Joey paced from one end of the waiting room to the other, biting her lips and every so often running a hand through her already tousled curls. The doctor had said they could go in, one at a time, for five minutes every hour. Her mother had gone in first and five minutes had never seemed so long. Joey wished she hadn't been so quick to give up coffee. The smell from the newly brewed pot in the visitor's lounge was driving her crazy. She'd already investigated the small coffee shop, turned down a cup of regular tea for orange juice, but oh, how she longed for a cup of the soothing herbal tea she bought at her favorite health food shop.
     She'd already called home, catching Ellen before she went to work and having a few words with Greg. She'd told them everything she knew about their grandfather and reassured them that she'd call again as soon as she knew anything more. After she'd told them about the RV in the parking lot, that Gran was fine and the dogs okay, there wasn't much to say. She couldn't tell them how scared she'd been, how sure that she'd get to the hospital only to find out that her worst fears had come true.
     Greg was having a hard enough time adjusting to Tom's death and discussing her panic would have made things worse. She did tell Ellen how relieved she'd been to find out that Poppa was still alive, but she said nothing about the tall cowboy who'd helped her. While she searched for something to say, Greg volunteered that he'd gone surfing yesterday as usual, and that they'd had dinner out. Ellen, on the extension, chimed in to say that they'd both eaten their vegetables.
     Joey chuckled, but the good feelings disappeared as soon as she hung up. She paced to the windows overlooking the small town. Dillon didn't look all that different from a number of other small towns until she looked beyond the buildings to the mountains beyond. She tapped her fingernails against the glass while she studied the mountains. Much bigger than her own coastal range, they looked indomitable, but then, these were the Rockies. Idly wondering what kind of people would choose to live in such a rugged land, she turned from the window and saw the cowboy.
     He took the few strides necessary to stand by her. "Morning."
      "Hi," she said softly, staring up at Cole Lassiter. A sense of calm stole through her, as though now that he was here, everything was under control. She fought it. She had to stand on her own, to do things her way, if she was going to come to grips with her life. Yet she couldn't tear her gaze away from him.
     This morning, his freshly shaved jaw looked even leaner than it had last night. She noted the hollows of his tanned cheeks and the faint line across his forehead where his hat had kept the sun away. His black hair was combed neatly back, the temples just barely silver. His deep brown eyes steady on hers, she caught a faint whiff of shaving cream. All at once, she decided she liked plain, old-fashioned menthol.
      "How's Sam?"
      "Dunno," he answered, but he didn't tell her that something had drawn him here first, to see for himself if she was as dazzling by day as she had been in the harsh glare of fluorescent lights. She was, and more. He blinked, dazed by her smile. "I haven't seen him yet."
      "Why not?"
      She seemed taken aback by his apparent lack of parental concern. No need to see Sam right away. He'd heard from him first thing this morning, grousing about being trussed up tighter than a old maid's girdle. He answered her question with one of his own. "How's your father?"
      "My mother's in with him now. The doctor said he's better, but I..."
      "Won't believe it til you see for yourself?"
      "Something like that."
      "How are you doing?" His voice softened with the question.
      Joey ran a hand through her hair, ruffling the quick wash and wear style. "I'm okay." Under his steady gaze, she sighed. "Well, tired, of course. But basically okay."
      "Good." Cole stared at her. Today she wore an outfit which reminded him of a jogging suit. Made of that same soft, crinkly fabric as the other one, this one was a shimmery green so lush and deep he felt he could lie down and roll around in it, like in velvety spring grass. Her earrings today were long pea pods that looked real enough to pop into his mouth. Her big eyes widened as he looked down at her. They looked greener than he remembered them from last night. Tiny gold flecks radiated from her pupil. Sunlight captured and highlighted the streaks in her curls. He paused, staring at her, wondering why all this attention to color. Usually, it was just there. Like blue sky, white clouds and the dirt in the corral. Betty had given up asking him what he thought of the color scheme she wanted to use in the kitchen. Why should California make him notice things he usually took for granted? From nowhere, from somewhere deep inside him, rose an overwhelming urge to sink his hands into those curls and kiss that bright pink mouth.
