“I don’t blame her for being upset with me. She came to my office when she was about fifteen, didn’t she?”
Evan wanted to disagree, and couldn’t, especially since Winston sounded as if he’d known it all along. “Yes, she did.”
Winston sounded tired. Defeated. “I thought so.”
“She told me the story,” Evan said, cautiously. “What happened?”
“I don’t know where to begin.” Winston sighed. “About a week before Marta arrived in my office, one of the tabloids had unearthed information about my daughter, Lily. They ran a story full of half-truths and the next thing I knew I had people coming out of the woodwork, claiming to be my lost granddaughter. They all carried proof of some sort. One girl even tried to pass off a piece of fabric that supposedly came from one of Lily’s dresses.”
“It must have been hard.”
“You can’t imagine,” Winston said wryly. “You see, years earlier I’d been told of Lily being killed in a car accident, along with her husband and newborn child. Those facts had been verified, so I sent everyone who claimed to be my grandchild away without a hearing.”
Evan could guess at the number of unscrupulous people who’d tried to capitalize on the story.
“Unfortunately, Marta was caught in the backlash. When my secretary informed me of yet another teenager who claimed she was a relative, I stormed out of my office ready to unleash the wrath of God. I’ve made grown men shiver in their socks on occasion, but not this little girl. She stood there and didn’t say a word.” His voice sounded as if he were revisiting the scene in his mind.
“Then…” he paused “…she calmly thanked me for my time, and left.”
Evan could easily imagine a young Marta squaring her shoulders, raising her chin and staring defiantly at the man who’d taken away her hopes and dreams.
Winston cleared his throat. “The incident stayed with me for years. When I received the newspaper article a few months ago, I hired another investigator. To my surprise, he discovered that my daughter hadn’t been killed in a car accident. If the man I’d originally employed hadn’t died in the interim, I would have ruined him.”
Winston didn’t issue idle threats, and he was upset enough to follow through.
“Of course, this confirmed what Marta had told me.” His voice grew husky. “My granddaughter had actually come to me and I’d turned her away. To my utter regret, I had no way of finding her.”
“Don’t lose hope yet,” Evan said, hating to hear the defeat in Winston’s tone. “Give me time. She’ll come around.” It didn’t hurt to remain optimistic.
“I don’t know. She may not ever forgive me.”
“’It’s not over till it’s over,”’ Evan quoted.
“I realize she won’t talk to me, so would you pass along a message? Tell her how sorry I am?”
“I will.”
“Good.” Winston’s voice grew stronger. “How is life in New Hope? If I recall, it isn’t a booming town.”
“No, it’s not, which is OK because it gives me time to myself.”
“Have you reached any decisions about your career yet?”
“No decisions, but I haven’t missed the dinner parties where my job was to collect bank drafts.”
Then again, he knew the importance of those donations to people like Charlie Zindel. Was he being selfish to look after his wants rather than doing what would benefit the most people?
“The answer will come in due time,” Winston predicted. “You’ll know when you know which way to go.”
Evan grinned. “I’m counting on it.”
“You’ll keep me posted on the situation with Marta?”
“Wild horses couldn’t stop me.” He might have to edit his report, but he’d pass along news of his progress.
“Oh, and, Evan?” Winston asked. “I appreciate what you did—trying to protect my feelings.”
Evan smiled. “You’ve always been too smart for your own good.”
“However,” Winston said sternly, “if you ever do it again, I’ll have your mother ground you for a month of Sundays.”
Evan laughed at the familiar but empty threat. “You always did know how to keep me in line.”
Winston chuckled. “Just don’t forget it.”
As he snapped the phone closed, Evan realized how Winston had always treated him and his parents as part of the family rather than as employees. Clearly the Gallaghers had filled the void Winston experienced in his life while Marta had allowed the people of New Hope to fill hers.
