He plunged his tongue into her mouth. She dropped her hands letting her coat fall to the floor, then stood on her toes to wrap her arms around his neck. God, she fit so perfectly against him, they felt like two parts of a whole finally coming together.
While their tongues did a wild dance, he slid his hands up over her bottom until he found that enticing gap of warm, smooth skin between her stretch pants and her sweater. He swept his hand up under it and found she hadn't bothered to put on a bra. He groaned deep in his throat, but before he could regain a shred of control, she started an exploration of her own. She trailed hot hands down his chest, his sides, then swept them around to his back and lower . . . .
“Doc Prescott!”
Both Blake and Janice jumped apart at the sound of Dixie's voice.
Blake groaned again as his sister burst into the house and rushed into the kitchen. The cat skidded across the hardwoods and hid under the kitchen table.
“Doc Prescott, I need you. It's Susie.”
It took Blake a second to figure out his sister was speaking to Janice, who didn't waste time correcting her.
“Slow down,” Janice spoke in a calm, reassuring voice to his sister. “Tell me what's wrong.”
Lord, he wondered how she could regain control so quickly? She trailed a shaky hand down her thigh, and he smiled. She was feeling it, too.
“It's my friend, Susie. I was walking her to the bathroom and she passed out on me. You have to help her.”
Janice picked up her coat and moved toward the front door with Dixie. Blake stepped into some shoes, grabbed his car keys and coat.
“I don't have my medical bag.”
“We'll swing by and pick it up,” Blake said.
“I'll meet y'all there.” Dixie had run out the door, down the sidewalk, and around the block before Blake had Janice in the front seat of his truck. Blake fired the ignition and put the truck in gear.
“Has your sister's friend been ill?” Janice asked.
“She has cancer. It's pretty advanced.”
They made it to Doc Prescott's in record time. Janice jumped down from the truck and ran to her car. She was back in a moment with her bag. Blake grasped her hand and helped her up. As soon as she was in, he continued down the road to the mayor's house.
When they arrived, Janice didn't wait for Blake to help her out of the truck. She hopped out of the cab before he'd brought it to a complete stop and sprinted up the sidewalk, into the house.
“Dixie?”
“Up here.”
Janice took the steps two at a time. He wasn't far behind. They found Susan, wrapped in a blanket, lying on the bedroom floor near the bathroom. Dixie was at her side, cradling Susan's head in her lap.
“How long has she been out?” Janice asked as she checked the prone woman's pulse.
“She passed out right before I came for you. Is she—”
“Her pulse is weak and thready, breathing shallow.” Janice dug in her bag for something. “How did she seem when you got here?”
Blake squatted with the women and squeezed his sister's shoulder while Janice worked.
“Weak. Like always.”
“Tell me what you know about her condition.”
Janice lifted her eyelids and shined a light in Susan's eyes.
“She has advanced breast cancer. She's known for a few months. Refused treatment because the doctors said it wouldn't cure her.”
“Has my uncle been treating her?”
“He's been trying to keep her comfortable. She's really gotten worse in the past couple of weeks.”
“Is she eating? Able to take fluids?”
“Not much.”
“We need to get her to a hospital. Blake, call an ambulance.”
“No!” Dixie grabbed Blake's arm so he couldn't move away. “No hospitals. She can go to Doc's clinic, but not the hospital. She'd never forgive me if—if I let her die in a hospital.”
“She's severely dehydrated. She needs an IV. If we don't get her the treatment she needs immediately, her condition will worsen. I'm not familiar with my uncle's clinic—”
“I'll get him from church,” Dixie said.
“I can't take her in my truck.”
“Take my car. I'll take your truck.”
Blake exchanged keys with Dixie, then lifted Susan into his arms. She weighed no more than a child. She felt so fragile. This happy, carefree woman who'd been like a sister to him shouldn't be fighting for her life. She was too damn young. The same age as Dixie.
Emotion clogged his throat as he carried her downstairs. Dixie and Janice followed. He settled her in the back seat of Dixie's Explorer with Janice, then got behind the wheel and drove the short distance to Doc Prescott's.
Blake gathered Susan in his arms and followed Janice into the clinic. He passed her and carried the unconscious woman into the large examination room. It was where Doc Prescott did the more complicated procedures. Janice was digging through drawers when Doc Prescott and his nurse, Mable, came in with Dixie and the mayor close behind.
Doc Prescott spoke to Janice as he rolled up his sleeves. “What do we have, Doctor?”
“Severe dehydration. She needs an IV. I can't find—”
“Mable, let's start a line.”
The large woman who'd been Doc Prescott's nurse for as long as Blake could remember moved Janice out of the way.
“Janice, this is my nurse, Mable Calloway. Mable, this is my niece, Dr. Janice Thornton.”
“Doctor,” the efficient nurse acknowledged Janice as she gathered the supplies she needed while Doc Prescott washed up at the sink. Janice moved to Susan's side, her hand on her wrist.
Patrick Houston had had about all he could take. He and Dixie crowded around Susan. “Doc, tell me what's going on.”
“Patrick, you and Dixie can either wait in the reception area or stand back and let us work. There'll be time for discussion later.”
