She glanced at the heavy, dark, oppressive-looking clouds that were already spitting rain against the windshield and shook her head in response to his analogy.
“Is Mick married?”
“Not the last I heard. He’s had a string of live-ins, but no one permanent. No kids, as far as I know.”
She put that aside for now, too. Other than his parents, who didn’t seem particularly happy together from what he’d said, his family history of relationships was hardly encouraging. “What are your parents’ names?”
“T.L.—Thomas Lane—and Carolyn Gibson. They’ll insist you call them by their first names. Neither one of them likes formality. In Mom’s case, she wouldn’t want to be reminded that she’s that much older. She can’t even bear for the kids to call her grandmother. They call her CiCi. Don’t ask me why.”
She listened to his tone as much as his words when he spoke of his family members, hearing quite a few nuances layered there. Some bitterness. Somewhat dark amusement. But she thought she heard affection buried there, too, even if it was accompanied by old pain.
Or was she simply being an overearnest, aspiring psychiatrist? A common pitfall among medical students, she admitted with a self-chiding grimace.
“I think CiCi is a cute name for a grandmother,” she said simply.
He chuckled, but there wasn’t a lot of humor in the sound. She noticed that the closer they came to his hometown, the more tension appeared in his face.
She opened the computer again. “Okay. A right hemicolectomy is performed on a fifty-seven-year-old woman with adenocarcinoma who had a preoperative elevation of carcinoembryonic antigen to 144.”
Ron nodded to indicate he’d followed her thus far. He seemed much more comfortable discussing colorectal cancer than his family.
They stopped for a stretch break thirty minutes out of Hurleyville, after being on the road more than two hours. Making use of a reasonably clean convenience-store restroom, Haley washed her hands, then fluffed her hair and freshened her lip gloss. She wanted to make a good impression on Ron’s family, whatever he said about them.
She had to admit she was a little nervous about meeting them. Partially because of the things Ron had told her. Also because she knew he had called her his girlfriend when he’d told them that he was bringing her. Would that lead to awkward questions neither of them would know how to answer?
Ron waited for her at the car, leaning against the hood to postpone climbing back beneath the wheel. “Ready?”
She nodded and slid into the passenger seat again, reaching for her seat belt.
“Guess there’s no need to pull the notes out again. We’d barely have time to get started studying before we arrive.”
“Yeah. We’ll start again on the way home.”
“I hope your family likes the candies I brought.”
“They’ll love them. You really didn’t have to go to all that trouble to make homemade Christmas candies for them.”
“Well, your mother told us not to bring anything for the meal. I hated to arrive empty-handed. Besides, I like making Christmas treats. I just wish I’d had time to make and decorate sugar cookies.”
“Trust me, the fudge and homemade caramels you brought will be well received. I came by my sweet tooth genetically.”
She smoothed her dark brown slacks beneath the seat belt. She’d chosen to wear them with a thin, deep red sweater because the outfit wouldn’t wrinkle during the long drive. And maybe because Ron always complimented her when she wore this fitted, scoop-neck sweater, she had to admit privately.
He looked good today, too. She liked the hunter green twill shirt he’d worn with his khaki slacks. It looked good with his sandy hair and bright blue eyes. But then, Ron always looked good to her.
He glanced at her with a smile. “You’re looking at me.”
“Admiring the view,” she quipped, reaching over without thinking to pat his knee.
He caught her hand and lifted it to his mouth, brushing his lips across her knuckles and for just that moment, everything was okay between them again. “Careful, Haley. That was almost a compliment.”
She laughed softly, feeling tingles rippling from her hand to her heart. “I’ll have to watch that. Wouldn’t want your head to get too big.”
He squeezed her fingers and released her. Just for fun, she lightly punched his right arm before withdrawing it.
Ron laughed. “Now, that’s my Haley.”
“His” Haley. Why was it that her breath caught in her throat every time he said that?