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Page 12
Page 12
“Wow. You really went to a lot of trouble.”
“I didn’t even think about it, as a matter of fact. Just seemed what needed to be done at the time. You’re happy about it, though?”
“Sure. Of course. Really, thank you. Be careful, then.”
“Always careful, Erin.” He gave her a little salute and walked off.
So, the nurses hadn’t told Ms. Erin Elizabeth Foley he was a doctor, Aiden thought. Interesting. And he hadn’t learned what he had about her from digging through her purse and talking to the E.R. staff, but from reading her chart upside down as it sat open on the nurse’s desk.
She had made a lot of assumptions about him, which was very unlawyerly of Ms. Foley. But it worked for him. He wasn’t about to lie, but withholding was fair game. And not, as Noah had suggested, so that she’d feel really stupid. Rather, so she would be forced to know the man and not the credentials, if she was so inclined. Aiden was not self-deprecating—he knew very well what his assets were. He wasn’t bad-looking, at least when he was cleaned up and shaved. He was intelligent and articulate, and absolutely had to be sensitive in his line of work, dealing with the most personal parts of a woman’s anatomy for a living as he did.
And of course he thought he was fun, but that was so subjective. And yet, whenever he dated someone, ninety percent of the time he felt as though they weren’t comfortable just being themselves around him. Now, that was a double-edged sword. Not only did some women try to impress him because he was a doctor, sometimes covering up their good old natural charm, but there was the flip side—hiding their psychopathic tendencies, like his awful ex, Annalee. Aiden just wanted to be a boy getting to know a girl. How hard was that?
He was probably overthinking, especially where Erin was concerned. She was an attorney, after all. And clearly a successful one—he could tell not only by her classy cabin and clothes, but by her confidence. Make that overconfidence. She would not be intimidated by a mere physician; she would not start acting as if there were bonus points involved in catching one. And it was very likely they weren’t even going to be friends, much less anything more.
So why not just correct her misassumptions?
Because it would be fun, that’s why. Let her get attracted to a guy who couldn’t make in a year what she paid in taxes—fun. Uh-oh, he thought—he wanted her to get attracted to him? Well, she was hot. Gorgeous. That silky strawberry-blond hair, sweet complexion, incredible smile, beautiful long legs, tight butt…He had been struck by her physical assets the second he saw her, but then she had opened her mouth….
Today was better. She was just as hot, but when she opened her mouth she was actually a human being. So, a little cat and mouse didn’t really hurt anything. He wasn’t lying; yes, he’d been at one with the bedpan and worse. Obstetrics could be real messy work.
He thought about these things as he walked down her mile-long driveway to the road. Probably another reason he was a little overly cautious where women were concerned—he’d had that wife. Hmm. He’d risked court martial when he crawled between her legs. He was fresh off a boat when he was completely seduced by a sexy young navy corpsman who worked in the hospital. She was the twenty-one-year-old daughter of Russian immigrants who wanted to get out of the navy and saw Aiden as her ticket. She was a subordinate, enlisted personnel, and he was schtupping her. She was so young, but not only wasn’t she exactly naive, she was the most gifted lover he’d ever experienced.
And they were quickly found out. In retrospect, she obviously leaked it. Aiden’s commander suggested the quick fix of marriage and she would be discharged. Voilà, just what she was looking for. She dropped the placating behavior and turned on the shrew. It didn’t take him long to understand—she wanted to leave the navy with a little pocket change. The price of his quickie divorce, handled by a friend of a friend, was ten grand. And a lesson hard learned.
Annalee certainly hadn’t been in awe of him, the doctor. He had been exactly what she was looking for and she had used her many wiles to catch him, willing to do anything to please him, and please him she did. Right up until she started screaming and throwing things.
And that brought to mind the fact that she was now looking for him. Fat chance, Annalee. Never gonna happen.