If only he could get Marta to enjoy the same easygoing relationship with her grandfather that he did. He wanted it not just for Winston’s happiness but because Marta was becoming more important to him than he’d ever expected or imagined possible.
He admired her for her strength in adversity, for her loyalty toward the people in New Hope and for her genuine concern for those in her charge. Her generosity of spirit went bone-deep, which was why he believed her attitude toward her grandfather could be softened.
It had to change. Otherwise, he’d be forced to choose between the two people who meant as much to him as his own parents.
He only had one option. He had to pull Marta back into the circle where she belonged.
Oddly enough, Marta felt as if unburdening herself had taken a huge weight off her shoulders. At least Evan now understood and would respect her wishes. She’d taken enough psychology classes to know, however, that at some point in the future those shadows in her past would have to be confronted and the ghosts exorcised.
In the meantime, she’d live for the moment and enjoy each day as it came.
“You’re mighty chipper this morning,” Ros said as Marta sailed through the door on Monday. “Must have been a great weekend.”
“It certainly wasn’t boring,” Marta admitted, thinking of her evening with Evan and her gab session with her sisters.
“Now aren’t you glad I arranged for you to give Dr Gallagher a ride?”
“Will it go to your head if I agree?”
Ros grinned. “Probably, but do it anyway.”
“We had a very nice time.”
“‘Nice’ sounds so…insipid,” Ros said. “Can’t you think of any better adjectives? Like wonderful, stupendous or the-best-night-of-my-life?”
“Let’s not get carried away,” Marta protested. “I had a nice time. Period.” Those hours spent at the park had become infinitely precious and she wasn’t ready to share them with anyone, not even her best friend.
Ros motioned toward Marta’s burden. “Speaking of being carried, what’s in the basket?”
“I made my Mexican casserole yesterday, so I thought Evan might help me with the leftovers. You’re welcome to join us.”
“Sorry. Two’s company and three’s a crowd.”
“No, really. I have plenty.”
Ros shook her head. “I can’t. Other plans. Abe’s taking me out.”
“You finally agreed to go?”
Ros shrugged. “He’s bugged me for so long, I felt sorry for him. Don’t read anything into it.”
“If you won’t read anything into me sharing a home-cooked meal with Evan.”
“It’s a deal. Did your sisters stay for the weekend?”
“Yeah. They left yesterday.” Marta changed the subject. “What’s on the schedule for today?”
“From the looks of things, I hope you’ll have time to enjoy your casserole,” Ros said. “You’re booked solid.”
Considering she handled a lot of screening procedures, physical exams and check-ups to monitor medication, she usually was busy. “Evan, too?”
“He won’t be twiddling his thumbs,” Ros declared.
“Then we’d better get started. Is he here?”
“In the office.” Ros glanced at the clock. “You have about ten minutes before your first patient.”
Marta placed the food in the kitchenette’s refrigerator and headed down the corridor, feeling somewhat uneasy but also eager to se
e Evan. He hadn’t wanted to leave her alone after she’d unburdened herself, and he’d reluctantly agreed to do so after she’d reminded him of her sisters being in town. Had they been gone, she wouldn’t have hesitated to accept his offer.
Thinking of how many times she’d reassured him, of how many times he’d encouraged her to call regardless of the hour, she smiled. Being the strong one in the family, the one who kept things together by sheer will and looked after the others, it was nice to be on the receiving end of someone’s concern.
She stood on the threshold, hating to break his obvious concentration. Instead, she took the opportunity to look her fill. He wore clothes she’d seen before, but somehow he seemed different. Probably because today she saw him through different eyes.
A small lock of hair hung down on his forehead as he pored over the page in his hand. His eyebrows were furrowed and he appeared deep in thought.
Staring at his full lips, she wished he’d kissed her last night. Just thinking about pressing her mouth to his, feeling his skin touch hers and having his unique scent surround her, it sent an anticipatory quiver down her spine.
Evan raised his head and a slow smile slid across his features. “Hi. How are you?”