Blake grabbled his sister's elbow and with a firm hand at Patrick's shoulder, urged them both back out of the way. “Do as he says.”
“Pulse fifty-four, respirations ten and shallow,” Janice said.
Blake put his arm around his sister. The fact that she leaned into him and rested her head on his shoulder was telling. His unflappable, strong, independent sister was shaken to the core.
“Let's get her some oxygen, too.”
“Yes, doctor.”
Janice took the needle and alcohol swabs from the nurse. “If you'll hand me some gloves, I'll do this while you get the oxygen,” she said to the nurse.
Mable hesitated. She looked up at Doc Prescott. When he nodded, she handed Janice a pair of latex gloves then left the room. Janice expertly inserted the needle in Susan's arm, then connected it to the IV.
She punched several buttons on a keypad the thing was connected to and fluid began dripping through the tube.
Mable re-entered the room as Doc Prescott was taking a blood sample. She rolled in an oxygen tank. In a matter of seconds, she had Susan hooked up to it with clear tubing tucked behind her ears. The life-giving air flowed out the tubing into her nose. Doc Prescott handed the vile of blood he'd just taken to Mable. She left the room with it.
“What do you think?” Doc Prescott asked Janice.
“I think she should be in a hospital.”
The older man nodded his agreement and rubbed his beard. “You're probably right, but we promised her when her time came, we wouldn't.”
“Oh God . . . ” Dixie murmured and pressed her face into Blake's chest. He held her tight against him, his throat constricted. He wanted to tell her it would be all right, but they both knew it would just be a lie.
Despite the doc's warning, Patrick moved to his wife's side. He took her hand in his. “You hang in there, sweetheart. It's too soon. You hear me? Too soon.”
Janice and her uncle exchanged a look, but gave the grieving man no encouraging words. No reassurances.
“Patrick . . . ”
They all looke
d at the woman lying on the table. She'd opened her eyes, and they were trained on her husband.
Dixie sniffed. “Well, ain't that just like Susie,” she whispered. “He says jump and she says how high.”
Blake smiled.
“You gave us a right good scare there, Susan,” Doc Prescott said.
“Sorry.”
He patted her shoulder. “Rest. Let's get you perked up with these tubes.”
“I want to go home.”
Her voice was hoarse and weak, but the words were clear.
“Now, Susan, I know how you feel about doctors' offices and hospitals, but you're gonna have to stay here. At least for several hours, until we can get you some fluids. I'll have Mable get the guestroom ready, and we'll move you in there. How's that sound?”
A wispy smile played at Susan's lips, and she nodded her agreement. “Thanks, Doc.”
He squeezed her hand and led Janice from the room. Blake and Dixie followed, leaving Patrick a moment alone with his wife.
“What do you think, Doc?” Dixie asked.
He removed his glasses and slid them into his shirt pocket. “I think we got lucky. That's one tough customer in there, but there's only so much a body can take. How long has it been since she stopped eating and taking fluids?”
“I see that she at least drinks something when I'm there, but I haven't been able to get her to eat for a couple of days.”
“Why didn't you and Patrick tell me?”
“She didn't want us to.”
“Well, I'll have a word with her about that when she's a bit stronger. But you, young lady,” he pointed a finger at her, “you should know better.”
Dixie raked a hand through her short hair. “I know, Doc. It's a fine line, tryin' to honor her wishes and doin' what's practical.”
“We agreed, all of us, to do what we could to keep her comfortable. That means if she can't take fluids or food, we'll give them to her in a way she can accept.”
“I know, but she hates tubes and needles,” Dixie said.
“Better than the alternative,” Doc Prescott said succinctly.
“She needs a scan,” Janice said. “In order to treat her, we need to know the extent to which the cancer has spread.”
“Yes, that would be useful, but she won't go near a hospital. She won't even discuss it,” he said.
“Why did she refuse treatment?”
“When we found the tumors in her breasts, the cancer had already metastasized to her brain and spine. The head of oncology at the University Medical Center saw her. The type of cancer she has is aggressive. They told her surgery followed by chemotherapy and radiation would prolong her life by a few months, but it wouldn't cure her.”
“She wanted to spend the time she has left enjoying her family, not puking from the treatments with her hair falling out,” Dixie added.
“But there are excellent drug treatments that alleviate the side effects of the chemo,” Janice pointed out.
“She was advised. She declined,” Doc Prescott said.
“How old is she?”
“Thirty-two. I'm going to see how Mable is coming with that blood work.”
“I'll check on the patient,” Janice offered.
Blake turned to his sister. “You okay?”
“Course I am.” She moved away from him as if she'd never allowed herself a moment's weakness. “I should head back to Susan's. The kids will be home from church soon and starving.”
“Want me to drive you?”
She shook her head. “No, I'll take my car. Are the keys in it?”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks for your help.”
He ran his hands up and down her arms. “No problem. Anything else I can do?”
“I'll let you know.”
Blake nodded and walked his sister outside. He stood on the front porch as he watched her drive away. The church bells from the Baptist and Presbyterian churches in town rang in tandem indicating Sunday School was over and church services would soon begin. A typical Sunday.
