Under The Mistletoe With John Doe

Chapter Six

Betsy was in trouble.

Big trouble.

With her mind spinning, her senses reeling and her knees struggling to keep her body upright, she left John on the porch of Doc’s house and returned home, determined to put the kiss they’d shared behind her. But she couldn’t seem to get it out of her mind.

Had another man’s kiss ever rocked her to the core like John’s had? If so, she couldn’t remember who the accomplished kisser could have been.

Certainly not Doug.

Once she let herself into the privacy of her cozy living room, she tried all of her old tricks for relaxing-a warm bubble bath and a cup of chamomile tea-but she didn’t sleep a wink that night.

She finally picked up a book she’d been meaning to read, something she’d borrowed from Doc a few weeks ago and had set on her nightstand. But the opening pages of the mystery couldn’t compete with the memory that still simmered in her mind, and she couldn’t seem to lose herself in a fictional story. Not when she was so caught up in the reality of what had just happened.

By the time dawn broke over the ranch, she finally dozed off for a couple of hours. But she was up again by nine and decided to take a shower and start her day.

As she looked into the bathroom mirror, she saw those dark crescents under her eyes that Doc always managed to spot. She’d have to use makeup today or risk having him say something again.

All she needed was for Doc-or worse, John-to realize that she’d hardly slept a wink last night and to assume the kiss had anything to do with it. Trouble was, it had knocked her world off its axis. And she didn’t want anyone to suspect that she was the least bit unbalanced by it.

So she showered and shampooed her hair. After drying off, she dressed quickly, choosing a pair of comfortable blue jeans and a green sweater. Next she applied a light coat of foundation, taking care to conceal the circles under her eyes, and topped it off with a bit of lipstick and mascara. Then she blow-dried her hair.

She didn’t take time to do anything to it, other than pull it back in a rubber band. She had to get out of here. There was no way she could hang out at the ranch today and risk running into John.

What would she say to him? How would she act?

Sure, she’d told him last night that a relationship between them wasn’t going anywhere. And it wasn’t. She couldn’t allow anything like that to happen until she knew more about him, about the values and personal ethics that drove him.

And whether he had a family waiting for him somewhere.

So, eager to disappear for the day, she called her parents and asked if they wanted to get a bite to eat.

“We play with our bridge group at two,” her dad said. “But we’d love to have an early lunch with you, honey. What time will you be here?”

She glanced at her wristwatch. “About ten-thirty. We can decide where to go when I get there.”

After ending the call, she grabbed her purse and walked out of the house, planning to make a beeline to her car. But once outside, she spotted Doc’s red Chevy S-10 pickup with its hood raised.

John stood in front of the vehicle, peering at the engine as if checking the oil or fixing a loose wire.

As much as she’d like to blend into the ranch scenery and fade into the distance, she knew he would notice her and that she’d have to acknowledge him somehow.

And she’d been right. Just as she reached her car, John slammed down the hood and brushed his hands together.

Okay, she thought, it was showtime.

The minute he spotted her, a smile broke across his face, giving him a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed appearance. It seemed pretty safe to assume that thoughts of the kiss hadn’t interrupted his sleep habits in the least.

“Good morning,” she said, trying to appear cheerful and unaffected by the sight of him, even though her heart was doing loop de loops.

Her steps slowed as she watched him approach, the late-morning sun glistening off the black strands of his hair, his blue eyes glimmering.

“Are you going someplace?” he asked.

She fingered the narrow shoulder strap of her purse. “Into town to see my folks. Why?”

“I have an appointment with Dr. Kelso at ten-thirty, and Doc said I could use his truck. But it won’t start. It’s turning over, so it’s not the battery. I have a feeling it’s going to need a new starter, but I don’t have time to work on it now.”

Was he a mechanic? Or did most men have an innate understanding of engines and motors?

She hated not knowing which it was in his case. And even worse, she hated the fact that she was always making assumptions about him, any or all of which could be way off base.

“I don’t suppose I could catch a ride with you?” he said.

Jim Kelso’s office was just a block or so down the street from Shady Glen, so it wouldn’t be out of her way to drop him off.

Besides, what did she expect him to do? Call a cab or hitchhike?

“Sure,” she said. “I can take you.”

“That’s great. Just give me a chance to tell Doc where I’m going.”

Minutes later, John was back and climbing into the passenger seat of her Honda Civic. When he shut the door, filling the air in her lungs with the hint of soap, musk and man, the sides of the compact car seemed to close in on them, forcing them closer together.

As her heart rate soared in reaction to the sight, sound and smell of him, she reminded herself to downplay her interest in him.