Marta knew he wasn’t asking about her physical health. “I’m fine,” she said, entering with a smile. “Getting an early start?”
“Yeah. I’m trying to figure out why Mrs Lopez continues to exhibit signs of hypertension. All of her urinary tests came back within normal limits.”
“So what’s next? Medication?”
He frowned. “I hate to resort to medication at her age, but we’ve ruled out everything else. I wonder now if we missed something. She’s not taking any other medicine, is she?”
“None that I’ve prescribed.”
He shrugged. “Maybe something will jump out at me during her appointment.”
“Let’s hope so.”
Before Marta could ask about his other patients, she heard the familiar buzzer. “There’s our signal,” she said. “I’ll see who’s here. Oh, before I forget, I brought lunch, if you’d care to join me.”
His grin sent her stomach into a flip-flop. “It’s a date.”
Marta greeted Monica with mild weariness and ushered her into the closest room.
“I just can’t catch my breath,” Monica rasped. “And I feel like I’m choking. You have to do something.”
“I’ll do my best.” She quickly took care of the basics, then listened carefully to the woman’s chest.
No rattles, no wheezes, nothing. This was one time when Marta wished for an X-ray unit. She slung her stethoscope around her neck. “Your temp is normal, your pulse is a little fast, but your lungs sound clear.”
“Really?” Monica appeared surprised. “But I can’t breathe and can hardly swallow.”
“What did you eat last?”
“My usual bowl of bran flakes and strawberries.”
Marta jumped on a possibility. “Are you allergic to strawberries or other foods?”
“Not at all,” Monica declared. “I don’t even have hay fever.”
Marta was truly stymied and needed a second opinion. Thank goodness she had a physician on site for situations like this. “I’m going to ask Dr Gallagher to see you.”
Monica frowned. “I won’t have to pay extra, will I?”
Marta hid a smile. “No.”
“Then I suppose it’s OK.”
Marta slipped from the room with her notes. “I’ve got a case for you,” she said as soon as she entered their office. “Monica Taylor.”
He leaned back in the chair. “The lady who comes in every week?” At Marta’s nod, he asked, “What’s her story today?”
“She says she can’t breathe and has difficulty in swallowing. Her temp is normal, along with everything else. Her lungs sound clear. I thought it might be allergy-related, but she says she’s never reacted to anything before.”
“What about asthma?”
“Not so far. Would you mind…?”
He rose, and she added, “Don’t forget your sunglasses.”
“Sunglasses?”
“She’s wearing hot pink and fluorescent green.”
He grinned. “Thanks for the warning.” Inside Monica’s room, he introduced himself and began what Marta considered a thorough exam.
“I’m really enjoying my stay in New Hope,” he mentioned casually to his patient. “It seems like such a nice place to raise a family. Did you raise yours here?”
“Yes. The mister and I had three children. Two girls and a boy.”
“Are they still in town?”
“Oh, no. They’ve all moved away.”
“Any grandchildren?”
“Two. My oldest girl had twin boys. They live in Colorado Springs.”
Marta watched Evan painstakingly take Monica’s pulse, recheck her temperature, look in her ears, nose and throat, and listen to her chest. Maybe he would find something she’d overlooked.
He smiled and continued without missing a beat of their conversation. “What about your other two children?”
“The middle girl lives in Garden City, and my son is in Wichita.”
“They’re not too far away, then,” he said. “I’ll bet they come home often.”
“No, they don’t.”
“People are busy these days,” he said. “It’s hard to take a trip, especially if the children are involved in a lot of activities.”
“Bobbi and Reed don’t have kids. They don’t come home unless they need money. I told them not to bother if that was all they wanted me for.”
Marta suddenly formed a suspicion about Monica’s mysterious illnesses. Evan’s eyes gleamed with a similar awareness.
“Maybe if you invited them for a visit,” Marta suggested. “For your birthday or another special occasion.”