He got to his car, threw his stuff in the back and took off for home. As he drove into the cabin compound, he passed Rosie and her mom fishing in the river and gave them a toot of the horn and a wave. As he pulled up to his cabin, he saw Luke and Art having a heart-to-heart on Luke’s porch, their facing chairs pulled close together. He gave another toot and wave. Then he went inside for a shower.
Luke had brought Art up from the river to the porch for a talk. He popped the top on a cola for him, told him to sit down and said, “Okay, I found where Netta lives and I talked to Ellen.”
Art’s eyes lit up and he got very excited. “Okay, Luke. Let’s go there now.”
“Not right now, Art,” Luke said. “Ellen said you can visit on Sunday afternoon, and I’ll be glad to take you. Today is Thursday, so you have to be patient. But right now I want to know—what kind of friend is Netta?”
Art looked a bit confused. “A good kind?” he said in the form of a question.
Luke was uncomfortable, and when he was, his neck got red and he scratched it absently. “Right. Good. What I mean is, when you visit with her, what will you want to do with her?”
Art straightened very proudly. “I want to date with her.”
“Ah.” Luke sighed. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Have you dated with Netta before?”
“I don’t think so. We talked and held hands sometimes. But Shirl used to make the girls stay on one side of the house and the boys on the other side, except for eating and TV.”
“Well, I’ve got news for you—dating is mostly talking and holding hands. Also, eating and watching TV,” Luke informed him. “But I have a couple of concerns, Art. Because you’ve been so excited about seeing Netta again, some things have come to mind. Like—do you know about sex?” His neck got redder.
“Yes,” Art said confidently. “Yes, I do, Luke.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” Luke let out a breath he’d been holding for a long time. “Thank God for that. Who taught you about sex?”
“My mother,” he said. “Sex?” he asked. Then he made a check mark in the air with his finger. “Male!”
Luke dropped his head into his hand. “Aw, man,” he groaned. He lifted his head wearily. He saw Aiden drive in after another one of his hikes. They all waved and then Luke said, “Listen, we’re going to have to talk about some things before you visit with Netta. And I don’t know where to start.”
“Does she want me to visit with her? Ellen? And Netta?”
“Yes, Art. They’re happy about it. Ellen said that Netta’s asking about you. So it’s all good. Except for the parts I haven’t figured out yet.”
“What parts? I don’t know the answer to that.”
Luke patted his knee. “Let’s worry about one thing at a time, Art. One thing at a time.” And then he heard an engine, like that of a big city bus, and looked up to see a big, flashy RV coming down the driveway to the cabins. “Oh, man, I have never been so happy to see my mother. That’s Maureen and George, Art. They’re visiting in a brand-new RV. That should take your mind off things for a while.”
“What things?” Art asked.
“I rest my case,” Luke answered, standing up and waving them in. Good God, when she said motor home, he had been picturing one of those little fifth wheels! He opened the door and yelled into the house, “Shelby! Baby, you don’t want to miss this.”
Rosie came running from the river, Franci behind her. Shelby came out on the porch and Aiden stepped out of his cabin wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt, rubbing a small towel over his hair and beard.
Aiden’s quiet retreat time in Virgin River was officially over. His brother’s place had become a madhouse.
Luke had a three-bedroom house and six one-room efficiency cabins. Art had one cabin as his own, Aiden rented one, Franci, Rosie and Sean would use another for a couple of weeks and two others were rented to tourists. Since Shelby and Luke did not provide restaurant services and the real attraction of the place was the great outdoors, the tenants weren’t usually much in evidence. There was a couple in their sixties who were in Virgin River for bird-watching and a group of four college-age women who had planned a week of hiking.
With the gathering Riordans, it didn’t take long for the compound to take on a carnival atmosphere. As Shelby’s burden was still lowering and her walk was taking on that strain of a woman in late pregnancy, it was past time to put the nursery right. They already had a bassinet and small bureau in their bedroom for newborn needs, but Shelby’s uncle Walt and his lady friend, Muriel St. Claire, wanted to be involved in the painting, papering and decorating of the baby’s room. Of course, Maureen wouldn’t be left out of that. And Vanessa, Walt’s daughter and Shelby’s cousin, couldn’t stay away, either, and where Vanessa went these days, two small children followed.
