Miss Estelee left sometime later. Janice was curled up on a couch in the reception area with a blanket and an outdated magazine when her uncle came in.
“I looked in on Susan. She's resting comfortably, but I told Patrick we needed to keep her overnight.”
She smiled up at her uncle. “I concur, Doctor. How advanced is her cancer?”
He sat next to her on the couch. “She was diagnosed around seven months ago. Since she refused treatment, I've only done what I can with my limited resources to monitor her condition. Keep her comfortable.”
She restated her earlier opinion. “She should have a scan to see how far the cancer has progressed and what organs are affected.”
“I agree, but getting her to do it,” he shook his head and removed his glasses, “that's another matter entirely. I'm sorry, my dear. This was not the first day I had envisioned for you.”
“No need to apologize. I'm accustomed to the patient emergencies.”
“Why don't you go up to your room and rest for a bit?”
“I'm fine.”
“Maybe you'd like to take a walk, then. Stretch your legs?”
Janice laughed. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“No, no. It's just, you've been out here all day. I thought you could use a break.”
Janice grasped her uncle's hand. “You'll have to be patient with me. I'm not used to having someone worry about me.”
He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Well, get used to it, young lady, because I intend to see that you are completely spoiled.”
Janice couldn't hold back her smile. Just being around him made her happy. “I think I will go upstairs, if you're sure you don't mind. I never got a chance to unpack this morning.”
“Of course, of course. Do you have everything you need? If not, just call down to the grocer and they'll bring over whatever is lacking. I'm not used to having a woman about. I'm sure there are some creature comforts I've overlooked.”
“Thank you for taking me in on such short notice.”
“Oh, sweetie. You've no idea how happy having you here makes me.”
She slid off the couch and walked to the doorway that led to the stairs. Before leaving the room, she turned back and admitted, “It makes me happy, too.” She didn't understand how someone could love her simply because she was family. But she wanted to understand, because in her experience, being a part of a family meant never being worthy of love. Looking into her uncle's eyes, she saw only acceptance.
She could get used to that.
Janice woke disoriented. Dark shadows filled the strange room, and she wasn't sure where she was or what had woken her.
“Janice?”
The familiar voice was followed by a knocking at the door. Then she remembered. She'd come to her uncle's. They had a critical patient.
Susan.
Janice pushed her hair back out of her face and stood. She heard a meow as she padded over to the door. Did her uncle have a cat? She hit the light switch before she opened the door. She squinted against the light. “Uncle Charles? Is everything all right? Susan—”
“Oh, everything's fine, dear.” He patted her shoulder. “Just fine. She's doing much better.”
“I must have fallen asleep. I didn't mean to.”
“It's not a crime to have a Sunday nap.” He chuckled. “In fact, it's darn near a town ordinance.” He bent and looked down. “What do we have here?”
Janice looked down, too. The kitten she'd taken to Blake's earlier looked up at them with big eyes. Meow.
Janice scooped the kitten up into her hand. “How did you get back in here?”
“Well, now. She's a beaut! Where'd you find her?”
“Outside the sun room this morning. You wouldn't know who she belongs to would you? Have any of your neighbors' cats recently had kittens?”
He stroked his beard, considering. “None that I'm aware of.”
“I took her to Blake Ferguson's this morning. He said he'd look after her for now.” Her uncle sneezed. “God bless you.”
“Thank you. I'm a bit allergic. Nothing an antihistamine won't cure. Uh,” he jabbed a thumb toward the stairs, “speaking of the Ferguson boy, he's downstairs dishin' up supper. I told him you were restin'. He looked so disappointed, I figured I'd do him a favor and come up here to get you.”
“Oh. Just let me splash some water on my face, and I'll be right down.”
“Sorry I woke you.”
“No, I'm glad you did.”
“There's some back stairs that lead to the kitchen at the end of the hallway. You can take those when you're ready to come down.”
Janice hurried into her adjoining bathroom and set the kitten on the counter while she washed her face and pulled a brush through her hair. She picked the kitten up and found her way downstairs using the narrow back stairway, stopping just inside the kitchen.
Blake sat at the kitchen table with her uncle while the older man ate, but stood when he saw her. She drank in the sight of him. He wore those faded blue jeans that fit him like they had been molded to his thighs and . . .
“Hi.”
“Hi.” She shoved her free hand into her back pocket and approached the kitchen table. Why did this man have the ability to make her as nervous as a schoolgirl out on her first date?
“I was wondering where she got to.” Blake stroked the fur under the kitten's chin.
Janice shifted her focus to the cat. “I was reading in my room and fell asleep. When I woke up, she was there.”
