Which patient did you want to discuss?”

“I don’t want to talk about a patient. I wanted to speak to you in private.”

She squirmed in her seat and he imagined she knew what was coming. “I want you to tell me who in the hell is the father of that child.”

## CHAPTER FOUR

THE QUESTION she’d dreaded most, and it was coming from the last person she’d ever expected to say those words. Brijette didn’t try to answer right away. Nothing good could come of this. But, if she could keep Cade from learning the truth, then he’d leave and her life would be normal again, maybe. But how normal would it be for Dylan? In just a minute she would deny her child her father. A man who could buy her things, take her places Brijette never could. But would he teach her to love and care for other people, to give back to the community that raised her? Probably not. He hadn’t wanted a child with her years ago and she couldn’t imagine that he or his stiff-and-proper mother would want one now.

“She’s not yours, that’s for sure.”

His features seemed to crinkle in the dim light.

“How old is she?”

His words were softer than she expected. She might have described them as sad if she hadn’t known better.

“She’s almost ten.”

His eyes slammed on her with a force she could feel and she dug her back into the seat.

“So she could be mine. Unless you jumped into bed with someone else as soon as you got rid of me.”

“I think you know where I spent the three months after you left.”

He had the decency to stop glaring at her after that. She opened her mouth to ask him why he was so concerned about a child he’d never wanted in the first place—a child he’d been more than happy to get rid of. But she froze with her lips barely parted. What if he’d never known she was pregnant? Doubt had entered her mind when Cade’s mother told her of his decision, but she’d tossed the suspicions aside. Mrs. Wheeler was his mother and a seventeen-year-old Brijette had no reason to think the woman would lie. He’d probably decided to pretend it never happened. That he’d never had a part in anything so ugly as paying her off to have an abortion—not him, not Cade Wheeler. If he wanted to feign ignorance, she’d be more than happy to go along. It served her purpose to ignore the whole incident.

She’d been presented with money for an abortion, then left to spend three months in a youth correction facility. Brijette wouldn’t allow Cade to show up now and start making waves in hers and Dylan’s lives. From the moment she’d had her daughter she’d been planning for the possibility of Wheeler interference, though she hadn’t expected it. Thank goodness she’d made the effort anyway, because she was about to put those plans into action.

“Dylan was born twelve months after you left here, and I have the birth certificate to prove it. Unless I’m a human oddity, that’s a couple months too late for her to be yours. I’ll show you the birth certificate if you’re that concerned.”

The steering wheel creaked under the pressure of his hands. “Left that place and jumped into bed with the first guy who came along, huh?”

Brijette thought she wouldn’t care what Cade said, how he saw her. She was wrong. It hurt to know he thought she had no morals. But then he’d believed her guilty of a lot things before now. He was staring at the front windshield and she was amazed that looking at him like this could still make her heart skip. Maybe it was just fear affecting her rather than the glint in his eyes or his slightly full lower lip that she recalled kissing indiscriminately. She’d kissed a few men since, but no one like him. Cade had been in a class by himself.

She didn’t respond and he continued. “Where’s her father? Does he visit, send money?”

She eyed the green light on the radio’s digital display and shook her head.

“Are you telling me he doesn’t know he has a child?”

Her breath caught deep in her lungs then came out in a gust. “I’m telling you he wasn’t interested in having a child. He took off and hasn’t had a thing to do with us since.” That statement was the most honest one of the evening. “I need to go now. I can’t leave Dylan sitting in the car by herself.” She fumbled with the door, but he caught her arm before she could get away.

“Bring that birth certificate to work tomorrow. I am that concerned.”

She stumbled from his truck to her vehicle, thoroughly confused. Cade continued to drill her with questions about Dylan’s father and the more he asked, the less she wanted to tell him. Maybe he regretted the decision he made then. If so, she didn’t care about his change of heart. But why didn’t he mention her pregnancy, their child, the abortion he thought he paid for? Her uncertainty multiplied and she rammed the heel of her hand against her forehead to stop her panicked speculation. With any luck his questions ended here. Now she needed to keep Cade and Dylan apart and hope no one else noticed the uncanny resemblance of the two.

THE CAR DOOR slammed, the engine hummed to life and the red taillights of the SUV disappeared. Gone again and good riddance.

