Just Beginning (6 page)

“Amazing.” Eyes locked on Gabe, she ignored the chilly ice cream dripping down her hand. She’d never been more attracted to a man. “You’re a very special guy, Doctor Harrison.”

Gabe brought her sticky hand to his mouth. With quick little strokes that faintly tickled, he licked the ice cream trailing down her fingers. At her quick intake of breath, he tilted his head so that his darkened gaze met hers. “You’re pretty special yourself, Ms. Campbell.”

“Gabe?” An older man on a mountain bike pulled up next to them. A Wayne State sweatshirt stretched tightly across his protruding belly. He swiped at the sweat running in rivulets down the sides of his flushed face to his jowls as he caught his breath. “I thought that was you. How’re you doing?”

Gabe released her hand, turned and nodded. “Fine, Ken. You?”

Jenny took the opportunity to throw out the rest of her cone and wipe her hand.

“Great, just out for a ride, trying to work off those old love handles. Taking my kids up north next weekend. My son thinks he’s gonna leave his old Pop in the dust.” He glanced at Jenny, nodding. “This must be your daughter. She’s beautiful—takes after her mother, eh?”

Daughter? She and Alex looked nothing alike. Jenny glanced at Gabe out of the corner of her eye to gauge his reaction.

“This is my friend, Jenny.” Unperturbed, Gabe turned to her. “Jenny, Ken. Ken’s Chief of Neurology at St. Francis. Been riding long, Ken?”

He paused briefly, as if considering Gabe’s question, before giving himself a mental shake. With one last curious look at Jenny, he patted his gut. “Try to do ten miles three times a week. Great exercise. You should try it.”

“I don’t have love handles.”

“Not yet, but you’re getting up there. It pays to keep in shape.”

“Thanks, I’ll remember that. You’d better get going before it gets dark.”

“Right.” Ken’s cheerful facade wilted. With a muffled groan, he pushed away from the curb. “See ya around.”

Jenny moved close to Gabe, giggling. “Daughter?”

He stared at her, assessing. “You could be. With your hair like that and no makeup, you could pass for a teenager.”

“Yeah,” she drawled. “If you’d been a really precocious boy.”

“We have similar coloring.”

“And that’s about it.” She wrapped an arm around his trim waist and leaned into him. “We could really give them something to talk about,” she whispered, pulling his head down. “But, of course, it might ruin your reputation to be caught necking with your daughter.”

Tongue poking his cheek, he looked over her head, pretending to consider it, before turning sparkling eyes to her. “I'm willing to risk it.”

* * *

“Gabe? I’m starvin’. Ready to go?” George Turner called as he let himself into Gabe’s little house and wandered into the kitchen.

“Just out of the shower,” Gabe yelled from down the hall. “Help yourself to a beer.”

George snagged a Molson’s from the fridge, pawed through several cupboards before he found the Lays potato chips his nephew always kept in the house. After twisting off the cap and tossing it onto the counter, he grabbed a handful of chips and pulled out a stool.

Squeak, screech, whizz
.

“What the hell?” George scowled at Gabe’s phone as it made a racket again.
What the hell is wrong with the thing
?

He picked it up and saw Alex’s pretty face. He poked the text message and smiled at a picture of Alex and her best friend, Jamie. At sixteen, his great niece was turning into a pretty young lady. She’d grown into her gangly pubescent limbs. The persistent freckles across the bridge of her pert nose and her mischievous grin gave her away. She would look younger than her years for quite a while still, despite her curves and makeup.

He took a long pull on his beer, closed the text, and poked Gabe’s photo icon. What other pictures did Gabe have of the kids? There were the three of them at Ted’s graduation. Then a few shots of Gabe and Ted washing Ted’s new car, a ‘90 Ford Mustang convertible. Ted’s pride and joy.

Although divorced, Judith and Gabe had done a good job with those kids. They raised them right. He hadn’t seen his great niece and nephew in a while. Maybe he should take them out to dinner to catch up.

He swiped through some group pictures of people on a sailboat, pausing on a shot of Gabe and some girl. The wind ruffled Gabe’s hair as he grinned carefree into the lens. One arm draped casually around the girl, who held a handful of long, brown hair away from her face while she posed for the camera. The next picture caught the girl perched at the bow, looking wistfully out over the water. Then a close-up of the same picture. What a looker. Who was she?

