A Mother's Special Care

by Jessica Matthews

  “Sorry.” She exchanged a smile with Mac but didn’t say another word.

  Ten minutes later, another huge clap of thunder reverberated through the house seconds after lightning had flashed. This time, the overhead lights flickered before the power went out.

  Both Ronnie and Corey groaned. “Just when we were getting to a good part.”

  “I’m sure the electricity will come back on in a few minutes,” Lori said. “Be patient.”

  The rain beat against the roof hard enough to make speech impossible. Five minutes later, Lori was afraid their power outage might last longer than she’d expected.

  “Everybody stay where you are while I find some candles,” she said. She stuck out her hand to feel her way and she touched a warm, solid chest when there should have been air.

  Lori gasped and pulled back her hand.

  “It’s only me,” Mac said with a distinct chuckle in his voice. “Do you have a flashlight?”

  “Yes,” she said, willing her heart rate to more normal levels, “but I’m not sure if the batteries might be flat.”

  “I have one in my car. I’ll get it.”

  “Wait,” she told him. “By the time I light the candles, the electricity will come on. It happens every time.”

  She fumbled her way to the kitchen and found the box of matches on top of the refrigerator. A flash of lightning lit her path back to the living room where she kept three decorative candles. A stroke of a match later, they’d chased most of the darkness into the corners.

  “We’re all set,” she said brightly.

  “Can Corey and I take one to my bedroom?” Ronnie asked. “I want to show him this book I found at the library.”

  “I’ll carry it for you so you don’t burn yourself,” Lori said. A few minutes later, after setting the scented candle jar on top of Ronnie’s tall dresser for safekeeping, she returned to the living room where she found Mac gathering the cups and bowls.

  “You don’t have to do that,” she protested.

  “Considering how dark it is in here, the chance of spills is rather high.”

  “Yes, but I’ll get it.” It unnerved her to have him perform such a domestic task for her when Glenn had refused to be bothered. He’d always left the household tasks, no matter how minor, to her. “You’re in charge of the inside,” he’d told her. Of course, the outside chores of mowing the lawn and taking out the trash had fallen into her domain as well, mainly because he’d simply been “too busy”.

  She stacked the cups and bowls, then carried her cargo to the kitchen counter with only a glimmer of light from the living room to guide her. As she turned to retrace her steps, she hit an immovable object.

  “Whoa,” Mac said as he gripped her arms to keep her from falling.

  “I’m sorry,” she said as her pulse raced in response to his touch. “I didn’t realize you were behind me.”

  “I didn’t think you did.”

  His hold lessened once she found her feet, but he didn’t release her. A quiver of anticipation slid down her spine.

  “Did you need something?” she asked, conscious of his breath mingling with hers.

  “Yes, I do.”

  Before she could understand what he was talking about, he kissed her.

  CHAPTER SIX

  LATER, Lori would attribute her actions as a freak side effect of the storm, but at that moment it was as if the kisses she’d imagined had magically become reality.

  Part of her mind tried to explain how this was an accident, a case of their heads being in the right place at the right time, but as the seconds passed and Mac’s mouth never left hers, she gave up that argument.

  He may not have purposely intended to kiss her, but he obviously didn’t mind continuing.

  Neither did she.

  She melted against him and something in the dim recesses of her head noticed how he pulled her tightly against his body as if he were trying to mold her full length to his.

  This feeling of finding her other half had been what she’d wanted, what she’d craved as long as she could remember.

  Surely he noticed the electricity surging between them. Surely he noticed the connection that bound them on an emotional level. And surely he noticed that she held nothing back in the way she responded to his gentle assault on her senses.

  The power clicked on without warning and what had been so magical, so real, suddenly couldn’t stand up under the light. The mood disappeared with the darkness and frustration filled her at the poor timing. Mac released her—rather abruptly, she thought—and stepped back as a full range of emotions flashed across his face. An instant later, his professionally calm demeanor covered all of them.

  She should say something—anything—but nothing came to mind. 91

  “Lori,” he began, his gaze riveted to hers, but Ronnie’s voice from the other room interrupted.

  “Mom, Mac,” she called impatiently. “The TV’s back on so we can watch the rest of the movie.”

  Lori turned, ready to join them, but Mac caught her arm. “Don’t wait for us,” he said loudly. “We’ll catch up later.”

  They were obviously happy to comply because Lori didn’t hear any objection.

  “Lori,” he said again. “I just want to say—”

  “Please, don’t,” she said, shaking her head for emphasis as she distanced herself from him by several feet. “I already know what it is.”

  “Somehow, I don’t think—”

  “You’re going to explain how it was a horrible mistake and how sorry you are. I can see it in your eyes.”

  “I’m not sorry.”

  She didn’t believe him, no matter how sincere he looked. “You’re not? Then what was that look of shocked horror all about?”

  Mac ran one hand through his hair. “I’ll admit I was surprised. I didn’t expect the chemistry to be so…”

  “Strong?”

  “Yes. I didn’t plan for this to happen, but you were there and the moment seemed right…Corey suggested that we get married.”

  “What?” The shift in conversation made Lori feel as if she’d missed something important.

