An insistent beeping surrounded them, and Sam’s impatient groan told her the noise wasn’t the bells on the hill tolling their love.

“What is it?” she whispered, hardly able to find her voice.

“Not what, but who.”

She blinked, not understanding.

“That’s my pager. I’m needed at the hospital.”

Seven

The phone pealed loudly in the darkened bedroom. At first Marjorie incorporated the irritating sound into her dream. By the third ear-shattering ring she realized it was her telephone.

Without lifting her head from the pillow, she stretched out her arm and groped for the receiver, locating it in time to cut off the fourth ring.

“Yes,” she mumbled, and brushed the wild confusion of hair from her face.

“Kitten?”

Her eyes flew open, and she struggled into a sitting position and reached for the small clock on her nightstand. “Sam?”

“I’m sorry to wake you, but I wanted to be sure you got home safely.”

She blinked and focused her gaze on the illuminated clock dial. It was a few minutes after four. “I didn’t have any problems. How did things go at the hospital?”

“Great. Wonderful, in fact.”

She relaxed and leaned against the thick goose-down pillow, savoring the warmth that never failed to infuse her whenever Sam called. “Did you deliver another baby?”

“Two, actually, or I would have been back hours ago.”

“Girls? Boys?”

“One of each.” He felt like a fool, calling her at this ungodly hour, but he’d walked into his empty house, and everywhere he looked, he thought of Marjorie. The memory of her presence swirled around him like the soft scent of summer. Often the stark loneliness of his lifestyle had hit him after a nighttime delivery, but never more than it had this time. He would have given anything in the world to have found her curled up and sleeping in his bed, waiting for him. Hearing her voice was a poor substitute, but one he couldn’t deny himself.

“I realized when I got back to the house,” he continued, “that I hadn’t asked to see you again.” Even to his own ears, the explanation sounded lame.

“No, we both had other things on our minds.”

“Dinner tonight, then?” he asked.

Marjorie wasn’t thinking clearly; her mind was clouded with the last dregs of sleep. “What day is this?”

“Friday.”

Her disappointment was potent enough to produce a bout of aching frustration. “I can’t,” she moaned. “My sister is driving up from Portland, and I’m working late both days this weekend.”

“I’ll take both you and your sister to dinner, then.” That was an easy enough solution.

“But, Sam…”

“No arguing. Your sister, and anyone else you want, is welcome to join us.” He didn’t care if he had to buy dinner for every employee at Dixon Motors, as long as he could spend time with Marjorie.

“You’re sure?”