Now and Always (22 page)

When the truck pulled in front of the clinic and braked, Ben was out in a flash to gather Meg in his arms. He was halfway into the lighted clinic by the time Katie caught up.

Twenty-Three

Doctor Meadows took one look at the situation and motioned for Ben to carry the patient to the examining room. Katie collapsed in a nearby chair, exhausted.

And worried.

And cold. Her feet felt like two snow cones. She wasn't sure she wanted to be a mother. It sounded terribly painful.

Ben emerged and took the chair beside her. Removing his hat, he ran his fingers through his hair. Katie noticed his hairline was receding, which was normal for a man his age, but he had nice hair. Thick. The color of red clay. “What does the doctor think?”

“He's given her a shot of ritodine to stop labor. She's got what? Four, five more weeks before her due date?”

Katie rested her head against the paneled wall. “Something like that. Poor kid. Trouble won't let her alone.”

“Yeah, I feel sorry for her. She's scared.”

Katie remembered she'd promised to stay with her. She got up, but Ben blocked her efforts. “Doc said he'd let us know when anyone could stay with her.”

Katie sank back in the chair. “I need to call Tottie. They'll be wondering if we got here safely.” But when she opened her cell, she saw there was no signal.

“Darn storm. The phone lines are down too.” She pocketed the phone. Silence fell. They sat side by side waiting for news.

Ben fiddled with his watch. “Meadows alerted Sundance. They're prepared to receive the baby if it comes now. They'll send a copter when the storm lets up.”

“Good.” Meg had caught a break. “But he's trying to prevent the birth, right.”

“Right.”

More silence. Katie felt she should make conversation, but she had ignored Ben for so long, she didn't know what to talk about. Yet she desperately needed
to thank him. She couldn't fathom what would have happened if he had not come to the rescue.

“Ben.”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you. I didn't explain why I needed you to come on such short notice and with the storm — well, you came anyway.”

“That's my job.”

Maybe, but Katie thought it went deeper than that. She wasn't a fool. Ben had been around since their kindergarten days. He was always the one in the trouble chair, and until he was in the second grade, he'd never enjoyed a full recess. He sat on the concentration cushion half of his third grade year. By fourth grade he'd figured out his mistakes, and other than recesses, he'd behaved himself. He never, except on rare occasions, corrected the teacher. And to prove his repentance, he declared that he never, personally, shot out another school window.

But there was the one peculiar incident when he and another kid were accused of putting an illegal cherry bomb in a hall locker and blowing it to smithereens. However, nobody could ever prove it, and the incident was never repeated.

Locals ceased to wonder if Ben would ever change. In an overwhelming vote, they harnessed his energy and made him county sheriff — the best Crook County had ever elected.

A picture of Meg with Ben flashed in Katie's mind. Meg and Ben. Now wouldn't that be something . . . Both free-spirited, both adventurous.

Both in need of love. Doctor Meadows emerged a short time later. “I don't know — the medication has slowed her contractions. Let's give it a while before I transport her to Crook Memorial.”

Katie nodded. “Can I sit with her?”

“You can, but she's exhausted right now. Why don't you wait awhile longer?”

“Of course.”

The doctor left, and Katie reached for a magazine and prepared for the long night that by now was half over.

Twenty-Four

Ben stretched. “You want some coffee?”

“I'd love some.” She eyed the empty clinic pot that looked as though it had boiled dry. “Want me to make a fresh pot?”

“I'll get some.” He stood up, slipped on his hat, and left the clinic. Katie thumbed through outdated issues of
Prevention
and
Junior Scholastic
.
Like Ben was going to find fresh coffee
in Little Bush at this hour
. Twenty minutes passed before he returned balancing two large foam cups. Handing one to her, he set his down and slipped out of his jacket.

“Are you staying?”

“Might as well keep you company. I'm on duty in a couple of hours.”

She grinned. “Thank you. I could use the company.” She took a sip of coffee, and her taste buds exploded. Latte.

Latte.

