Baby, Drive South (12 page)

It was, Nikki realized at a glance, a warehouse.

To the right of the entrance was a work area with a desk, tables, file cabinets, utility sinks, a water hose, rags and various cleaning supplies. The rest of the building resembled one enormous swap meet—furniture, lawn statues, quilts, clothing, musical instruments, tools, even a couple of motorcycles.

“Here’s where we keep all the valuables we find.” He opened a file cabinet to reveal tagged plastic bags. He lifted a random bag that held a shiny silver picture frame, with a stained, but legible black-and-white wedding photograph inside. “Molly cleans and repairs everything and matches it to a list of items residents declared missing after the tornado. If she’s able to locate the former resident, she ships the item to them. If not, she tags it, bags it and stores it here.”

Nikki stared at the wedding photo, thinking of how much that picture had meant to the people in it, and to their children. “Until when?”

He shrugged and returned the picture frame, then closed the file cabinet. “We haven’t decided. One of our ideas is to get a website going so it’s easier for former residents to contact us.”

“There are at least a couple of techie-types who came in our group,” she offered.

“Kendall will be glad to know that.”

Surveying remnants of the people who had once lived in Sweetness was almost overwhelming. She could picture people sitting in these rocking chairs, eating around these tables. These people had loved and laughed and cried and raised their families here. A tornado had obliterated their histories, which might have gone unrecorded if not for the Armstrong brothers trying to resurrect an entire town with their bare hands.

It was mind-boggling.

Nikki walked over to a group of odds-and-ends furniture cordoned off in a corner, drawn to a massive wood headboard with the distinctive curve of a sleigh bed. It was an aged piece, but the finish gleamed.

“How beautiful,” she breathed, running her hand over the satiny wood.

Porter came up behind her. “My mother thought so.”

She turned. “Your mother?”

He nodded. “These are all things that came from our home. This was the bed she and my dad shared. Over there’s the coffee table Marcus made her one year for Mother’s Day. And there’s the cabinet she kept her good dishes in, minus the glass. But we did find a few of the dishes intact. We’re keeping everything for the day we can bring our mother back to Sweetness.”

Myriad emotions played over his handsome face, and his deep blue eyes brimmed with affection. Nikki could only imagine how many memories washed over him every time he looked at his family heirlooms and keepsakes. The loss of her own family felt acute at that moment. Her heart welled, but at the same time, she didn’t want to know these personal stories, didn’t want to become emotionally invested in a place she was planning to leave. Suddenly, returning to Broadway was preferable to staying here and being lulled into a fantasy. The Armstrongs were operating on a wing and a prayer, trying to recapture a sense of home and family that were long gone. Rebuilding Sweetness was going to take a Herculean effort by people who truly cared.

And she didn’t want to care.

Nikki drew herself up. “This is all very nice,” she managed to say. “But if you don’t mind, I’d really like to talk to that mechanic about getting my van repaired so I get on the road back to
my
home.”

She turned and strode out, before she could think too hard about the definition of “home.”

13

P
orter watched Nikki march out of the property room, uncertain what had caused the about-face in her mood. One minute she’d been admiring the keepsakes of the town’s former residents, and the next minute, she couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

He wondered again about the phone call she’d made on top of the water tower. Had the situation she’d left back in Broadway changed? Did someone there want her to come back?

He cast another look at the recovered pieces of his mother’s furniture—it always gave him faith that they would reach their goal of restoring the town of Sweetness and relocating their mother back to the place where she’d met their father, raised her children and laid to rest members of her family, his dad included. He needed to do whatever it took to grow the town. And right now that meant convincing the Broadway women to stay.

Including Dr. Salinger.

She stood there waiting for him, arms crossed, looking off in the direction she wanted to go—away from Sweetness. Damn, if she didn’t look good in his shirt.

“I’m calling the mechanic now,” Porter said, pulling out his cell phone.

“Good,” she chirped.

Did anyone care that his leg was throbbing like a toothache? Porter stabbed in Kendall’s number.

