by Janet Dean
“After Sam died.”
“I’m sorry about the loss of your husband.” But the words, offered countless times in his years as a doctor, never rung so hollow. When life turned upside down, words wouldn’t right it.
She shivered. “I lost Sam long before that stray bullet took his life.”
Holding her arms tight around herself, waves of sorrow swept across her face, slugging him in the gut. He reached for her hand and pulled her close. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“It’s hard to talk about.” Unshed tears glistened in her eyes and ripped at his composure. She crossed the porch and hugged a post, her face turned to the crescent moon, a slice of silver falling over her delicate features. “My husband was a good man, but he was also a…drunk.”
The last word hung in the air between them.
A good man? Luke thought of all the drunks he’d treated, the giddy ones, the mean ones, the ones who swore they’d never tip that bottle again, yet within the hour, returned to the tavern. He’d bandaged their scrapes, set their broken bones, watched them die, but he’d never thought of the wreckage they left behind.
The wives. The children.
With sudden insight, he now perceived Mary’s sass as strength, her stubbornness, fortitude. All of it born from the necessity. To keep her family together, while the head of that family fell into a well of whiskey.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“Don’t feel sorry for me.” Her voice was soft, barely audible. “I’m fine. But my boys…”
No matter what she said, Luke knew she’d paid a price. Perhaps was still paying it. His throat clogged, keeping him from offering a word of comfort if he’d known what to say, but he didn’t. So he said nothing, just waited, feeling helpless, ineffectual, his stomach churning in anger at the man who’d given Mary and her sons such pain.
She leaned her forehead against the pillar. “I tried to shield them as much as I could, but sometimes I wonder…how much they knew. How much they saw.”
Luke slipped an arm around Mary, the moon’s sliver of light now on them both. It all fit. “When your husband died, the boys’ world tumbled. Philip is probably worried about it spinning out of control again.”
Luke knew about a childhood like that. Knew about having parents you couldn’t depend on. Knew far too well about lying awake, dreaming of a fairytale existence that would never materialize. “That anxiety might be affecting Philip’s health.”
Fighting tears, Mary blinked hard. “I didn’t realize…”
Her struggle to control her emotions burned at the back of Luke’s eyes. He felt the heavy weight of disappointment she carried. Luke tilted her chin, the words out of his mouth before he could stop them. “Let me help.”
She crooked a smile at him. “Are you planning on doing my dishes every day?”
He chuckled. “No, but you’re carrying a heavy load, both mother and…father to your sons, assisting in the practice. On top of all that, you run a household alone.”
She nodded slowly. “And your point?”
Mary needed to take some time off. Enjoy Ben instead of taking him to a babysitter, not that he didn’t trust Carrie Foley to care for his son. But Mary did too much. “Accept me in the practice, just on a temporary basis. Then you’ll feel comfortable spending less time at the office and more time with the children. Once your father finds another doctor, you can devote yourself to your sons.”
She pulled away from him. “I love my boys with all my being, but I…have dreams of my own.” She took a deep breath. Even in the moonlight, her eyes shone with a glow he hadn’t seen. “I’m not looking for a permanent replacement for my father.”
“I don’t understand.”
She took a deep breath. “I…I want to be a doctor.”
With three sons to rear—the most important purpose a woman could have—Mary wanted to embark on a new career. How could she manage more? “Why?”
“Why does anyone want to be a doctor? To help people.”
“But you have a family. To go to classes, to study, to spend hours following doctors on their hospital rounds, you’ll have even less time with the boys.”
“What you mean is that I can’t handle my life now, so how could I possibly hope to become a doctor without my sons paying the cost?” Her voice rose and her eyes flashed. “Well, you can mind your own business, Luke Jacobs! My sons are happy, healthy, normal children, and I won’t let you imply I don’t know how to raise them.”
