Prescription For Love

by Boeshaar, Andrea

  He sat down and drew in a deep breath. He needed to share his vision for his future with Ravyn soon, before she heard about it from someone else.

  He patted the card in his pocket. Maybe now she was ready to hear about it.

  ❧

  Ravyn gave her reflection one last look and decided the kiwi green tank top and coordinating cardigan matched nicely with her navy capris. The dark blue slip-ons completed the outfit and gave her some height. Ravyn felt satisfied that she’d dressed appropriately for a casual dinner with Mark tonight. If she felt too warm, she could take off the lightweight sweater, and if the air conditioning in the riverfront restaurant had been cranked up, she wouldn’t freeze.

  We actually coordinated our schedules. She still couldn’t believe it. Ravyn hadn’t made time for a date in years; she usually opted to work an extra shift and make money. But, lately, she made time for the people in her life. She talked to Teala, her parents, and Violet nearly every day, relying less on her answering machine. Three times this week Mark had called, and Ravyn stopped whatever she’d been doing to converse with him. They’d turned out to be lengthy chats, too, but Ravyn enjoyed each minute.

  And now their first official date.

  She strode through the hallway of her posh condominium and paused at the kitchen table where she gathered her cell phone, sunglasses, and car keys. After slinging her small handbag’s leather strap over her wrist, she continued out the door and into the underground parking area.

  Today had been unseasonably hot in northeast Iowa for this last weekend in May. Temperatures soared well into the nineties, but the air felt cool and dry in the basement area. Ravyn climbed into her car and started its engine, then drove out into the blinding sunshine. Before long, she began to perspire, so she closed the windows and turned on her vehicle’s air conditioning.

  As she drove through the hilly streets of Dubuque, Ravyn wished she had allowed Mark to pick her up like he’d offered. However, being the ever-independent woman, she chose to drive herself to the restaurant, but she’d forgotten it meant going through a rather seedy part of town. Seeing people on the sidewalks and street corners, laughing and carousing, Ravyn thought of how busy the ER would likely be tonight. The warm weather seemed to draw revelers from their homes and into the bars. Already she heard sirens in the distance.

  Her cell phone rang and Ravyn worked the hands-free earpiece into place before answering the call.

  “Hi, Rav,” said Teala. “A few of us girls are going out for a pizza tonight. And guess who’s coming? Carolyn Baker. You two haven’t seen each other in eons. Want to come out with us?”

  Ravyn couldn’t help the smile. “Nope. I have a date.”

  Silence at the other end.

  “Teala, I have never known you to be rendered speechless.”

  “Wow, we must have a really bad connection. I thought you just said you had a date.”

  Ravyn laughed, knowing her sister’s facetious streak. “Oh, hush up. I’m going to dinner with Mark tonight. I guess it is an official date, but we’re still just friends. I think.”

  “Your first date with Mark, huh?” Teala sighed. “I remember when Greg and I first started seeing each other—officially.”

  Ravyn had heard this story a hundred times, but she listened to it again. In fact, her younger sister talked for the rest of the drive to the steak house where Ravyn had agreed to meet Mark.

  “Hey, Teala, I’ve got to disconnect. I’m at the restaurant now.”

  “Okay, ciao.”

  Ravyn found a rare parking spot near the entrance and pulled alongside the curb. She unplugged her earpiece, then stuffed her cell phone into her leather handbag.

  For a moment she sat behind the steering wheel and watched the many passersby. This was a bustling part of the city because of its close proximity to the Mississippi River and its subsequent recreational areas. The restaurant would probably be noisy and crowded, but oddly, Ravyn felt hardly intimidated. She was more looking forward to dining with Mark than worrying about getting shuffled about by pushy patrons.

  An odd mix of anxious flutters and anticipation multiplied inside her. She bowed her head in a silent, quick prayer.

  Lord, this thing with Mark—I think I’m a little scared. Losing my friend Shelley was tough; I can’t imagine losing my heart. Will You please show me if this is a relationship worth pursuing?

  Ravyn finished the petition to her heavenly Father before opening her eyes and glancing up—just in time to see Mark enter the restaurant with a tall, full-figured blond. Ravyn recognized the woman at once.

