Dickens and Me - Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE
(copyright Anita Birt)

Caroline cowered under the tree as a peal of thunder crashed overhead. A haunting fear rooted her to the spot.
The smell of ozone. Her father in a drunken rage beating her because thunder and lightning scared her.
"No daughter of mine is going to be afraid of thunder and lightning. I'll teach you." He'd dragged her outside, tied her to a fence post and left her.
Seven years old. She had screamed and screamed for her mother but he wouldn't let her out of the house.
"Dr. Balfour. Get in. I'll drive you home."
Someone called her name. Caroline tried to shake off the old fear.
"Dr. Balfour. Come on. You're getting soaked."
Caroline darted to the car, opened the door, slid on to the seat, shoved her bags between her feet and slammed the door. Safe from the storm, relief flooded through her.
She removed her glasses and felt in her pocket for a tissue to wipe them.
"Where do you live, Doctor?"
Caroline's stomach clenched. Stay calm. Don't react. His voice had hardly changed since senior high. That sexy voice and his good looks had charmed every girl who'd crossed his path, including her.
She cleaned her glasses and settled them on her nose. Braving the storm might have been preferable to accepting a ride from Greg. The late afternoon had been fine when she set out from home to walk to the market. After being cooped up in the clinic most of the day she craved exercise but hadn't intended to buy so much stuff.
She tugged at her clinging wet shirt and gave it a good shake. Rain drops dripped down on her shorts and splattered on her wet legs.
"Where do you live, Doctor?"
Determined to remain cool and appreciative, she faked a smile "One forty-eight Elm Street. Turn right on the next block then left on Elm. Sorry to mess up the seat."
"Not to worry. I'll dry it later."
"Thanks for picking me up. I left my car at home." Had to be fate, she thought. Meant to be? Meant for him to recognize her?
"I couldn't leave you stranded under a tree in the storm. I thought your patients would lynch me if anything happened to you."
He flashed a smile at her. "I'm Greg Fraser. We met yesterday at the clinic. I'm sorry I upset you."
She hadn't expected to see him again. Never wanted to see him again after he'd abandoned her thirteen years ago. Was returning to Markbridge a mistake?
Like a mouse running in a maze her thoughts circled around Greg. Not ready to face the emotional fallout when she reminded him of the past, she let it go. For now.
"I was very busy and shouldn't have been rude." She reached for the door handle as he stopped in front of her house. "Thank you for the roses."
"You're welcome. I hoped they'd give you a boost." He rested his hands on the steering wheel and glanced at the house. "You live in the old Somerville place. Jack Somerville and I played football together in high school and university. He went on to coach a college team in Michigan."
Caroline opened the car door. "Thanks for the ride."
Thunder crashed overhead. Lightning zigzagged across the sky.
"Oh!" She shut her eyes, clapped her hands over her ears and slumped on the seat.
"Hey, are you okay?" He reached across, closed the door and rested his hand on her arm. "You're shaking."
Caroline breathed deeply and silently counted slowly from twenty back to one, a trick she'd learned from a medical colleague.
As you count, remember you are strong. Remember you are brave. "I am brave. I am strong."
The words seeped into her brain. Her heartbeat gradually returned to something like normal.
"Dr. Balfour, what's wrong? Can I help?"
Caroline shivered in her wet clothes. "I'm all right now, Mr. Fraser. The thunder startled me." If she ran she'd be safely in the house before the next lightning flash. She grabbed her bags and struggled out of the car. Before she'd taken a couple of steps, he was at her side.
"Let me help you."
She hung on to the bags. "I can manage." Thunder rumbled across the sky. Rain pelted down.
"Like hell you can."
He peeled the bags from her fingers, ran up the walk to the house, took the veranda steps two at a time and waited for her.
Caroline darted after him, shoved her key in the lock, opened the door and stepped inside. "Thanks." She reached for her groceries.
"I'll carry them in. Where do we go?"
"I appreciate the ride but I really don't need more help."
He ignored her and gazed around the foyer. "I've been out of the country for years. I didn't know the house had been converted into apartments."
Caroline unlocked the oak door. A polished staircase led to her apartment. She and swung around to face him. "It's been newly renovated. Thanks again for picking me up. I'm okay now."
"I'd really like to see what's been done. When I went to school the Somerville's threw lots of parties. The whole top floor was set aside for their three kids to entertain their friends."
Caroline's apartment occupied the third floor space. She didn't want to hear about the wonderful parties he'd attended, parties to which she'd never been invited. The Somerville twins, Anne and Andrea, ruled the in-group at Markbridge High. They decided who was in and who was not.
"Some other time. I'm rather tired. Thanks again for the ride."