One of those sons was his. “I know practically nothing about children, I’ll give you that. But sometimes, a person is too close to a situation to see—”
“To see my own flesh and blood is suffering? I don’t believe things are as dire as you suggest. The boys are doing well in school. They’re smart, full of life—”
“And Philip is exhibiting psychosomatic symptoms.”
She inhaled sharply.
He dreaded her reaction to his next words. “On the walk over tonight, Michael said something that indicated he considers himself the man of the family, a heavy load for a ten-year-old boy.”
She swiped at her eyes. “If you’re trying to hurt me, you can’t.”
Her words licked at his pride. What kind of a man did she believe him to be? “I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m trying to help.”
She laughed—the sound harsh, bitter. “By making me question myself as a mother, question my goal of becoming a doctor? Well, I won’t let you or anyone run my life. It’s been out of my control far too long. You have no right to question my every move, as if I don’t know what’s best for my family. The biggest help you can give me is to keep your opinions to yourself.”
As Ben’s father, he had a right to voice his concerns.
Except he’d never been a father to Ben. He wanted to ensure Ben’s life would go smoothly, without pain, but even if he could arrange that, he couldn’t do it from afar.
Mary moved to the back door of the house and looked into the kitchen, then turned to him. “You may have cleaned up my dishes, but whenever you’re near, all you do is muddy the waters.” She opened the door, glaring back at him. “Don’t tell me how to tidy my life, when I suspect your own is in shambles.”
Chapter Nine
Mary slumped over her desk, swallowing against the nausea creeping up her throat, barely able to hold up her head with the horrid pain throbbing in her left eye and thundering at the top of her skull. She thanked God for the overcast day. Bright sunlight would have made the pain unbearable.
Thankfully, Philip felt well enough to attend school. She hated to admit it, but it was most likely due to Luke’s medicine. She’d seen her sons off, dropped Ben at the Foleys’ and then stopped at Mr. Kelly’s to change his dressing, barely managing to function with the headache she’d had when she awakened. But now, the pain reached the point where she couldn’t work, could only hang on.
Last night’s quarrel with Luke Jacobs had to be the cause. While they worked together in her kitchen, she’d imagined for a moment what it would be like to have Luke for a husband. To share daily activities, to cuddle with, dream with—
Then he’d blasted her goal of becoming a doctor, the very profession he practiced, as if her wishes didn’t matter.
What would he know about feeling inadequate and unworthy?
Her stomach knotted. Where had that come from? None of God’s children were unworthy; nor was she. Hadn’t her mother and father demonstrated that truth, giving unreserved love and approval? Years with Sam had chipped away at her confidence. Now Luke made her question her goals.
The outer door opened, and Luke stepped inside the office. He took one look at her and his brow furrowed. With long strides, he swallowed the space between them. “Is it a headache?”
Mary’s heart stuttered in her chest. His tone and expression said she mattered, that he cared. No, she must not misread a doctor’s bedside manner for more. “Yes.”
He dug inside his medical bag and brought
out his remedy. Mary wanted to shake her head, but she didn’t dare move, not even that much. Luke opened the bottle, filled the cap and held it out to her. “Drink this.”
At this point, she’d try anything. She tossed back the medicine. He handed her a refill, and she swallowed the second dose. Then he came around the desk, pulled out her chair and helped her to her feet. She staggered, holding her head steady, doing all she could to keep from vomiting on Luke’s boots. Last night he’d deserved such treatment, but now, she wasn’t so sure.
He directed her steps to the backroom and eased her onto the cot and her aching head onto the pillow. Then he covered her with a blanket, and laid a cool cloth on her forehead, his touch gentle, gaze laden with concern. Barely able to wrap her mind around his thoughtfulness, Mary accepted his ministrations with tears in her eyes. When had Sam been home enough to notice her headaches? Crawled out of the bottle long enough to tend to her needs?
“Lie still,” Luke said. “I’ll check on you in a few minutes.”
Biting back a moan, she closed her eyes and gave an almost imperceptible nod, then heard the door close. She lay quietly, breathing in, out, trying to relax, praying for the pain to ease. She’d learned from years of suffering that tightening her muscles made the pain worse.
