Rescued By Mr. Wrong. Cynthia Thomason

      She stuck her head inside the cabin, looked around, spied Carrie and said, “Hello there, darling. I heard Keegan had some company.”

      “That makes you, Duke, Flo and me who know about this arrangement,” Keegan said, nodding at Carrie. “This is Carrie. Carrie, Delores. Now all the people that matter know that I have company, and I don’t see any reason to tell anyone else.”

      She narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you implying that I’m a gossip?”

      “Ever since you invested in a cell phone,” he said.

      “Why are you trying to keep this lovely young lady a secret, Keegan? What have you got up your sleeve?”

      “Nothing but my arm,” he said attempting to close the door and send a clear message. But Delores was too quick for him and had apparently just noticed the walking boot on Carrie’s leg. She was inside and removing her scarf before he could step out of her way.

      “Oh, my, you poor dear,” she said, casting a disapproving glare at Keegan. “You didn’t do this to her, did you?”

      His jaw dropped. “You know, Delores, I should start charging you rent. Sometimes your conclusion jumping is just too much!”

      Carrie quickly came to his defense. “I had a car accident. Keegan has been a perfect gentleman and a fairly good nurse. In truth, he more or less got stuck with me after pulling me out of a snowbank.”

      Delores patted Carrie’s hand. “Well, that’s fine, then. He could use a little company in this place. I live just out back in the yellow unit by the tree line. If you need anything, just open the bedroom window and holler. I’ll hear you.”

      Carrie smiled. “Thanks, but I’ll be okay. I’m only here temporarily until my car is fixed.”

      Now she was staying until her car was fixed? When would that be? A couple of days? A week?

      “I’ll be on my way, then,” Delores said. She rewrapped the scarf and headed for the door. As she left, she called back, “Ta-ra, then, see you cozy couple later.”

      One glance at Carrie’s round eyes confirmed that she had heard the comment.

      When he’d shut the door on the latest visitor, Keegan set the basket of scones on his table and grumbled. “Neighbors. Never liked ’em. Never will.”

      Carrie responded as casually as her telltale grin allowed. “Except one you risk your life for to get his medicine. And the other you let live here rent-free.”

      “They both live here rent-free,” he grudgingly admitted. “They sort of came with the property when I moved in.”

      She nodded slowly. “I see. Then what choice did you have?”

      Not much. And when the property sold, he thought, both of those decrepit trailers and their nosy old residents would have to go. And he sure wasn’t taking them with him.

      * * *

      THE CLOSEST CARRIE had gotten to fresh air on this first full day of confinement had been when she stuck her head out the kitchen window. Ordinarily she never went a full twenty-four hours without being in the open, communicating with the trees and plants she loved so much. But unwilling to test her walking boot in the snow, she’d had to settle for a deep breath of cold, crisp Ohio winter air from the windowsill. Cold almost didn’t describe the outside temperature. Frigid, freezing, approaching zero was more accurate.

      Her decision to test the environment had almost caused an asthma reaction. When she felt the first signs of laboring lungs, she quickly drew her head back inside and closed the window. Bitter cold temperatures were not kind to asthma sufferers, which was why Carrie had recently made plans with the US Forest Service to send her for the worst of the winter to Tennessee where the temperatures were fairly moderate. Now, of course, with this broken bone, she might have to reconsider.

      So, as darkness settled around the cabin, she thought about her future. If she didn’t go to Tennessee on her next assignment, and if she didn’t go back to Michigan where temperatures could be almost as severe as Ohio’s, what would she do? Swallow her pride and go home to Dancing Falls where her father would pamper her until she felt like a near invalid?

      While she was growing up, her father had constantly checked the outside temperatures to determine if his youngest daughter could go out and play. If the thermometer dropped below thirty-five, she was bundled in a snowsuit, mittens and a hat. And still her father watched from a window.

      And he wondered now why Carrie had chosen to work in nature and a lifestyle that allowed her to choose for herself when she could go outside. Independence was a wonderful thing, and the Fosters had encouraged all their daughters to be independent, even if their teaching backfired occasionally. The Forest Service had been an understanding employer, allowing Carrie to move assignments according to climate changes. But her father still believed that he, and only he, knew best.

      Blocking the low drone of the television, Carrie continued thinking about her father. She loved him dearly. He was sweet, caring and brilliant. His current life was divided between his career and his responsibilities to his ill wife. And yet he still found time to fuss over Carrie. Every phone call, every visit was always punctuated by questions on her health, reminders to take medicine, gentle urges to get her to come home. And she couldn’t convince him that she was fully capable of making her own choices and monitoring her health. She didn’t even want to think of his reaction to her foolish decision yesterday. Embarking on a five-hour trip in a snowstorm had not been such a good choice, as it turned out.

      How different her life would have been if her mother, Maggie, were still the vibrant, funny, sensible woman who’d raised the girls into early adulthood. She would have understood Carrie’s need to be herself, her striving for normalcy in the career she’d chosen. She would have balanced Martin Foster’s obsessive worry with calm rationality. Maybe their new neighbor, Aurora, who’d become a trusted friend to her father and sisters, could provide the support her father so desperately needed.

      Carrie’s thoughts were interrupted by the local weather report. She sat up straight on the sofa and hit the volume button on the TV.

      “Fairer temperatures, a slow warming trend...lots of sunshine with highs tomorrow in the upper thirties.”

      Carrie smiled. Practically bathing suit weather in northern Ohio. Tomorrow she could go outside and investigate these seven acres which seemed to not matter to Keegan Breen. The prospect made her almost giddy.

      She turned off the television, leaned into the comfortable sofa cushion and closed her eyes. Keegan had been stuck at his computer most of the afternoon, doing what, Carrie didn’t have the faintest idea. Now he was in the bedroom with the door partially closed. But she could hear his voice, low, peaceful...almost loving. The mellow timbre of his words vibrated deep inside her in a soothing, comforting way, as if she could listen to that voice all night.

      “Sounds like you had a good Christmas,” he said. “Did you do anything special to celebrate?” There was a pause after which he said, “No, I don’t need to talk to her. The check arrived, I assume.” Another pause. “You’re welcome. I love you, Taylor.”

      Keegan uttered a few more words which Carrie couldn’t make out. Then she heard him disconnect with a simple, “Take care of yourself.” Carrie opened her eyes as he came into the living room rubbing the back of his neck. He suddenly seemed tired.

      Carrie sat up. “Everything okay?”

      “Sure. Why would you ask?”

      “I heard part of your conversation,” she said.

      “You were listening to my phone call?”

      “Not intentionally, but you didn’t close the door all the way.”

      “I thought you were watching TV.”

      “I turned it off.” She waited for him to say something else. He went into the kitchen and started making a pot of coffee. “If