"Is this the day-care center?" Marjorie Weeks asked, suddenly aware of the implications the call could hold.

"No," Cora said, "I'm calling from the Garden of Eden."

Marjorie frowned. This didn't sound like that witch who'd been seeing her boss, but she didn't trust her not to try deception, just to bother him during business hours.

"I'll give him the message," Marjorie Weeks offered.

"I said I'll hold," Cora replied, and she did.

Minutes later, a man's deep voice came on the line, and when Cora was through talking, she hung up the phone in satisfaction. If that didn't send the cavalry-in the form of the new next-door neighbor-to Molly's rescue, nothing would. And while her conscience niggled at the meddling she'd just done, she kept telling herself that Molly would thank her for it later.

When the cab driver pulled up to Molly's front door, she got out with a groan, stumbling with every step as she let herself in. Without wasted motion, she headed for the bathroom, anxious to strip off her clothes and crawl into a hot bath, hoping it would stave off the stiffness creeping into her joints.

The tub filled swiftly, and as she stepped into the tub, she groaned. A long soak later, she groaned even louder when she tried to get out. To her horror, the harder she tried, the more painful and impossible it became. The water was tepid, her body felt like it was in traction, and moving was, at the moment, impossible. She looked at the clock on the vanity.

"No wonder I'm stiff," she muttered. "It's nearly three o'clock. I've been in the water for over an hour."

And from the way she felt, she'd be here a lot longer unless a miracle occurred. Not for the first time since she'd come home did she wish that she'd taken Cora's advice and gone on to the doctor. It felt like every bone in her body was bent, if not broken. She tested the faucets with her toes, trying unsuccessfully to turn on the hot water and warm up her bath. Then she used her feet to fiddle with the drain control in hopes of letting out the water. She finally gave up in defeat and moaned.

"I'm doomed. I need a miracle to get out of this fix. I'll probably die from starvation, and when they find me dead, I'll be all waterlogged and pruney. I'll look like h.e.l.l at my own funeral."

She was being dramatic and knew it, but laughing at herself was, at the moment, wasted effort. Instead, she gently eased her head against the edge of the tub and began wishing for that miracle.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang, and Molly jerked in reflex, sloshing water over the side of the tub and down onto the floor, soaking the bath mat, and sending shooting pains throughout her legs and arms.

"Oh G.o.d, that hurt," she groaned, as she tried unsuccessfully to get out of the tub. "That's just dandy-my miracle came without a front-door key."

For several more moments, the doorbell continued to ring, and just when Molly thought whoever it was had given up, a series of loud, persistent knocks could be heard. Once she thought she could even hear someone shouting, but she was too far in the back of the house to determine what was being said.

"I'm back here," she yelled. "Help! I need help!"

And then suddenly the shouts at the door ceased, and she closed her eyes and groaned, in certain despair that her miracle had given up and gone home.

But her fears were short-lived. Now she could hear footsteps of someone running around her house, and then the bellow of a familiar voice. She laughed aloud, then groaned when a sharp pain jabbed her from ear to ear, and she bit her lip to keep from laughing again. She'd heard that voice-and those very same colorful phrases-before. One of these days, when they got to know each other a lot better, she was going to mention his choice of language in times of stress.

"Joseph! I'm here," she called. "I can't get up."

The footsteps ceased, but the curses did not.

"There's an extra key beneath the azalea pot on the back porch," she yelled.

There was total silence, and then moments later she heard-along with another round of less-than-quiet curses-the lid of her barbecue grill hitting the concrete deck of her patio. She winced. She'd forgotten to mention the grill was not put away. By the time she was rescued, there might not be anything left of her house. He'd beaten her door, crushed her shrubbery, and probably broken her grill. If he didn't calm down, he'd probably break the key off in the lock and then she'd be in a fine fix.

Just about the time she heard the front door open, then slam shut, it dawned on her that he'd gotten in. That was when she looked down and remembered that she was naked as the day she'd been born.

"Molly! Molly! Where are you?"

His voice was just below a roar. On the one hand, she'd never been so glad to hear a voice in her life. On the other, she was about to reveal all in a most unflattering manner.

Lord have mercy, she thought, then closed her eyes and swallowed. If she couldn't see Joseph, then it stood to reason he couldn't see her. Just as that thought sank in, Molly realized she'd probably hit her head a lot harder than she had first imagined. She wasn't making any sense at all.

"I'm in here," she said weakly.

He came through the door on the run with a worried expression on his face.

"Cora called. She said that you'd-"

The sentence hovered and died on his lips, right along with the last ounce of chivalry he'd been saving for damsels in distress. If he did what he should, he would already be backing out to give her the s.p.a.ce she obviously needed, but something had happened to his feet. They didn't move any faster than his mouth, and he couldn't talk. He swallowed twice, took three deep breaths, and tried to remember his Boy Scout pledge, then he remembered he'd never been a Scout. Nothing came to mind but the pledge of allegiance to the flag, and he was pretty sure Molly didn't want to hear it.

He rolled his eyes, thrusting his chin in a stubborn, determined gesture, and headed for the tub.