Within a couple of days the place was teeming with Riordans and Booths. Right in the middle of all the action, Luke pulled Aiden aside. “I need your professional help, man.”
“Shelby okay?” Aiden asked reflexively.
“Fine, she’s just ready to explode. I need your help with Art. He’s all steamed up about visiting Netta, who he says he wants ‘to date with.’ I had a talk with him, Aiden—he doesn’t know anything about sex. Nada. Nothing.”
Aiden just grinned. “Maybe he doesn’t need to know anything.”
“We can’t take any chances. The last thing I need is Art getting some girl pregnant because he doesn’t know anything.”
“And you want me to…?”
“I don’t know. Talk to him. Take him to Fortuna to see his girl and talk to the girl’s caretaker or whoever that Ellen is she lives with. Make sure we’re on top of this.”
“You probably don’t have the worries you think you do,” Aiden said. “First of all, it’s very likely Art is just excited to be with an old friend. He actually lived in the same house with the woman for a long time and they’ve bonded. Sexual intercourse probably never occurred to him, but even if it did, chances are he’s infertile. It’s not uncommon for Down syndrome men to be infertile. Not always impotent, however.”
“She’s not Down’s, Aiden,” Luke said. “Can you help? Because I can’t get away from him long enough to go over to Fortuna and have a face-to-face with Ellen—Art always has me in his sights. Besides, look at Shelby. I should be close.”
“I’ll do this for you,” Aiden said. “But stop worrying about Shelby. You’re going to have plenty of time when she goes into labor. Maybe days.” He smiled. “It’s coming at you from all angles, isn’t it?”
“All angles. My mother is here with a boyfriend! My buddy Art is in love and doesn’t have a clue what that’s doing to his head and he depends on me to keep him safe. And my wife is about to explode!”
Aiden grinned. “Calls for a beer.”
“Don’t be funny, Aiden. How can I drink a beer when my wife is this pregnant and my helper is about to commit sex without his knowledge. Have you seen him lately?”
“Whew. We might want to slip a little Xanax in that beer,” Aiden said.
It was true that Art was very excited about seeing Netta. And he might even be in love. He was emotional and probably even hormonal about the whole thing, but as Aiden and Art chatted about the situation on the way to Fortuna, it was obvious that Netta was an important part of his past, his life, his experience, and he cared deeply about her. They liked the same television shows; they had worked together and helped each other and they both had lost their parents and were dependent on the state. Netta could read better than Art, but he wanted to teach her fishing. He also wanted to date her, but when Aiden explained that it would probably be best if they were just very good friends and spent time together regularly—watching TV, fishing and reading—Art accepted that so readily, it was probably what he thought dating was.
When Aiden arrived at the house where Netta lived, he introduced himself as Dr. Riordan, Luke’s visiting brother. He thought it might encourage Ellen and her husband, Bo, to open up a little bit, but they seemed not to need any encouragement. They had raised their three children, were grandparents and had three special-needs adult women in their care—all of whom helped in their bakery part-time, their skills varying greatly.
Iced tea was served on the patio while Art and Netta enjoyed being reunited and fled to the backyard, still within view. It didn’t take long to cut to the chase—Netta’s brain damage was pretty extensive, the result of an early-childhood near-drowning accident. She’d come a long way; walking and talking had taken years to accomplish. She was a very tenderhearted, calm twenty-seven-year-old who had the mental capacity of a ten-year-old, just about equal to Art’s. While both of them could identify a few words and most letters, neither could read very well.
The whole time Aiden visited with Ellen and Bo, Art and Netta were in the backyard, sitting on the edge of a sandbox for the grandkids, doing more staring at each other than talking.
“Your brother told me a little about how he came to be Art’s guardian,” Ellen said. “Of course, we got Netta when that group home was closed. It was a real difficult time for her—she lost her home, her job and her friends.”