The Mechanic & the MD

by Linda Shenton-Matchett

  “Gee, that’s uplifting advice.” Doris blinked back the tears that sprang to her eyes. There was no way she could go from one day to the next with her heart in pieces. The pain was too great. “Got anything else, like get over it?”

  “That’s not what I meant. Maybe you need to give this guy another chance. Maybe your love is a forever kind of love and won’t go away despite the world’s best efforts to sabotage it.”

  Doris shook her head. “No. I can’t go back to him. I already told him nothing could or would happen until after the war is over. If he still wants to pursue a relationship, we can talk about it then.”

  “Listen to yourself. Pursue a relationship? Talk about it? Love is not clinical. You can’t hash it out in a debate or treat it like a contract. Honey, I see the way your face softens and how your voice caresses the words when you say his name. This kind of love can’t wait until after the ceasefire.” Laughing, Emily grabbed her arms. “Do I have to hogtie you and drive you there?”

  “Ha, you don’t know where he is.”

  “I uncovered you. I can easily find your doctor friend. Like I said, I’ve got skills you can’t even imagine.”

  Heart pounding, Doris blew out a deep breath. Could she give Ron a second chance? Or was she already a distant memory for him?

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Ron’s hands shook as he laid his folded shirts on top of his slacks inside the suitcase. Good thing he wasn’t scheduled to perform surgery today. He hadn’t been this nervous since the first operation he’d done during his residency. Memories washed over him of the beetle-browed supervising surgeon standing so close he could smell the man’s breakfast on his breath. Afterward, the doctor told him that he had the best hands he’d seen in a decade, but that hadn’t assuaged the jitters. Was the man still terrorizing residents, or had he finally retired?

  He tossed his toiletry bag and some socks on top of his clothes. His gaze circulated the room then landed on his Bible lying on the nightstand. He picked up the leather-bound volume and stroked the cover. Can’t forget this. No matter what happened with Doris, he’d be grateful for her walk of faith that led him back to his heavenly Father. Finally giving up control of his life, Ron had a fledgling peace that was growing as he learned to trust each day’s outcome to God. The journey hadn’t been easy, but the changes were worth the difficulties.

  Two of the nurses had accepted Christ, and the crusty director regularly asked Ron questions about Jesus. Struggling to respond, the discussions forced him to dig deeper into the Bible so he could point the man in the right direction.

  Thank You, God, for using me, a fallible man who makes mistakes. Thank You for Doris who helped me find my way back to the fold. Keep her safe, Father. Soften her heart toward me. My bumbling actions hurt her, so I’d appreciate the opportunity to make amends. And more.

  In the distance, a clock chimed the hour, and he closed the suitcase lid with a bang. No more dawdling, McCann, or you’ll miss the train. He glanced in the mirror and frowned. Lack of sleep over the past three days because of an influx of patients had rendered him haggard. His hair was shaggy, too, but time had not allowed for a trip to the barber. He rolled his eyes. Since when did he care about his appearance?

  He grabbed his luggage and headed out of the room, slamming the door behind himself. He hurried toward the stairs then forced himself not to run down to the foyer.

  “Have a nice trip, Dr. McCann.” Sister Hatch, the head nurse, waved as she passed him on the steps. “You get that girl back, you hear?”

  Apparently, nothing was a secret in the hospital community.

  “I’ll do my best.” He grinned and held up his crossed fingers.

  She pressed her palms together. “Prayer has a better chance than luck.”

  “Amen to that.”

  Whistling, he left the building and climbed into the waiting jeep. Would he return dejected or filled with joy?

  Much to his surprise, the drive and subsequent train ride passed quickly, and he was soon in a bus on the final leg. Ron clutched the handle of his suitcase with slick palms. When a woman named Emily, claiming to be Doris’s sister, contacted him with the news of Doris’s whereabouts, he’d jumped at the chance to see her. Now that he was within minutes of their reunion, his stomach felt like a family of mice was roller-skating inside.