Cade put his own vehicle in motion and tried to beat down the feeling in the pit of his stomach. He was not disappointed. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself. But for an instant, just a moment in time, he’d thought the cute little blonde could be his, his own daughter. Then that witch had ruined it, like she’d ruined everything between them. Sharing a child with her would have been pure hell. His child couldn’t be raised by a woman like Brijette, untrustworthy, a liar. A host of even worse descriptive words butted into his brain but he swept them aside. It didn’t matter, the kid didn’t belong to him. Brijette had gone to bed with a lowlife who got her pregnant and took off.

How quickly things could change. At one time Cade had expected to spend the rest of his life, after medical school, right here in Cypress Landing, with Brijette. Then in an instant his plans had come apart. Brijette had been arrested while they were together and she’d been carrying a large package of prescription narcotics in her backpack. Enough to get her sent to that youth correctional facility a few hours away. Before she was sentenced, she’d told his mother she’d take money to stay away from him. He’d wondered what had happened to the girl he’d fallen in love with. But his mother had convinced him Brijette had just made a fool of him, acting as if she cared. So he’d left without another word to her. He hadn’t seen or spoken to her again, until now.

His gut twisted slightly at the thought. Had that been the right thing to do? He shook his head. Of course he’d done the right thing—no need to second-guess a decision he’d made that long ago. He pulled into his drive only to be hit with blaring lights from three sheriff’s vehicles. He recognized Matthew Wright, who was only a few years older than himself and had been with the sheriff’s department when Cade was here before.

Cade climbed out of his car and gripped Matt’s hand. “Hey, how are you? It’s been a long time.”

Matt nodded. “Yeah, it has.”

Cade stuffed his hands into his pockets and leaned against the truck door. “I think you were the investigator when I was last here.”

“I took over as sheriff a few years after you left.”

The ever so slight pause between “you” and “left” didn’t get lost on Cade. More than one person in this town likely thought he’d been as guilty as Brijette. He hadn’t been, which is why he’d gone home before things had gotten worse.

“You’re going to be the new doctor in town.” The sheriff seemed to be sizing him up.

“Only until my uncle recovers from his surgery, then I’ll go back to Dallas.”

“City boy, huh?”

Cade shrugged. “I guess. My mother likes Dallas and doesn’t want to leave. She’s getting older and I need to be nearby.”

Matt accepted the answer without a response. It was one that would make sense around here—a son doing his duty by seeing to his aging mother, the honorable thing to do. Cade didn’t know how honorable his intentions were when part of him resisted it so much. But he’d made promises to his father and, being an only child, he felt the need to keep them.

“Don’t think we’ll get much here.”

Cade swung his attention back to the sheriff. “No idea what happened to the horse?”

“Not yet. I wouldn’t even have noticed those tire tracks if Brijette hadn’t told me where to find them.”

Cade smiled against his will. He didn’t want the image of Brijette kneeling, studying the grass in his backyard to make him smile, but it did. It was what had drawn him to her when they were younger, the way she would get completely engrossed in something and forget everything else. These were not the memories he wanted to think of right now. Actually, he should eliminate them from his mind permanently.

“Her daughter’s the one who found the marks first.”

Sheriff Wright rubbed his chin. “That figures. The kid’s part bloodhound, same as her mother.”

“What was her father like?”

The man’s lips thinned. “I don’t know the girl’s father. Maybe you should ask Brijette. Or better yet, let things like that lie.”

What a quick freeze—the sheriff’s friendly attitude had shifted so abruptly. But a part of Cade couldn’t let the subject go. “I thought he must be from here and you’d know him.”

“Like I said, I don’t know the guy.” Sheriff Wright turned away from him. “We’ve done what we can for now. We’ll be going.”

Matt Wright waved to the other men and they climbed in their respective cars, leaving Cade standing in the damp grass. He walked to the door of the kitchen still feeling the tension that had hung in the air this evening. After flipping off the light, he made his way to bed, trying to decide if he was sorry he’d come to Cypress Landing or not.

THE WHOLE HOUSE seemed to shift as Dylan’s bedroom door slammed shut. The girl hadn’t said a word since Brijette had gotten in the car and driven them home. The child had been around Cade one evening and already Brijette’s life was changing—and not for the better. She took off her shoes and counted to ten before padding down the hall to stand in front of the closed door.

She tapped lightly. “Dylan, I’m coming in.”

A muffled no penetrated the wood, but Brijette ignored it. She was the adult around here.

“What’s going on? Why are you so mad?”

“You don’t even like Cade. Why did I have to sit in our car while you got to stay there and talk to him?”

