What The Doctor Ordered

by Cheryl Wolverton

  “Tell me, are you sorry for coming?”

  Rachel paused, her daughter in her arms. “Honestly, Morgan?” She studied him a moment, her eyes aching with apology. “I don’t know yet.”

  He was a bit disappointed when she said that, but when she stopped at the door and turned, his hopes brightened. “But looking at it as of this moment, no, I’m not.”

  She left.

  Morgan waved goodbye to Lindsay. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he’d just seen Rachel take another large step in letting go of her past and restoring some of her joy. Silently, he prayed that God would continue to work on her heart and give her the peace that came only from Him, and to lift those burdens she carried.

  His nurse stuck her head in the door, looking quite irritated. “Doctor! The patients are backing up!”

  “Playtime is over. Back to the grind,” he murmured.

  “Doctor?” his nurse asked, confusion darkening her eyes.

  He shook his head. “Nothing.” How could he explain to her how he’d felt just being in the same room with his future wife and child? Especially when his future wife and child didn’t know they were his future anything yet.

  Chapter Eleven

  Morgan met Rachel for lunch. It was easy to spot her in that blue suit, her hair pulled back. She looked more professional than anyone else in the area. Striding over, he smiled. “Ready?”

  “Fearful anticipation,” she agreed.

  He slipped his hand to her back and steered her in the right direction. “How’s your work at City Hall coming?”

  Rachel nodded to someone who waved. “Almost done. Then I have to find another job. Their files were a disaster. I have no idea how they found anything or how their planning commissions… Well, you don’t want to hear that. Suffice it to say that going over all their books was certainly time-consuming. I’m actually hoping I can do another job for them in the same area, or that this one will turn permanent. It has nice hours and they’re not real strict about me checking up on my daughter.”

  “It sounds like you found a good job then.”

  “Did things slow down at your office any?” Rachel queried as she allowed herself to be led into the tiny café.

  “Actually, they did. I had two cancellations, so everything worked out just fine. Let’s grab that booth,” he said, pointing to one by the window, “before someone else nabs it. It can be rough in here during lunchtime.”

  Rachel chuckled. “Oh?”

  Grinning at her, he said, “You have to fight them for tables. It certainly isn’t a pretty sight trying to get a little old lady out of your booth. Especially if she’s carrying one of those old-fashioned purses that leaves dents in your head.”

  Rachel sighed with mock exasperation and slipped into the booth. She snagged a menu and started perusing it. “Poor women of Fairweather. None of them are safe.”

  “Or at least, one of them isn’t.”

  Rachel’s gaze shot up at the low, intimate tone, and she found the doctor’s eyes locked with hers. She swallowed—twice.

  “May I help you?”

  Rachel was actually quite happy to see the waitress. Well, she was more than quite happy. She thought of the waitress as a life preserver tossed to a drowning person. Now all she had to do was get her rioting emotions under control.

  “I’d like tea and…” Glancing at the menu, she tried to read but couldn’t make out a word for the life of her. That look Morgan had given her had shocked her right down to her toes. He was interested in her. She was certain of it. But what was worse—she reciprocated his interest. She couldn’t! But she did.

  “Yes?” the waitress asked.

  “Polly dog,” she replied.

  Morgan chuckled. “I’ll have the number three special. Why don’t you bring her that, too?”

  “Morgan, I am capable of ordering my own food,” she said.

  “Sweetheart, there is no polly dog on the menu.”

  The waitress wrote down the orders and left.

  Rachel turned twenty shades of red.

  “It’s okay. The number three is the special I was teasing you about.”

  “I just couldn’t decide,” Rachel said.

  “You haven’t been here before?”

  “I usually eat my lunch at the little table out there. I bring it with me in a bag.”

  “I do that a lot. Especially now that it’s warming up. It’s so beautiful right now, everything springing to life. The flowers, both the wildflowers and the planted ones. And it’s peaceful. There are a lot of children running around but…” He shrugged. “They don’t really bother me.”

