Tedi yawned in reply and snuggled sideways on her seat within the boundary of her seat belt, knocking her glasses sideways on her face as she did so.
Mercy gave her a tender look. The rascal had charmed her way out of bedtime until Lukas left last night—and had actually hung on to his arm and walked him to his Jeep. There had been no time for private conversation.
“Didn’t I tell you to get to bed earlier last night? You’re the one who insisted on chattering until midnight. It’s time to face the consequences.”
Tedi blinked up at her, and a mischievous grin touched her mouth. “Talking with Lukas was worth it. I got him to help me with my homework.”
“You were perfectly capable of doing the assignments yourself—and by the way, the next time you ask a man to marry me, you’d better be out of my reach.”
Tedi grimaced and straightened, knocking her glasses farther sideways. She reached up and took them off. “For a grown-up he sure blushes easily.”
Mercy shot her a warning glance, then returned her attention to the road as she pulled into the traffic of the main highway. “Speaking of men, I told your father that you won’t be meeting with him alone Saturday. We’ll have our usual lunch meeting because I don’t have time for a Branson trip right now.”
Tedi put her glasses back on and turned to her. “Did your decision not to go hurt his feelings?”
“Yes,” she said gently. “But he understands.”
Tedi sat staring out the window as Mercy negotiated the heaviest of the Knolls morning rush—not a difficult feat.
“Mom?” Tedi said at last. “You know my nightmares?”
Mercy glanced over at her. “Yes, honey, are they bothering you again?”
“They’ve changed.”
“How?”
Tedi watched the road for a long moment. “They’re different now,” she said softly.
“Did you have another one last night?”
“No, but I was afraid to go to sleep. That’s why I wanted to stay awake with you and Lukas. Well…one reason.”
“How have they changed?”
Tedi’s voice dropped to a bare murmur. “Now I’m the monster.”
No, Lord, please, not Tedi. “Okay, that’s understandable,” she said carefully. “I think that just means you’re still angry.”
Tedi continued to sit and watch the passing scenery.
“Is your dad the victim in these dreams?” Mercy asked. But she knew the answer. Hadn’t she had this type of dream herself? Although for her, they hadn’t been nightmares.
Tedi nodded.
“It’s natural.” Mercy struggled to keep her voice light. Had she somehow, subconsciously, transferred the lingering vestiges of distrust and anger toward Theo to her own daughter in the words she had spoken, in her attitude toward Theo when they were together?
Mercy reached across the seat and touched Tedi’s arm.
Tedi didn’t respond. That was a sure sign she was still contemplating something. Finally she turned her solemn brown eyes toward Mercy. “Grandma says when we don’t forgive others, God doesn’t listen to us when we pray. But she also says we can’t forgive people without God’s help. How can He help me forgive Dad if He can’t hear me pray? I thought I forgave Dad, but when the dreams slip up on me like that—”
“You pray anyway.” Mercy wanted to pull over to the side of the road and take Tedi in her arms and tell her everything would be okay. Oh, God, help us both. The guilt is worse than anything else. “I learned recently that God can deal with all of our emotions as long as we give them to Him. I think that’s what Grandma means—first things first. I think we’re going to have to work all the way through our anger at your dad—and not cover those feelings up this time—before we can get on with our lives.”
“But how do we work through it? I thought we’d done that.”
Mercy thought about something Lukas had told her one time. “The Bible says for us to pray for our enemies.”
Tedi gave her a reproachful look. “But Dad isn’t our enemy.”
Mercy pulled up to the school unloading zone, where other parents were dropping their kids off for the day. “I think in our hearts he still is. That’s what has to change.” Oh, Lord, what do You mean by reconciliation? I would do anything to keep Tedi from suffering like this. If that means I have to consider Theodore…oh, Lord! Please help me!
Estelle Pinkley sat straight-backed and square-shouldered across the desk from Lukas. Her jaw jutted forward in a firm line. “A contract.”