That set her back and she had to struggle to get her thoughts together. She hadn’t expected her spending time alone with Cade would make Dylan angry. “He told you we had to discuss a patient, and we can’t do that in front of you.”

“I can keep a secret.”

Brijette’s muscles tightened. “I’m sure you can, but you’d better not keep secrets from me.”

“Why? You and Cade kept whatever you talked about in the car a secret.”

From nowhere, tears pricked behind Brijette’s eyes. She hadn’t planned to keep secrets from her daughter, but in reality she had. Protection, she reminded herself. I’m protecting her from the family who would never really accept her because she’s part of me. Focus. She had to focus to get this problem solved.

“Discussing patient care is not keeping a secret. And don’t go to his house bothering him when you’re supposed to be staying with Norma. He’s a busy person.”

“I’m not bothering Cade. He said so. And I only went in his backyard to fish. He’s the one who sat down and fished with me.”

Brijette sighed. “You fish behind Norma’s house where she can see you. That creek can be dangerous.”

“It’s shallow.”

Brijette fought the urge to stomp her foot. “Dylan, you heard me. It’s dangerous. Don’t do it.”

The girl hugged a pillow to her and faced the wall.

“I’m going to take a bath and go to bed. Do you need anything?” Dylan didn’t move or answer, and Brijette leaned over to kiss the top of her head. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

She pulled the door closed behind her and went to the bathroom that adjoined her bedroom. She could afford the small two-bedroom house, which was all that mattered, even though at times she longed for one of those huge tubs with the jets to wash away the aches and pains of a long day.

Dropping her clothes onto the floor, she stepped under the spray of the shower and leaned her head against the wall. Hopefully, this trouble with Dylan wasn’t a premonition of things to come. They’d had their spats during the years as parents and children do, but they were closer than most because they depended so much on each other. In a way, they’d grown up together. She had imagined that one day she’d find a man to marry, to help raise Dylan and be the father the child never knew, but life hadn’t worked out that way. They had to get through this summer. Doc Wheeler would come back from his surgery and Cade would be gone. All those things he’d said years ago, about living in a small town and helping people the way his uncle did, had been a lot of words that had meant nothing. Thank goodness for that, because the sooner he left, the sooner her life and Dylan’s could get back to normal.

AT SIX in the morning Cade nosed his vehicle into a spot on the edge of Main Street in front of the Main Street Coffee Shop. Cypress Landing didn’t seem to find a need for originality in names. What else would one name an eatery on the town’s main street? He’d been hungry the minute his feet hit the floor, and he remembered the diner opened early.

He found a stool at the breakfast counter, avoiding the tables, several already occupied by brooding gray-haired men. They either gathered up here or at the old store on the highway that led outside of town.

An older woman stopped across the counter from him. “You want the same breakfast as usual?”

He hadn’t been in Cypress Landing long, but he’d already been in the Main Street Coffee Shop enough that Alice Berteau, the waitress and owner, knew what he wanted. “That’ll be good.”

She poured him a cup of coffee and disappeared into the kitchen.

A man took a seat beside him and waved to a waitress, who smiled and motioned that she’d be right there.

“Mr. Mills, right? Jody Mills’s dad.”

The man gave him a confused look.

“I’m Cade Wheeler, Dr. Wheeler’s nephew.” Mr. Mills had lost weight since Cade had last seen him, but he’d spent a lot of time with his son, who’d been one of his best friends during his first visit here. Maybe he and Jody could get together again, go fishing like when they were younger.

Recognition finally passed across the man’s face and he nodded. “I almost didn’t recognize you, you’ve grown some. Heard you were coming to help your uncle while he was laid up. That’s good of you.”

Cade wished people would quit telling him he was being nice to come and help his uncle. They made it sound as if he’d left a lot behind to come here, when in truth his uncle’s plea for help had filled a blank hole that had appeared in his life.

“What’s Jody doing? I’d like to see him.”

Mr. Mills’s jaw tightened and he wadded a paper napkin in his hand. “I thought Dr. Wheeler would have told you. Jody died close to a year ago. Got mixed in with the wrong people and started messing around with drugs. Ended up gettin’ shot.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Did they ever catch who did it?”

The man grasped the plastic container the waitress had brought for him and shook his head. “Ask that Brijette at the clinic. She can tell you more. She’s the one who found him. They took to being friends when she moved back here.” He paused as if he realized his voice had gotten louder. “I’ll be seeing you, son. You stay out of trouble, you hear?”

Cade could only watch as the man hurried from the diner.

“He’s changed since Jody died.”