But as she turned the car around and headed down the driveway toward the road that led to Brighton Valley, she realized that pretending that she wasn’t attracted to John Doe was going to be as easy as ignoring a full-grown elephant riding in the passenger seat of a compact car.

On the way to town, Betsy had been unusually quiet. She could be pondering a perplexing medical case or something work-related, John supposed, but he couldn’t help thinking that after what had happened last night, she felt uneasy around him.

Neither of them had mentioned their brief but heated encounter in the moonlight, yet he suspected that it was bothering her.

And he could see why it might. Betsy had come alive in his arms. He’d felt her passion, heard her ragged breathing when she’d come up for air.

She’d been just as aroused as he’d been. And that single kiss had convinced him that their lovemaking would be out of this world.

Of course, she’d said it shouldn’t have happened. But it had.

He stole a glance across the seat, as she held on to the steering wheel and peered out the windshield. She’d put on makeup today and had dressed casually. But her expression was as tense and guarded as her grip on the wheel.

More than anything he wanted to put her at ease, to tell her that it had only been a kiss and that they should just take each day as it came.

He wasn’t sure how to broach the subject, though, or how to address the obvious chemistry that simmered between them. So he focused on the here and now. “I really appreciate the ride, Betsy.”

“No problem.” She kept her eyes on the road, her hands on the wheel.

She seemed to have full control of the vehicle. Was she doing the same with her thoughts?

“I have plans with my parents,” she added. “So I won’t be able to take you back to the ranch right away. I hope you don’t mind waiting for me.”

“Not at all. I’m in no hurry. I’ll just hang out in town until you’re finished.”

She shot a glance his way and a slow smile eased the tension from her pretty face. “You know, you might not have to wait for us. I’ve heard that Jim Kelso is always running late. There’s no telling how long you’ll be in his office.”

It irritated him when people couldn’t keep to a schedule or when they weren’t prompt…

His thoughts froze before he could continue and jumbled before he could grasp the how and why.

As a result of the memory misfire, he clamped his mouth shut, giving in to discouragement and silence.

Ten minutes later, Betsy pointed out Shady Glen, the retirement complex where her parents lived. The fairly new redbrick building was several stories high, with flower gardens and a water fountain in the center of a circular drive.

But she passed by it and pulled into the driveway of a gray medical building adjacent to the hospital.

“See?” she said. “It’s just a little over a block away from Dr. Kelso’s office.”

He opened the passenger door and slid out of the car. “Thanks for the ride. I’ll head over to the retirement home when I’m finished and wait for you in the lobby.”

“Good idea. They have plenty of sofas and chairs, a cozy fireplace and a big-screen TV. It’ll be a perfect place for us to meet later.”

“That’ll work.” He tossed her a don’t-worry-about-me grin. “Take your time. And have fun.”

As he turned toward the entrance to the medical building, she drove off. But he couldn’t help looking over his shoulder to steal one last peek at her, missing what little connection they had. Then he entered the building and sought the directory.

Neurology Associates was in number 206, so he took the elevator to the second floor and found the office. When he reached the front desk, the receptionist, a dishwater blonde in her mid-forties looked up and cast him a sympathetic frown. “I’m really sorry, but Dr. Kelso was just called to the hospital on an emergency. I’ve been contacting his patients with appointments this morning, but I’m afraid I wasn’t able to catch you in time.”

He’d hoped Dr. Kelso would tell him that he could return to all of his normal activities-whatever they were. But apparently, that wasn’t going to happen today.

Masking his disappointment, he rescheduled the appointment. Then, with nothing else to do, he headed for the retirement home down the street.

The wintry air was crisp, and he shoved his hands into the pockets of the corduroy jacket Doc had loaned him. On the left side, he found a quarter that his benefactor had left behind.

As he fingered the coin, a niggle of uneasiness settled over him. He wasn’t comfortable taking handouts. He wasn’t sure how he knew that. But he did.

And while he was glad to have a job and a place to live, he couldn’t help feeling as though he needed to pay his own way.

When he turned into the complex, he headed toward a pair of glass doors that opened up to the lobby. The spacious room, with its hardwood floor, cream-colored walls and decor in shades of green and brown, wasn’t much different than that of a hotel.

The overstuffed furniture in coordinating fabric provided a homey appearance. And a large brick fireplace, with colorful needlepoint stockings hanging from the mantel and gas flames licking over fake logs, gave the place a cozy, Christmassy feel.

In the far corner, he spotted a large Scotch pine, fully decorated and loaded with sparkling white lights. He wished he could conjure some of the holiday spirit himself, but he came up blank.

Had he been ready for Christmas when he first came to town? When his past hadn’t been a mystery to him?

He supposed it didn’t matter.

