Unfinished Business

are. And I wouldn’t be what I am.”
    “You haven’t asked me if I would have stayed.”
    “I know you would have.”
    She sighed. “I guess you only love that intensely once. Maybe it’s best to have it over and done with while you’re young.”
    “Maybe.”
    She closed her eyes, drifting. “I used to dream that you would come and take me away. Especially before a performance, when I stood in the wings, hating it.”
    His brows drew together. “Hating what?”
    “The lights, the people, the stage. I would wish so hard that you would come and we would go away together. Then I knew you wouldn’t. And I stopped wishing. I’m so tired.”
    He kissed her fingers again. “Go to sleep.”
    “I’m tired of being alone,” she murmured before she drifted off.
    He sat, watching her, trying to separate his feelings for what had been from what was. And that was the problem, he realized. The longer he was with her, the more the edges between the past and present blurred.
    There was one and only one thing that was clear. He had never stopped loving her.
    After touching his lips to hers, he turned off the bedside light and left her to sleep.

Chapter 7
    B undled in her ratty blue terry-cloth robe, her hair tousled and her disposition grim, Vanessa trudged downstairs. Because she’d been hounded, she’d been taking the medication Ham Tucker had prescribed for two days. She felt better. It annoyed her to have to admit it, but she was a long way from ready to concede that she’d needed it.
    More, she was embarrassed that it was Brady who had supervised her first dose and tucked her into bed. It hadn’t been so bad when they’d been sniping at each other, but when she’d weakened and asked him to stay with her, he’d been kind. Doctor to patient, she reminded herself. But she had never been able to resist Brady when he was kind.
    The morning suited her mood. Thick gray clouds, thick gray rain. It was, she thought, a perfect day to sit alone in the house and brood. In fact, it was something to look forward to. Rain, depression, and a private pity party. At least solitary sulking would be a change. She’d had little time to be alone since the night of Joanie’s dinner party.
    Her mother tended to hover, finding excuses to come home two or three times each workday. Dr. Tucker checked in on her twice a day, no matter how much Vanessa protested. Even Joanie had come by, to cluck and fuss, bringing armfuls of lilacs and bowls of chicken soup. Neighbors peeped in from time to time to measure her progress. There were no secrets in Hyattown. Vanessa was certain she’d had good wishes and advice from all two hundred and thirty-three residents of the town.
    Except one.
    Not that she cared that Brady hadn’t found time to come by. She scowled and tugged at the belt of her robe. In fact, she told herself as her fingers trailed over the newel post, she was glad he had been conspicuously absent. The last thing she wanted was Brady Tucker—Hyattown’s own Dr. Kildare—looming over her, poking at her and shaking his head in his best I-told-you-so manner. She didn’t want to see him. And she certainly didn’t need to.
    She hated making a fool of herself, she thought as she scuffed barefoot down the hallway to the kitchen. And what other term was there for all but keeling over in Joanie’s backyard? Then being carried to bed and having Brady treat her like some whining patient.
    An ulcer. That was ridiculous, of course. She was strong, competent and self-sufficient—hardly ulcer material. But she unconsciously pressed a hand to her stomach.
    The gnawing ache she’d lived with longer than she could remember was all but gone. Her nights hadn’t been disturbed by the slow, insidious burning that had so often kept her awake and miserable. In fact, she’d slept like a baby for two nights running.

    A coincidence, Vanessa assured herself. All she’d needed was rest. Rest and a little solitude. The grueling schedule she’d maintained the past few years was bound to wear even the strongest person down a bit.
    So she’d give herself another month—maybe two—of Hyattown’s version of peace, quiet and restoration before making any firm career decisions.
    At the kitchen doorway, she came to an abrupt halt. She hadn’t expected to find Loretta there. In fact, she had purposely waited to come down until after she’d heard the front door open and close.
    “Good morning.” Loretta, dressed in one of her tidy suits, hair