“We’ll see.” She peered at Evan. “So, why can’t I breathe?”
Evan glanced at Marta. “Do we have a PulmoAide?”
“Yes,” she said slowly, understanding his request but not the reason for it.
“Good. Mrs Taylor, I want to try something. Marta will prepare a solution of medicine for you to inhale—a breathing treatment like you’d get at the hospital. After twenty minutes, let’s see how you’re feeling.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
Marta followed Evan out of the room. “What do you mean by giving her an inhalation treatment? There’s nothing wrong with her!”
“You and I both know it, but she doesn’t.”
“We can’t treat her for a non-existent condition.”
“I’m not treating her. I’m conducting a test. I think she’s experiencing a panic attack. Fill the nebulizer with normal saline. If she can breathe easier by the time she’s finished, her problem is psychological.”
“It’s worth a try,” she said. “What made you think of mentioning her family?”
“I couldn’t find a physical problem. After what Mrs Taylor said, I think she wants us to find something seriously wrong with her so her children will come home. She’s probably trying to see where their loyalties are—with her or her bank account. All of which explains why she presents with a new symptom every week. If I’m right, I’ll encourage her to seek counseling.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to contact her daughter?”
“Yes, but we can’t,” Evan said. “Mrs Taylor is mentally competent to care for herself. If we discuss her medical condition with her family without her permission, we’re asking for a lawsuit.”
Marta shook her head in amazement. “OK. You’re the doctor. I just hope your diagnosis is right.”
He grinned. “Me, too.”
As he’d predicted, twenty minutes later Monica was all smiles. “What was wrong with me?” she asked Evan. “Can I get one of those machines at home?”
“I’m afraid your breathing problem was more emotional than physical,” he said kindly. “Don’t feel bad. A lot of people suffer panic attacks when they’re un
der stress.”
“Emotional? Panic attack?” Monica grew angry. “I’m not going crazy!”
“I didn’t say you were,” Evan said. “Sometimes people get burdened down with their thoughts, and as a result they experience symptoms like those you’ve described. I’d recommend professional counseling.”
“Counseling? Could I see someone here in town?”
Marta interrupted. “The agency nearest us is in Liberal.”
Monica frowned. “Too far.” Her face brightened. “I know. I’ll talk to my minister. He’s got all these fancy initials after his name.”
“Good idea,” Evan said before he sent Monica on her way.
“Do you honestly think her minister will help her?” asked Marta.
“Who knows? She needs to talk to someone, and if the choice is a man of the cloth or no one at all, I’ll take my chances.”
“I guess you’re right. I wonder if she’ll be back next week?” Marta asked.
“It’s hard to say. Until she deals with her family problems, she’ll continue having symptoms. The question is, will she see you or her pastor?”
“I’d better bone up on my psychiatric nursing.”
He grinned. “You guessed it.”
After several other minor cases, Juanita Lopez was next in line. Marta escorted her into the room while Evan explained her test results.
“Everything we’ve done has been normal,” he told her.
Juanita stared up at him as she sat on the exam table. “This is good news, no?”
“Yes, it is. Unfortunately, I still don’t know what’s causing your high blood pressure,” he admitted. “Are you taking any other medication?”
“Pills?” she asked.
“Yes.”
Juanita slowly shook her head. “No. No pills.”
“What about over-the-counter medicine?” Marta thought of all the products on the drug-store shelves. Vitamins, minerals, herbs. “Are you taking any herbal supplements?”
Juanita’s face brightened. “Herbs. Si. Rosemary.”
“Rosemary?” Marta turned to Evan. “Does it have any side-effects?”
He gave her a tight smile. “Oh, yes.”
“I have not had any problems,” Juanita boasted. “The rosemary, it is wonderful. My cousin, she tells me how two cups of rosemary tea a day helps the hair to grow and stop falling out so I use it for this. I also put the oil in the bath to help stiff muscles after working in the garden.”
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