He tilted his head. Amusement glinted in his dark eyes. "You are welcome, Doctor. Look after yourself." He handed her the bags. "I recommend you have a hot bath to warm you up." "Thanks." Caroline closed the outside door and heard him running down the veranda steps before she went upstairs. She had to avoid him. He might catch a glimpse of the girl she used to be, the girl he'd dropped like a hot coal when she desperately needed him.
Why did he have to return home? Why?
She loved her apartment and didn't want him to sully her space with his presence. She'd decorated her living room with bits and pieces of furniture from garage sales and thrift shops. Brightly colored cushions, snowy white lace curtains and flowering plants on the window ledges welcomed her.
Her one extravagance was the glass-topped coffee table she'd purchased when the clinic hired her three months ago. Yesterday she had shoved her medical journals under it to make room for Greg's roses.
Home. Her special place.
She had three whole wonderful days to catch up on her sleep and go for long rides on her new bike.
She stripped off her clothes in the bathroom, had a quick shower, rubbed herself dry with a thick towel, snuggled into a warm robe and stuck her feet into sheep skin lined slippers and put the groceries away in the kitchen cupboards. She filled the kettle with fresh water and plugged it in to make a pot of tea.
Forget Greg Fraser. He'd forgotten her.
Caroline sighed. Forgive and forget. A healthy choice. She couldn't change the past.

On the drive home Greg puzzled over prickly Dr. Balfour who had taken an instant dislike to him. That's what he couldn't fathom. He hadn't committed the crime of the century by imposing on her time at the clinic.
Mostly he got along well with people but not with her. He grinned as he parked in the garage. Might be interesting to find out what made her tick. Find out why thunderstorms scared her so badly she couldn't stop shaking.
The only way to get to know her was to get sick but he didn't want to be her patient. A doctor/patient relationship was not in the works, that would negate a social relationship.
Is that what he wanted? A social relationship? Or something more?
What if his nephew developed allergies and itched?
David would not get sick! Getting to know the doctor was a non-starter until he returned his nephew to Laura. Then he'd reconsider.
Greg left the stroller and car seat in the garage, unlocked the door into the house and stepped inside with his other purchases. Kim launched herself at him. She hated thunderstorms and still trembled.
"It's okay, I'm home." He sat cross-legged on the floor and put his arm around her. She leaned against him and rubbed her muzzle against his cheek.
"You and Dr. Balfour are a bright pair. You're supposed to be a guard dog and I'll bet you've been hiding your head under my bed."
Kim's tail thumped on the floor. "That's what I thought." He rubbed under her chin. "Okay? I've got things to do."
He gathered up his grocery and pharmacy bags, unpacked his human and animal food on the kitchen table and carried the two bags stuffed with diapers, baby soap, oil and cream for diaper rash upstairs.
Diapers on the bureau in the nursery. Oil and cream for possible diaper rash on the change table shelf. Soap and baby shampoo in the bathroom. Very orderly.
Orderly made him feel better. A positive attitude was the best way to handle an infant. It couldn't be that difficult to care for a baby. If Laura could do it so could he.
He baked a potato, barbecued a steak, tossed a salad and poured a glass of red wine. Tomorrow he'd rest up for the ordeal ahead. Take Kim for a long walk up to the lake. She could wade along the shore while he sat in the sun with his notebook to plan revisions to his novel. It had bogged down in the middle. He needed some creative ideas. Finding a medical source posed a challenge. Dr. Balfour might think kindly about him if he took the baby in for a check-up.
He'd use his nephew to wheedle into her good graces. A self-sacrificing uncle might win a lot of brownie points.
Pleased with his plan, he strolled outside sipping a glass of wine after dinner to contemplate the rain washed night sky. He gazed at the moon rising over the trees. It was almost full and he wished he had someone to share the moment with.
The moon always made him feel lonely. It conjured up the empty space in his heart he had never found the right someone to fill.
He raised his glass to the sky. "Here's to you moon. Wish me luck with my book and David and ..." He drained the glass and smiled. "And Dr. Balfour."
She was on his short list of someone to know better. In fact she was the only person on the list. Not just to pick her brains. There was something intriguing about her. An aloof holding back he found captivating. She presented a mystery. Her rudeness was out of character for a physician but she had apologized.
He'd figure out how to meet her away from the clinic. He knew where she lived. A few days after he'd been relieved of baby minding duties he'd knock on her door one evening and offer her a bouquet of white roses as an ice breaker.
A self-sacrificing uncle and white roses. A lethal combination.
The thought amused him as he returned to the house to clean up the mess in the kitchen. Dr. Balfour might wither him with a glance and he'd be back at square one.
He really needed to get out more and look up old friends rather than hit on the doctor.