The iron in her deep voice and the steel focus of her gaze made him wince. Lukas had never before been the object of his administrator’s wrath. It was not a comfortable position. “Only temporary,” he soothed. “Just until the E.R. here is completed. Signing a contract was the only way I could stay in one place long enough to catch my breath. The Herald administrator didn’t want to sign me on any other way.”
“And you let him talk you into it.”
“I’m sorry, Estelle, but you didn’t need me here.”
“Who told you that? I don’t recall your asking me about a contract! We need you here now. Do you know Mercy is being deluged with emergencies? There is room in her clinic for another physician, and she needs you. The citizens of Knolls need you. I have a contract that commits you to that position, not Cherra Garcias.”
“But the clinic isn’t at the hospital.”
“The Richmond Clinic has a direct affiliation with the county, and you have a binding contract with Knolls Community Hospital that supersedes any other contractual agreement. Did you even keep a copy of your Herald contract?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Her sarcasm stung, but it was justified. Lukas had no organization skills, and somewhere in his limitless stacks of mail at home he’d lost his Knolls contract—twice.
“Fax me a copy when you get back tonight,” she growled. “That place does have a fax machine, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She leveled another steely gaze at him over the tops of her reading glasses, as if she detected a note of false sincerity in his voice.
“I’ll fax you a copy,” he said.
“Good. If you don’t, I’ll call your Mr. Amos first thing Monday morning and get a copy from him. And then I will explain the situation to him. If there’s a way for us to break this Herald contract without putting you into a legal quagmire, I will find it, and I dare Amos to protest. If he does, we will have a dispute on our hands.”
Lukas hated the thought of that, but he liked the “we” part. At least she hadn’t totally lost faith in him. She wanted him back here.
She continued to glare at him for another few seconds just to relay to him the seriousness of the situation. Then the stiffness of her posture eased slightly. She clasped her hands together in front of her on the small metal desk and rubbed her knuckles, betraying a flare of arthritis pain.
“Estelle,” Lukas said, then hesitated. She had interrupted her busy schedule to meet with him today when he had walked in unannounced. The telephone in her secretary’s office had buzzed at least five times during this short conference.
Estelle stopped massaging her knuckles and once again directed her full attention to him. “What is it, Lukas?”
“I know it’s unprofessional to allow our private lives to influence our jobs—”
“Nonsense,” she snapped. “Someone who can totally separate his personal and private lives is schizophrenic and not to be trusted. Speak up, Lukas. What’s going on? Are you finally going to be gracious enough to explain to me why you escaped to Herald and left Mercy in the lurch?”
Ouch. “That wasn’t what I did.”
“It isn’t what you intended to do.” She leaned forward and steepled her fingers together. “My dear Lukas, don’t ever forget that I have spent my whole lifetime studying people. I can read faces, predict actions and many times hear an inflection in a voice that belies the words spoken. I read you before we ever had our first interview last year. It
’s why I hired you.”
“Thank you.”
“I also knew that because of your idealistic spirit, you would encounter obstacles in your life, both personal and professional.” She paused to allow him one of her fleeting smiles. “You expect too much of yourself and of others. You’re too trusting.”
“Not always.” He thought about Catcher.
“You’re the kind of person who will do what he thinks is the right thing whether it makes sense or not—such as when you came back into this building to rescue Bailey and me last autumn.”
“That made sense.”
“Yes, but then you removed yourself from Knolls when Theodore Zimmerman straightened out his life and announced his intentions to make amends with Mercy and Tedi.”
Lukas stared at her in surprise. Even he hadn’t realized what he was doing at the time.
Estelle’s expression transformed just long enough for him to once again recognize the smile behind her eyes. “Half of me admires your self-sacrifice, but the other half wants to kick you in the pants. We’re talking contracts again, even a covenant, if you will, which is something much more binding. Theodore broke that one long ago.”