      He looked down at his hands, large and work-worn, and wondered if he dared touch her. She was so little, next to him. She made him feel ten feet tall and ready for anything. He liked the way she had to tip her face up to look at him, giving him full view, not the slanted or secretive looks he'd gotten from other women. Seeing Joey in this light, her face and hair luminous in the sunshine, the sparkly gold stripe across her nails glinting with each movement of her slender hands, he had the urge to cup her in his palms as he would a brilliant, fragile butterfly. He contented himself with touching her sleeve. The fabric was soft and silky under his fingers, but not half as soft and silky as he imagined her bare skin. He rubbed the material between his fingers. "What do you call this stuff?"
      She blinked and lifted her face to see his. "Nylon."
      "Oh." He stroked her sleeve again, this time increasing the pressure to caress her arm. Her eyes widened, still holding his, but she didn't move away. She moistened her bottom lip. Cole's gut tightened. Damn. This wasn't the place for this. He urged his mind into another direction. "How is your mother holding up?"
     She glanced at her watch, turning the arm he still held. "I'll know in a few minutes."
     Cole's gaze followed hers. He chuckled and gestured at her watch face where iridescent fish swam around the dial. "California, right?"
      She took her arm back, but she smiled. "Right."
      "Whereabouts?"
      "Do you know the San Francisco Bay Area?"
      "That's where you live?" He couldn't help the censure creeping into his voice. He'd heard too many weird things about that fabled city on the bay. He'd even gone there, once, with Sally, and never again.
      "South of there, in Santa Cruz. That's a small city on Monterey Bay."
      "Then why did you ask if I knew San Francisco?"
      "So you'd get a fix on the area."
      "Oh." He brightened. "You like it there?"
      With a soft smile, she answered, "I must. I've lived there all my life."
      "Are you a beach bunny?"
      She blinked. "You've been watching too many movies."
      "Well?"
      "I admit I did a little surfing, but I gave that up in my twenties."
      "How old are you?" he asked bluntly.
      Joey's eyelids fluttered. "Why, even a cowboy knows better than to ask a question like that."
      Good Lord, she was flirting with him! Cole felt himself puff up. Damn fool, he told himself, but he couldn't stop. He squinted down at her in his best Eastwood style. "Maybe so, but I'm asking. You don't look a day over thirty."
     Her laugh pealed through the room. "Oh, my. My daughter should hear this! If she's twenty-one, I must have been very precocious." He didn't laugh with her. His glance fell to her left hand, to the ornate gold and diamond ring that flashed and shimmered in the morning sunlight. "A daughter that age? You must have gotten married in grade school. How old were you?"
     She flicked him a wide eyed look. He read surprise, then she looked away, deliberately shutting him out.
     "I'm sorry if I was rude," he said.
      "Are you always this blunt?"
      He considered that. "I guess I am. Since my wife died, I haven't had anyone to mind my manners for me."
      She sucked in her breath. "Was it recent?"
      "Fifteen years ago."
      "And you haven't remarried?"
      He shrugged, not about to go into the narrow escapes he'd had from some woman or other intent on snaring him. It sounded vain but it embarrassed him more than anything.
      "Women in Montana must be blind."
      Her calm statement rocked him. He felt the heat begin under his collar and move up the back of his neck. "So, how old are you?" he countered, getting back to business.
      This time, she didn't hesitate. "Thirty-eight."
      He pursed his lips. "Must be something to that California sun. You sure look good. Like a rainbow."
      From any other man, she'd have laughed it off. From this one, she felt pleasure. He didn't have to know it, but last year at this time, she'd been fifteen pounds overweight and content to be matronly. Since Tom's death, though, she'd taken herself in hand and made some changes. Not that it would help her forget him, or get over losing him, but it helped to have a purpose, some reason to get up and face each new day. Each healthy day, she corrected herself. She hoped it wasn't too late for her or the kids.
      "I'm forty-two," he volunteered, breaking into her thoughts. "How could you have a twenty-one year old?"
      "In the usual way." She smiled. "And a seventeen-year old son."
      "You got married young."
      "How old is your son?" she countered.
     He grinned. "Twenty-four."