  It was Carla, the x-ray tech from work!

  Ten

  Ravyn wrapped her palms around the steering wheel, wondering if she should take flight or fight. Mark wouldn’t have been stupid enough to ask her out on the same night he asked Carla for a date—would he? But, perhaps, in all the busyness of finishing his residency, his schedule got mixed up.

  No, it couldn’t be.

  Or could it?

  Curiosity won over indignation as Ravyn climbed out of the car and stepped into the shadows of the historical red-brick building. She yanked open the rough-hewn door, using more force than necessary, and stomped inside the dimly lit establishment. She almost collided with Mark as her eyes adjusted from the sunlight.

  Before even uttering a greeting, he cupped her upper arm and led her toward the restrooms. “Ravyn, I need your help.” She felt his lips near her ear, drowning out the loud music. “On my way in, I met up with Carla. I don’t know where she came from, but she’s got a head laceration. I told her to wash up and then I’d look at it.” Mark steered Ravyn toward the ladies’ room. “Can you go in and check on her?”

  She pulled out of his grasp. “Give me a break. Carla’s an x-ray tech. She’s more than capable of washing a gash on her head.”

  “ETOH.”

  That’s all Mark had to say. Ravyn was well acquainted with the acronym. She arched her brows. “Carla’s drunk?”

  “Extremely.”

  Ravyn winced with embarrassment for overreacting. “All right. I’ll check on her.”

  She entered the restroom, unable to ignore the relief zinging its way through her limbs, but stopped short when she saw the shapely x-ray tech sprawled out on the brown and beige tiled floor. Her back was up against the wall and her legs stretched out in front of her. Blood stained her long blond hair and the front of her two-sizes-too-small white T-shirt.

  After setting down her purse near one of the three porcelain sinks, Ravyn knelt beside her coworker. “Hey, Carla? It’s me. Ravyn. Looks like you hurt yourself. What happened?” Ravyn carefully picked at strands of Carla’s blond hair in order to get a look at the wound.

  “I fell.”

  A knock sounded on the restroom door. Ravyn stood, crossed to the door, and opened it to find Mark standing there. He held out a pair of protective gloves.

  “The bartender said he keeps a box of these handy. I s’pose that’s not a bad idea in his line of work.”

  “Thanks.” Ravyn sent Mark a grateful smile, took the proffered gloves, and let the door close. She pulled the protective coverings over her hands and returned to inspecting Carla’s wound. Sorting through crusty strands of blond hair, she still couldn’t see the woman’s scalp. She stood and wetted some paper toweling and tried again.

  On her knees next to her coworker, Ravyn did her best to clean the area. All the while she felt the other woman’s stare.

  Finally, she met Carla’s gaze and momentarily scrutinized her features. Ravyn hadn’t ever seen her up close before and never paid her much attention. She assumed they were peers, but now Ravyn realized that Carla couldn’t be any older than twenty-one. Not any older than Teala.

  “You hate me, don’t you?” Carla muttered.

  “I don’t hate anyone.”

  Locating the laceration, Ravyn realized it required stitches. She straightened and crossed the room. She used another piece of paper toweling to pull on the door handle.
Mark stood several feet away and she motioned to him.

  “She’s going to need some sutures and, considering her condition, maybe we ought to call an ambulance.”

  “Good as done.” Mark pulled his cell phone from out of the pocket of khaki pants.

  Once again, Ravyn let the door close and turned back to Carla, who continued her ramblings about how everyone from her boyfriend to her mother “hated her.” After soaking more paper towels in cold water, Ravyn hunkered down and held the wad against her coworker’s head. She watched as a tear slipped from the younger woman’s left eye and drizzled down her sunburned cheek.

  “Don’t cry. It’s okay.”

  A strange sense of pity engulfed Ravyn. She found it odd when usually she felt almost hard-hearted toward intoxicated individuals. She had observed a number of drunken souls at the low-income housing units in which her family had lived. But this instance seemed different—perhaps because Carla was a coworker.

