Dr. Wonderful

by Charlotte Douglas

  “I definitely,” Matt said with a straight face, “did not sleep with all of them.”

  Jake Bennett was obviously no dummy and recognized when his leg was being pulled. His narrowed eyes accosted Matt with an accusing glance. “How many?” he demanded.

  “None of your damn business.”

  “It is if my sister’s going to be your patient.”

  “Patient is the operative word,” Matt said hotly. “I want to cure her, not sleep with her.”

  Jake gazed at him with a glimmer of respect. “You stand your ground, don’t you, young feller?”

  “I’m not a lecher, Mr. Bennett, and if your sister’s in pain, I’d like to help.”

  “Lydia’s not the only one in pain,” Jake admitted. He sank onto the sawhorse, shoulders slumped. “She’s a terrible patient and driving Delilah stark staring mad. But she’s my own flesh and blood, so I can’t turn her out of my house. Not while she’s ill.”

  “I see your dilemma.”

  Jack scratched his head. “Problem is, how do we get you in without Delilah knowing about it?”

  Matt took a moment to pretend to ponder the situation. “I may have a solution. Your niece Rebecca has invited me to visit Delilah with her tomorrow.”

  “She has?” Jake looked surprised. “And Delilah agreed?”

  “Becca assures me that your wife is one of the most gracious and hospitable women in Warwick Mountain.”

  “That’s my Delilah, all right,” Jake said with a glow of pride. “She’ll accept you if you’re Becca’s guest.” Then his expression sobered. “Do you think you can cure Lydia’s sciatica? Nothing the Blairsville doctor prescribed has worked, and if I don’t send her home soon, Delilah won’t be speaking to me.”

  “While I’m at your house tomorrow, I’ll talk to your sister and examine her and see what I can do,” Matt promised.

  “But not a word to Delilah or anyone else that I’ve talked to you,” Jake demanded. “She’d nail my hide to the barn door.”

  “This will be our secret.”

  “Thank you.” Jake rose, straightened his shoulders and extended his hand. Matt grasped it firmly.

  As the old man was leaving, Jake turned in the doorway. “But no shenanigans,” he warned, “or it’ll be your hide nailed to the barn door.”

  Unable to decide whether he was more irritated or amused, Matt merely nodded, and Jake slipped away.

  Matt looked at the drywall that needed hanging, but went instead to the phone in the back room to place a call to Steve Williams, his friend and colleague who specialized in back problems. Matt was caught dead in the middle of a family intrigue, but he also had his first patient in Warwick Mountain. Perhaps if he could alleviate Jake’s sister’s back pain, the Dickens and McClain families would be open to his treating their children.

  He dialed Steve’s number, hoping the neurologist would give him the knowledge he needed to ease Lydia’s sciatica. Matt had to admit that curing her might also raise his stock a notch or two with Becca. If he intended to win the schoolmarm’s approval, he would need all the help he could muster.

  LATE THE FOLLOWING afternoon, Becca gazed with mixed emotions at the pile of shipping crates and packing boxes the UPS driver had just deposited on her porch.

  “Dwight had promised us some supplies,” she said to Matt, who climbed the steps behind her as they returned from their afternoon of visiting, “but I had no idea he’d be so generous.”

  “Not that you’re likely to need them before next summer when Dwight returns.” Matt sank into a rocker, clearly disappointed by the lack of progress the afternoon had yielded.

  Becca feared he was right, but she tried to put a positive spin on the day’s events. “At least you were able to help Lydia.”

  “We won’t know that for a while,” Matt said with a weariness she hadn’t noted in him before. “After talking with the specialist and then examining Lydia, I’m almost certain she has a bacterial infection of the sciatic nerve. Even if my diagnosis is correct, the antibiotic I gave her won’t take effect for a few days.”

  Determined to raise his spirits, Becca perched on the porch rail in front of him. “But once it does, when folks see how you’ve helped her, maybe they’ll give you a chance.”