A plate slid across the counter in front of him and Alice propped her arm on the counter. “They never did find who killed the boy and it’s made the man bitter. Wants to blame everyone.”

“Whose fault was it?”

She frowned. “It was Jody’s fault for gettin’ involved in all that. Can’t really blame no one else. Mr. Mills thinks the sheriff isn’t trying hard enough, but there’s only so much that can be done. I don’t know. Maybe I’d feel the same if it happened to my child.” She moved on as a customer at the other end of the counter asked for a coffee refill.

He couldn’t imagine why his uncle hadn’t told him Jody had been killed. Of course, his uncle hadn’t been too pleased that summer when his parents had shown up and carted him back to Dallas. At the time, Cade had just wanted to escape. He’d had very little contact with his uncle after that. Even at his father’s funeral, the man hadn’t mentioned Cypress Landing or the events of that summer. That was why he’d been surprised when his uncle had called and asked for his help. Now that Cade was back in Cypress Landing, his life seemed to be getting tangled in ways he hadn’t expected. All he wanted was a simple medical practice, a wonderful wife and two or three beautiful children. Was that asking too much? He forked a piece of omelet, letting the cheese ooze and wondering if those things would ever happen for him.

BRIJETTE TRIED TO control the jump in her chest, tried to tell herself it wasn’t her heart racing the minute she saw Cade stroll in the door. The same locks of hair slipped over one eyebrow, framing emerald eyes that could draw you in deeper and deeper. His shoulders strained beneath the fabric of his lab coat, making him appear much larger than she remembered. The young man had gone. This Cade seemed to fill the hallway. His blond good looks were what had attracted her to him in the beginning; his warm caring heart was what had made her stay. The chart she held dropped to the floor, scattering loose pieces of paper. That heart had transformed into an iceberg the minute their little sea of love started having a few waves. She’d been crazy in love with him and she hadn’t wanted to believe he’d left. Then his mother came. She took a deep breath and stretched to get the last paper, but her head made a thumping sound as it rammed into Cade’s. He’d crouched to help her get the papers and she hadn’t seen him. Why did he do that? She didn’t need his help, not now, not ever.

“Sorry.” She snapped the file shut, gritting the word between her teeth like a nasty piece of candy.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” She turned to leave, but her foot wobbled in her open-backed clogs. The chart went flying and her shoulder bumped the wall at the same time a hand grabbed her upper arm. Cade steadied her.

“Don’t move.”

He let go and gathered the chart while she stood there, unsure why she kept following his directions but unable to get her muscles in gear. When he had the chart together he caught her arm and pulled her into an empty room, shutting the door behind them.

“I’m sorry about last night.”

If she’d been holding the stupid chart she’d have dropped it again. “What do you mean, you’re sorry?”

“It’s not a riddle. I’m sorry. I said a lot of nasty things to you. We have a past, but it’s just that, past. If we’re going to be working together, we have to get along. Neither one of us may be comfortable with it, but this is the way things are going to be.”

Brijette couldn’t do much more than stare at him. This was how it was going to be? How could they possibly work together with all the resentment between them? What had old Dr. Wheeler been thinking?

Cade caught her hand and squeezed her fingers. “We can do it.” And there he was, the old Cade she’d fallen in love with. The you-and-me-against-the-world Cade, the even-if-the-world-kicks-our-butts Cade. But the world had come to kick their butts, and there hadn’t been a you and me.

“It’ll be fine.” She heard herself say the words but didn’t feel as though they came from her.

He dropped her hand, disappearing through the door, only to reappear seconds later. “Oh, and no swamp medicine.”

Blood rushed to her head and she opened her mouth to reply, but he cut her off, laughing. “Hey, I was joking, okay? We’ll do what works.” He paused, as if contemplating his next words carefully. “I’d still like to see that birth certificate.”

She nodded. Damn Cade Wheeler. She didn’t need this confusion in her life. She fiddled with the exam-room supplies on the small desk. She’d have to find a way to deal with him until he left. Suddenly there was a shout and a thud from the direction of the lobby. Then Cade’s voice seemed to rattle the window in the small room.

“Brijette, get in here now.”

## CHAPTER FIVE

A BODY SPLAYED prone on the office floor first thing in the morning did not spell good news. Cade rolled the young man over.

“What’s his name?” he shouted at the bony girl with him.

“Ray,” she cried. “Is he gonna be all right?”

Cade ignored her. “Ray, can you hear me?”