  Ravyn recalled what she knew of Carla. She was never boisterous at work, like Liz, but kept mostly to herself. Her only fault, as far as Ravyn knew, was hanging out with a bunch of staff who enjoyed boozing at breakfast.

  That, and lying about Mark, of course.

  Carla began to sob, and while Ravyn suspected the show of emotion was alcohol-induced, she couldn’t help feeling sorry for her.

  “It’s okay,” Ravyn repeated. Her own sob session last week came to mind—one that couldn’t even be blamed on alcohol consumption—and her empathy for Carla mounted. She, like so many people, needed help—needed to know God. Was this Carla’s cry for help?

  As if in reply, more tears cascaded down Carla’s pink cheeks.

  “Shh.” Ravyn looped one arm around the younger woman’s shoulders. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

  “Maybe for you,” Carla eked out. “You’re dating a doctor who’s not only great-looking and single, he’s really nice, too.” She choked back another sob. “My boyfriend can’t seem to hold a job for more than two weeks. When he runs out of money it’s suddenly my fault.”

  “Find another boyfriend.” The answer seemed easy enough to Ravyn.

  Carla tipped her head, giving Ravyn a curious stare. “In case you hadn’t noticed, there aren’t that many guys around to choose from these days. Half of them are married. The other half are divorced and come complete with court-ordered alimony payments. Either that or they have issues—like felony convictions.”

  “Where do you go to meet these guys? They sound like losers with a capital L.” Ravyn shook her head. “Seriously, Carla, I think you’re in need of a new hangout.”

  “Yeah? Like where? I suppose I could play Bingo on Friday nights at church with all the boring religious people.”

  Ravyn grinned. “Mark’s religious. So am I. We’re both born-again Christians.”

  Carla didn’t look surprised, although she didn’t have a comeback, either, but Ravyn let it go. She suspected her intoxicated coworker wouldn’t remember much of what went on in here tonight; however, by God’s grace, a seed could have been planted.

  A seed. . . As the thought took shape, Ravyn felt suddenly privileged that God would use her to plant a seed of faith in another person’s life. She didn’t deserve to be an instrument of God’s love; she could count on one hand all the times she’d attended church in the past year. Yet here she sat, on a cold, tiled floor with a hurting soul in her arms. Ravyn knew this event was no coincidence.

  A hard knock sounded at the door, jarring Ravyn from her thoughts. She looked up to see Mark peer into the restroom. His dark gaze found Ravyn’s. “Paramedics are here.”

  “Great. We’re ready for them.”

  ❧

  “Admit it,” Mark said, grinning and pointing his fork at her. “When you walked into the restaurant, you were ready to chew me up and spit me out. I saw that gleam in your eyes.”

  “Gleam?” Ravyn batted her lashes in feigned innocence. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She sipped her diet cola.

  “Whatever.”

  Ravyn tried not to laugh at Mark’s skeptical expression.

  After the ambulance arrived and transported Carla to the hospital, Ravyn had needed to change clothes. Since she had to return to her condo anyway, she’d suggested that she and Mark eat at the restaurant on the complex’s lavish grounds. The temperature had cooled and it seemed a perfect evening to dine on the restaurant’s patio, which overlooked the eighteenth hole.

  “Do you play golf?” Mark asked, cutting his veal.

  “I’ve played in the past, but that’s not why I bought a condo here at The Pines, if that’s what you’re wondering.” Ravyn watched the wind tousle his dark brown hair. “I think it’s pretty out here. It’s a gated community and each section of condos has a locked lobby, so I feel safe.”

  “That’s important—to feel safe.”

  Ravyn agreed.

  “I’ve often heard the safest place to be is in God’s will, no matter where you’re at here on earth, even if you live in the toughest of neighborhoods.”

  “Hmm.” Ravyn gave it a moment’s thought. “Yeah, I suppose that’s true enough.”

  She thought back on her growing up years in the rundown public housing units. Her parents had left Ravyn and her sisters so vulnerable and unprotected around the riffraff they called neighbors. Anything could have happened to them. But, as Ravyn’s father was fond of pointing out, God had, indeed, protected them.