As he continued into the lobby, he noticed a bulletin board next to an unmanned concierge desk. The board was adorned with a snowflake trim and bore several flyers. Curious, he made his way toward it and read the notices that announced a bingo game on Tuesday night, a day trip to the museum in Houston next week and karaoke sing-alongs in the recreation room every Saturday night.

Betsy had been right. This wasn’t a hospital, and her parents probably did enjoy living here.

As he started for an empty easy chair near a big-screen television, he figured he was in for a long wait, which was okay with him.

But he’d only taken two steps when the elevator doors opened and Betsy stepped out with a silver-haired couple.

When recognition dawned on her face, he tossed her a grin and shrugged. “My appointment was canceled.”

“That’s too bad.” As she approached him, her parents, a couple in their seventies, came with her.

“It is a little annoying to think I made the trip for nothing, but those things happen. I rescheduled my appointment for later in the week.” He nodded toward the television. “I’ll just wait here for you to get back.”

“Betsy, is this a friend of yours?” her father asked, eyeing John carefully.

When Betsy said that he was, the older man with thinning hair broke into a grin and reached out his arm in the customary greeting. “It’s nice to meet you, son. I’m Pete Nielson. And this is my wife, Barbara.”

John shook the older man’s hand, but he didn’t offer a name for himself. What was he supposed to say, “I’m John Doe”?

Fortunately, Betsy stepped in and saved him by offering a discreet, yet truthful, explanation. “This is John. He’s staying on Dr. Graham’s ranch.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Pete said. “And although it’s too bad your appointment was canceled, you’re just in time for lunch.”

“Oh, no,” John said. “I don’t want to horn in.”

“Don’t be silly.” Barbara placed a hand on his arm. “Any friend of Betsy’s is a friend of ours. We’d love to have you join us. Besides, it’ll be nice for Pete to have another man to talk to.”

John would have jumped at the chance to join Betsy and her parents for lunch, but he didn’t have a wallet, a credit card or a penny to his name. And he wasn’t used to free rides…

Again, he was caught up in a fact that had no basis for that conclusion, no reason to give that passing thought any credibility.

“You don’t need to include me,” he said. “I can keep myself busy for an hour or two.”

“That’s up to you,” Betsy said. “But you’re welcome to join us. And my mom’s right. Daddy is always outnumbered whenever the three of us get together.”

“Well,” he said, “the problem is that I don’t have my wallet with me.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Pete said. “I’ve got lunch covered today. You can pick up the tab next time.”

“Okay. If that’s the case, then you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Glad to hear it,” Pete said, a grin spreading across his face as he patted John on the back.

Barbara was smiling, too-as if his company would be a real treat.

John shot a glance at Betsy, to see if she was as happy as her parents seemed to be. But she wore the same unreadable expression she’d had on earlier.

As Betsy slid into a corner booth at Caroline’s Diner with her parents and John, she was both pleased and discomfited about his joining them for lunch. She could have dealt with one or the other, but the conflicting emotions made her uneasy.

Now here they were, seated at the table with their sodas before them and waiting for the waitress to serve their hamburgers.

Her father-a retired banker-leaned toward John and said, “Tell us a little about yourself, young man. What kind of work do you do? And how did you come to meet Dr. Graham?”

Betsy glanced at John, who’d yet to respond, and watched the dilemma weighing in his eyes. But before she could field the question for him, he answered her father truthfully. “Actually, sir, I had an accident a while back and suffered a head injury. I’m afraid I’ve got temporary amnesia, so there’s not much I can tell you.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Betsy’s mother said. “That must be so difficult for you.”

“It’s tough, but I’m dealing with it.”

For a moment, pain shadowed John’s eyes. As Betsy’s heart went out to him, he rallied and changed the subject. “I was pleasantly surprised when I entered the Shady Glen lobby. It’s got a warm and cozy feel about it.”

“We like it,” her dad said. “And there’s a convalescent facility right next door, if one of us should ever need it. But the residents on our side of the complex are considered active seniors, and we have a lot of opportunities to get out on our own and with the others. I even have a couple of golfing buddies who play with me on Saturdays at a little executive course in Wexler. And Barb belongs to a book club and a quilting group that keeps her busy.”

Her mother added, “Betsy wanted us to live with her, but we didn’t want to be a burden.”

Actually, they’d been afraid they would get in the way if she ever started dating again. But that wasn’t going to happen. She’d given up the white-picket-fence dream for herself.

Still, each time she looked at John, she found herself wondering if she’d been wrong. If she could have both a career and a family and balance them as well as Molly Mayfield seemed to have done so far.

But considering something like that, especially with John Doe, was crazy. Look how wrong she’d been about Doug and she’d known him for years.