“Porter?” Kendall answered. “Where are you? And why aren’t you helping me and Marcus get ready for this meeting you roped us into?”

“I’m calling to check on the doctor’s van,” Porter said, exaggerating his tone so Kendall would know something was up.

“Oh, brother. Is Dr. Salinger standing there?”

“You got it,” Porter said.

“You’re pathetic.”

“Whatever it takes,” Porter said cheerfully.

Kendall laughed. “I think this woman is getting the best of you, little brother.”

Porter hardened his jaw. “Keep me posted.” He disconnected the call before his brother could say some other fool thing.

“What did the mechanic say?” Nikki asked, her face hopeful.

Porter hesitated. If she wanted to go home that badly, maybe he should just reconnect her fuel pump and let her go. The woman’s talents would probably be wasted in a place like this, where most of her cases were likely to be pulled muscles and bee stings.

Then he reminded himself of the enormous challenge he and his brothers had before them. And like it or not, this woman could be the linchpin.

“He said it looks like the problem is your fuel pump.”

“And?”

“And…he’s ordering a new…thing.”

She looked pensive. “A new fuel pump? How long will that take?”

He shrugged. “A few days maybe.”

“Will it be delivered?”

“Yeah.”

She looked around. “Where’s the post office?”

“Uh…we don’t actually have a zip code yet.”

Her eyebrows arched. “How will a replacement part be delivered?”

“Let me worry about that,” he said breezily. “You fixed me up, so I’ll fix up your van.”

She looked dubious, but he could tell she was weighing her options and coming up with none. “You should get some food in your stomach,” she said finally, then turned and skirted the dining hall, heading for the rooming house.

He felt a twinge of remorse for deceiving her, but told himself that there must have been a good reason for her to answer their ad. Maybe if she stayed here long enough, she would remember why.

“Don’t forget the town meeting!” he called after her.

But if she heard him, she didn’t respond.

Porter frowned, then backtracked through the dining hall. He found Molly standing next to a window, scrutinizing the newly shined silver pocket watch under a magnifying glass.

“Find any identifying marks?” he asked.

Molly handed him the magnifying glass. “Three initials. First two are
C
and
A
, I think. Can you make out the last one?”

Porter balanced himself on his crutches, took the magnifying glass and allowed her to hold the piece. “Maybe a
W?
Hard to tell.” He whistled low as he ran a finger over the heavily embossed silver. “Great piece, though, huh?”

“It’s a beauty,” Molly agreed. “Hope we can get it back in the hands of the rightful owner.” She looked around. “Speaking of beauty, where did Dr. Salinger get off to?”

Porter gave a little smile. “She’d had enough of me, I guess—and the town. She wants to go back where she came from as soon as her van is repaired.”

“Really? Too bad. She seemed like the sensible kind we need around here.”

“She is,” he admitted. “Although I wouldn’t exactly call her a beauty.”

Molly shook her head. “Open your eyes, soldier. That girl has the kind of beauty a man would never get tired of.”

Porter scowled. “Maybe I’m looking for the kind of woman I
will
get tired of.”

“I won’t tell your mother you said that,” Molly said with a disapproving expression.

Contrite, he muttered, “Sorry. My leg is killing me and I’m starving. Little lady doc says I should take my painkillers with food. Can you help me out?”

“I’m not a short-order cook.”

“Come on, Colonel.” Porter angled his head. “Be the only woman in town who isn’t causing me grief right now.”

She worked her mouth back and forth. “I guess I could scramble a few eggs.”

He grinned. “Atta girl.”

“Watch it, soldier.”

Porter straightened and saluted, which garnered him a smile. He glanced out the window and watched Dr. Salinger’s whip-slim figure move toward the boardinghouse slowly, as if she had the world on her shoulders.

She didn’t know it, Porter thought, but she certainly carried the fate of Sweetness on them.

Nikki idly sorted through supplies, her mind torturing her with images of Darren and his young stripper fiancée in all kinds of acrobatic positions. She and Darren had never set the sheets on fire, but she’d been satisfied with their sex life, and assumed he was, too.