  “I forgot. I have something for you.” Mark stood and pulled what appeared to be a small envelope from the back pocket of his trousers. He reseated himself, then slid the paper item across the white wrought-iron table. “It’s an invitation. My aunt feels compelled to have a party for me, although I’ve told her it isn’t necessary.” A look of embarrassment heightened the ruddy hue of his cheeks. It was a nice contrast, Ravyn thought, with the deep green polo shirt he wore.

  “I don’t blame your aunt for making a fuss. It’s not every day that a person completes his residency.”

  “I know, but all the extra attention is embarrassing.”

  “You love it. Don’t lie.” Ravyn laughed at his hooded glance. Then, with the tip of her fingernail, she slit open the envelope and pulled out a three-dimensional, handmade card, inviting her to Mark’s party.

  “I wish I had Aunt Edy’s time,” he said. “She created about fifty of those cards.”

  “Impressive.” Ravyn looked over the colorful invite before carefully placing it near her small purse. “And your great-aunt plays the piano, too?”

  “Yep. And she bakes the best rhubarb pie you ever tasted.”

  “She sounds like quite the talented lady.”

  “She is.”

  Ravyn noted the grateful expression on Mark’s face as he forked some salad into his mouth. He chewed and swallowed. “Without my aunt and uncle’s support, I would have never made it through my residency program. I owe them a lot.”

  As Ravyn listened, she picked at her grilled salmon.

  “They believe in me and the goals I’ve set—goals that go beyond my medical training.”

  He sat forward in the candy-striped padded chair and set down his fork. “I never did tell you my plans for the future once I’m done with my residency.”

  “No, you never did. I’d love to hear about them.”

  As Mark began to divulge his passion for the souls in a tiny country off the Indonesian coast, Ravyn had a sinking feeling inside. She forced herself not to react negatively when she heard the words medical missionary, but it took so much effort she could barely concentrate on anything else he said.

  “I’ll spend my summer candidating at various churches,” he added, reclaiming her attention. “Once I’ve accumulated enough support, I’ll head overseas. The director of the missions team drew up a five-year contract, but he promised me furlough every eighteen months.”

  Was that supposed to make her feel better? It didn’t. “So, in essence, all your time in medical school ha
s been—a waste.”

  “A waste?” Mark sat back hard in his chair. “How can you say that? I’ll soon be a board certified MD.”

  “Board certified in America.” She shook her head, feeling disappointed in him. “And why would you ask churches to support you when you could earn a good living here in the U.S.? You could pay for your own missions trips overseas. I mean, think about it. You could make enough money here in the next couple of years to support yourself in a Third World country for a very long time.”

  Mark didn’t reply and Ravyn suspected she had said too much. She stared down at her half-eaten dinner.

  “There’s accountability in enlisting churches’ support for a group of missionaries,” Mark stated at long last. “Not only will I have to answer to the Lord for my decisions and actions, but I’ll report to a board of godly pastors.”

  Ravyn could see his point, but she still believed he was about to throw away all his years in med school if he followed through with this ludicrous plan. “Mark, in the five years that you’ll be gone the health-care industry will have changed so much here in the United States that you might find yourself behind the times and unable to practice. Then what?”

  “Then I—”

  “Wait. Let me guess.” Ravyn held up a hand. “You don’t have a plan now, but you’re going to trust the Lord.”

  “Right. Minus the sarcasm, of course.” He sent her a wry grin.

  “Look, I believe that we, as Christians, must trust and obey God’s Word and His leading, but I also think there’s a fine line between blind trust and irresponsibility.” She tipped her head, regarding him. “Your plan sounds like it teeters on the latter.”

  “Irresponsible?” Mark shook his head. “I disagree. What I’ve learned in med school is going to help me care for souls in a remote country who’d never receive health care if it weren’t for me.”

  “And you have to do that full time for five years?”

  “Well, yeah,” he said, as if it were obvious. “It takes time to build a good testimony on a foreign mission field. The locals have to see that I’m genuinely concerned about them. Once they realize I can help them health-wise, they’ll listen when I talk to them about their souls’ eternal resting place.”