He looked up at the sky and wondered, not for the first time, why a woman like Susan should have to deal something like this. A young woman with two children and her whole life ahead of her shouldn't be facing the fact that she didn't have much longer to live.
He slammed a fist into his palm as impotent rage boiled up inside him. Susan was one of the most giving, caring people he'd ever known. She was always the first to welcome newcomers to town with a warm smile and a home baked treat. Usually a cake. She put in more volunteer hours in the community than anyone he could think of. Why her? Why now?
He felt a light touch on his arm.
“Are you okay?”
He turned, surprised to see Janice standing next to him. “I didn't hear you come up.”
“You were pretty deep in thought.”
“How's Susan?”
“Improving. We got to her just in time. Another half hour, and I don't know.”
He unclenched his fist and took her hand. “You were great in there.”
“I was useless. I couldn't find anything.”
“Don't be so hard on yourself. You just got into town. Your uncle hasn't even had a chance to show you the clinic yet.”
She pulled her hand back and rubbed her arms. “I should have made time to at least have a look around.”
“You knew what she needed so that Doc and Mable could go to work when they got here.”
Janice didn't respond.
“How long will you keep her?” he asked.
“She should stay overnight. She needs tests. Tests we can't perform here.”
“Doc Prescott usually makes do.”
“So I'm told.”
“Mable?”
Janice nodded. “She wasn't happy about my rummaging through her drawers. Said it would take her the rest of the day to get everything back in order.”
Blake laughed. “That's Mable.”
Janice didn't seem amused.
He scrubbed a hand down his face. “I guess I should go. Can I get y'all anything?”
“I think we're okay for now.” She grabbed his hand, frowning. “What happened?” She brushed her thumb across the fresh scabs.
“Aw, it's nothing. I'll check back with you later, then.” He squeezed her arm, and then started down the steps.
“Blake?”
He turned on the bottom step and glanced back up at her.
“Thanks for your help. I don't know what we would have done without you.” She shaded her eyes against the sun, shielding her expression from him. He nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets as he strolled to his truck.
He sat behind the wheel and watched Janice walk back into the house, wondering how he would feel if she walked out of his life forever in a couple of weeks? He needed more time with her to see if there was anything beyond the attraction. In any case, Dixie was right. He shouldn't waste time. Susan was proof that time was not a limitless commodity.
Yes. He'd check on the doctors later. If Susan was okay, maybe he'd just whisk Dr. Thornton away. Lay his cards on the table and see where the chips fell.
Chapter 8
“Hello?”
Janice heard the voice just as she put the coffee on to perk. She stepped out into the hallway in time to see Miss Estelee heading for the kitchen with a large basket, as if she knew the layout of the house.
“Miss Estelee?”
“Oh, hi-dee, Doc. I brung you lunch.”
“Here, let me help you with that.” Janice took the heavy basket of food from Miss Estelee. “This is very nice of you.”
“Estelee?” Janice's uncle joined them in the hallway. “Estelee,” he said warmly and kissed the woman on the cheek.
She swatted at his arm. “Here now, there's no need for all that.”
Her uncle just smiled. “You brought lunch.”
Was Miss Estelee blushing?
“Well, course I did. It'd be a shame to have all that food go to waste.”
Janice turned and walked back into the kitchen. Her uncle and Miss Estelee? She seemed a little old for him, but then, she really had no idea how old her uncle was. Miss Estelee either for that matter.
The two followed her into the kitchen. She opened the basket and an enticing aroma filled the room. “This smells wonderful,” Janice said.
Miss Estelee shooed her away. She pulled out bowls and plates covered in plastic wrap and set them on the counter. “You got any plates around here?”
“Of course. Janice, get us some silverware from that drawer right there. What's in the thermos?” he asked as he took plates down from the cabinet.
“Tea. You know I can't abide yours.”
“You mean mine doesn't stand alone like yours.”
“Well, you don't have to drink it, Charles Prescott.”
Her uncle chuckled. Miss Estelee uncovered containers of beef roast, potatoes, carrots and rolls. She put an apple pie in the oven and turned it on to warm.
“There's enough here to feed an army,” Janice commented. Her mouth watered and her stomach growled.
“Better too much than not enough. I figured the Houston boy would be needin' to eat, too.” She started dishing food onto plates. “His wife's holdin' her own.”
It was a statement, not a question.
“She's a strong woman,” her uncle said.
“It ain't her time. You needn't worry,” Miss Estelee said.
Her uncle nodded, not bothering to correct her, even though Susan was in very bad condition. Miss Estelee set one plate aside and began filling another. There was something about this woman. Something perplexing. Janice felt she should tell her where things stood with Susan, but in her gut, she knew Susan would pull through, too. This time.
Janice picked up the plate she'd set aside and said, “I'll take this in to Mr. Houston.”
Patrick refused the food as he continued to watch his wife sleep. Janice left it just in case, along with a glass of iced tea. Miss Estelee and her uncle retired to the back parlor after eating. Janice cleaned up the dishes then checked on Susan. Still sleeping. No change.
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