“Are you ready?” she asked Ryan, noticing he hadn’t unfastened his seat belt.
“No, I’m not ready. But let’s get this over with anyway.”
After they exited the car, Peter’s smile was congenial as he held his hand out to Ryan. “It’s good to see you again.”
Dressed in boots, jeans and a green plaid, snap-button shirt, Ryan was solidly built from years of ranch work. He was still darkly handsome at age fifty-nine, deeply tanned from riding and working under the Texas sun. Violet admired his good heart as much as his accomplishments on the Double Crown and at Fortune TX, Ltd., where he acted as an advisor and sat on the board of directors.
The doorway from the garage led past the mudroom into a large living room. Violet noticed an expansive deck that seemed to go on forever outside of the living room’s sliding glass doors.
“Interesting place you’ve got here,” she remarked as they walked into the kitchen and stood peering into the great room with its cathedral ceiling and immense fan.
Sliding glass doors from that room also led out onto the deck, and Violet glimpsed a hot tub. The fireplace in the great room was fashioned of beautiful gray stone. A mission-style sofa and chair were grouped around it, their cushions woven with fabric striped in gray, tan and black. The living room had been equipped with an entertainment center, large TV and contemporary glass tables. In that room, the decor was an extension of the outdoors with earth tones and rustic textures. It still looked a bit empty.
“I really like the design of this house,” she said with admiration.
“It’s different,” Peter agreed. “And it suits me. I’m not here often enough to enjoy it, though. If I don’t soon put something on the walls, my sisters are threatening to do it for me.”
“You come from a large family?” Violet asked.
“Two biological sisters. My parents took in a lot of foster kids, and they feel like brothers and sisters, too.”
Peter’s gaze passed over Violet’s light blue, short-sleeved blouse and indigo jeans. She felt herself get very warm. She’d been tempted to wear something less casual but had told herself what she wore was simply not important.
“Would you like something to drink?” Peter asked.
Ryan shook his head. “I don’t want to tie you up too long.”
“All right. Violet, if you’re interested, help yourself to anything in the refrigerator.” He motioned to a hall that led to the other side of the house. “My study’s down this way. Let’s go in there.”
Then the men disappeared and Violet was left standing in the center of Peter Clark’s house all alone.
She couldn’t help snooping a bit. Well, not snooping, but absorbing Peter’s surroundings.
Her apartment was cluttered with mementoes from her childhood—presents her brothers and her parents had given her and selected items that simply carried memories. Now as she wandered toward a pine cabinet with glass doors, she peeked through the glass. There was a picture in a silver frame of a woman dressed in bell-bottomed slacks standing with a man who looked very much like Peter. Beside it stood three leather-bound books that were classics, a photograph of the same woman, older now, standing with five children. On another shelf, Violet spotted a duck decoy carved from wood and intricately painted, a Kachina and a wicker basket filled with seashells. There were several arrowheads and a picture of two young women. Peter’s sisters?
Glancing toward the study, she realized she was taking inventory to keep her mind off what was happening in there. Would Peter’s findings be different from hers?
A half hour later, Violet was staring out into Peter’s backyard unseeingly when Ryan and the neurosurgeon emerged from the study.
Ryan raked his hand through his hair. “He made me do all the same things you did and asked a heck of a lot of questions.”
“I think Ryan needs an MRI,” Peter advised calmly. “I’ll call a colleague of mine in Houston, where I did my residency, and see if he can set it up there.”
“But you’ll be my doctor?” Ryan asked hopefully.
“My speciality is children, Ryan, but let’s not jump ahead of ourselves. We’ll do the test and then go from there.”
“You’re right. That sounds reasonable.” He looked from Peter to Violet. “I know you two probably want to talk about me. I’ll just go on outside and take a look around.”
As if knowing neither of them would argue with him, he unlatched the sliding glass doors and stepped outside.
After Ryan had closed the door and walked farther out onto the deck, Violet asked, “Do you think his condition is serious?”
“At this stage, there’s no way of knowing. The MRI will tell us what comes next.”
“Is there any reason why Ryan shouldn’t drive? I convinced him to let me bring him tonight, but he’s not the type of man who likes to be chauffeured.”
“I asked him about blackouts and he said he hasn’t had any. He insists he hasn’t been dizzy, either. So until something other than the headaches develop, I can’t tell him he shouldn’t drive.”
When Violet thought about the possibilities of what could be wrong with Ryan, she felt her chin quiver. Suddenly the idea of losing Ryan was much too real.
Coming closer, Peter studied her for a long moment. “What?”
Feeling embarrassed, she shook her head. “He’s…he’s more than a patient to me.”
A tear escaped the corner of her eye and rolled down her cheek, and she quickly swiped at it.
Reaching out, Peter clasped her shoulder. “Don’t borrow trouble.”
“I can’t help but worry. It hasn’t been that long since he and Lily found each other again. They’re so happy.”
“Yes, they are. But whether this is stress or something more serious, I know she’ll support him just as you will…just as I will.”
Peter’s hand on her shoulder was comforting. It was as if she could feel his strength seeping into her. “You’d never know I deal with life and death and grim diagnoses all the time.”
“Grim diagnoses?”
“There just seems to have been a lot of them lately. Before I left New York there were two young women with MS, and a pregnant mother who died—”
She stopped abruptly, not knowing what she was doing. She didn’t unload. That simply wasn’t her nature. She handled what came her way without leaning on anyone.
“What else?” he asked, his green eyes kind.
“Nothing, really. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. All I’m doing is riding, catching up on medical journals and visiting with my brother Miles. You’d think I’d be as happy as the proverbial lark.”
“Anyone can get burned out.”
“Do you?” she asked.
With a wry smile and a half shrug, he answered, “Not yet.” Then he became more serious. “But it can sneak up on you.”
Gazing into Peter’s eyes, Violet couldn’t seem to look away. His hand was still resting comfortingly on her shoulder, but the comfort was becoming an awareness that easily could turn into something else.
Self-consciously, she motioned toward the deck. “I’d better tell Ryan I’m ready to go or he’ll think we’re keeping something from him.”
Dropping his hand to his side,