by Kay Lyons
“Melissa, sweetheart…please try to understand.”
She blinked back tears, refusing to give in to them. Her father had found his companion. She should be happy for him.
Shifting sideways along the sink until she stared down at the dirty dishes, Melissa found herself thankful for something to busy her hands. She grabbed the utensils and coffee mugs, putting them in the dishwasher, thoughts sliding in and out of her mind faster than she could identify them.
“I should’ve told you. It’s come as a shock, huh?”
“Yeah, it has. I guess I never thought of you dating someone else. There was just you and Mom.” She laughed softly. “That sounds really self-absorbed, doesn’t it?”
“It sounds like you had your own problems to deal with.”
Yeah, she’d had problems. And through it all, he’d taken care of her. But who had taken care of him? “I just never—”
“Because it didn’t happen, Mel. Since your mama’s been gone, I haven’t dated anyone seriously.”
She turned to stare at him in surprise. Her mom had been gone nearly thirteen years.
“You’re thinking in terms of a relationship and that’s something I haven’t experienced since your mother. I’ve had a date or two, but nothing meaningful or long-term,” he admitted, head down. “I couldn’t because…I wasn’t ready.”
“So all these years…”
His eyes were bloodshot and filled with undeniable emotion. “All these years I’ve grieved, Melissa. I loved her and always will, but I’m done mourning now. I’m ready to move on and I want to do that with Ellen.” A bittersweet smile touched his lips before a dark scowl closed in. “What I’m not sure about is why you’d even consider working for that man. Honey, I know you need a job, but are you seriously going to work for that—for Dr. Love?”
She wrinkled her nose at the nickname. When Bryan had first moved back to town, she’d been dating Nathan, going to college and working. Then she’d been diagnosed with breast cancer, and her focus changed to that of dealing with the anger and the fear and the fallout. She’d been drop-kicked into cancer hell and it had ruined everything.
Life as she’d known it had ground to a halt. Cancer hadn’t allowed her to finish college, had ended her relationship with Nathan and required she quit her job because she just didn’t have the energy or ability to perform it. One after another the blocks of her life fell, tumbling beneath the weight of her illness.
“Mel?”
“Yeah,” she heard herself say, “I am.” She’d heard the gossip. It was impossible not to considering how much time she’d spent at the hospital undergoing consults and checkups. Treatments. The nurses, the doctors, the aids. Everyone had a story to tell about Bryan’s antics with legions of willing women who took one look at his model-beautiful appearance and melted at his feet. He was a player, a one-night-stand wonder. “He’s not hiring me because he’s interested in me, Dad.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Seriously?” She pulled herself from her thoughts with a self-deprecating grin. “Get real. Bryan Booker has his choice of women fawning all over him. He wouldn’t want someone like me.”
Moving faster than she’d ever seen him move, her father closed the distance between them, gripped her shoulders and slid one hand to her chin to tilt her face up to his. “You are a beautiful young woman. Nathan might not have been able to handle things, but your mother had the same surgery and we—”
“Stop!” Melissa closed her eyes in a grimace and raised both her hands in a pleading gesture. “Stop, Dad, please. I mean it, do not give me any more mental images to deal with today. Walking in on you and the social worker was a sight I’ll never be able to obliterate from my brain. Besides,” she continued when her father released a gruff laugh chock-full of embarrassment, “you are a special man and what you and Mom had was special.” Opening her eyes, she blinked up at him. “Don’t you remember?”
His hands dropped to his sides. “Of course I remember.” The scowl returned, making him look older. “The point is, there are men out there who’d understand what you’ve gone through if you’d only give them a chance.”
She smiled drily. “We’ll just have to agree to disagree there. I think Nathan is a more accurate example of the male species.” She shrugged, looking away. “I understand why he backed off, and I don’t blame him.”
