Sighing, Chrissy leaned her head against his arm, her soft weight slumping dispiritedly.
Please, Lord.
Chapter Two
Maddie pulled one of her numerous tins of tea from a shelf in the pantry. “Sure you don’t have a preference?”
Samantha Conway, Maddie’s best friend and one-time neighbor, shrugged. “Surprise me. How many blends have you made now? One hundred?”
“Afraid not.” She placed the tin on the table. “I have ideas for twice that many and space for less than thirty.” Collecting two porcelain cups and saucers she added them to the table.
“So, did your mother like J.C.?” Samantha questioned.
“You were right all along. I should have taken her sooner,” Maddie admitted. Samantha had raved about J.C. ever since he successfully treated her paralysis. Now Samantha walked with only a cane. She had been urging Maddie to see him about Lillian’s worsening symptoms long before their G.P. had made his recommendation. “He’s already ordered new tests and altered her medications.” Swallowing, Maddie remembered the touch of his hand when he gave her the slip of paper.
“Earth to Maddie,” Samantha repeated. “Something on your mind?”
“Of course not.” Trying to sideline her friend’s curiosity, Maddie got up and retrieved the electric kettle. Pouring water into their cups, she set the kettle on a trivet.
“Um, I hate to complain,” Samantha began, “but we don’t have any tea in our cups.”
Maddie shook her face in tiny rapid nods. “Where’s my head?” Because she used loose tea leaves to make her own private blends, she also used individual cup strainers. She put one on each of their cups, then added a scoop of tea leaves. She’d made so much tea over the years that she didn’t need to measure the amount.
Samantha fiddled with her cup. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Why?”
“For one, the strainer’s sitting over the water, so I’m guessing the tea leaves aren’t actually wet and …” She looked intensely at her friend. “The water’s cold.”
“Cold?” Maddie frowned. “It can’t be cold. I just got it from the kettle.” Poking her finger in the cup, she expected a hot jolt. Cold water and limp tea leaves. Great. “I hope the kettle’s not broken.” But as she checked the adjustments and made sure the base was plugged in, Maddie couldn’t remember if she’d actually pushed the On button.
“Okay, give,” Samantha urged. “You forgot to put the tea in the tea? And then you forgot to turn on the kettle? That’s not like you.”
“I suppose it’s been a stressful day.” She recounted the mishap with the morning bath water, how flustered she’d been trying to get them to the appointment on time. “I felt like my accelerator was stuck,” she explained. “Filling in all the forms like a maniac as fast as I could, trying not to cause more delay …”
Samantha leaned back, studying her. “Just the letdown after an adrenaline rush?”
“I suppose so.”
“Funny. You have at least one crisis a week with Lillian, but you’ve never offered me a cold cup of water that hasn’t even swum close to a tea leaf.”
Maddie waved her hands. “Then I’m having an off day.”
“You haven’t told me what you thought of J.C.”
Maddie willed the sudden warmth in her neck to stay there and not redden her face. “He was fine.”
“Fine?”
“Nice, then.”
“Nice?”
“At this rate we’ll be chattering away all day,” Maddie observed with a wry twist of her lips. “I told you that Dr. Mueller ordered several tests and he’s altered Mom’s medications. He thinks one may be sedating her instead of treating the dementia.”
“Um.” Samantha studied her intently. “And that’s all?”
Maddie fiddled with the worn tablecloth. “It was just our first visit.”
“You plan on going back?”
“Of course!” Maddie replied in an instant. Inwardly grimacing, she slowed her words. “Providing Mom does better on the new medications.” The kettle whistled. Relieved, she rose to get the hot water, using the excuse to try and straighten her muddled thoughts. Taking a deep breath, she returned, carefully pouring the steaming water into their cups. “I should have noticed that there wasn’t any steam before. So, would you like some cookies with your tea?”
Looking truly concerned, Samantha drew her brows together, then pointed to a plate of lemon bars. “I brought these, remember?”
“Of course!” She clapped both hands over her reddening cheeks, then sank into her chair. “Not. I’ve been in a fluster since I got home.”