  With a dubious expression, Matt tugged his fingers through his hair. “Maybe. But I doubt a sciatica cure will be enough to persuade Lizzie’s or Jimmy’s parents. You were there. You saw how adamant they were.”

  Matt’s disappointment was palpable, and Becca fought the urge to wrap her arms around him and comfort him. Their visits with the two families had been polite but strained, and neither couple had budged an inch on allowing Matt to treat their children.

  “Their conditions aren’t life-threatening,” Matt said, “so their parents are willing to wait until next summer for Dwight. They don’t want a reprobate touching their precious little ones.” Anger filled his voice and caused the chiseled planes of his face to darken. “What kind of monster do they think I am?”

  “They don’t think you’re a monster,” Becca said quickly. “But you have to remember where you are. Warwick Mountain is the buckle on the Bible Belt. Folks around here take sinning seriously.”

  “Sinning?” Matt snapped with annoyance. “Is that what I am, a sinner? Just for dating beautiful women?”

  Becca shrugged, fighting the jealousy that bubbled inside her and regretful that she’d stirred his anger, but she’d opened this can of worms and had to deal with it. “That magazine article implied a great deal more than dating.”

  “Okay,” Matt admitted, his temper flaring. “I slept with some of them, too. But always with their consent. And with no strings attached.”

  Becca sighed. “That’s the problem. You’re in a different world here, caught in a clash of cultures. Here sex is considered a sacrament of marriage, not a recreational activity.”

  He shook his head. “These people are human, too, with the same urges and desires we all share. Don’t tell me no one in Warwick Mountain ever has sex outside of marriage, because I don’t believe it.”

  Becca felt her own face redden. “I’m walking proof that they do—”

  “I’m sorry,” Matt said instantly, “I didn’t mean to imply—”

  “I concede your point,” Becca said quickly with more calm that she felt. “And it’s true these people aren’t saints. Everyone falls short of the mark now and then. The difference,” she added gently, “is that when we ordinary folks do, it isn’t overblown and published in a national magazine for everyone to ponder over the salient details.”

  “What about forgiveness?” Matt demanded with obvious frustration. “Isn’t that a major part of their religion, too?”

  “You just said how human these folks are. Forgiving doesn’t come easy for most of us.” Becca thought for a moment. “Folks, too, are afraid.”

  “Of me?”

  If the topic hadn’t been so serious, Becca would have laughed at the astonishment on his face. “No, not of you. They’re afraid of being ostracized. Accused of guilt by association.”

  “But if I can help their children—”

  “They don’t see it that way. As you said, Lizzie and Jimmy aren’t in danger, although both children are suffering emotionally from their disfigurements. They bear the taunts and teasing of the other children, the knowledge that they’re different. Maybe their parents don’t want to add to their embarrassment by having them treated by a man with a questionable reputation.”

  “I’m a doctor,” Matt said, his anger at defeat evident, “not a sociologist. I don’t have the skills to deal with a culture clash. I might as well take the next plane back to L.A.”

  Becca’s heart stuttered at the possibility. “Your being here still helps.”

  “I don’t know how.”

  She poked the nearest packing crate with her toe. “Look at all the work you’ve done at the feed store. If you set up this equipment and inventory these supplies, Dwight will be able to go str
aight to work when he arrives next summer.”

  She tried not to think of her neighbors who might be spared complications of serious illnesses if they’d allow Matt to examine and treat them now. Or of Lizzie and Jimmy enduring another year of cruel taunts.

  “You could have hired a carpenter for building the office,” Matt said glumly. “Doesn’t take a medical degree to frame a few walls.”

  “But I couldn’t hire a carpenter,” Becca said with sincerity and more warmth than she’d intended. She glanced at her hands, clasped in her lap, to hide her feelings from him. “Couldn’t afford one. I want you to know how much I appreciate all you’ve done.”

  She lifted her head again, and his eyes met hers. An unmistakable current of attraction flowed between them. His glum expression disappeared, replaced by a soft smile that made her weak with desire.

  “If you’re trying to make me feel better,” he said lightly, “it’s working.”

