Rescued By Marriage. Dianne Drake

smiled like she did know. But the truth was, all those years she’d been married to Anthony she’d thought what had been his had been hers, too, and that everything in their marriage had been shared. Which hadn’t turned out to be the case. It had all been his, except the debt, and that had become all hers.

      “So are we good to go?” Sam asked.

      “Do I need a key or something to get into the house or the clinic?” Della asked, suddenly realizing that she had nothing that marked ownership or entitlement to the house or property other than the word of Foster Armstrong, who’d said he would send the papers along once they were registered.

      “It’s open,” the mayor said, then bade them goodbye and scurried off to his office.

      Della stood on the sidewalk for a moment, simply looking around. She liked it, she thought. It was easy. People were friendly. Strangers waved and smiled, and old men tipped their hats in polite greeting. Maybe being cut off from the mainstream wasn’t such a bad thing. “So you’ve never been here before?” she asked Sam.

      Sam shook his head. “I’m new in the job. Got lots of territory to cover, and I haven’t had time before now. Without a doctor on the island, I didn’t have a reason, either.”

      “You don’t practice medicine at all?”

      “Not for an awfully long time. It ties you to one place, and I don’t like to be tied any more.” He flashed an extraordinarily sexy grin at her. “Been there, done that, moved on to something else. Life’s too short to be stuck with something you don’t want.”

      “I like having roots. It’s nice to have the same place to come home to. There’s something comforting in stability.” She realized that more now than she ever had before.

      “We all think that at some time, I suppose. I did once, but I was wrong about it…For me it was wrong, anyway. So, why don’t you and that purple car follow me out to your house and we’ll see if we can get you set up to stay before it gets too late.” He glanced around. “Where are your things?”

      She pointed to her duffle bag, a suitcase and the hand grip next to it. “That’s it. Pretty much everything I own. I’m having a few things sent up from Miami shortly, but I traveled light.”

      He gave her an odd look, one somewhere between concern and shock. “Are you sure you know what you’re getting yourself into? Because right now I think maybe we should find you a place at one of the local bed and breakfasts until the rest of your things arrive.”

      A bed and breakfast for the night sounded wonderful—a nice cozy room with a comfy mattress, fresh muffins and juice in the morning. The whole esthetic New England appeal suddenly embraced her, but, as much as she would have loved to be pampered in it, she couldn’t afford it. Which was none of Sam’s business. Besides, the sooner she got to her new home, the sooner she would start work on her new life. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “I don’t require much to get by.”

      “Apparently you don’t.” He gave her an indifferent shrug, then headed across the street to his SUV—a black one that was about three times the size of hers. “Suit yourself,” he called back, as he hopped inside.

      Suit herself…If that had been an option, suiting herself would have included being with Meghan. Being anywhere with Meghan. Thinking about her brought the tears up again and before they started to roll, Della climbed into her purple runabout and fell in behind Sam Montgomery. Why would a man like him avoid the roots when all she wanted in this life was to have them back?

      He was trying to get away from something, she decided. Bad experience in the past had him on the run. “Aren’t we all?” she said aloud as the tiny village of Redcliffe, which was the hub of life on Redcliffe Island, turned into a speck in her rear-view mirror.

      About a mile down the road, Della followed Sam onto another road, then another and another until she started to wonder if they were caught up in some sort of a maze. They had to be going in circles, and what was more astonishing was that there was simply no sign of life out here. Once Redcliffe was behind her, except for the occasional dot of a cottage along the roadway, civilization seemed to stop. If not for the actual roads, this could have been considered uncharted territory. “So, it seems I’m going to be a country girl.” That was a bit of a concern, since she’d hardly ever been into the rural reaches—not even for a Sunday drive.

      But this could be a good thing, couldn’t it? An isolated little place without distractions might be perfect, exactly what the doctor ordered. Besides, the scenery along the way was beautiful. Stunning. On the left a lush, green pasture cascaded over a craggy area and Della saw cows grazing peacefully. Then up ahead there was an orchard of some kind. Apples, perhaps? If they were, maybe she and Meghan could spend a day picking apples and baking pies and tarts, and making apple sauce from them. She was the right age to start helping in the kitchen, Della thought. In Miami they’d either eaten out or brought cooked meals in. No one had used the kitchen except to make coffee or tea or fix an occasional bowl of cereal. Suddenly, Della was excited about what she and Meghan might do together in a nice little kitchen.

      No, this wasn’t the city, which was all she knew, but it was nice. Beautiful. Peaceful. In a way, it seemed almost untouched. She and Meghan could be happy here…at least for five years. That thought put a smile on her face as she followed Sam into yet another turn. After a short distance they passed through something that looked like junk or maybe metal statuary lining the road. She twisted to look, and almost collided with Sam’s SUV, which came to a stop on a knoll just past all the litter. Or was it art?

      Turning her attention back to what was beyond her windshield, Della saw a house, but it wasn’t hers. It couldn’t be. This one was a dilapidated old Victorian one-story, with peeling white paint and gingerbread decoration dangling off the eaves in some places and completely missing in others. It was weathered and old. A lovely lady in her day, but her day was long gone. The beach beyond her was stunning, though, with its white sand and billowing grasses.

      “Why are we stopping?” she called to Sam, who was already out of his car, leaning causally against it. Something in the pit of her stomach already told her she knew the answer, but she needed to hear it said. It’s another of your mistakes, Della. The biggest one of all.

      “We’re stopping because this is the end of the road,” he called back.

      Another bitter reality hit home. Sticking her head out the window, Della inhaled, filling her lungs with the fresh salt air. It was different from the salt air in Miami—cleaner, maybe. No smell of civilization mixed in with it, and it was a pleasant surprise because it reminded her of trips to the beach with Meghan.

      “You’ve changed your mind and decided to stay in a bed and breakfast?” he asked, when she didn’t get out of the SUV immediately.

      “No. I’m staying in my house.” Such as it was. Now she understood why Drs Beaumont and Weatherby had pulled out of here so quickly. And the house had had so many more years since then to become even more rundown. If she hadn’t already cried all her tears over missing Meghan, she would have cried a few right here over this mess.

      “You’ve never been here, have you?” Sam asked stepping up to her car and leaning through the window.

      What was she supposed to tell him? That she was the biggest idiot in the world, the one who would spend the next five years in this hovel? And how was she supposed to practice medicine here? “I’m not put off by hard work,” she said, hoping that sounded sufficiently in control.

      “I thought it was a little odd that someone had actually bought this place with the intent of setting up practice here again. But, then, some people are handy. They like to take on projects. Although, since I didn’t see a carpenter’s belt among your possessions, I’m guessing you don’t.”

      “Maybe I simply like my solitude.”

      “Then it’s a good thing, because you’re going to get plenty of it out here. So, which do you want to see first? Your house or your clinic?”

      “You