      "So, who married young?" she hooted, enjoying the way his face relaxed and his eyes crinkled up at the corners. A little rusty at first, he chuckled. Laughing together, they cleaned closer, sharing each other's space. The moment felt good to Joey, right and natural, as though she and this man shared something deeper than a casual acquaintance.
      "Joey?"
      She whirled at the sound of her Mom's voice. Appalled that she could have forgotten her father, even for a moment, she hurried to meet Marie. "How is Poppa?"
      "He looks awful, all those tubes and things stuck in him."
      "Is he awake?"
      Marie focused on her daughter. "He knew me, spoke a few words."
      "That's wonderful! Did you tell him I'm here?"
      "He's looking forward to seeing you."
      "Is it all right if I go in next time?"
      Marie nodded.
      Cole stepped up. "Morning, ma'am," he said to Marie. "How are you holding up today?"
      Marie extended her hand. "Better. I didn't think to thank you last night. Joey told me what you did for her-—"
      "Nothing to it," Cole murmured. "I'm glad I could help." He turned to face Joey. "I think I'll go see how Sam's doing. Then I'll be back."
      "You don't have to do that," Joey protested.
      "I'll be back," he said firmly and walked out of the waiting room with that peculiar, lazy grace that Joey always associated with cowboys. He made her think of coffee at sunrise out on the trail, of leaning against a corral to watch long, mellow sunsets and the gentle whicker of well-trained horses. Frowning after him, she missed what her mother was saying.
      "What is he doing here again?" Marie repeated.
      Joey cut her gaze to her mother's curious face. "You heard him. He's here to see his son."
      "The son's in the coronary unit, too?"
      "I don't think so. He was in an accident."
      "Ah," Marie said. "Wouldn't he be in another wing, then? Why is Mr. Lassiter here?"
      "He stopped in to say hello."
      Marie looked at her speculatively. "You looked like you were having a good time."
      Joey hated it when her mother made her feel sixteen years old again. She hated it especially when Marie picked up on her inner doubts. "Talking helps pass the time."
     "How can you take up with another man at a time like this?"
     Joey's mouth dropped open. "What?"
     "After all, with your father so ill and Tom gone less than a year-—"
     "Mom, listen to me," Joey said quickly to stem the flow. "I'm not taking up with any one. You just put that right out of your mind."
     "I saw how he looked at you. How you looked back." Joey took two steps away, her sling back sandals clicking on the tile floor. "I was just talking to the man, for heaven's sake. You're letting your imagination get out of hand."
     "No," Marie shook her head to add to her denial. "You know I sense these things."
     "Forget it, Mom," Joey said briskly, as much to convince herself as her mother. "I'm not in the market for a replacement for Tom."

     Still shaken, Joey came out of the coronary care unit after seeing her father. He hadn't been awake, so she hadn't had to search for anything encouraging to say, but had been able to get over her shock and dismay privately. Next time, she'd be better prepared. Poppa had looked so old, older than his seventy-one years, aged and fragile. Skin an unhealthy color, stubble grizzly-gray against sallow cheeks, his breathing enforced by oxygen, every detail of his body monitored by machines, he'd looked like a stranger. She was glad she'd been alone so she didn't have to pretend to be upbeat and cheerful.
     She paused at the entrance to the waiting room. Her mother dozed in an arm chair, her head fallen at an awkward angle onto her shoulder. Joey hesitated to disturb her, but if Marie didn't move, she'd wake up with a strained neck. "Mom," she whispered, gently shaking her shoulder. "Wake up, Mom."
     Marie Carpenter's eyes slowly opened. It seemed to Joey that she took a long time to focus on her. "I must have fallen asleep. I didn't sleep well last night."
     "Why don't we go back to the RV and take a nap?" Joey massaged Marie's shoulders. "It'll do us both good."
     "Well, I don't know. What if he wakes up?"
     "They're taking good care of him. We'll tell the nurse at the desk where we are. Someone can come get us if they need to."
     "All right," Marie agreed reluctantly.
     Together, they walked back to the motor home. Once Marie was settled and sleeping deeply, Joey curled up in an armchair and picked up the cellular phone to leave a message for the kids. Surprising her, Greg answered.