George gazed out the window, trying to remember if he’d ever met her. His glance lit on a red car parked in Gabe’s driveway. Frowning, he took a gulp of his beer, then called out, “Hey, there’s a fire-engine parked in your drive.”

Gabe rounded the corner, finger brushing his damp hair. Ducking, he looked out the window. “The car? It’s mine.”

“You got a new car? What’s wrong with the old one?”

Gabe got himself a beer. “Nothing. I repainted it. Got tired of the black.”

He put the phone down. “Your phone was squeaking and squawkin’.”

“That’s my text alert. Recognize it?”

“Should I?”

“You know it.” Gabe picked it up, poked the phone a couple of times, and set it off.

George cocked his head. It was kind of familiar...

“R2-D2.
Star Wars
.”

Of course
. “Oh, yeah.” He and Gabe had a tradition of seeing each movie the day it came out. “I’m not supposed to know the girl, too, am I?”

“Who? Alex’s friend?”

“Naw, I know Jamie.” George took Gabe’s phone and flipped through to the picture of the brunette with the long hair. He angled the phone toward Gabe. “This one.”

Leaning close, Gabe craned his head sideways to get a better look. He’d taken the picture of Jenny out on the sailboat on the fourth of July. Her long silky hair blew free in the wind as she hugged her slender, shapely legs tight against her chest. He loved the sexy, carefree smile she’d given him. A smile full of promise. Just for him. God, she made him feel like a king. He’d have to print that one.

“Jenny. We went out with friends on the Fourth.” He popped a chip in his mouth.

“You’re
dating
her?” George riffled back to the shot of the two of them, she looked older there, maybe early twenties, but in the one on the bow with her hair blowing in the breeze, she could’ve been Alex’s age.

Gabe nodded and swallowed. No denying Jenny looked young for her age, but she acted a lot older. An old soul. Yes, he was dating her and loving it. Before Jenny, he’d been idling along, especially since his buddy had gotten married and moved to New York six months ago.

He’d turned to his children to fill his free time, but his kids were mostly grown and didn’t need him. In fact, he got the feeling they allowed him to hang out with them and their friends out of pity. They felt sorry for him because he was alone. Which he wasn’t—really. He had Uncle George to play golf with, a thriving practice, and Wednesday night tennis league.

It wasn’t as if he’d never dated—not seriously, until Jenny. He’d never taken the time to get serious. After the divorce, he and Judith devoted a lot of time ensuring that the children were okay with their new lives, and his life had gradually slipped into a routine existence.

Even his work became habitual. Gallbladders, bowel resections, mastectomies, hernias, and so on. His life had turned gray, but since being with Jenny, he was seeing bright colors. Brilliant hues he’d never noticed before. No matter what they did, whether it was a simple walk down the street, a concert under the stars, or grocery shopping, with Jenny he noticed the beauty in life.

She reminded him of the good and the bad that he used to see before he’d gotten bogged down in routine. Now he took the time to rediscover life outside his family and hospital. Took time to rediscover himself. He redirected his energies to caring outside him, and it felt good. Hell, it felt great.

“Since when’re you into cradle robbing?” Eyes narrowing, Uncle George stared at Jenny’s picture. “I swear I’ve seen her before.”

“Probably in the paper. A couple of weeks ago her story about teenage runaways was the cover story for the magazine insert in the
Free Press
. She’s really good.”

Uncle George’s lips tightened in anger. Face contorting in disgust, he tossed the phone onto the mail like it oozed toxic waste. “You’re dating a reporter? A child reporter at that?”

“Journalist.”

“Are you nuts, man?”

“She freelances, Uncle George. Human interest stories.”

“Snoop stories that tell things better left untold. They justify them as ‘human interest,’ when they print some trash about you.”

Gabe’s face remained impassive. He was
not
going to argue about this. Uncle George couldn’t be swayed by logical arguments when it came to reporters.

“After what they did to Adele, how could you date anybody in the press?”

Gabe drained his beer and placed the bottle in the recycle bin. “Let’s go.”

Uncle George swiveled on his stool, stubbornly refused to budge. “I’m
not
ready to go.”

Gabe gave him a patient look. “Look, Jenny’s a great lady. I’m not going to justify her career choice to you. She’s not a threat to you, or anybody. She helps people, and I admire her for that.”