That, obviously, had not been the case.

Fresh tears pricked her eyelids. In the distance she could hear sounds of the women talking and laughing in the kitchen, the chug of washing machines churning. She felt so removed. How did she get here? Her life was a train wreck—fleeing one place, trapped in another. Choosing between the lesser of two evils.

At the sound of footsteps, she wiped her eyes. When Rachel came into view, Nikki tamped down her irritation. It wasn’t the woman’s fault that her feminine gorgeousness played to the insecurities Nikki was wrestling with.

“Am I interrupting something?” Rachel asked.

“No, come in. Do you need more Benadryl?” The women were plagued with bug bites and allergies—her included. Nikki had doled out ointment and antihistamines all morning. It wasn’t exactly the life she’d dreamed of in medical school.

“No, I’m fine,” Rachel said, scratching idly at her bite-riddled arms. “I just came to get you for the town meeting.”

“Oh.” Nikki hesitated. “I’m not going.”

Rachel frowned and crossed her arms. “Why not?”

Should she tell the woman she wasn’t planning to stay? No. She didn’t want to deal with the questions. No doubt the women had called back to Broadway to talk to family and friends. If one or two people had heard about Darren’s engagement announcement, then most likely everyone knew. They’d think she was pathetic, maybe returning to try to win back her man.

The truth was much more pathetic—that as many bad memories as she had in Broadway, this little place with its big expectations scared her more.

“I…I’m busy, that’s all,” Nikki said, but her excuse sounded thin, even to her own ears.

Rachel frowned. “We need you to be there, Nikki, to ask questions and back us up. We want to make sure this town is ready to provide everything a doctor needs.”

Nikki conceded the wisdom of Rachel’s argument. Even if she left, the next town physician would have similar needs. It was only fair that she help set the stage for someone else to step in. It was part of the Hippocratic Oath, to be a responsible member of society. She had special obligations to her fellow human beings to safeguard their care.

Besides, it wasn’t as if she had anything better to do.

Nikki noted the mood in the dining hall was expectant—and a little suspicious. The women were already starting to miss the creature comforts of home, of having things at their disposal. The weather, the bugs and the seeming lack of compatibility with the single men they’d been promised would welcome them with open arms did not help.

Marcus Armstrong started the presentation by describing the way he and his brothers remembered Sweetness growing up. Pictures of small-town life were projected on a large white overhead screen. The people looked simple and happy, Americana at its best—high school football games, Fourth of July parades, watermelon-eating contests.

“But the economy was failing,” Marcus explained. “The town was isolated and our young people were leaving in droves. With a dwindling population, companies weren’t willing to bring technology this far up the mountain and conditions continued to worsen. When the tornado hit ten years ago this summer, it wiped out what was left of our town.”

Pictures of the devastation flashed onscreen to audible gasps. Nikki’s heart squeezed—very few things in the footage were even recognizable. The town had been reduced to a pile of rubble.

“The federal government offered disaster recovery funds, but it wasn’t enough. The local government was too bankrupt to rebuild schools. Residents and business owners simply abandoned their property.”

Nikki’s thoughts flashed to the items in the property room Porter had shown her—no wonder the residents hadn’t been able to find their belongings. And no wonder they had decided to leave.

“After a few years,” Marcus continued, “the state took ownership of the mountain, and it was left to grow wild. Wildfires that went unchecked only made the area more uninhabitable. Several months ago, my brothers and I were granted a federal grant to reclaim this land and turn it into a green community with a viable tax base. We have two years to meet program minimums, and so far, we’re on track.”

Kendall Armstrong, whose credentials included a master’s degree in environmental engineering, took over. He presented the overall vision for the town of Sweetness: an economy based on recycling and generating alternative energy. All businesses, schools, municipal buildings and manufacturing plants would be powered by solar energy, and the meadow where the barbecue had taken place would become a windmill farm. To encourage hybrid and electric vehicles, recharging stations would be installed. Computer-generated drawings helped the audience envision what the town might look like.