  The trees outside the window waved at him, their edges tipped in red and orange. Still August, fall was arriving early this year. Colder temperatures wouldn’t bode well for the troops. Frostbite and hypothermia cases increased during the winter months, but wounds didn’t bleed as badly. A macabre choice for the boys in the infantry and armored divisions.

  Bumping over the macadam, the bus swayed in rhythm to the tinny music rasping from the elderly driver’s transistor radio. “Next stop, the MTC. All ashore who’s going ashore.” The octogenarian laughed at his own joke, his snaggletoothed grin lighting up his wrinkled face.

  Brakes squealed as the bus rolled to a stop. The door popped open with a hiss.

  Ron took a deep breath and stood. He ducked his head to prevent hitting the ceiling and squeezed between the seats to get into the aisle. He followed a trio of giggling girls in MTC uniforms off the bus. The door closed, and the vehicle chugged away.

  “Excuse me, ladies.” He raised his voice to be heard above the rumbling engine. “Can you help me find someone?”

  They turned, and the blonde winked, a saucy smile on her face. “Sure, but why look any farther when you found the three of us?” Her companions laughed, and one of them eyed him like a steak on the grill.

  He gave them what he hoped was a polite chuckle and shook his head. “Thank you, but…”

  “Forget it, girls, this one’s already in love.” The pert blonde blew a large pink bubble then snapped her gum and shook her head. “Who ya looking for, honey?”

  “Doris Strealer. She’s a mechanic.”

  “We all are, honey. Hence the name: Mechanized Transport Corps.” She gestured toward a stone building several hundred yards from the gate. “Chances are you’ll find her hunched over some recalcitrant vehicle.” She cocked her head. “Are you the reason she’s been moping around like she lost her last dime?”

  His face burned.

  The girls guffawed, and the blonde elbowed the brunette on her left. “I think that’s a yes. Well, Doris is a good egg, and you better be here to make things right.” Her gaze turned flinty. “Don’t let us find out you’ve hurt her again. Understand?”

  “Yes, miss. I’m glad to know she has friends who watch out for her.”

  “You know what? We’re going to escort you to her, see? How about that?”

  His heart stuttered. Apologizing to Doris was going to be hard enough without an audience, but he couldn’t blame the gals for protecting her. “Sounds like a dandy idea.”

  One of the brunettes grabbed his suitcase, and the other girls linked arms with him, marching him to the garage where his future waited.

  Dust kicked up as they walked the dirt path. The sun warmed his back, and some sort of bird swooped and soared on the thermals overhead. A seemingly normal day, but the next few moments would change his life forever.

  He stumbled on the threshold as he entered. A half-dozen vehicles were lined up in the center of the cavernous room, the smell of motor oil, grease, and gasoline clinging to the air. Tommy Dorsey warbled from the radio on a wooden table.

  “Hey, Doris. Someone here to see you,” the blonde called out then turned and glared at Ron. “Remember, we’ll be watching.”

  One of the figures dressed in khaki-colored coveralls extricated herself from under the hood of an ambulance and turned. Hair tucked under a bandanna with a smudge on her chin and forehead, Doris looked at him, her mouth gaping. His heart hammered in his chest. If possible, she was even more beautiful than he’d remembered.

  j

  Doris’s swallowed against the lump in her throat. Her mouth was dry, her brea
th ragged. Ron was here. Standing in front of her, his expression a mixture of contrition, hope, and dare she think it, love. He was flanked by three of her colleagues, all looking smug. Too bad Emily wasn’t here to gloat about his arrival, although she was probably the reason he was here.

  She tucked at the collar of her coveralls, suddenly snug and confining. Aware of her rumpled appearance, she frowned. Why couldn’t he show up at dinnertime, after she’d bathed and put on something flattering like a skirt and blouse? She yanked off the bandanna then raked her fingers through her hair. Her feet were rooted in place.