Worry colored Samantha’s eyes. “Is there something about Lillian’s condition you haven’t told me?”
Maddie shook her head. Thank heavens her mother was enjoying her regular afternoon nap and couldn’t overhear. Lifting one shoulder in a half shrug, Maddie stared down at the delicate pink roses edging her saucer. “It’s so stupid, it’s not worth repeating really.”
Samantha leaned forward. “If it’s got you this upset—”
“I wouldn’t exactly call it upsetting. Well, maybe. Depends on what you—”
Rapping the table with her knuckles, Samantha cut off her words. “Spill it.”
“I thought … I think Dr. Mueller is … well, attractive.”
“Downright handsome to be precise. How can this be a surprise? Surely you’ve seen him around town?”
“Mom’s doctor is in an old building downtown, not in the hospital where Dr. Mueller works. Thankfully, we haven’t had to be at the hospital much.”
“Still …” Samantha stopped abruptly. “Sorry. Of course I know you don’t get out enough. I just thought that somehow …” She brightened. “But you do like him?”
“He’s nice.”
“Don’t start that again. And you can call him J.C.” Samantha wriggled her eyebrows. “He’s single, you know. Well, divorced actually.”
“Divorced?”
“I don’t know the details, but I understand it was bad.”
Maddie wondered why any woman would let him go. Silly, she didn’t know a thing about him. Other than that smile, those eyes … Abruptly, she shook her head. “Honestly, Sam, you’re the last person I expected to matchmake. We’re seeing him so he can help Mom, not so I can develop a crush.” The word was barely out of her mouth when Maddie wished she could draw it back.
Samantha blinked.
“Bad choice of words,” Maddie tried to explain.
“Accurate is more like it.” She smiled more gently. “Hit that hard, did it?”
Her embarrassment waning, Maddie plopped her chin on one outstretched hand. “Stupid, huh? I’m old enough to know better.”
“You’re not that old,” Samantha objected. “Besides, I don’t believe in an age limit on falling in love.”
“Whoa!” Maddie protested. “Who said anything about love?”
Samantha grinned. “Puppy love?”
“I had my chance. I picked taking care of Mom instead. It’s what I want.” Maddie wasn’t only loyal, she couldn’t imagine shuttling her mother away because it was more convenient.
“It doesn’t have to be a choice.” Samantha patted Maddie’s hand. “Lillian wants you to be happy.”
“And a man deserves a woman who can devote herself to him and the family they create. I’m not that woman.” Although she’d never regretted her choice, Maddie sometimes dreamed of a life with a loving husband and children of her own. It wasn’t her destiny, but the fantasy was harmless.
“You just haven’t met the right man yet,” Samantha insisted in a gentle, yet confident, tone.
“Forgetting Owen, aren’t you?” Maddie’s high school, then college sweetheart, they’d been engaged when her mother had suffered the first of many strokes. Lillian had only been in her forties at the time, young for the onset of the neurological nightmare that had stolen her short-term memory.
Samantha’s expression was steady.
“He’s a rat. What kind of man asks you to choose between him and your mother? He knew what was going on, how painful it was for you to give up everything.”
Maddie tried to interrupt. “But—”
“But nothing. I know you’d make the same choice again, but asking you to put her in a nursing home …” Samantha shook her head angrily. “And it’s not as though he was new to your life, didn’t know your history.”
Stroking the silken smoothness of the porcelain cup, Maddie remembered Owen’s unyielding stance. “I did think he might understand. We were going together when my dad passed away.”
“He also knew you didn’t have any relatives to share the load.” Samantha’s fierce loyalty didn’t waver. “Total rat.”
Maddie reluctantly smiled. “That’s a little extreme, don’t you think?”
“Nope.” Loyal to the end, Samantha didn’t give an inch. “And J.C.’s about as different from Owen as a rat is to a cat.”
