Comfort, Chapter 3
Over the next week, a mini flu epidemic came through Zoe's office. Luckily, Brick came back from Mobile, leaving Lemon there to recover, and helped Zoe manage the onslaught of patients. And despite the fact that George had turned to Zoe, Brick remained civil to her. But with all the work distractions, she had little time to focus on George's offer. Even when they saw each other, which was almost every night, he didn't pressure her. It was tempting. New York, with a man who enjoyed the city even more than she did. Someone who shared her interests, was interested in her. It felt so . . . comfortable, so . . . safe.
Zoe was about to close the office door one evening when a truck stopped short in front of the steps. Out jumped Wade, running to the passenger door. As he opened it, his father slid off the seat and into his arms. "Doc, I need your help. Earl's head's busted up," he cried, carrying him up the steps.
Zoe had already opened the door. "What happened?" she called, leading the way to the exam room.
"I was helping him clear some brush at his place," Wade said as he put his father on the exam table. "He was using the chain saw a few yards from me, and I saw a big chunk of wood kick back and hit him in the head. It was bleeding awful bad. I got it to stop, but . . . you can see the skin is all tore up."
Zoe looked at the gash carefully as Wade spoke. "I have to ask, Wade. Was he drinking?"
"No, I'd be able to tell."
"OK. Earl, can you hear me?" Zoe called.
Earl's eyes fluttered. "Yeah, I can hear ya. You the doc? Where's Brick?"
"He's left for the day, Earl, but I'll take good care of you."
"Don't worry, Earl. Dr. Hart's a great surgeon. She took care of me once. Sewed up a deep cut real good. Can't even see it now."
Zoe glanced at Wade and grinned as she recalled the heat wave. "I'm going to clean the wound so I can see what to do next."
Earl was groggy but remained awake as Zoe completed her stitches. "Dr. Hart, I gotta say that my son Wade here . . . he's ornery sometimes, but he looks out for me. He's a good son."
"Shut up, old man," said Wade, who had watched Zoe attend to his dad. "You say that now 'cause you split your head open. You're not talkin' sense. Besides, the doc's not gonna believe you anyway."
Zoe checked her stitches one last time, then looked at Wade. "Oh, I think there's some truth to what your father said."
A warmth spread over him. He wanted to touch her, but he knew a simple touch wouldn't satisfy his longing. "Thanks for helping, Doc. Thanks for everything."
"You're welcome," she said wistfully.
##
Zoe lay in bed that night, her thoughts tumbling over each other like smooth pebbles. Six months ago, when she had been struggling to fit into Bluebell, Zoe would have pounced on George's offer. She had been smitten with him, even in love with him, she thought. But she wondered now whether George simply reminded her of the life she once had, the life she had thought she wanted.
Zoe had changed the sheets, but the memory of Wade in her bed still lingered over her, like a smoky haze. Was it only the sex—great sex—or was there something more? She couldn't know for certain—he wasn't the safe choice, Zoe admitted. But still . . .
##
"I've got some Chinese takeout from Mobile," George said the next evening as he held up a bag in front of Zoe's door.
"OK. Come on in." She unhooked the latch, trying to avoid his eyes. He bent down to kiss her, and Zoe offered her lips but backed away quickly.
"Something wrong?" George asked, placing the food on the table.
Zoe walked to the sofa, then looked up at him. "We have to talk," she said as she sat.
"The expression on your face tells me I'm not gonna like this conversation."
She sighed and put her hand through her hair. "I'm not going with you to New York. I so appreciate the offer, George. And maybe four, five months ago I would have said yes in a heartbeat. But, now, I'm staying here."
"I thought you were in love with me," George whispered. "I thought we could be good together."
"I think . . . I loved the idea of you . . . someone who I had so much in common with . . . loved some of the same things I did. You made me feel comfortable in a place that clearly made me feel uncomfortable for quite a while. But . . . over the past couple of months, my feelings about Bluebell have changed. And maybe that's because I finally realize this is where I can do the most good—for others and for myself, too. I don't need to rely on New York for comfort. I've found it here."
"Well, that doesn't mean we can't have a relationship." George took hold of her hand. "If I work in New York, I'll still come back. You can visit. Long-distant relationships can work."
She looked down at her lap as she spoke. "Well, something else is holding me back: Wade."
George leaned back, stunned by her words.
"The night of your wedding, Wade and I spent the night together. He said there was something between the two of us, and I have to admit that he's right. I think I'm in love with him. Wade is a challenge, I know, but he's my kind of challenge. As much as we've fought, he's been there for me, too."
"Zoe, I . . . I gave up Lemon for you."
"Did you, George? Was it me you really wanted? Or did you want a different life in New York?"
He was silent for a few moments, then said, "I don't know." He paused to consider this. "Maybe I wasn't being honest with Lemon or you—or even myself."
After work, Wade turned into the plantation driveway. Coming the other way was George's truck. Wade slowed down and started to open his window to say hello, but the truck sped by. He spied Zoe's lights on in the guest house. Should I stop in? he wondered. No, he thought. If she wants me, she needs to come to me.
About an hour later, Wade's phone rang. He looked at the name: George. "Hey, what's up?" Wade said.
"Hey, Wade, I need a favor."
"What's that?" Wade replied, wondering whether Zoe was part of this 'favor.'
"I need a ride to the airport day after tomorrow. Can you give me a lift? I'm going to New York for a few weeks and I don't want to leave my truck there all that time."
The skin on Wade's arms tingled. "Uh, OK. Just tell me when," he replied and they ended the call. He's goin' to New York . . . alone . . . without Zoe. I hope I heard that right. But that could mean anything, I guess.
##
After dropping his luggage in the trunk, George slid into the passenger seat of Wade's car. "Thanks for the lift, Wade," George said as Wade turned on the road to Mobile.
"You're welcome. How long you stayin'?" Wade asked, anxious to know if he understood George the first time.
"Probably a month or two. A buddy of mine is startin' a practice there. Wants me to join the firm."
"You mean leave Bluebell?" Wade practically shouted the words.
"Well, I don't know for certain. Maybe. When Zoe came to town, I realized what I missed when I was in New York for that year."
"I'm shocked, Tucker. I thought you'd be a lifer here. Weren't you Man of the Year this year?"
"Yeah, I know. But maybe I want to take another direction. I don't really know."
They were both quiet for a few moments. Then George said, "One thing I do know . . . Zoe doesn't love me. She loves you. I tried to get her to come with me, but her heart's in Bluebell now, for a number of reasons—and you're one of them."
Wade quickly looked over to him, almost breathless. "Why you tellin' me this?"
"'Cause after all the mess Lemon and Lavon and I created over the past year, I want something good to come out of it." George looked at Wade. "Do you love her?"
"Uh, well, you know that she can be argumentative, snobbish, shallow."
"But do you love her?"
Wade glanced at his friend. "Yes. When she's around, I feel like I want to be better. Does that sound weird?"
"Nope. That's sounds like the best kinda love."