Sure, they’d been happy at first-or at least she’d thought they’d been. But she’d been so busy with her studies and then with her internship at Grace Memorial that she hadn’t realized that while she was working the night shift, her husband hadn’t been home in bed.

At least not alone.

And the fact that there had been numerous affairs during their three years together had been worsened by his criminal activity. The conviction for insider trading had left her feeling stupid and naive, confirming to her that the man she’d once thought she loved hadn’t been the man she’d thought he was.

Of course, John wasn’t anything like Doug.

Oh, yeah? a small voice asked. How in the world could you possibly know that?

She had nothing to go on but feelings and gut instinct. And when it came to romance and judging a man’s character, her emotional gauge had proven to be flawed in the past. Could she ever trust it again?

“Here we go,” the waitress said, as she brought a tray with their plates.

“Would you look at those burgers and fries,” her father said. “What’d I tell you? Caroline sure knows how to make them right.”

As much as Betsy wanted to focus on her meal and to take part in the chatter around her, she couldn’t seem to keep her eyes off John. Her curiosity and interest in him were growing by leaps and bounds, especially after that kiss, and she had no idea what to do about it.

So as a result, she remained fairly quiet over lunch, while her father and John seemed to hit it off.

John seemed to know quite a bit about sports and economics, and she wondered if being around her dad might trigger his memory.

Or had it done so already?

When everyone had finished eating and the waitress had picked up the plates, her father asked for the check.

“Don’t forget,” John said, “I owe you a meal, Pete.”

Her dad slid out from his inside seat at the booth, and before heading for the cashier, he tapped his index finger on his temple. “I won’t forget. And I’ll look forward to next time.”

Betsy told herself that John’s insistence to pay his own way was a good thing, a sign that he was a decent person at heart. And she reminded herself that some of her assumptions about him were based upon observations she’d made and not just on emotion.

After her father paid the bill, they climbed into her car and headed back to the retirement home. Before she knew it, she was dropping her folks off in front of the lobby doors.

John climbed out to help her mom with the walker-another sign of his character.

“It was nice meeting you,” her mother told John. “I hope we get a chance to see you again one day soon.”

He smiled. “I’d like that, Barbara.”

When they’d all said their goodbyes, she drove away, feeling a bit relieved. John and her parents had hit if off better than she’d expected.

She had to admit, she felt a lot more comfortable with John on the drive back to the ranch than she had coming to town. She wasn’t sure why that was, though. Nothing had really changed.

“Your parents are great,” he said.

“I think so, too.”

“They’re really proud of you.”

“Yes, they are.” In fact, just the other day, her mom had told her that they’d been blessed the day they’d adopted her. And Betsy felt the same way.

She had no idea what her life would have been like if she hadn’t grown up in the Nielsons’ home.

Yet whenever that question came to mind, she couldn’t help wondering about her birth mother, the woman who wanted to meet her. The woman who’d at least taken time to look at her red-haired newborn before handing her over to social workers.

She tried to imagine the possible scenarios that might have caused the woman to put her newborn daughter up for adoption. A teenage pregnancy? Illegitimacy?

How would the woman feel when she learned that the baby she’d given away had grown up to be happy, successful and well-adjusted?

Would she have been pleased by the decision she’d made? Relieved?

Would she feel disappointed that she hadn’t played even the slightest role in Betsy’s life?

“It’s nice that your parents opted to live in a retirement community rather than become a burden,” John said, interrupting her tumble of thoughts.

“They’d never be a burden to me, and I think they know that. In reality, I think they were afraid that if they moved in with me, they’d scare off any potential suitors.” She chuckled at their reasoning and turned to John. “They’re still concerned that I’ll become an old maid.”

As their gazes locked, something surged between them, causing her heart to race.

John’s voice dropped a decibel, as he said in a husky tone, “There’s no chance of that, Betsy.”

Her heart zinged as she considered the subtext, but she forced herself to turn away and watch the road before they ended up in a ditch or wrapped around a telephone pole.

Yet in spite of her better judgment, she found herself fishing for the words he’d implied but hadn’t actually said. “Why do you say that?”

“Because some lucky guy is going to talk you into marrying him one of these days.”

The thought of marriage to a man who truly appreciated her set her heart off-kilter. She tried to remind herself that she was happy being single. At least, she had been until John entered her life.

But ever since they’d kissed last night, she’d found herself envisioning a two-story house in town, surrounded by the proverbial white picket fence. She could imagine a swing hanging from the branch of a tree in the front yard and a set of rocking chairs on the front porch.

She’d always wanted a family-a husband and kids. But her life was cut out for something bigger. Something better.

Or had she just convinced herself of that?