And I’m not about to let you scare her away
.

He’d purposely kept Uncle George away from Jenny these past few months, knowing that not many women appreciated his uncle’s bluntness. Uncle George was a little rough around the edges—not exactly a people person.

Usually, Gabe didn’t care much if Uncle George upset his dates—he was a good test—but Jenny was special. He didn’t want Uncle George scaring her off. He sighed. Now that Uncle George knew about her, their meeting was inevitable. Maybe he’d like her. He could behave himself when he liked someone. He could be charming when he wanted to be. What wasn’t there to like about Jenny?

She was beautiful, spunky, and quick-witted. Much like his mother, Uncle George’s little sister. She was also a great cook, like Aunt Adele. And compassionate and seemingly very tolerant, like both Mom and Aunt Adele. He looked at Uncle George’s suspicious expression, and his heart fell. Yup. He was going to test Jenny’s compassion. No doubt about it.

George’s eyes narrowed in comprehension. He pointed an accusing finger at Gabe. “She’s the one that got you goin’ on that clinic in the ghetto.”

“She didn’t ‘get me going’ on anything.”

“She did. She wrote those articles about that clinic you’re wasting your time on. How long till you’re done impressing her, son?”

Gabe frowned. “I’m not working there to impress her. I enjoy it.”

“My ass. Just like you didn’t break your arm on the trampoline showing off for little Julie Rider in sixth grade.”

Because at forty, I still have the social skills of a twelve-year-old
. Gabe knew better than to feed into his uncle’s taunting.

“Do you enjoy not getting paid, too?”

Gabe raised his eyebrows, nodding. “As a matter of a fact, I do.”

He snorted. “I thought I taught you better. What about your responsibility to your partners?” Then his expression lightened in comprehension. “It’s a tax write-off, right? You keep track of the money you could be charging for working at the clinic and they give you a slip for the IRS, like donating old clothes to AM Vets, right?”

What? Gabe tilted his head sideways and squinted as he tried to follow the man’s skewed logic. “No, I can’t write it off on my taxes. Look, I know you mean well, but drop it.”

“Drop it?” he echoed. “What? Do you enjoy keeping me up nights worryin' about you? That place is dangerous. Nothing but gangbangers and junkies. I sent you to med school to keep you out of neighborhoods like that.”

“And I’m grateful, but even poor people need medical treatment. Most of the patients at the clinic are good honest folks trying to make a living. Instead of griping about them you should be trying to help them, the way you helped me.”

From Uncle George’s narrowed, thoughtful expression Gabe knew that he suspected he was being placated with flattery and reasoning. But it was working.

Gabe pressed his advantage. “You took me in when you didn’t have to. You took care of me. Taught me right from wrong, and told me I had to get an education. If it hadn’t been for you, I might have ended up in some foster family or out on the street. I’m just giving back a little, Uncle George. I’m doing the responsible thing—and you know it.”

Uncle George hated admitting when Gabe was right. He hefted himself off the stool, tossed his bottle in the trash, and headed for the door, mumbling, “Couldn’t you just write them a check?”

Gabe laughed and slapped him on the back. “You write the check.”

George grunted. He wasn’t going to win this one. Once Gabe made up his mind, he rarely changed it. His mother had been stubborn like that. The obsession to help the downtrodden must have been passed along in the genes, ’cause Lord knew he tried hard enough to teach Gabe that he needn’t put himself on the line to help people.

He’d guilted him out of that stupid Peace Corp tour. It already took his sister; George wasn’t going to give it another life in Gabe, so he’d talked him out of signing up—without a twinge of guilt. But apparently he hadn’t extinguished the compulsion altogether.

It hadn’t even been that hard to get Gabe to forget the Peace Corp. Gabe felt indebted to him—not that he’d ever done anything to make him feel this way, but he hadn’t discouraged the thinking either.

Honorable to a fault, Gabe always did the right thing; it was only that sometimes being honorable led to heartbreak. Like when Gabe married Judith ’cause she’d gotten pregnant, then the shmuck simply stepped aside and let that Dave character steal his wife and family.

Too nice for his own good, Gabe still needed watching after. It was a job George’d grown used to doing. They walked out the door, and he paused while Gabe locked it. “So tell me about this girl.”