  “Doris—”

  “Ron—”

  Hands outstretched, he walked toward her, his steps slow and unsure. “Doris. I’ve got news.”

  “You couldn’t write a letter?” Her voice sounded harsh and unyielding, and she winced. What about giving him a second chance?

  “I wanted to see you. Needed to see you.” He stopped an arm's length away and dropped his hands. “Is there somewhere we can talk? He glanced over his shoulder at the trio who were still watching their interaction with wide-eyed, curious faces. “In private.”

  “We’ll leave, but only on your say-so, Doris,” the blonde said, her bubble gum popping.

  Doris grinned, and the muscles in her back released their grip. Nice to know the girls were so protective. She nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

  Disappointment colored their faces, but they pivoted and sauntered out of the building.

  “Thanks. I’m glad you’ve got such good friends, Doris. People who take care of you.”

  “Yeah, this has been a good assignment. The work is challenging and interesting, and the others have accepted me. We’re a close-knit group.” She cocked her head. “What’s the news you couldn’t put in a letter?”

  “Wouldn’t you rather sit down?”

  “Actually, the day is beautiful. How about if we go for a walk?”

  “I’d like that.” He clasped his hands behind his back as they made their way outside.

  She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her coveralls and sighed. The sun glinted off the blond strands of Ron’s hair and cast shadows on his angular features. He was as handsome as ever. He appeared to have lost some weight, but his shoulders were still square and broad.

  He cleared his throat. “Lieutenant Halifax has been arrested on a charge of attempted rape. The investigation uncovered incidents of lewdness and….nevermind…no need to get specific.”

  Her stomach clenched, her lunch threatening to reappear. “How awful for her. She must be suffering terribly. I’ll pray for her.”

  “Always thinking of others, aren’t you? The director sends his apologies for his handling of your report, and he has stricken all references to inappropriate behavior on your part from your official record. In fact, he plans to submit a letter of commendation for your exemplary conduct under duress.”

  “Hoping to make up for his assumptions and pompous rejection of my claims, is he?” She shrugged. Forgive me, Father. Help me be gracious. “I’m sorry. I’m acting no better than he did.”

  “Understandable.”

  “Maybe, but Jesus would have me respond differently.” She smiled. “Thanks for coming in person to tell me. I hate that so many others were subjected to the lieutenant’s lasciviousness, but I’m glad he’s been brought to justice. We should pray for him, too, although I admit that will be somewhat harder.”

  “Listen, Doris. There’s another reason I wanted to see you. I’ve been miserable these past weeks. Every day was an eternity wondering where you were, what you were doing, and how you were holding up. I’m half a man without you. I bungled my proposal the last time. You were right to turn me down. I was trying to fix the situation. That’s not a reason to get married.”

  “You’ve changed.” She stopped and searched his face. “You’re…I don’t know how to explain it.”

  “At peace.”

  “Yes, that’s it.”

  “All thanks to you. During one of the chaplain’s sermons, I was convicted of my selfishness.” He ducked his head. “And a host of other terrible traits. I didn’t like the man I was and met with the padre to talk about it. I was already a believer, have been since I was a kid, but much like the prodigal son, I’d walked away from a real relationship with Jesus. Father White has helped me work my way back into a living, breathing bond with God.”

  “How did I do anything?”

  “You never once seemed to waver in your faith. No matter how bad things got, you seemed to cling harder to God. I remembered that while Father White was preaching, and I wanted what you had.”

  “I’m happy for you, Ron.” She crossed her arms to keep from throwing them around his neck and pressing him to her. He was a gorgeous man, but his integrity and newfound joy in the Lord were more attractive than any external appearance. Some woman would be lucky to have him. Too bad she’d let pride get in her way and run away. He was a good man to come and clear the air between them.

  “Me, too.” He reached for her hands. “But there’s one more reason I’m here.” He dropped to one knee.

  She gasped and tried to pull away. Her heart stuttered.