I can do this...if I concentrate, he told himself. h.e.l.l no! he amended, as he knelt beside the tub and caught a watery glimpse of her body. Concentration is the last d.a.m.n thing I need right now.

"Molly?"

She didn't answer, but her eyes squeezed shut a little bit tighter. He hid a grin, and then sighed as he began working her fingers loose from the sides of the tub. All of a sudden they came loose, and he threaded them through his hand and tried not to stare at her long-limbed beauty.

"Honey...are you all right? Cora said you fell."

She nodded, and he wasn't sure what answer he got. Either she was all right or it was a positive response to his statement about her fall. But when a tear slid from beneath one closed eyelid, he groaned. Oh G.o.d, she was going to cry! He fell apart when women cried.

"Now d.a.m.n it, Molly, don't go and cry."

The warning took hold as she bit her lower lip and sniffed. Gently, he pulled a washcloth from the rack and swiped across her face in the same way he cleaned Joey's face during his bath. It was awkward but gentle, and got the job done. But as his ringers dipped into the water, he noticed how chilled her bath had become.

"Good grief, honey, the water's freezing. It's going to make you stiff."

"It already has," she said, and sniffed loudly.

Joseph reached over and pulled the plug. The water began to flow in a circular exit, lowering the level to reveal even more of her beauty.

Having convinced herself that she was somewhat concealed in the tub's depths, the sound of receding water made her suddenly panic.

"Don't look," she cried, while scarlet slashes of shame spread across her face and then downward.

He grinned. "Shoot, if that's all that's bothering you, it's too late. I already did."

Her eyes flew open. Her mouth dropped. And the dark lights dancing in his eyes told her more than he was able to say. He'd looked, and obviously liked what he saw. And he was still here, waiting for Molly to make the next move.

"You wretch," she moaned. "Then do the decent thing and hand me a towel."

Joseph grinned, then reached behind him, hand flailing blindly as he grabbed the first piece of terry cloth he touched. He handed it over with light aplomb.

"You call this a towel! Give me a break," Molly moaned.

Joseph looked down at the small hand towel he'd given her and tried not to laugh. It wouldn't have covered her face.

"It looks good to me," he said softly.

But this time he turned to see what he was grabbing, and lifted a huge bath towel from the vanity, then spread it over her like a sheet. She sighed with relief as the terry cloth touched her skin.

"Can you slide your arm around my neck, or does it hurt too much?" he asked. "If you want, I'll call an ambulance."

"Lord, no," she mumbled. "I'd like to think there were a few people left in town who haven't seen me in all my glory."

She was trying to make fun of her condition, but as far as he was concerned, she had understated the obvious. "Glory" didn't do her justice.

"Molly, look at me," he said, as he laid her gently down in the middle of her bed. She reluctantly complied. "I've seen naked women before."

"Not me," she said weakly, and turned away. "And if I'd wanted you to see me...like this...I didn't want it to be...like this."

He leaned down and kissed the top of her forehead, unable to resist the utter charm of her dismay. "I know," he said. "And frankly, I think this will ultimately cause me a lot more discomfort than it will you."

Her eyes flew open. She stared into his face, then her gaze slid down of its own accord and just as quickly flew back again.

"Oh!"

Joseph groaned. "You don't know the half. Now let's get sensible here. I'm calling a doctor. Either you go to him or he comes to you. What'll it be?"

Molly tried to move and then moaned. "There's a number by the phone. The doctor's an old friend. If he's not too rushed, I think he'll come out. Maybe you should call."

Joseph complied, and while they waited, he began drying her off. When he had finished, he dressed her as he would a baby, sliding a nightgown over her head and then gently straightening it beneath her until she was decently covered from neck to knee.

I will suffer for this tonight, he thought. But the thought wasn't enough to deter him from his mission. He would take this embarra.s.sment away from her if it was the last thing he did today.

He'd often heard that from bad things, good things grow. Well, Molly's fall had been bad, there was no denying that. But the few daydreams he'd allowed himself about his next-door neighbor had suddenly become insufficient. The wishes in his heart were now so much more. He could feel them sprouting all kinds of roots. Whether he liked it or not, whether he was ready to face another relationship or not, it had come to get him. Now all he had to do was get her well, and let nature take its course.

The silence between them was uncomfortable, as if each was trying to say something to ease the other's embarra.s.sment, but couldn't think of what to say. Luckily, the doctor's arrival took away what was left of the strain. And while the doctor, who introduced himself as Dr. Marr, examined Molly, Joseph examined the pictures on the living room mantel, wishing that he and Joey had a perfect right to be among those Molly loved best.

Time pa.s.sed, and he began to get nervous, keeping one eye on the clock and the other on the doctor, who was ending a speech about on-the-job accidents. He had less than fifteen minutes to go get Joey from day care. If nothing else happened, he'd just make it.

"I swear," Molly said. "I'll stay home from work the next two days. If I have any headaches, or unusual problems with my back, you'll be the first to know."

Dr. Marr nodded. He wasn't satisfied, but he couldn't force a patient to seek further treatment.