“Mel—”
“But it doesn’t matter because I’m not ready for that, and if I were,” she emphasized before he could interrupt her again, “we’ve both heard of Dr. Booker’s reputation. He’d be the last person I’d choose and I’m quite sure Bryan feels the same way about me. For pity’s sake, we used to dare each other to eat worms.”
Her father studied her closely. “So long as you’re aware of the talk.”
“I am, and you have nothing to worry about,” she stated firmly. “Who knows if I’ll even get the job, or accept it if I do? Now, can we get back to what caused these sudden realizations?” She raised a brow, hugged her arms around her stomach and tried to release the tension in her neck and shoulders because she knew it was bad for her. “You’re dating again… Are you using birth control?”
“Mel!” Eyes wide and horrified, her dad turned away, his strides carrying him swiftly to the other side of the room. “You can’t talk to your old man that way.”
She’d rattled him. Good. Maybe it would get his focus off her. “You’re only forty-seven. Everyone knows men can produce—”
“I am not having this conversation with my daughter.” He groaned long and low. “It was bad enough when I realized I hadn’t had it with you. Now you’re trying to give me the sex talk?”
She laughed softly, amazed at what time and distance could do to otherwise pain-filled memories. “Fair’s fair.”
“Hey, Chief!” Nathan’s booming voice echoed through the building and bounced off the walls. “Mayor’s here! Mel, where’s that spatula? My burgers are burnin’!”
Her father’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Thank you, God. Mel, we’ll talk more later. Duty calls.”
She shook her head while watching him rush from the room. “Saved by the bellow,” she murmured, opening a drawer and retrieving the spatula Nathan needed. Gripping it tight, she smirked. Maybe she could hand it to him without slapping it upside his head. Then again—maybe not.
* * *
BRYAN WOULD’VE LIKED to talk with Melissa more about the interview and position, but found himself back in his practice within moments of stepping outside the police station. A child running across the pavement had tripped and fallen, colliding with another on the way down. Both kids needed stitches and he’d instructed the parents to bring them to his office.
He patched up the second child’s head one stitch at a time to minimize scarring and wanted the long day to be over. His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t had dinner…or lunch. “Almost done, buddy. You’re doing great.”
The little boy sniffled softly, big tears rolling out of the corners of his eyes. The kid’s mom comforted the child, allowing Bryan to complete two more stitches before tying off the special thread. He added clear bandage cream to the top and straightened.
“Done,” he said, winking. “And since you held still and allowed your friend to go first, I think you deserve a treat.”
The boy looked to his mother and she smiled. “Don’t forget to say thank you.”
“Thank you,” the kid repeated dutifully, knuckling his eyes.
Bryan smiled and pulled off his gloves, moving to the cabinet across the room where he kept stickers and candy stashed on the top shelf. “Think you’ll ever forget to tie those shoelaces again?”
The boy’s dark head jerked back and forth. “Stupid shoes.”
A noise in the doorway drew his attention, and Bryan turned to see Melissa standing outside. An anxious expression crossed her face, her startling blue eyes solemn.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. The door was unlocked.”
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“You’re not intruding. We’re done, right, buddy?” Bryan handed the boy a handful of stickers and a sour candy before lifting him from the exam table. After giving the mom a few instructions, the woman and child hurried out of the room and then he and Melissa were alone.
She shifted nervously and shoved her hands into her back pockets, the move stretching the material of her loose T-shirt a little more snugly across her chest. Bryan tried hard not to notice.
What was her treatment? A lumpectomy? Maybe a mastectomy? It wasn’t any of his business, but having spent his residency in one of the top cancer-treatment centers in the country, the doctor in him was curious.
“So…did you mean it?”
His eyebrows rose. No niceties, no small talk. Definitely not a flirtatious tone. Just straight to the point though a bit shy. He liked it. Her behavior was quite a change from the norm, a reminder of the girl he’d known. “The job is very real, and so is my offer of an interview.” He began putting the medical supplies away. “How did the toy drive go? Does Santa have a big haul?”