  “Stay for supper?” Becca was reluctant for him to leave, yet she was afraid of her own reactions if he remained. She made the offer, almost hoping he’d turn her down. “It’s the least I can do to make up for your dismal afternoon.”

  “You keep feeding me wonderful meals,” he said jokingly, “and I’ll grow so accustomed to great cooking, you’ll have to marry me.”

  “You keep asking,” Becca replied in the same bantering tone, “and I’ll have to say yes.”

  A look of surprise seemed to jolt through him, and she wondered if she’d crossed the line in her teasing.

  “I’d better get supper started,” she said quickly and hopped from the porch rail. “You might want to load these boxes in your car while it’s still light.”

  Without a backward glance, she escaped to the kitchen before she said or did anything else foolish.

  Talk about a clash of cultures.

  How could she allow herself to be so deeply affected by a man whose world was so different from her own? She had no future with Matt Tyler. And unless she wanted to end up with her heart broken, as Granny’s spirit had warned, she’d better etch that fact in her mind and use it as a shield against Matt’s appeal.

  THREE DAYS LATER, Becca parked in front of the feed store and steeled herself for seeing Matt again for the first time since the evening of their unsuccessful visits. She’d enjoyed too much having him at her table that night. Had appreciated too much his easy interaction with Emily, his sense of humor, his insistence on clearing the table and washing the dishes. To her dismay, Becca had found herself fantasizing about Matt as a permanent fixture in their lives—until the cold, hard reality of their situations had kicked in again.

  Different worlds, different values.

  No future in that.

  “What did you say, Mama?” Emily asked beside her.

  Lordy, Becca thought, the man had her crazy, talking out loud to herself. “Nothing, sweetie. Let’s go see what Dr. Tyler’s been doing to the feed store.”

  “What about the picnic?” Emily asked.

  “This won’t take long.”

  Becca left the car, unbuckled Emily from her seat in the back and held the girl’s hand as they climbed the stairs. The double doors stood open to the morning breeze, but no sounds emanated from the building.

  When they stepped across the threshold, Becca gasped in surprise.

  “Wow!” Emily said. “Dr. Matt did all this?”

  “He’s a miracle worker.” Becca took in the waiting area Matt had set up in the front half of the store. An attractive, brightly colored area rug delineated the space on which chairs, sofas, tables and lamps had been arranged. One corner held a low table covered with books and toys and surrounded by chairs designed for children.

  Beside the door to the doctor’s office sat a desk, topped with a telephone, an appointment book and a sign that read Receptionist.

  “What do you think?” Matt’s deep voice asked beside her.

  “Hi, Dr. Matt,” Emily said.

  “Hey, short stuff,” Matt answered.

  Becca had been so enthralled by the store’s transformation, she hadn’t heard him enter the waiting room. “I can’t believe how much you’ve accomplished. This is wonderful.”

  Matt’s shrug emphasized his broad shoulders, but disappointment, not nonchalance, glimmered in his eyes. “Amazing what you can do when nothing else claims your time.”

  “Emily.” Becca pointed to the table in the corner. “Why don’t you see what books Dr. Tyler bought.”

  “Okay.” The little girl skipped across the room, settled in one of the petite chairs and selected the largest picture book from the pile.

  Becca turned back to Matt, giving herself a strong silent reprimand not to notice how mouthwateringly sexy he looked in jeans and a navy-blue knit shirt that emphasized his physique.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t had better luck at recruiting patients,” she said. “I’ve called on several families to encourage them to see you, but no luck. I’m hoping when more of them meet you at the picnic today, they’ll change their minds.”

  “Swayed by Dr. Wonderful’s irresistible charm?” Matt asked with a grimace.

  “Stranger things have happened.” Becca knew she was counting on nothing short of a miracle.

  The folks of Warwick Mountain were good people, but stubborn and clannish. So far, no one had proved willing to break from the herd and step forward to accept Matt’s medical treatment. In a sense, they were cutting off their noses to spite their own faces—since most would profit from a medical exam—but they saw themselves instead as banding together to keep out a bad influence.