"Okay," he said. "But you've only yourself to blame if you've cracked a bone. I still wish you'd let me order a full set of X rays." But the determined look on Molly's face made him smile. "You're just like your mother, G.o.d rest her soul. If your father hadn't had such a fit, she'd have had you at home, instead of the hospital. What is it with you Eden women and hospitals, anyway?"

"I hate needles?"

"Bull," the doctor said. "You stick yourself twice as bad every day at that darn job of yours. Just look at the ends of your fingers. They're full of scratches and punctures from those fancy little doodads you use to keep flowers anch.o.r.ed in arrangements."

"Maybe I don't like all those soft-soled shoes you guys wear," Molly teased. "Makes a person nervous always being snuck up upon."

Dr. Marr's smile was gentle. He knew as well as Molly that her refusal to be admitted to a hospital was rooted in the fact that the last time she'd been in one, her world had come to an end. She'd lost the man she loved, the baby they'd made, and very nearly her sanity.

"I give up," Dr. Marr said. He turned his attention to Joseph. "If she has any real problems, I expect I'll hear from you."

Joseph nodded. "You can count on it. I don't want anything to happen to her." His dark eyes caught the wide-open stare in Molly's gaze before he turned away, unwilling for her to see more truth than tease in his statement. "She's the best neighbor I've had in years. Besides, she burns a d.a.m.n good hot dog when she's pressed."

Dr. Marr laughed. "I sense a good story in that, however, I don't have enough time to hear it in the detail in which it deserves to be told. Save it for another day and another accident, okay?"

Molly groaned. "No more accidents for me, and thanks so much for coming, Dr. Marr. I knew I could count on you."

"I delivered you," he growled. "The least I can do is keep you alive long enough to come to my funeral. I expect flowers galore."

"You won't need flowers," Molly said. "I'll just chisel out a portion of the green around the ninth hole at Oak Tree. Enough to cover you and the casket should do it."

His smile was wide with delight. "Now you're talking," he crowed. "Keep in touch, girl. You're my kind of woman."

Joseph gaped. He couldn't believe it. These two were talking about each other's demise in very lighthearted terms. He never considered that each of their respective jobs kept them in such close contact with mortality that they'd learned to accept it as a natural part of life. The doctor's life demanded that he do his best to heal, and when he failed, it was part of Molly's job to make the patient's final curtain call on earth a memorable one.

Joseph saw the doctor out and then stood quietly in the middle of Molly's living room, looking around at the world in which she lived.

It was full of family memorabilia, and for the first time, he realized that she'd probably grown up in this house. He thought he remembered her telling him that when her father remarried, he'd deeded the house to her. The walls were full of pictures of Molly in various stages of growing up. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he headed for her bedroom, suddenly aware of the vast differences in their respective childhoods.

Joseph had grown up in foster homes until his eighteenth birthday. Then he'd had a choice to continue in a downward spiral or change his life and crawl out of the black hole he called his world. He'd taken a step in the right direction and never looked back.

He sat down on the edge of her bed. "Are you going to be all right alone? Do you need anything before I go? I'd stay longer, but I've got to go get Joey before they throw him out with the dishwater." He brushed a loose curl from her forehead and smiled to soften the blow of leaving.

"I'm fine," Molly said, and then winced. "At least, I will be in a few days."

As miserable as she was, she couldn't quit looking at Joseph-here, in her bedroom. The man seemed so out of place, and yet so at home, and she knew that if she didn't say something now, the next time they saw each other, she'd be too ill at ease to look him in the face.

"Joseph?"

"What, honey?" He stood, then leaned over her bed, intent on straightening her covers.

"I don't know how to thank you for what you did for me today," and then looked away, embarra.s.sed all over again at the fact that he'd seen her naked.

The smile on his face died a slow, lingering death. He tried to think of a way to make light of the fact that he'd dried her like a baby, and couldn't think of anything except how soft her skin had felt beneath his fingers.

He paused in the act of smoothing the sheet. His fingers clenched. Slowly, he released the tight wad he'd made of the fabric and inhaled softly as he fell into the deep blue well of her gaze.

"I do," he said.

Molly was so tuned into his stare that she forgot what she'd said. "You do, what?" she mumbled, and watched his hands sliding up the sheet toward her face.

"Know how you can thank me," he whispered.

Her soft little gasp told him all he needed to know. He leaned closer, closer, until he could see himself reflected in the pupils of her eyes, and then her eyes closed and her mouth parted as she waited for him to come in.

It was an invitation he could not resist.

The tentative foray of his lips around her mouth was enough to make her shiver. Each touch became more than the last, yet not enough to a.s.suage the increasing need she felt to take him, and his weight, into her. To cherish the feel of a man, her man, within her arms, inside her body, and know the fulfillment that can only come with loving.

But it was the thought of loving that made her panic, and it was enough to break their tenuous bond.

Joseph stared long and hard at the wild, almost frightened expression in those eyes. Watching her lips tremble, he knew that whatever ghosts had haunted her life were still in residence.