  “School break soon, and then it’ll be really hectic.”

  Morgan agreed. “Unfortunately. Seems there are always more injuries during the summertime.”

  The waitress returned with the tea and plates. Rachel showed her surprise. “That was fast.”

  “Fast food. How hard is it to fix hot dogs and fries?”

  “True. What is on this?” she asked, turning the hot dog first one way and then the other.

  “Sauerkraut, chili, relish, mustard, onions and cheese.”

  “Oh, dear, I feel heartburn coming on already.”

  “Or hardening of the arteries?” he asked mildly.

  “At least. This is a crime against the taste buds.” Still, when she lifted the bun to her mouth and took a bite, she found it amazingly good.

  Morgan grinned, gave her one of those I-told-you-so looks, and then bit into his own chili dog.

  Rachel chewed thoroughly and swallowed before taking another bite. She really wished Morgan had waited until she swallowed that bite before his next statement.

  “So, is this our first official date?”

  Rachel choked. Covering her mouth with her napkin, she coughed, her eyes watering.

  “You okay?” Morgan asked, leaning forward, concerned.

  No! You almost gave me a heart attack with that question. “Yes. Yes, I am.” She wheezed the words out. “Just a moment.” She lifted her tea and took a long sip.

  When the tears cleared from her eyes, she smiled at Morgan a bit nervously.

  “Tell me, Rachel, what’s on your mind?” His voice ran over her, filling her with warmth and ease.

  “Morgan…” she began, then paused. “I don’t know how to say this….” She tried again.

  “You were married before and are gun-shy?”

  Surprised, she met his understanding gaze. “Yes,” she replied. “How’d you know?”

  Without breaking eye contact, he replied, “Because at one time, I was married, too.”

  “I didn’t know that.” Why hadn’t her mother told her that?

  “No one here does, except Ben.”

  Ah, well, that explained it.

  “It’s not something I care to discuss.”

  She nodded, still adjusting to what he had just said to her. “I understand.” Trying to put a form of normalcy on their lunchtime, she started on her fries.

  “But I want you to know about it.”

  She was back to worrying. “Do you really think you should tell me?”

  Morgan reached out and captured her hand. Warmth spread from that small, reassuring touch all the way up her arm, then through her entire body. “Tell me, Rachel, that you don’t feel something when I touch you? Tell me what I’m feeling isn’t reciprocated? I’m not trying to push you, but tell me, Rachel, tell me that you haven’t found we have things in common that you haven’t found in anyone else you’ve met?”

  Rachel’s mouth went dry. “I—I’m not sure.”

  He conceded that with a tiny nod of his head. Then he continued. “I’d like to get to know you better. I enjoy spending time with you and Lindsay, and I’d like to spend more time with you. But I don’t want to do that without asking your permission first.”

  “Huh?” She blinked. She knew she hadn’t just been asked permission to date her.

  Morgan grinned. “I’m very old-fashioned. I just asked you for
permission to ask you out on dates and stop by your house.”

  “I—I…”

  Morgan chuckled. “Is it really that hard, Rachel?”

  With a loud sigh she slumped in the booth. “You don’t do anything normally, do you, Morgan? I feel like I’ve just been transported back to some Victorian era or something.”

  “You don’t like it?” he teased.

  “The minute you start telling me the woman’s place is in the home, I’m outta here.”

  Squeezing her hand, the hand she didn’t realize he still held, he said, “Never.”

  Removing her hand from his, she went back to eating.

  “Well, fair lady?” he asked.

  She studied him. “I…have enjoyed your company this last week. However, I’m just not sure if I’m ready for more.”

  “I can understand that, Rachel. Why don’t we take this at your speed. Feel free to say no whenever you want and to warn me if I’m doing anything that makes you feel the least bit pressured or uncomfortable.”

  “I’m not looking for a date.”

  He smiled his understanding smile at Rachel, and her resistance melted.

  “Okay,” she suddenly said. “If we keep it simple. I mean, at least then my mom wouldn’t be looking at me with matchmaking in her eyes.”