  He held his grip, eyes twinkling. “Doris Strealer, you are the most beautiful, inspiring, and good-hearted woman I’ve ever known. You challenge me to be a better person, to be a godly and upright man. You are on my mind when I wake up and when I go to sleep, and every moment in between. My life is a shell of what it could be without you. I love you. Will you make me the happiest man on earth and become my wife?”

  Tears sprang to her eyes. She hadn’t lost him. He loved her. He wanted to spend the rest of his days with her.

  “Doris.” His smile wavered. “Please say yes. I don’t want to wait until after the war to see how we feel. I love you now and forever, and that won’t change.”

  “Yes.” Her voice broke. “I love you, too, and don’t want to wait either.”

  He leapt to his feet and grabbed her in a bear hug, swinging her in circles as he laughed with abandon. A moment later, he set her down, a wide grin still on his face. “You’ve got your work cut out for you with this caveman.”

  She giggled. “I think God has already started the transformation.”

  “That He has.” He bent his head and pressed his lips to hers, their warmth and invitation taking her breath away.

  Her toes curled as tingles shot through her extremities, and she wrapped her arms around his neck drawing him closer. Their kiss deepened, and the sun burst from behind a cloud, heating her back. She pulled away and pointed to the gleaming ball of fire. “I think God approves.”

  “I know He does.” He tucked her head under his chin, his arms enveloping her.

  She snuggled closer and sighed. “How about a September wedding?”

  THE END

  What did you think of The Mechanic and the MD?

  Thank you so much for purchasing The Mechanic and the MD. You could have selected any number of books to read, but you chose this book.

  I hope it added encouragement and exhortation to your life. If so, it would be nice if you could share this book with your family and friends by posting to Facebook (www.facebook.com) and/or Twitter (www.twitter.com).

  If you enjoyed this book and found some benefit in reading it, I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to post a review on Amazon, Goodreads, Kobo, GooglePlay, Apple Books, or other book review site of your choice. Your feedback and support will help me to improve my writing craft for future projects and make this book even better.

  Thank you again for your purchase.

  Blessings,

  Linda Shenton Matchett

  Acknowledgments

  Although writing a book is a solitary task, it is not a solitary journey. There have been many who have helped and encouraged me along the way.

  My parents, Richard and Jean Shenton, who presented me with my first writing tablet and encouraged me to capture
my imagination with words. Thanks, Mom and Dad!

  Scribes212 – my ACFW online critique group: Valerie Goree, Marcia Lahti, and the late Loretta Boyett (passed on to Glory, but never forgotten). Without your input, my writing would not be nearly as effective.

  Eva Marie Everson – my mentor/instructor with Christian Writers’ Guild. You took a timid, untrained student and turned her into a writer. Many thanks!

  SincNE, and the folks who coordinate the Crimebake Writing Conference. I have attended many writing conferences, but without a doubt, Crimebake is one of the best. The workshops, seminars, panels, critiques, and every tiny aspect are well-executed, professional, and educational.

  Paula Proofreader (https://paulaproofreader.wixsite.com/home): I’m so glad I found you! My work is cleaner because of your eagle eye. Any mistakes are completely mine.

  Special thanks to Hank Phillippi Ryan, Halle Ephron, and Roberta Isleib for your encouragement and spot-on critiques of my work.

  Thanks to my Book Brigade who provide information, encouragement, and support.

  A heartfelt thank you to my brothers, Jack Shenton and Douglas Shenton, and my sister, Susan Shenton Greger for being enthusiastic cheerleaders during my writing journey. Your support means more than you’ll know.

  My husband, Wes, deserves special kudos for understanding my need to write. Thank you for creating my writing room – it’s perfect, and I’m thankful for it every day. Thank you for your willingness to accept a house that’s a bit cluttered, laundry that’s not always done, and meals on the go. I love you.

  And finally, to God be the glory. I thank Him for giving me the gift of writing and the inspiration to tell stories that shine the light on His goodness and mercy.

  The Widow & and War Correspondent