     "Well, hi, Greggie. I didn't expect you to be home."
     There was a silence before Greg spoke. "I wasn't feeling too good, Mom."
     "C'mon, Greg," she sighed. "I thought we agreed. No cutting classes while I'm gone. I don't need the hassle right now."
     "Aw, Mom."
     "You promised, Greg. No matter how good the waves are, no hitting the beach until after school. You remember that?"
     "Yeah, yeah. Listen, how's Grampa?"
     Joey filled him in and ended her conversation with a promise to call back later when she had more news. She pushed her hair off her forehead. Greg knew how much she wanted him to graduate with good grades, to get into college and explore all the things open to him. She might as well be talking to a telephone pole for all the attention he paid her. Greg needed a strong male figure to look up to, and with Poppa traveling so much, he hadn't been around to counsel Greg. Even Greg's basketball coach hadn't been able to reach him when he was in one of his moods. What was she going to do with him?
     Later that afternoon, she came out of her father's room to find Cole waiting for her. He smiled as he saw her. "I missed you earlier."
     "I took my mother back for a nap."
     "How is she? Your Dad?"
     Her smile faded. "As well as can be expected-—to quote the doctor."
     He nodded. "You're looking tired, too. Did you get a nap?"
     "I'm all right."
     He studied her. "You sure?"
     "I'm fine, Cole." Strangely enough, now that he saw him, she really did feel fine. "How is Sam?"
      "Cussing a blue streak. He's ready to go home." They fell silent. Joey bit her lip. "I have to thank you for something else. I guess word got out that you helped me last night. Now all the nurses are extra helpful."
     "Including Millie?"
     She grimaced. "Well, no. But then, I haven't seen the dragon lady. You must have a lot of pull around here."
     A grin twitched at the corners of his mouth. "It's a good hospital."
     "Maybe so," she agreed, smiling up at him. "But I'd still bet that one or two of the nurses would like to impress you."
     He flushed. Running a hand over his jaw, he looked away then down into her laughing face. Damn. It felt good. A man could get used to her smile. To feeling this good. "Are you teasing me?" "Could be. Do you mind?"
     He shook his head. She could tease him all she wanted, just so long as she smiled and laughed with him.
     The next two days passed in a daze. Moments of intensity when Joey saw her father, long hours of boredom spent in the waiting room or strolling the hospital halls. She felt as if she were on a treadmill, or on an exercise wheel like the one Greg had had for his hamsters. Speed up, slow down, round and around, going nowhere. Slowly, Frank Carpenter gained ground and color. As relieved as Joey was with her father's progress, nothing matched the way her spirits lifted when Cole came by to see her. He'd fallen into the habit of stopping by in the morning, then again in late afternoon. Joey found herself waiting for him, listening for the thud of his boots on the tile floor. Even though he didn't stay long, her time with him was the high point of her day. Each time he came, she felt herself relax and the strain of waiting ease. His silent sympathy got her though more than a few touch and go moments.
     On the fourth afternoon, in the RV with Marie, she tried to rest but couldn't. Her mind was too full of the things that had happened since she'd arrived in Montana. Over and over, she relived the growing closeness she'd felt with Cole. It could only be the intimacy in times of crisis that made people pull together, but she liked the way his face brightened when he smiled, the way he laughed with her. She liked the way his gaze roamed approvingly over her, and most of all, she liked the way he was there when she needed him.
     Catching herself, Joey abruptly tried to think of something else. She wasn't here to look for a man, she told herself. She didn't need one, didn't want one. She was doing all right on her own. Closing her eyes, she tried relaxation exercises, deep breathing and meditation, but nothing helped. Questions she didn't want to think about pressed at the edges of her consciousness. She got up and paced the compact living area then checked the cupboards and the refrigerator. Making a list of supplies kept her busy for a few moments. She left a note for her mother and then, grabbing up her purse and car keys, set out to find a grocery store.