“I wouldn’t have thought it until you came back to Rosewood, but you’re a romantic, Sam. Just because you and Bret got back together after nearly a decade—”
“That was fate,” Samantha insisted. “And real, genuine, honest love. It wasn’t a reunion, it was a new start.”
“I imagine Owen’s got his hands full with his business.” His family had money, and Owen had stepped into the enviable position of entrepreneur with none of the struggle most young business owners faced.
“Hmm. And, yes, I know, Bret’s running his family business, but it wasn’t stuffed with cash.”
In fact, it was almost failing when Bret took the helm. “No comparison, Sam. I agree. When we were younger I didn’t think Owen was that affected by having … okay, everything. He just seemed to take it in stride. But when he got older …” He wasn’t the boy she’d fallen in love with.
“Hey, I’m sorry.” Samantha’s voice changed to one of concern. “I didn’t mean to stir all that up. I guess I just thought … well, J.C.’s such a great guy, and you’re my best friend …” She smiled encouragingly. “I still think your life’s going to change because of him—he’s going to help Lillian and that’ll help you.”
“It’s not as though I don’t daydream myself. And you’re right. If he can help Mom …” Maddie smiled. “That’s all I ask.” Because her other dreams were just flotsam in the ether. And as likely to materialize.
True to his word, J.C. began Lillian’s tests with a noninvasive CT scan. Officially called computed tomography, it could detect a blood clot or intracranial bleeding in patients with a stroke. And the scan aided in differentiating the area of the brain affected by the disorder.
J.C. had prescribed a light sedative so that Lillian could lie still. Forgetting where she was, otherwise Lillian might have tried to move, skewing the test results.
The test took only about thirty minutes, but Maddie paced in the waiting room. She didn’t want her mother to wake up disoriented and scared. The technician had assured her that he would watch out for Lillian during the scan, but Maddie couldn’t stop worrying.
“She’s all right,” J.C. announced quietly from behind her.
Maddie whirled around. The carpeted waiting area had camouflaged the sound of his footsteps.
Dressed in scrubs, he acted as though it was normal for him to deliver the news, rather than the technician.
Maddie began to shake, fearing the worst. “Was there a problem?”
He stepped closer, his eyes flickering over her trembling limbs. “None whatsoever. I didn’t mean to alarm you. I just got out of surgery, thought I’d pop in and check on your mother.”
Relieved, Maddie exhaled, her chest still rising with the effort to breathe normally.
J.C. took her arm, guiding her to a chair. “You’re going to have to take it easy.”
Perched on the edge of the chair, she stared up at him.
“CT scan’s about the mildest procedure your mother’s going to have. You’ll sap your energy if you get this upset about every test.”
Suddenly Maddie could breathe. And stand. Nearly nose to nose with him. “I know you’re an excellent doctor. Samantha Conway is proof of that. But don’t presume to tell me how to react. I’ve been caring for my mother for years. I know she gets confused and scared …” Maddie’s trembling increased. “And I won’t let anyone make that worse.”
“Good.”
Maddie blinked.
“A dedicated caregiver is the best medicine any patient can have.” J.C.’s tone remained mild. His gold-flecked brown eyes were more elusive. “I’ll call you when I have the results. Should be about two days.” With a nod, he left.
Maddie wasn’t certain what to think. Plopping the palm of her hand against her forehead, she wished she could travel back in time a few minutes. This doctor was a road of hope for her mother and she’d just insulted him. Refusing to consider that her defensive reaction could have anything to do with her attraction to him, she bit down on her thumbnail.
Catching sight of the technician, she tried to shove the thoughts away and decided it would be easier to tame an infuriated horde of wasps.
J.C. strode down the familiar corridors toward his office. The sandy-beige walls were lined with portraits of the hospital’s founders and patrons. But he wasn’t looking at any of them. He wanted to kick something, preferably himself. Maddie Carter had been on his mind since the day they’d met. He’d sensed an empathetic soul. One who could understand what he was going through.
A tall, slim man in a white coat plopped himself in J.C.’s path. “Someone put cactus needles in your scrubs?”
J.C. immediately recognized the voice. “Adam.”