“The bin was filled three times at last count.” She moved over to where he stood and picked up the liquid numbing agent, handing the bottle to him. “But the, um, guys got called out on a domestic-violence run, and Ellen Morton left to take one of her elderly cases to the hospital.”
He glanced her way. “Any names mentioned?”
Melissa lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “My dad said something about Crimshaw Road. I…didn’t talk to Ms. Morton much.”
After witnessing Melissa’s earlier surprise firsthand, Bryan wasn’t about to touch that subject. He finished putting the supplies away in a cabinet and yanked the paper sheeting from the table with a jerk. “Sounds like we’re all having a busy night. Does this mean you’re interested in the job?”
She stared at him as though measuring his words. “Actually…I came to say thank you.”
“For what?”
A brief smile touched her lips. “Because you heard them,” she stated bluntly, “saw my not-so-subtle reaction and guessed my pride had me lying about the lead I mentioned—which I was. But you backed me up anyway. Thanks.”
Bryan smiled. “What are friends for? Anyone else would’ve done the same.”
“Maybe. The problem is that I don’t want a job offer because you feel sorry for me. So thanks, but I’m sure I’ll find something else soon.”
“Melissa, wait.” Bryan caught her arm before she could leave the room. Maybe he did feel sorry for her, but he certainly wasn’t about to confirm it, not when pity was obviously the last thing she wanted. Acutely aware of how delicate she felt beneath his palm, he released her. “I feel sorry for me, okay? I just spent the last two hours patching up a couple squirming kids, and both parents left without paying me even though I saved them a trip to the E.R. in Baxter.”
She blinked. “Really? They just left?”
He put the last of the supplies away. “Yeah. Maybe they’ll stop by Monday to settle up, but who knows? It doesn’t matter because I don’t know how to enter payments into the computer system, and I haven’t had any luck with the temp agency.”
“You sound desperate.”
He felt the heat of her stare and noted how her eyes had narrowed and her arms were crossed over her front. Unease slid over him and he knew exactly what she was going to ask next.
“So this job offer has nothing to do with you feeling bad about being the one to tell me how…my baby really died?”
Chapter 3
BRYAN LEVELED his gaze on hers and frowned. “No.”
“No?” Her chin lifted. “What about my medical history, then? Does that bother you?”
He leaned against the exam table, his temper rising because of the challenge he heard in her voice. If she didn’t want the job, fine. All the better for him. Being around her, knowing what she’d experienced, brought back too many memories. “You couldn’t have prevented Josie’s death,” he murmured, focusing on her questions and shoving the past away. “Too many factors played into her reaction to the medication, none of which were in your control. Your health, her premature birth. I imagine you and Joe will always maintain a certain feeling of guilt as Josie’s parents, but you couldn’t have done anything differently. Guilt is like that. All-consuming,” he stated knowledgeably. “And while I’m sorry your baby girl died, that’s not why I offered you the interview. As to your other question, what kind of doctor would I be if your cancer diagnosis didn’t bother me?”
“I meant—”
“But I wouldn’t not hire you because of it,” he stated firmly. “Melissa, I have a business to run and patients to care for and I can’t help but think that your experiences will give you a little more patience and empathy in comparison to some of the others I’ve interviewed.”
“I… hadn’t thought of it that way. Thank you,” she murmured dazedly, blinking. “I’d like to think it would, too.”
“I take it the diagnosis has kept other potential employers from hiring you?”
She nodded, her teeth sinking into her lower lip, her blue eyes soft, untrusting, and yet hopeful. It was the hope that got to him.
“They can’t come out and say it, of course, but I think so.”
When insurance plans were a factor, probably so.
Ellen had no right to dump this—her—on him, but he only had himself to blame. For not saying no, for letting the battle-weary hope in Melissa’s eyes remind him of someone else. He should send her on her way, ignore Ellen, but he couldn’t and he knew it.