Kim stuck her wet nose on Greg's face and licked him awake on Sunday morning. "Okay. Okay," he mumbled. "We'll go for a walk after breakfast."
A promise made to Kim was writ in stone as far as she was concerned. She waited until he finished his second mug of coffee then trotted to the back door, dragged her leash into the kitchen and dropped it at his feet.
"You'll have to wait for me to put on my boots."
She suffered in doggy silence while he pulled on his hiking boots over thin wool socks. Kim frolicked outside when he opened the door. Yesterday's rain had freshened the air. Greg looked up at the blue sky. A great day for a long hike to the lake. The mosquitoes shouldn't be too bad this early in the season. After the menacing bugs he'd dealt with in Africa, Canadian mosquitoes were a harmless annoyance. Even West Nile virus couldn't hold a candle to malaria but he shoved a small can of repellent in the back pocket of his shorts just in case.
He locked up and kept Kim on the leash for the mile walk at the side of the road until they reached the well-worn path through the woods then he let her run free.
Frisky as a pup she ran on ahead, doubled back every few minutes to check on him and took off again after a rabbit or a squirrel. For an old dog she brimmed with energy.
By the time they reached the lake she needed a rest. She ran across the narrow strip of sand and lapped up water. Greg called her back when a mother with two small children hustled them to safety.
"She's harmless," Greg snapped on her leash.
"Please keep him away from my kids. They're afraid of dogs."
"I don't blame them. There are some bad ones." Greg smiled. "Kim isn't one of them. Maybe they'd like to get to know her. We're going to sit in the shade over there." He pointed at a willow tree.
The woman eyed Greg suspiciously. "You won't let her loose."
"Of course not." He walked slowly past the children. "I'll bet Kim is older than you."
"How old is she? I'm six." The little girl grinned at Greg.
"Kim is eight. That's pretty old for a dog."
The boy puffed out his chest. "I'm nine and I'm not old."
"What's your name?"
The boy pointed at his sister. "She's Jenna and I'm John."
"I'm Greg. If you feel like it you're welcome to come and meet Kim." He sat in the shade. Kim flopped down beside him.
The children's mother walked over. "Thanks. A dog running loose bit Jenna last year, I've been nervous ever since." She held out her hand. "I'm Joan Freeman."
He stood. "Greg Fraser."
He'd been like a recluse while adjusting to life in Canada after years in Africa. He'd dodged bullets a few times in Liberia and escaped from a nasty crowd of desert tribesmen in the south Sahara who'd been hell bent on kidnapping him for ransom.
He'd almost forgotten how to socialize with an attractive woman, especially a woman in skimpy short shorts and a halter-top.
"Care to sit?" he asked.
"Sorry, the kids want to play in the water and I have to be close to watch." She slanted her eyes at him. "Maybe you can join us later. I've got a picnic lunch."
"Mom." John shouted. "Come on. We want to swim."
"Got to go." She waved at Greg and ran down to the water with the children.
Nice family, he thought. Healthy, well fed with all their body parts intact. Until the day he died he'd never forget the horror of seeing children maimed by exploding land mines or hacked by machetes.
Suffer little children to come unto me. A beautiful thought from the Bible. Didn't make sense in most of the world and right now he couldn't do a damn thing about it except support charities working there.
With his ability to focus his thoughts to create fresh ideas he pulled out his notebook, realized he was thirsty and had forgotten to bring bottled water. Ordering Kim to stay he hurried over to a small booth selling soda pop and ice cream bars.
He felt more like an ice cream than a soda, paid for an ice cream bar and bit into it. Pieces of chocolate broke off. Ice cream dribbled down his chin. He reached for a tissue in his pocket as a woman rode up on a bike. She wheeled up to the booth and ordered a ginger ale.
"Whew, it's a hot one." Dr. Balfour got off the bike, paid for the drink, removed her helmet and hung it on the handle bar. Tendrils of hair, damp with perspiration, coiled at her nape.
Greg thought she looked fabulous in tight black biking shorts, white T-shirt and safety vest.
"Dr. Balfour, may I buy you an ice cream bar? They are guaranteed to trickle down your chin and make a mess."
She removed her dark glasses and hooked them on the neck of her shirt. "Oh."
She seemed startled. Not pleasantly startled, more taken by surprise and caught off guard kind of startled, as if she'd seen a ghost. Her face paled.
"Greg Fraser." He said and quirked an eyebrow. "I dropped by the clinic on Friday and rescued you from a thunderstorm yesterday."
A slight smile tipped her lips. "I appreciated the rescue. I was foolish to shelter under a tree." She paused and held the cool can of ginger ale to her forehead. "Thanks again for the roses. It was kind of you to send them."