Ray didn’t move. He made a wheezing sound, then went quiet. Leaning close to the man’s face, Cade couldn’t feel air on his cheek. “He’s not breathing.”

An ambu bag appeared over his shoulder and he fit the plastic piece over Ray’s mouth and nose, holding it in place, squeezing the attached bag to give the man air. Brijette knelt on the floor and stripped Ray’s shirt off, slapping on the pads for the automated external defibrillator.

“Tell me we have a crash cart.”

Brijette gave a quick shake of her head, then pointed to a large red tackle box.

“How am I supposed to know his heart rhythms or what meds to give? Do we even have the equipment here to intubate?” Surely his uncle kept supplies here in case of breathing emergencies, so he could put a tube into the lungs and get air to a patient who couldn’t breathe.

“We’ve got the AED here to administer a shock if needed, and the ambulance is on the way. We can unhook the big monitor from the cardiac exam room and roll it up here, but…” She paused as sirens shrieked outside. “But the ambulance will probably be here before we get it.”

The medics rushed in and Cade moved back, letting the two men take over. In seconds they had the man called Ray on the stretcher, racing to the ambulance.

Ray’s distraught girlfriend or wife waited in the doorway. “Is he going to be all right?”

Brijette crossed the room and stood in front of her. “We don’t know, but it doesn’t look good.”

Well, she didn’t sugarcoat that.

“It would help if we knew what kind of drugs he’s been taking. He did take something, didn’t he?”

“It… I think it might have been OxyContin. But he had a prescription.”

“Why did you bring him here instead of the emergency room?” Brijette asked.

The slender girl hugged her purse to her body. “He didn’t seem that sick. He walked in here. He was real weak and not breathing too good. This was the first place we passed, so we stopped.”

Cade groaned, watching Brijette head back to the desk. He stared at the girl.

“It wasn’t like he was doing illegal drugs, you know. I tell you, he had a prescription.”

The girl hurried through the door and Cade reached the reception desk in time to hear Brijette finish her report to the hospital’s emergency-room doctor. She leaned back in her chair and sighed. “Sorry we didn’t have the equipment you wanted. I’ve talked to your uncle, but he says we’re so close to the hospital that we don’t need it.”

“Sounds like him.”

She smiled and Cade realized he was glad she’d been here. He’d worked in a clinic for such a long time that he’d forgotten what it was like to try to save a life in the immediate sense rather than the long term.

“You don’t seem surprised about the OxyContin.”

She snorted. “Not a bit. Some people tend to forget that drugs aren’t candy.”

“And the fact that he had a prescription?”

“Plenty of doctors will write prescriptions for anything. And then there are always stolen prescription pads.”

“Get much of that around here?”

She shrugged and glanced away. “A pharmacist in town had one on me yesterday.”

He hadn’t expected that. “How’d they get the pad?”

“Stole it when they had a visit here, or tore a sheet off when I laid it down. I try to keep up with mine, but your uncle leaves his where he drops it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind when I’m writing prescriptions.”

She nodded and got to her feet. For an instant he imagined how nice it would be to forget the mess that was their past and pick up anew. He’d like to smile at her, maybe throw his arm over her shoulder. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t trust her for more reasons than one. He followed her into the hall to see the first patient he had waiting.

THE SUN HUNG LOW in the sky as Brijette turned the key to crank the boat. If Norma wasn’t such a good person she’d have quit being Dylan’s sitter long ago. Brijette ran late at least once every week, usually on Thursday when she went to Willow Point. She hated missing time with Dylan, but she hoped her daughter would learn from her example to help people who didn’t have the opportunities she’d had. She wished now she’d brought Dylan with her to the field clinic today, something she often did during school vacations. Her daughter enjoyed helping A.G. at the store or fishing at the dock with the local kids. She and Dylan didn’t have a lot, but it was important for her to learn that many people had even less, and they were still good people, happy people. Things she’d never learn if Cade’s family had their claws in her life. She’d worried more about Dylan lately. They’d had such a close relationship, until recently…until Cade came back. Her lip hurt as she chewed on it, trying to remind herself that her problems with Dylan really had nothing to do with Cade. The girl was growing up and disagreements were a natural part of that. Twice lately she’d mentioned her father, and both times Brijette had supplied the story that he’d left them because he’d been afraid to try to raise a child. That particular lie made her stomach lurch every time. She hated lying like this to her daughter but it was a necessity, to protect her, to protect both of them. Lately, however, it felt like a merry-go-round that was spinning so fast they couldn’t jump off.