Bryan shoved himself off the exam table and kept going, conscious she followed him into the waiting area. Facing her, he indicated the front desk with a hand.
Her eyes widened at the sight of the mess.
“This isn’t an easy job. My last full-time person updated the computer system before she quit, and I’m no help at all figuring it out. Janice Reynolds is my R.N., but she only handles patients, not the phones, the filing or the insurance forms that have to be submitted. You’d handle those administrative responsibilities and take charge of planning a major fund-raiser that’ll require working extra hours. And you’d earn every penny I pay you and all the benefits provided. Are you interested?”
“Getting insurance for me won’t be cheap.”
No, it wouldn’t.
“What’s the fund-raiser for?”
“An urgent-care clinic. Too many people have suffered irreversible damage from their injuries during the drive to Baxter. With a clinic, they could be stabilized and then sent on to the hospital or better yet, not have to make the trip at all.”
She nibbled her lower lip. “Any estimate of cost?”
“A million to start.”
“You’re serious.”
“Very.” Bryan waited, torn between wanting her to refuse and recognizing Melissa might well be his only hope of getting his office under control again. During their conversation, Melissa hadn’t once sent him any coy glances, hadn’t flirted or murmured come-ons. Nothing.
And her cancer?
Once again Bryan blocked the memories trying to surface, the pain that demanded he take a step back and keep Melissa as far away from him as possible. If he hired her, she would be an employee, he reminded himself. Nothing else. “Are you still interested after seeing and hearing what you’d be getting yourself into?”
“Yes.”
He wasn’t expecting that as her answer. “Then how about a trial run? A few weeks from now if this is working out for both of us, fine. If not, we’ll go our separate ways with no hard feelings and two weeks’ severance?” He added the latter for his conscience’s sake.
The muscles of Melissa’s throat worked as she swallowed. Bryan waited and watched, aware of how her eyes projected her thoughts. Her eagerness to dive in and get started on the challenge he’d just tossed out.
“The, um, position—is it hourly or salary?”
He stated the specifics and waited again.
Another blink. Her ey
ebrows pulled together in a frown, but then she squared her shoulders and nodded. “I’ll take it.”
Bryan smiled despite the uncertainty pouring through him. “Then I guess I’ll see you on Monday.”
* * *
HAL BANGED on the door of Dr. Booker’s practice with the frustration of a man who had better things to do. Like find the slime-ball punk who considered the girl in his arms a punching bag. “Booker, open up!”
He heard the sound of running footsteps across the floor of the old house, the chirp of an alarm being disarmed and a lock sliding free. He was relieved the doc was home instead of out partying around town. The rumors had the number of women Booker was involved with in the double digits.
Finally the door swung open. “Is this the domestic-violence case?”
Hal didn’t ask how Booker knew. He simply nodded and stepped inside carefully, trying not to jostle the young woman sagging against him. The girl’s dark hair was caked with blood, her delicate features and stare stark with pain. “She refused to go to the hospital, but if she checks out okay, Ellen said she could spend the night at her place.”
“I want to go home,” the girl gasped, her voice reedy and high.
“What’s your name?” Booker asked.
“Anna…Anna Pritchard.”
Hal half carried the young woman into the first exam room and, together with the doc, helped her onto the table. “I’ll wait in the hall.” He left the small room, but positioned himself on the wall outside the open door so he could hear everything that took place inside.
“I changed my mind. I want to go home,” she repeated, her clenched teeth making her words slur together. “M-my boyfriend will take care of me.”
“Let me treat you first. It’ll only take a little while.” When she didn’t protest, Booker got to work. “Anna, what happened to you?”
“Nothing. I—I tripped over something and fell.”
The doc paused long enough to slide his patient a disbelieving glance before going back to what he’d been doing. “Must’ve been some fall. Anna, we know of a safe place for you to stay tonight. Or maybe you’d like us to call your parents? A friend?” Booker checked her eyes with a mini-light, his protective rubber gloves tinged with the girl’s blood.