His colleague and friend Adam Winston tugged at the stethoscope looped around his neck. “I don’t normally drive into tornados, but from the look on your face, I think you might need some help getting out of the storm.”
“Just a mild gale.” J.C. exhaled. “Put too much thought into a nitwit notion.”
“Why don’t I believe that?”
“Don’t you have rounds?”
Adam shrugged. “Not for another hour.” Amiable, persistent, often brilliant, Adam wasn’t going anywhere without an answer.
J.C. summarized his two meetings with Maddie. “That’s it,” he concluded.
Adam’s knowing look was both confusing and annoying. “Uh-huh.”
“Don’t try to make something out of this.”
Whistling, Adam winked, then briefly shook his head. “I don’t need to. You’ve got that covered.”
J.C. clenched his teeth. Realizing he had, he made himself relax.
“Hasn’t it occurred to you that this woman’s under just as much strain as you are?” Adam continued. “When she saw you instead of the tech, she probably thought her mother had suffered another stroke. Wouldn’t be the first time a test triggered one.”
“I’m sure she’s stressed.”
“Are you? Have you checked out the situation? Does anyone help care for the mother? Or is she on her own?”
Remembering that Lillian had said Maddie was an only child, J.C. didn’t reply.
“If she’s the full-time live-in caregiver, you know she could be ready to crack.” Adam twirled the end of his stethoscope.
J.C. hadn’t asked about the details of Lillian Carter’s care. Had he done what he’d despised in others? Judged without knowing the facts? Worse even, judging at all?
Chapter Three
J.C. pulled into the semicircle driveway at the front of the Rosewood Community Church school. He was late. Again. Didi had picked up Chrissy a few times for him, but she was busy. Besides, he couldn’t expect his employees and friends to sacrifice any more than they already had.
The school was nearly deserted. Only the teachers’ cars remained in the parking lot and a few kids were kicking a ball on the playground. Chrissy sat on the steps, clutching her backpack, looking lost.
Poor kid. First she felt deserted when her parents died; now she felt just as abandoned
by him. Turning off the car, he got out to meet her halfway. Her face was more than sullen; fear and vulnerability were just as apparent.
“Chrissy, I’m sorry. No excuses. I’m late.”
Although she tried to control it, her lips wobbled. “I know.”
“How about a big chocolate shake at the drugstore?” The old-fashioned marble fountain was one of Chrissy’s favorite places.
“Uh-uh,” she replied, shaking her head.
J.C. would have reached for the child’s backpack so he could carry it to the car, but she still clutched it like a lifeline. She’d had the backpack with her at the pajama party, untouched by the poisonous carbon monoxide. Untouched by what had changed her life forever.
J.C. wished he could think of something to distract her, to ease the pain from her face. But fun hadn’t been on the agenda for quite a while now.
Chrissy settled in her seat, scooting forward suddenly, pulling up a bag that was wedged beneath her. “What’s this?”
“Some trial medications for a new patient. I’ve been meaning to drop them off …” But every time he thought about it, he pictured Maddie’s anger.
“Why don’t we go now?”
He stared at his niece. “You want to go?”
She shrugged. “Nothing else to do.”
Except a mountain of dictation, articles, more work than he wanted to think about. “Right.” But the stop would distract Chrissy. “Nothing else to do.”
The Carter home wasn’t far. J.C. had copied their address on the sample bag. Located in one of Rosewood’s oldest neighborhoods, the house was an unimposing Victorian. Neither grand nor tiny, it spoke of the families that had inhabited it over the generations. The yard and flower beds were tidy, the porch and driveway well swept. But he noticed the aging roof and the peeling paint on the second-story fascia and gables.
An aged but inviting swing flanked two well-worn rocking chairs on the wide porch. It was quiet as they climbed the steps, then knocked on the outer screen door.
Within just a few moments the door swung open. Taken aback, Maddie stared at him, then collected her voice. “Dr. Mueller, I wasn’t expecting you.” Her gaze shifted to include Chrissy. “Hello.”
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