“But if he and Mercy and Tedi were to reconcile—”
“That’s where I believe you’re confused. I don’t have nearly the understanding of God’s law as I have of man’s law, but I think I know God’s heart pretty well. Reconciliation is necessary, but I can’t see God demanding a regression. They are two different things.”
Lukas straightened and leaned forward. Estelle seldom spoke publicly about spiritual matters, but Mercy had told him months ago what a student of the Bible this lady was. His respect for her grew the longer he knew her.
“But don’t you think Tedi is a living, breathing covenant between Theo and Mercy?” he asked. “That’s a bond more precious than a piece of paper or a verbal promise or signatures on a line.”
“And Theodore broke that bond, too, remember?”
“But that—”
Estelle cut him off with a raised hand. “You’re going to say Theodore is a new person now, and that’s true. So is Mercy. But think of it this way, Lukas. If they are truly new people in Christ, are they expected to return to a relationship that has been broken for years, broken by the people they no longer are?”
Lukas thought about that one for a moment. He liked the way she looked at things.
“Lukas, isn’t it possible that God has brought you here, to this town and to that family, to fulfill a contract Theodore was unable to fulfill? To redeem what was lost?”
He tried not to react to the leap of hope her words instilled in him. Was this how a man felt who had been granted pardon from a prison sentence?
She got up and came around the desk to stand in front of him. As if on impulse, she reached down and placed a hand on each of his shoulders and squeezed gently. “You’re a healer, Lukas, and I think you came here to help heal more than just physical bodies. There’s something between you and Mercy that has grown stronger and more obvious over time. I can see how you feel about her in your face right now, and I’ve seen the same in Mercy’s, and in Tedi’s. Call it an unspoken bond or a silent pledge, but I think there’s more to this than just human attraction or compassion. Why don’t you give God some time to reveal to you what it is?”
Shannon lay on the same exam bed as yesterday. She wore another pair of baggy jeans and a brown flannel shirt buttoned to the throat. She wore no makeup, and her two-inch-long hair stuck up in uncombed spikes. At Shannon’s request her mother had reluctantly left her alone in the room with Mercy.
Mercy checked the IV site and felt a brief glow of pride at the tiny mark she had made with the needle. Not bad for a doc who allowed her nurses to do the needlework most of the time. Shannon had gained seven pounds in the rehydration process yesterday and another pound overnight, thanks to Lee’s insistence on fluid replacement drinks and rest. Lee was an attentive, full-time mom. Mercy admired her.
“Okay, Shannon, you’ve kept your weight overnight, which is good. You look better than you did yesterday morning. I’ll talk to your mom in a few minutes, and then I’ll let you get to school.”
“I’m not going to school today.” Shannon’s voice held resentment. “Mom wants to keep an eye on me at home. She doesn’t trust me now.”
Mercy rechecked the test results from yesterday evening. Complete blood count was normal, and blood sugar was good. “I think you’ll be able to regain the weight you’ve lost. She’s just very worried about you right now. I don’t think she realized the extent of your problem until you came in yesterday.” Mercy set the test results down on the exam-room table. “Shannon…I didn’t ask you yesterday about your monthly cycle. Have you been normal? You haven’t missed any periods?”
Shannon’s gray gaze flicked to Mercy’s face in a quick rush of apprehension. “No, why? You don’t think I’m pregnant!”
“No. This is something that can happen when you’ve lost too much weight. Being irregular with your cycle could still happen, and if it does I want you to tell me.”
“Why? What’ll you do?” Fear lurked behind Shannon’s voice and eyes, and Mercy could no longer ignore it.
“I will continue to do exactly what I’m doing now, but I want to keep record of your physical state so I can give you the proper nutritional support. I’m watching specifically for signs of starvation.”
Shannon’s stiff, watchful expression did not change.