Sometime later, she opened her eyes. Luke peered down at her. A dark wave of hair tumbled over his forehead but didn’t completely cover the lines etched on his brow. For a know-it-all doctor who should keep his opinions to himself, he looked good. Far too good.
“How do you feel?” he said, his voice tender, considerate.
“Better.” She smiled. “Much better.” A heavy weight lifted from her shoulders. Not merely because the pain had ebbed. But for Luke’s compassion, the care he’d taken with her.
“Good. Rest until you feel strong enough to get up. Don’t rush it,” he said, then left the room.
She drifted back to sleep. When she awoke, the pain had mercifully gone. She eased upright, carefully, like she balanced a book on her head, waiting for the throbbing to return. But felt not a twinge.
Washing her face, she thought of the countless times she’d endured these headaches, remembering the suffering, the nausea, the lost days, and praised God for this new medicine.
Then she went in search of Luke to give him her thanks. After condemning his remedy too many times to count, she hoped the words wouldn’t stick in her throat.
Catching sight of Mary, her eyes bright and clear, Luke rocked back on his heels. “Your headache’s gone.”
“Thanks to you.” She drew in a deep breath. “And your medicine.”
She gave him a stunning smile that danced over his defenses and walloped him in the heart. After last night, Luke understood why Mary Graves battled against anyone or anything she felt threatened those she loved. He’d miss this fireball of a woman. His chest ached with the knowledge that the time had come to leave. He’d accomplished what he came for. Ben was in good hands. Luke needed to go.
Well, maybe he’d stay long enough to make sure Ben’s asthma didn’t flare. But as soon as he could, he’d return to New York to start mass-producing his remedy. Only when the public could purchase it from pharmacy shelves would his medicine make a difference, like it had for Mary and Philip.
That should get his finances on an even keel. Then he could start saving for the facility he yearned to build, a safe place for children like Joseph.
“After this, I guess I’ll have to admit the value of your remedy,” she groused. “Even recommend it to our patients.”
Mary didn’t like eating crow, but like it or not, she’d changed her mind about his remedy. He laughed. “Even if the admission has you gagging on the words.”
Merriment danced in her eyes. “This isn’t the first time I’ve had to eat my words, Doctor, but a gentleman wouldn’t delight in my comeuppance.”
Luke chuckled again. “I suppose not.”
She laid a hand on his arm. “Others need your medicine as much as Philip and I. You need to make it available everywhere.”
Her approval latched onto Luke, hauling him to her like a well-aimed lariat. But this beast wasn’t ready for branding. Mentally, he dug in his heels. Like Mary said, he had goals, things he had to do. If he didn’t accomplish them, he’d always feel he’d failed Joseph. “You understand the importance of getting my medicine into production?”
“Yes, I do.”
“If so, then give up the idea of becoming a doctor. Your father needs you here.” He took a breath and let it out along with the decision he’d put off too long. “I won’t be staying.”
Anger sizzling through her veins, Mary stomped to the backroom, fighting to control her temper. If she didn’t calm herself, her headache would return. She wouldn’t give that…that brute the satisfaction of realizing he’d gotten under her skin.
With quick, jerky motions, she took down and then swept up her hair, poking the hairpins with more force than necessary, seeing Luke Jacobs as their target.
Well, the man wasn’t indispensable. Far from it. One of the applicants for the job would please her father. And Luke would be gone. It couldn’t happen soon enough.
On her way out, she almost plowed into her father. At the sight of his exhausted face, her stomach tightened.
“Luke told me about your headache. How are you feeling, kitten?”
“The pain is gone.”
He smiled. “I’m glad, gladder still my daughter’s stubborn streak didn’t keep her from trying his medicine.”
She wouldn’t discuss Luke or his medicine, especially with fatigue lining his face. “Daddy, you look peaked. Please, go inside and rest.”