  Becca hoped that meeting Matt and seeing him as a real person instead of some Hollywood fantasy might change some minds. He would only be in Warwick Mountain three more weeks before returning to his practice, and she was running out of time.

  She thrust away the thought of how empty her life would seem with Matt on the other side of the country instead of just down the road.

  “I’ve talked with Dwight,” Matt said, “and explained the stone wall I’ve run into.”

  “Did he have any advice?”

  “Just to keep on as I have been. He agreed, like you said, that at least the clinic will be up and running when he arrives next summer.”

  “So he’s planning to come back?” Relief flooded Becca. She’d feared the community’s rejection of his partner might change Dwight’s attitude.

  “He loves this place,” Matt said, as if there were no accounting for taste. “He’s talking about retiring here.”

  “I don’t suppose you’d consider coming back?” The question popped out before she realized what she was saying, and Becca could only hope Matt hadn’t picked up on the longing in her voice.

  He shook his head. “What would be the point?” He grinned at her, an expression so delightful, her heart flip-flopped at the sight. “You don’t need a carpenter anymore.”

  “Thought you might want a few more home-cooked meals,” she teased.

  “For those, I would take the red-eye in a heartbeat.” He leaned toward her, and for a moment, she thought—hoped—he was going to kiss her again. He’d kissed her when he left after supper the other evening, but it had been a friendly kiss, a brief brush of his lips across her own when he’d said goodbye and thanked her for the meal. That brief contact had left her aching for more, craving the very thing she knew she should avoid.

  Culture clash, remember? Granny’s voice rang in her head. With heartache to follow.

  Becca stepped away from Matt and temptation. “I hope you’re hungry now. The ladies always compete at the Fourth of July picnic, trying to outdo one another with their cooking.”

  “I’ve never been so hungry.” Even added distance couldn’t protect her from the heat in his eyes, and Becca was glad they’d soon be surrounded by a crowd. The presence of others would prevent her from doing something foolish.

  Like offering to assuage the undeniable hunger that shone in his eyes.

  “Can we go now,
Mama?” Emily had crossed the room and was tugging on her hand. “I want to see Lizzie. She’s waiting for me.”

  “Okay, sweetie. Ready, Matt?”

  Matt nodded. “You’re sure I don’t need to bring something?”

  “I have enough food in the car for a family of eight,” Becca said.

  Matt flexed his arms in a circus strongman parody. “Then you’ll need somebody to…tote, is that the word?…all those goodies for you.”

  Becca couldn’t resist laughing, couldn’t suppress the happiness that bubbled inside her, couldn’t help looking forward to spending the rest of the day in his company. He might be leaving her life forever in a few weeks, but if she guarded her heart, she could enjoy his company now. And later she’d have the memories.

  “The car’s parked out front,” she said. “We can walk to the church from here.”

  With Emily bouncing in excitement at her side, Becca opened the car for Matt to remove the picnic basket and cooler, then fell in step beside him.

  “Look, Mama,” Emily observed in her high, piping voice that carried on the breeze. “We’re just like a real family.”

  “You and I are a real family,” Becca assured her. “We always have been.”

  “But now we have Dr. Matt for a daddy,” Emily said.

  “No, Emily.” Becca could feel the unwanted flush spreading across her cheeks. “Dr. Matt’s our guest today.”

  “Oh, Mama.” Emily’s face crumpled in disappointment.

  Matt leaned down and whispered in the little girl’s ear. Emily giggled with delight, slipped her hand from Becca’s and ran ahead of them toward the church, where a crowd was already gathering on the grounds.

  “What did you say to her?”

  Matt flicked Becca a casual glance. “I told her she could pretend I’m her daddy, just for today.”

  “Oh, lordy, Matt, you shouldn’t have.”

  “What’s the harm?”

  “Knowing my talkative child, she’ll tell everyone at the picnic that you’re her father.”

  “But they’ll know that isn’t true.”

  “No, they won’t.”

  He stopped short, his eyes wide with amazement. “You don’t really think people will believe I’m Emily’s biological dad?”