Mercy pulled an exam stool over and sat next to Shannon. “You need to realize I’m not the enemy. I’m not trying to make you fat. I’m trying to keep you healthy. There is a limit to the weight you can lose before your body begins to shut down, and you’re close to that limit. With anorexia nervosa, young women have a distorted view of their bodies, no matter what the mirror tells them.”
“I know I’m not fat.” The statement was soft but firm. “I know what I look like.”
Mercy stumbled into silence—and into the discovery of something she should have recognized yesterday. It was so obvious….
“Of course you know that.” Mercy reached out to touch the short, stubby growth of Shannon’s bangs but then drew back. This child desperately needed her physical autonomy. She did not need someone invading her space unnecessarily. Still, they must deal with the problems she had.
“Shannon, why did you lie to your mother about the appointment last month?”
The girl closed her eyes and turned her head away, and Mercy could almost feel her containing herself behind an invisible wall.
She didn’t have to answer, because Mercy already knew. “Okay, let me ask you this—if I promised not to initiate another gynecological exam for at least six months, barring new physical complications, would you be willing to come into my office twice a week for nutritional counseling and a weight check?”
For a moment Shannon didn’t seem to hear her. Then her eyes opened and she nodded, watching Mercy quizzically.
“I’ll have Josie take your vitals,” Mercy continued, “and we’ll do a blood test every two weeks if we think it’s necessary. However, if your weight drops too far again, we’ll have to take more drastic measures.”
Shannon looked away again, but not before some of the tension melted from the newly angular planes of her face. Mercy caught the telltale sheen of tears in her eyes. Ah, yes, the tears were back. She was no longer dehydrated.
“I had to do a deposition last week,” Shannon said as the tears accumulated and flowed more freely. “They made me talk about what happened over and over and over again, and I got so sick of it I shouted at them to forget the whole thing! Why are they doing this to me? Don’t they know I still dream about what he did to me and think about it and relive that moment every day? Talking about it just keeps it happening, and Mom and Dad won’t shut up about it, either.”
“And so you’re fighting back the only way you know how.” Mercy gave her a handful of tissues. She was so tempted to take Shannon into h
er arms and tell her to cry the pain all away, but the stain that had embedded itself into this child’s soul would not wash away with tears or hugs or comforting words. “Killing yourself slowly won’t change the past, Shannon. Neither will starving or cutting your hair to rid yourself of your femininity.”
Shannon sat up suddenly and dangled her legs over the side of the exam bed, her back to Mercy. She blew her nose and wiped her face, hunching her thin shoulders. “If I promise to eat my food and drink my milk like a good little girl, will you let me go home now?” Bitterness clung to her voice.
Mercy sighed. “Yes, Shannon, you can go home. Remember to keep your fluids…” she began but found herself talking to an empty room. Shannon had slid from the exam bed and escaped without a backward glance.
The fragrance of onions, garlic, toasted cheese and tomatoes wafted up from the large paper bag Lukas set on top of Mercy’s broad desk at eleven-fifty-five. He could hear his stomach growl above Lauren McCaffrey’s chatter and the ringing of phones in the outer office. To his relief, Lauren had told him when he came in that Mercy was running on time for once. They would actually be able to share lunch. Eating here might be a mistake, but it was the only way to guarantee any time together. Lately Mercy had few breaks. Lukas hoped today would be an exception.
He’d skipped breakfast so he would have a healthy appetite for lunch, and the plan had worked. He was nearly lightheaded from hunger. But hungry as he was, he was even more eager to see Mercy again. Estelle’s words continued to echo in his mind…something between him and Mercy and Tedi was growing stronger…God’s will…silent pledge. Reconciliation was not regression….
Could she be right? Would it be possible…? And if she was, would he have the courage to admit to Mercy the extent of his feelings for her? No…not just his feelings. His convictions. His assurance. Mercy did deserve to know about all the thoughts that careened through his head…but maybe not in a jumbled mess, as they were now. It would be enough just to tell her he loved her, no doubts, no going back. He would not hesitate about that any longer.
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