“I asked Luke to run to the druggist for antiseptic. We’re out, and the waiting room is full of patients. I can’t leave them to fend for themselves.”
“Until Luke gets back, I’ll handle the patients.”
“You know a lot, Mary, but you’re not a doctor. You can’t treat patients alone.”
Not yet. But assuming she got accepted into medical school, she would be, no matter what Luke Jacobs thought. “If they need urgent treatment, I’ll come in and get you. If not, I’ll do what I can until Luke returns.”
Ignoring her suggestion, her father’s chin thrust in a stubborn line. “Honey, I’m fine. You’re seeing trouble where none exists.”
Her father’s words squeezed her heart. Why couldn’t he credit her with the good sense to detect his need to slow down? “Now who’s the stubborn one in the family?”
Luke strode down the hall, carrying a sack. She thrust her balled fists on her hips, waiting for whatever he had to say, prepared to speak her mind. But Luke merely glanced at her. His gaze moved to her father, rested there. Taking Henry by the arm, he led him out of earshot and said something in hushed tones. Her father nodded, and Luke escorted him to his quarters.
Mary’s jaw dropped. True, Luke had the credentials of a doctor, but the evidence that her father listened to him, while ignoring her, the one who loved him most, clawed at her.
In minutes, Luke returned. “You can bring in the next patient, Mary.”
She shot him a glare. “Since you have such a way with people, do it yourself.”
Cocking his head, he frowned. “I thought you’d be pleased I got your father to lie down.”
“Why would you think I’m not?”
“Must be that steam pouring out of your ears.”
Some force, some attraction held Mary motionless under his gaze, and she resisted it with all her might. This man thwarted her dreams, made her question her mothering, like he knew the first thing about children.
But he did have influence with her father, normally a man not easily swayed. “What did you say to get him to rest?”
“I suggested that in his fatigued condition he could make a mistake.” Luke crossed to the door and called in the next patient.
Luke Jacobs had come into their lives and managed to take over this office, replacing her, or so she felt, in h
er father’s affections. Ben was clearly smitten with him. Even Philip had softened toward Luke. Only Michael stood against him, determined to resist any man he saw as usurping his father’s role. At least one of her sons showed better sense. Mary followed Luke into the examining room, determined to stay as far away from him as she could.
Later, with the waiting room empty for a moment, Luke appeared, leaning his palms on the desk. “What’s wrong?”
The starch left her spine. God couldn’t be happy with her attitude. Luke had said what needed saying, and her father had the wisdom to take his advice. “Nothing. The problem is me.”
A patient entered, and Luke ushered him to the examining room, leaving Mary alone with her regrets. She prayed the next applicant for her father’s practice would be Luke Jacobs’s replacement. He made her question too much. Long for something she couldn’t name. Saturday couldn’t arrive soon enough to suit her.
Mary hurried to the examining room to clear away the disarray from the last patient.
“Anyone back there?” a familiar voice sounding much like Geraldine Whitehall’s called from the waiting area, her tone more panicky than usual.
Mary hurried to the front, almost bumping into the café owner, her hand wrapped in a towel mottled with blood. “Nearly cut my finger off,” she said, her voice shaking like a reed in the wind. “Where’s Doc? Oh, my!”
Luke appeared and took Geraldine on back. In the surgery, he handed Mary an enameled basin. She quickly filled the pan with water. Within minutes, Luke had cleansed the wound then stopped the bleeding enough so he could scrutinize her finger. “It’s not as bad as all that blood made it appear.”
Head turned away from the proceedings, Geraldine glanced at Luke. “Nothing missing?”
“Not a thing.”
She released a gust of air. “Whew, that’s a relief. I didn’t look close. Half scared a piece of my finger might have flown into Mr. Kelly’s soup.”
“I’m happy for you and for Mr. Kelly,” Luke said with a chuckle.
“Heavenly days, that would be cannibalism, wouldn’t it? Why, a person could go to jail.”