Caroline bit her lip. She sounded like a character in a play, like Eliza Doolittle in My Fair Lady. Words hummed inside her head.
How kind of you to let me come. How kind of you to send me roses.
"Care to join me in an ice cream bar? I'm sitting over there with my dog." He pointed at a big German shepherd snoozing under a tree. "Maybe take your shoes off and paddle in the water."
His heart melting smile had lost none of its potency. Better able to resist him now Caroline sipped her soda to play for time. She couldn't jump back on her bike and take off like a scalded cat, but she didn't want to sit with him either.
She'd finish the drink and then go. "Okay. I can't stay long. I want to beat the Sunday traffic."
"Long enough to mess yourself up with an ice cream bar?"
"No thanks, Mr. Fraser."
"It's Greg, Dr. Balfour."
She walked her bike over to the dog. Greg followed her. "What's his name?" she asked.
"Kim's a she."
Caroline propped her bike against the tree and knelt beside the dog. "Hello, Kim."
Two children ran towards them and skidded to a stop about ten feet away. "Aren't you scared of the dog, Dr. Balfour?"
"Hi Jenna. Hi John. Mr. Fraser invited me to meet Kim." She glanced around. "Where's your mother, John?"
"Gone to get the picnic stuff from the car. She told us to stay close to Mr. Fraser. We want him to have a picnic with us."
"Can I pat the dog?" Jenna asked.
"Sure." Greg walked over and grasped her hand. "Let's go."
Caroline watched them. He bent down and whispered something to Jenna. He seemed to know exactly how to win her confidence. He'd have been a good father. He could have ... don't go there. Don't think it.
"What about me?" John demanded.
"Come on. Kim wants to meet you as well," Greg said.
He had a knack with children.
Caroline gave her head a shake. Stop visiting the past. Stop letting the pain surface. Stop letting Greg Fraser get to her.
She stood and finished the soda. If he was picnicking with Joan Freeman and the kids he wouldn't want her hanging around.
"Thanks for introducing me to Kim. I'm heading out."
"Just a sec, kids, until I have a word with Dr. Balfour."
The children stood at attention about a foot from the dog. "Is this okay?" John asked.
"Perfect."
Anxious to leave, Caroline sat on the bike and snapped one foot on the pedal. Joan Freeman hurried towards them from the parking lot carrying a cooler.
Pretty, blonde and divorced, she'd had a rough couple of years and had just started dating. Caroline liked her. She and Greg would look good together.
"Dr. Balfour." Greg stood casually beside her bike, hands in his pockets. "I lucked in seeing you here. Do you do much biking?"
Caroline had a bad feeling coming on. He'd want to go biking with her. "Just started." Keep answers short and to the point and go.
"I know this is sudden but would you care to have dinner with me Saturday or Sunday evening? I'm new in town and would enjoy your company."
"Dinner?" His invitation caught her off guard.
"If not dinner, maybe we could meet at the Tennis Club for drinks."
Caroline's heart skipped a beat. If he was dating Joan already, what game was he playing?
"Sorry. I'm busy on the week-end. Another time, perhaps." A white lie was the best she could do on the spur of the moment. Anxious to leave she jabbed her right foot in the pedal and pushed off.
"Hi, Caroline," Joan waved at her. "Want to stay and eat soggy sandwiches? I've made lots."
Smiling broadly, Caroline shook her head. "Would love to but I have to get on home."
She quickly rode away from the park. Taking a right turn off the side road she ventured on to the highway. She'd traveled farther than planned when she left home. The ride to Markbridge would take an hour, maybe longer. Luckily the traffic was light and she could practice shifting gears on her new touring bike.
As she concentrated on the mechanics of shifting gears, her thoughts strayed to her emotional involvement with Greg. Had she changed so much he didn't connect her with Markbridge High School? Minutes ago he'd gazed deeply into her eyes. He'd asked her for a date. Was he so blind he couldn't see past who she was now? Successful doctor. Competent. A woman. Not an innocent girl.
Tires squealing, boom box booming, a car roared from behind a pick-up truck up ahead and tried to pass on the two-lane highway.
Caroline saw the car coming towards her. She skidded off the road, bounced across a shallow, weed-clogged ditch and tumbled off her bike.
A loud crash thundered in her ears.
She raised her head and knew she was going to die.
The boom box car spun off the road, rolled sideways over the ditch, slewed across the grass and landed on its side inches from where she'd fallen. Two wheels whirled around and around going nowhere. Smoke billowed from the crumpled engine.
In the sudden silence, time slowed. Caroline gazed intently up at the blue sky trying to make her world right itself. It was weird, like floating in space.
She breathed deeply, staggered to her feet and stood transfixed staring at the wrecked car, listening to screams. Who was screaming?

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