  “Your mom is a matchmaker?” Surprise twinkled in his eyes.

  He chuckled. “That’s Emma.” Glancing at her cup he asked, “Are you done here?”

  She took another sip of tea and nodded. “I want to check on Lindsay before I go back to work.”

  “Mind if I walk along? I’d like to check Chrissy. She’s just getting over a cold. I thought I’d take a quick peek on my way back to work.”

  Rachel relaxed. “Not at all.” She’d been terrified when she had agreed that Morgan would—what? Turn into a boogeyman? So anticlimactic. He went on as if nothing had changed. Perhaps it was her. She was the one changing. She was the one adjusting to the idea of actually dating again. She was the one who suddenly was seeing life in a whole new way, one with a future, one with more than simply her striving to make ends meet with only dark, bleak clouds on the horizon.

  Looking at him, she couldn’t deny she was attracted. But it was more than just his looks. He was a gentleman. He had a sense of humor. He was kind, caring and gentle. She could go on and on.

  And he loved Lindsay. Or, at least, he acted like he did.

  He paid the bill and they left. She didn’t mind when his hand slipped to her back to guide her around different obstacles. Instead, she enjoyed his touch, thinking how nice it was to have someone who was so gentle.

  “Did your wife… Did she die?” she asked softly as they strolled down the sidewalk.

  Morgan thought, If you only knew. “Yeah. It’s been a few years. Right after I started medical school.” And that wasn’t a lie. She had died, later. Her and her second husband. “Anyway, it was very hard for a while and there are times I wish I could go back—but we just have to accept and go on and lean on God during the times when it’s getting to you.”

  “I wish,” Rachel began, “I wish I understood why it all happened.”

  “Sometimes we don’t, until later.”

  As they started up the steps of the church, Morgan noticed a van pull alongside the curb.

  “Hello, Warren,” he called to the man who climbed out of the van.

  Warren was in his fifties and Rachel noted his short, military haircut, rounded stomach and bright red suspenders holding up his pants. Santa Claus in the military is what he reminded her of. No beard, mustache or white hair, but otherwise a dead ringer.

  Walking up to where he and Rachel stood, Warren nodded. “Howdy, Morgan. You hear they just discovered the damage goes on down into the day care?”

  “No, I hadn’t.”

  Rachel nodded. “Yes. It made a mess of two different supply closets. Mom said they’re going to put on a new roof, too.”

  “Yeah. They need it. So can you direct me to a Mrs. Anderson?”

  “That’s my mom,” Rachel replied politely.

  “Did I hear my name?” Betty walked up, wearing jeans, an oversize shirt with the sleeves rolled up and looking like Rachel had always pictured her mom—except that her mom was eyeing Warren oddly.

  “Mom, this is Warren Sinclair. He’s here to work on the day care.”

  Glancing at Warren she noticed he was giving her mother the same look, one of—interest! It quickly passed, but Rachel was almost certain that was what she’d seen.

  “It’s about time,” Betty said. “I am so glad you’re here. I’ve been cleaning out those storage areas all morning. Ben can tell you exactly what is going on, but if you want, Mr. Sinclair, I’ll be glad to show you the damage downstairs until Ben gets back from lunch.”

  “Warren, ma’am. And yes, thank you, I’d like to see that.”

  “Please, call me Betty. Right this way, Warren.”

  Her mother led the man off with a short wave over her shoulder at Rachel. Rachel shook her head, certain she was imagining things. “I should go check on my daughter now.”

  “Oh, Rachel?”

  She glanced at her mom. Both she and the repairman stood near the stairs. Her mom looked perfectly normal now. She’d been imagining that interest, after all. “Yes, Mom?”

  “Family day is this Sunday. Ask Morgan what it entails and please do come. I’ll call you later about Lindsay’s appointment.”

  “Okay, Mom.”

  “Be careful going down those steps, Betty,” she heard Warren say. She frowned as she watched them descend out of sight.

  “Family day,” she muttered.