  “This afternoon, Corey suggested we get married.”

  “So that’s what this was about? Your attempt to see if we were compatible?” She didn’t know if she should be amused or angry, but the more she thought about it, the idea of punching him appealed to her. “Did I pass your test?”

  “This wasn’t a test. It was something that I wanted to do.”

  “Because Corey planted the idea?”

  “No.” He didn’t hesitate. “I wanted to kiss you because you’re a beautiful woman.”

  As confessions went, it made her feel slightly better. “And what do you want to happen next?”

  “If you think about it…” He spoke tentatively. “Corey’s suggestion makes perfect sense.”

  She stared at him, not bothering to hide her shock. “How?”

  “We’re practically a family now. You look after the kids after school, help them with their homework. We eat dinner together every night. That’s more than a lot of households do, or so I hear. I’d love to have a daughter like Ronnie, and Corey thinks the world of you.”

  “I think he’s a special kid, too, but marriage?” The suggestion was so unexpected, she could hardly take it in. Circumstances being what they were, she vacillated between being flattered and frightened. After rushing into her first marriage and living to regret it, she refused to repeat her mistake. This time she had Ronnie to consider, too, which forced her to be even more cautious.

  “It would be a good decision for all of us,” he told her. “Ronnie gets the father she wants, and neither of us will shoulder the burden of single parenting. We’ll be a team.”

  His offer sounded good. Too good, in fact, and that scared her. Tying the knot with Glenn had been a practical decision, but she didn’t want practical. She wanted a hot and heavy love affair. She’d clung to her dream for so long that she simply couldn’t comprom
ise or discard it so easily.

  “If you’re worried about the time I’d spend with you, then don’t. Things will get better as soon as we hire another person or two.”

  He was right, but months could pass before that happened. “I don’t deny that the children will benefit from having two parents, but my finances aren’t in such dire straits that I need a wedding ring to take care of them. I’ll take care of my debts whether I’m married or single.” She studied him with curiosity. “You haven’t said what you get out of this arrangement.”

  “Peace of mind. Companionship.”

  Someone to count on. He didn’t say it, but she remembered it from a previous conversation. “What, exactly, do you mean by companionship?”

  He met her gaze headon. “Someone to talk to, to share my day with. Considering that kiss, perhaps even a physical relationship. If you want to have one, that is.”

  Perhaps he could satisfy his natural urges without emotional entanglement, but she couldn’t. “What about love?”

  “Respect and mutual appreciation is just as important,” he insisted. “Think of this as a business decision.”

  “Ah-h,” she said slowly. “I get it. You can’t find a housekeeper, so now you’re willing to marry one. And if you get a bed partner, why, that’s even better.”

  He frowned, clearly frustrated. “You’re looking at this wrong.”

  She crossed her arms. “Then, please, straighten out my warped thinking.”

  “This is a win-win situation for everyone. We all get something we want.”

  “Except love.”

  Mac opened his mouth, then closed it with a snap.

  She softened her tone. “I realize this is difficult for you to understand, but I want a marriage based on love and commitment, not one based on how much money is in your bank account or the fact that my daughter will have someone to take her to the next ‘Donuts for Dads’ breakfast.”

  “Commitment won’t be a problem. I’ll be faithful.”

  Elsa had been dead for eight years and he showed no signs of opening his heart to anyone else. Faithfulness was definitely one of Mac’s strengths. On the other hand, if he was too loyal to let go, perhaps it was more of a flaw.

  Yet if he’d said that he loved her, or had even pretended along those lines, she would have said yes. Two weeks of getting to know him wasn’t that long, but she knew all she needed to know—he was the most wonderful man she’d ever met and heaven forbid, she loved him.

  She loved him. The revelation caught Lori by surprise and she wanted to shout out with joy, but she couldn’t, just as she couldn’t share that news with Mac.

  Because he was still in love with his dead wife.

  Until that small but significant fact changed enough for him to have room in his heart for her, too, any serious relationship between them was doomed before it began. A one-sided love wouldn’t thrive, no matter what circumstances surrounded it.

  She couldn’t explain her real reasons, so she relied on the explanation she’d given him on another occasion. “I’m flattered you asked me, but I want a love that’s capable of setting off fireworks between me and my husband. I missed out the first time around. I don’t want to miss my chance again.”

  “Love can grow,” he insisted. “As for fireworks, I don’t think we have to worry about that. If one little kiss packs that much punch…”

  Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to understand that she wanted sparks borne out of love and not lust, but she let that thread drop. “What if it doesn’t grow?”

  “What guarantee do you have that you’ll find your grand passion with the next guy you meet?” he countered.

  “None,” she said quietly, aware that for her no one could make her feel like Mac did. If he didn’t love her, if he wouldn’t love her, she wouldn’t settle for anyone else, even if it meant she’d be alone for the rest of her life.

  He paused. “We’d be good together.”

  “Oh, Mac,” she wailed. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

  “Then say yes.”

  “I can’t,” she said miserably, then added, “You aren’t going to let my decision affect Corey coming over here, are you?”

  “No. Should I?”

  “Of course not,” she said impatiently. “Does he know that you were going to propose?”