She sipped and sipped again, closed her eyes, sipped again. “Where did you get a latte this hour of the night and in Little Bush?”

“I have a key to the coffee shop.”

She turned to gape. “You have a
key
to the coffee shop?”

“Yeah, I might need to get in there some night. Rita gave me the key and told me to help myself.”

Ben didn't know it, but he might as well have said that he was heir to Bill Gate's empire, and she was the last woman on earth. The impact generated the same reaction. Unlimited lattes.
Free
lattes.

“I love lattes.”

“I know.”

“How do you know?”

“Half the town knows.”

“I can't have them anymore — well, one a day, but that only makes me want more. So I've decided to give them up completely, but then I know I won't.” She took another leisurely swallow.

“Why can't you have them anymore? Too much sugar?”

“No. They cost too much.”

How did he know that lattes were her weakness? She took another sip. Had he been following her? Wait. Was
he
the one who'd been stalking her? Not Neil Townsend and not one of the other abusers. Ben?

She stole a sidewise look at him. Possible. He had every opportunity — nah. Not Ben. He wouldn't bother stalking her. He'd rather pester her. He wouldn't hurt a flea unless the flea broke the law. Then he'd hurt him. In school he was ornery and couldn't focus, but he was never mean or spiteful. She'd seen him deal with hard-core criminals with more compassion than she would have felt. Tough. Yes. But fair-minded.

Get real. Ben would not try to scare you. He isn't so gung ho
to date you that he'd resort to criminal intent.
Lack of female companionship didn't affect the sheriff. The number of single, available women in Little Bush was limited, but not nonexistent. How many times had she heard Judy Lewis confess she'd marry the sheriff in a New York minute?

Katie warmed her hands on the cup. Lattes taste better when shared. Everything in her life was serious talk — counseling the women on problems that had temporary answers at best, fighting with the budget, wondering where she'd get money for a new roof. Her homeowners' insurance probably didn't cover ice since it was an act of nature. She took another sip. “I pray Doctor Meadows can get Meg's labor stopped.”

Ben nodded. “That's my prayer, but if it's time for the child to be born, then it's time.”

Katie smiled. “If Mary and Joseph would have had a car, do you suppose they would have slipped and slid to the manger?”

Ben picked up the game. “Would Joseph wade snow and ice three feet deep to carry Mary down a hill?”

The game, born of worry and boredom, ceased when they ran out of similarities. Katie glanced at her watch. “It's been two hours since the doctor talked to us.”

“He'll be out if Meg's condition changes.”

“Yeah.” She shifted, seeking a more comfortable position. Babies took their time deciding when they wanted to be born. “I need to count blessings instead of troubles.”

Ben looked up from a
Junior Scholastic
. “More troubles?”

“Part of the roof caved in tonight. All the excitement threw Meg into labor.”

He shook his head. “You do have your share of problems.”

“Yeah.” She put her hands in her pockets and stared at the ceiling. “I have no idea where I'll get the money to repair it. Tottie says our insurance probably doesn't cover acts of nature, but she'll check in the morning. I'm hoping the barn roof holds. Clara has returned to politics, and so I no longer have to fear someone is harassing me.”

He turned a page without looking up. “You still think Neil Townsend did the harassing?”

“Not Neil himself, one of his cronies. Someone he hired.” She lowered the magazine she'd picked up. “Don't you?”

He shrugged.

“You don't.”

“I didn't say that, but I'm not convinced Neil was the one causing the trouble. There's no other likely suspect at this time, though.”

“What about Meg's boyfriend? Or Ruth's and Janet's husbands?”

“Meg's boyfriend is doing twenty to thirty years in Folsom prison. When I checked on his status, he was in solitary confinement for attacking a guard. Ruth's husband has the kid and hasn't missed a day's work in the past six months.”

“Janet's husband?”

“The professor. He's clean. He's back in church Sunday mornings and wants to stay that way, my sources tell me. When I checked with Chicago police, they told me he's behaving himself.”

Katie sank back. “Then it had to be Neil.”