  “Once a month we get together. It’s fun. We have a day of fellowship. Play games, eat, chat, sing. A bit of everything. Ball, badminton, things like that,” Morgan said.

  “Really? Mom never mentioned it before.”

  “It’s something Ben started.”

  “Ah, well, it certainly sounds like fun.”

  “It is. It’s also nice, a way to get to know other people. Sometimes in church, there isn’t enough time. This is a way to slow down and just enjoy the day. It’d be nice to see you there, Rachel.”

  Rachel nodded. “Maybe I’ll come.”

  They went through the church to the day care. Rachel had a moment with her daughter while Morgan checked out Chrissy.

  She was surprised to find her mom upstairs talking to Warren, who was walking out the door. She paused to speak with her mom.

  “How’d the appointment go?” Betty asked.

  “Okay. He didn’t do much today. She didn’t cry. Morgan was wonderful with her. He asked me if I’d consider letting him run some more tests.”

  “And what did you say, honey?”

  Her mother’s concerned tone touched her. “I told him I’d think about it.”

  Betty nodded. “It’s always good to consider things instead of giving an immediate answer.”

  “I’m just unsure.”

  “It’s okay, honey. You’ll decide when the time’s right. I know I’ve interfered more than I normally do, Rachel, and I’m about to do it again. Don’t let what your ex-husband did to you affect this decision now. Morgan is a good man. He’s good at his job. You can trust him.”

  “I’m just not sure if I’m ready, Mom. I’m taking it one step at a time.”

  Betty smiled and touched her daughter’s cheek. “I’m proud of you, honey. Whether you realize it or not, I’m very proud of how you turned out and for how strong you are.”

  Rachel hugged her mom. “I get it from both you and Dad.”

  She chuckled. “No, you get your stubbornness from your dad and your hesitation, too. Me, I’m strong-willed and tend to go for what I want.”

  “You, Mom? Never!” Rachel teased.

  “Go on, get out of here,” her mother said, laughing. “I have work to do, and so do you. Obviously if you have time to insult your mother.”

  Rachel grinned. “Love you, Mom. See you tonight.”


  “And church?” she asked as Rachel started out of the church.

  She turned, the grin still in place. “Yes, Mom, and church. You’ve convinced me. I’ll come sit through the service if it’ll please you. After all, how hard can it be?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Really hard, Rachel thought now, shifting uncomfortably as she listened to the people around her. She didn’t know most of these people. Listening to them talk, though, she realized one reason she’d stopped coming. Church had become simply a ritual to do every Sunday morning, Sunday night and Wednesday night. Just like one woman she heard talking about. The woman wasn’t talking about the love of Jesus or fellowshipping of the saints; instead she was simply speaking of the different committees and when the meetings were. No mention of the joy to be there, to finally have time to just be with other believers and share praise in one voice. She’d been just like that.

  She’d lost that first love, she realized. Suddenly a woman’s voice caught her attention, and she leaned toward the left to hear what she was saying.

  “—I agree that the Reverend has instituted too many things. Land sakes alive, wanting us to cook and then play ball in pants! On church property. Can you imagine?”

  Another voice replied, “Young generation. No respect for traditions. Our old pastor never would have done such a thing. It’s really a shame, too.”

  “Caught you,” a voice whispered near her.

  Rachel nearly jumped over the pew, Morgan startled her so badly.

  “You scared me.”

  “You were eavesdropping,” he countered.

  “I was—”

  “Eavesdropping,” he reiterated.

  “Guilty,” she admitted ruefully. “So, what are you going to do about it since I’ve gotten caught in my awful deed?”

  “Well,” Morgan said, grinning, “first, I’m going to ask you to allow me to sit here with you and your mom during service.”

  Rachel shrugged. “We don’t own the pews.”

  He dropped down on the pew next to her. “Secondly, I’m going to insist you allow me to sit with you and your mom during lunch. I have to keep all those matchmaking mamas away, you see. A doctor is considered a good catch here in Fairweather.”