  Mac shook his head.

  “Please, don’t tell him,” she begged. “He might think I’ve rejected him when I haven’t.”

  “Of course not. You only rejected his father,” he said wryly.

  Lori couldn’t stop herself from smoothing out the shirt wrinkle on Mac’s chest. “I’m not rejecting you at all. I think we’d be good together, too, but a marriage should be based on the right reasons. Tell me something, though. Did you think I’d agree?”

  “Honestly?”

  “Honestly.”

  “No. I’d hoped you would, but…” He shrugged.

  “No hard feelings?”

  He stroked her chin. “None.” A grin tugged at his mouth. “Maybe a few.”

  Ronnie and Corey appeared in the doorway. “The movie’s over,” Ronnie announced. “What can we eat?”

  Mac didn’t hesitate. “Pizza. My treat.”

  “That’s not necessary,” Lori protested. “I have meatloaf left from lunch.”

  At the two children’s groans, Mac held up his hands. “It’s three against one for pizza over meatloaf. You’re out-gunned, Mrs Ames, and outvoted.”

  The two youngsters ran into the other room, shouting with joy, while Mac hung back. “Something just occurred to me,” he began. “If we handled my suggestion democratically, you’d be outvoted like you were on the pizza issue.”

  Although he acted as if he were delivering an offhanded remark, Lori understood the polite threat.

  “You wouldn’t call for a vote.” If he did, she’d never have a moment’s peace. “Would you?”

  “I might.”

  “You’re not playing fair.”

  “There are times to play fair and there are times when a person plays to win.”

  Unfortunately, she was the one with the most to lose.

  The appearance of certain people spelled trouble, and Ruth Merriweather, St Anne’s Risk Manager, fit in that category. Mac recognized that she was only doing her job in dealing with incidents of substandard care, but it would be nice if she’d occasionally share good news instead of bad.

  He sipped his cup of coffee and scrawled his signature on the appropriate page in the chart before him. “What can I do for you today, Ruth?”

  The fifty-year-old manager was five foot nothing and could barely see over the chest-high counter. As difficult as her job was on most days, she always wore a pleasant smile. “Can we talk?”

  Mac leaned back in his chair. “What’s on your mind?”

  “I’d prefer it if we spoke privately.”

  That wasn’t a good sign. “OK.” He went to the glassed-in conference room at the center of the nurses’ station where shift reports primarily took place. With the door closed, no one could hear their discussion, but if anyone needed him, they could see where he was. “What’s up?”

  Ruth opened her file and pulled out a familiar form. “I’ve gotten another incident report.”

  “On Brad Westmann?”

  “How did you guess?” She was being facetious and they both knew it.

  “What’s he done now? Another charting error?”

  “According to the report, he failed to adequately administer enough muscle relaxant to a patient who was undergoing a cystoscopy. Apparently, the patient reacted quite violently and the urologist now has to repair his bladder.”

  Mac winced. Although the kind of situation she’d described happened, anesthetists tried to avoid it at all costs. Surgeons didn’t like their patients moving, especially not while they were inserting tubes or using sharp instruments.

  “I’ll talk to him.”

  “I’ve also received a report of an incident
where he administered a drug containing sulfite to a patient with a known allergy.”

  Mac gritted his teeth. Sulfite was a common preservative added to a large number of drugs, and for the rare patient who was allergic to this chemical, alternatives had to be found.

  “Fortunately, in this case, the patient only suffered a mild reaction. I don’t need to tell you that we might not be so lucky next time.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “We’ve established quite a file on him. I realize that nurse-anesthetists are few and far between, and you haven’t filled your last vacancy, but I’m afraid he’s becoming a liability rather than an asset to the hospital.”

  “I’ll deal with it.”

  “Good. Because, honestly, our attorneys get nervous when we see this sort of trend.”

  So do I. “I understand.” The practice of anesthesia wasn’t without risks, but minimizing them was the anesthetist’s prime concern. Slipshod work couldn’t be tolerated in this malpractice-happy climate. As much as he hated to do it, the time had come for more drastic measures than counseling and additional training sessions to solve the problem.

  Making a mental note to meet with Brad as soon as they both had a free moment, Mac headed in the direction of his first patient.

  “Good morning, Mr Collicott,” he said to his eighty-year-old patient, who was scheduled for prostate surgery. “I’m here to talk to you about your anesthesia. Your questionnaire shows you’re in good health.”

  Reed Collicott, whose graying hair had noticeably thinned, chortled. “I’m better than some folks my age, but if I was in fine shape, I wouldn’t be here, sonny.”

  “I’ll rephrase my comment. Other than your current problem, I see you’re extremely healthy,” Mac said with a smile. “You haven’t had any history of heart disease, breathing problems like asthma or emphysema?”

  “No troubles in those departments.”

  “Have you received anesthesia before?”

  “Had surgery when I was in the Navy. I was at Pearl Harbor, you know.”

  “I didn’t realize.”

  Reed grew pensive. “I remember that day just like it happened yesterday. Course, I don’t expect anyone could forget a time like that. Anyway, I got hit and had some surgery on my legs.”