Ben shrugged again. “Possibly, but not likely. The man had too much to lose. You witnessed the results when someone leaked the story to the press. He would have been a fool to harass you or anyone connected to his wife. You don't take foolish risks when you're a Neil Townsend.”

“Then who?” And even more disturbing, if Townsend wasn't involved that meant the danger wasn't over. Perhaps it had only started.

Ben put the magazine aside, his features sobering. “Just watch your back, Katie. Don't take unnecessary chances until we can find who's trying to cause trouble, and for what reason.”

“Ben?”

“What?”

“Why have you been checking on these men? Janet's and Ruth's husbands, Meg's boyfriend?”

“It's my job to know what miscreant is in my district. You're in my county, so I check on those most likely to cause you trouble.”

She eased to the edge of her seat. “Then you do think someone is deliberately causing trouble. It isn't my imagination.” According to Warren, she was paranoid. A ditz with a credibility problem.

“From what you've told me, yes I do, but there's no concrete evidence. You've had a sense someone was following you. Who hasn't had that sensation? Unexplainable noises during the night. No go. Owl in the cellar? Scary, but not threatening.”

“What about the flowers in the mailbox?”

He fell silent.

“Ben?”

“Yes.”

“The flowers. How do you explain that?”

“I can.” He shifted. “I just don't want to.”

“Don't want to? What kind of answer is that?”

“A stupid one. Almost as stupid as the fact that
I
could easily have put those flowers in your mailbox, but I didn't.”

“Then who did?”

“I don't know. My point is that this could be a comedy of errors. Let's say someone has a crush on you, Katie Addison, someone who has a poor way of delivering flowers. But does that make this person a stalker? Someone intent on doing you or the shelter bodily harm? Not in my book.” He rubbed his hands over his eyes. “On the other hand, there could be someone out there wanting to shake you up, drive you nuts trying to figure out who and why the flowers were delivered — and to whom they were intended.”

Katie's jaw dropped, her mind still trying to digest his earlier admission that he could have sent the rumpled bouquet. “
You
could have sent them?”

“Hey. A county sheriff isn't exactly Bill Gates, but I make enough to buy roses at the Grocery Mart.”

She couldn't take her eyes off him.

“Okay, I'm weird, but hey, I've tried to get a date with you since I was in kindergarten. The flowers could have been a sick way to get your attention.”

Katie released a pent-up sigh.

Ben reached for another magazine. “You wouldn't be so bent out of shape if they'd come from the nerd.”

“The nerd. I suppose you're referring to Warren?”

“The nerd.”

Drawing a deep breath, Katie sat up straighter. “He is no longer a nerd, Ben. He's a smart, no, brilliant man without whom I don't know what I would do.” If there was even a fraction of a chance to keep the shelter open, Warren was the key. If he could help her pull through this financial crisis, she could put up with his eccentricities provided he let up on women in general.

Ben turned a page. “He's a nerd. Why do women fall for a pretty face with no substance?”

“How can you say he has no substance? He was a Wall Street genius.”

“And that makes him a good man?”

“You're jealous.”

“Maybe. Why wouldn't I be? What's wrong with me? Why do you go all goggle-eyed over Warren, and you refuse to date me?”

Katie focused on an ad. “I tried to date you once.”

“For someone who says she doesn't hold a grudge, you sure manage to bring up the prom on every viable occasion.”

Katie closed the magazine. “I bought a new dress, had my hair and nails done, and waited until ten o'clock that night for you to come.” She snapped the magazine open. “You didn't come, Ben. I missed my high school prom.”

“I know, and how many times have I apologized? Blame my dad. He's the one who had a gallbladder attack. Or my mom who insisted I get him to Sundance and the hospital. Or blame Grandma who said he wasn't going anywhere without her.”

“You could have phoned.”

“Katie, in those days I didn't know how to use a pay phone, and cell phones were not an option. I'm sorry. If you would let me make it up to you, I would.”

Katie closed the magazine and pitched it on the table. “I forgive you.”