     She found a supermarket not far away and pushing her cart up and down the aisles, selecting what she needed, she was able to put everything out of her mind but shopping. She tsked at the small selection of herbal tea, mulling over the choices until she began to get some strange looks and tossed one in the basket. In the produce section, she looked over the fruits and vegetables and wished she were back in her favorite organic produce market in Santa Cruz. She chose carefully, testing for ripeness and freshness, until she had enough to last a few days. At the meat counter, she turned her nose up at the vast array of meat, refused the frozen fish and reluctantly selected chicken. If she took the skin off and broiled it, that would be okay. She pitched a loaf of seven-grain whole wheat bread in with her other purchases and headed for the check out counter. Turning into the hospital staff lot, she noticed a pickup parked by the RV the instant before she saw the driver lounging against the hood of the truck.
     Anticipation zinged through her as she parked and got out. "Hi. What are you doing here?"
     He came forward, his eyes bright under the shadow of his dark Stetson. "I came to see how you're doing."
     "Is something wrong?" she asked, her heart racing.
     "Not that I know of." He flicked an appreciative glance at her sunny yellow outfit. "Just didn't want to wait until later to see you."
     She relaxed and laid her hand over her heart. "Oh, you scared me."
     Taking his gaze away from the big diamond glinting in the sun, he peered into the back seat at the two grocery sacks. "Need a hand?" Without waiting for her answer, he reached back and grabbed the sacks.
     "That's all right," she said as she reached out to take them from him. "I can do it."
     "No need," he threw back over his shoulder as he headed for the RV's door. There was nothing left to do but open it for him. He stopped immediately when Romeo and Juliet rushed up, tails straight out, barking up a storm. Looking down, he shook one off his boot and raised stupefied eyes to Joey. "What the hell is that?"
     She laughed. "That's Romeo." Pointing at the other one, crouched to spring, she said, "And that's Juliet."
     He rolled his eyes. "But what are they?"
     "My mother's miniature dachshunds." She spoke to the dogs. "All right, that's enough."
     Reluctantly, the dogs backed off and stood on guard as Cole deposited the sacks on the kitchen counter. Hands on his lean hips, he stared down at them. "What good are they?"
     Joey giggled, something she hadn't done in years. Having Cole share her opinion of the dogs made her feel light-hearted. "Well, they make enough noise so you don't need an alarm system."
     "Right. If they pee all over a guy's feet, he's gonna give up?"
     She laughed. "He might if he likes his shoes."
     Thunderstruck, he stared at her, at the humor lighting her face and sparkling at him. Easier now, he laughed with her. Damn, it felt good. A man could get used to feeling this way.
     "Just a moment while I check on my mother." She moved past him and opened her mother's door. Marie was still sleeping, her arm thrown across the other pillow as though she touched her husband. Swallowing, Joey closed the door softly and returned to Cole. He stood just where she'd left him. Only now did she notice how big he was, how he dwarfed the compact kitchen. His shoulders took up the space from wall to wall.
     "Uh, my mother's resting."
     "This can't be easy for her, waiting day after day."
     "No."
     She moved closer to him, and for a moment, his hopes rose. Would she touch him? Allow him to touch her? Then he realized she was opening up a sack and setting things down on the counter. Disappointed, he watched her graceful movements, then noticed the lettuce, cucumbers and carrots piling up to next to the tomatoes and celery. "What's with all the rabbit food? You got those, too?" Flicking a glance up at him, laughter still lurking in those lively green eyes, she shook her head. "Of course not. That's for salads." He sorted through her groceries. "No meat?"
     "No. Don't you know what it does to your arteries?" She shuddered. "It should be banned!"
     To a cattleman, those words struck deep. "You don't eat beef?"
     She turned to face him fully. For the first time, his clothing seemed to register as more than a western wardrobe. Hard-working clothes, jeans, blue and red plaid shirt, sleeves rolled part-way up to reveal broad wrists tanned muscular forearms, well-worn boots.
     Her glance flickered over his Stetson upside down on the butcher block table, then out the window at his truck.
     The sign on the door, Bar-L Ranch, made her eyes widen. She turned back to the appalled look on his face.
     "I guess 'no' is the wrong answer?"

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Chapter Four -- posted October 24, 1997

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Last updated: January 4, 1998