“Ah—choo.”
“God bless you,” Janice and Blake said in unison.
“I'd better get that antihistamine. Thank you again for the dinner, Blake. My compliments to your sister.”
“You're welcome, sir.”
He sneezed again as he walked down the hall. “He's allergic to her,” Janice said. “I don't know how she found her way back, or how she got inside.”
“Maybe we should name her Houdini. Here,” he took the cat and said, “have something to eat while it's hot.”
Janice rubbed her stomach. “I'm still stuffed from lunch.”
Blake put a plate of chicken and dumplings in front of her anyway. He held out a chair and she sat. “What'd you have?”
“Miss Estelee brought beef roast, roasted vegetables, and apple pie.”
“Sorry I missed it.” Blake sat back in the seat he'd recently vacated. The kitten curled up in his lap and went to sleep. “I hear Miss Estelee's a good cook, but the only person she ever cooks for is your uncle.”
“Really. I wondered . . . ” The food smelled and looked wonderful. She would be as big as a house if she kept eating like this. She forked up a bite and nearly moaned. The dumpling melted in her mouth.
“Wondered what?”
“Umm.” She swallowed. “Oh, I don't know. I just got a vibe about them. It's probably just my imagination.”
“I doubt that. They're close, I can tell you that much. Good?”
Janice rolled her eyes and chewed. “Fabulous. Did you make this?”
He absently stroked the kitten's fur. “No, Dixie did. She didn't want y'all to go hungry over here.”
“Not much danger in that happening. I'll have to make sure I get in a couple of extra workouts this week or none of my clothes are going to fit.”
Blake wiggled his eyebrows. “Now there's an image. You in tight-fitting clothes.”
Janice tried not to blush. “Blake Ferguson, are you flirting with me?”
“Absolutely.” His smile was wide and unrepentant.
Janice didn't know how to respond to that. Most of the men she associated with were either patients or colleagues. Flirting would be inappropriate. She couldn't remember ever really flirting with a man. At least not a man like Blake. One teasing look from those intensely blue eyes and she was toast.
“I guess speechless is good,” he chuckled. “What are you doing tonight?”
“I'm going to sit with Susan so my uncle can get s
ome rest.”
There was that look of annoyance again. To his credit, it passed over his features so fast, she almost missed it. “You're keeping her overnight?”
Janice nodded and took a sip of her tea. “She needs the IV fluids.”
A cloud shadowed his eyes. “I guess she was in pretty bad shape when we got her here.”
“Yes.”
“Does it mean that she—that she'll—”
“It's hard to say. She needs tests. Tests we can't perform here.”
“Talk to Patrick. He's the only one she'll listen to.”
Janice moved food around in her dish. “How many children do they have?”
“Two. A boy and a girl.”
“I think I met their son. Cute little red-haired boy?”
“That's Sam. The daughter works part-time for Dixie over at the diner. She was our waitress yesterday.”
Janice nodded. “I remember her. Abby, wasn't it?”
“Yeah. She's only fourteen and not really old enough to work, but Dixie figures running plates from the kitchen to tables will keep her busy. Maybe help keep her mind off her mom's illness.”
“Gorgeous children.”
Blake dipped his head until he could look in her eyes. “What's that look about, beautiful?”
Trying to ignore the compliment that made her go warm all over, she said, “I just keep thinking that surely something can be done for her. She's so young.”
“All the doctors have said there's nothing.”
Janice chewed on her thumbnail.
“What are you thinking?”
“I have a colleague I'd like her to see.”
“Like I said, she doesn't want to be poked and probed if nothing can be done. Can't say as I blame her.”
Still, she'd talk to Patrick about it. If Jeremy declared Susan's case hopeless, then, and only then, would Janice let it go.
“You're not going to drop it, are you?”
It should concern her that he could read her so easily. “Not just yet.”
Blake shook his head. “Well, since I can't convince you to come out with me, mind if I stay and keep you company for a bit?”
“I'd like that,” she admitted. With only one patient and no charts to work on, having someone to talk to would help fill the time. It was a practical thing to do. Nothing more.
But when she looked at him and felt her heart rev into overtime at just being near him, she knew it was a lie. She had a little over two weeks. She wouldn't worry about what happened beyond that. She'd just live in the moment and enjoy the time with her uncle in this town. Getting to know Blake, spending time with him at her grandparents' house, that could be a special bonus.
They tidied the dishes and retired to the parlor. Janice curled into the corner of a small couch. Blake joined her. The kitten snuggled on a plush pillow between them. Spoil sport. Well, maybe it wasn't such a bad thing having the cat there. It would remind him to keep his distance so he and Janice could talk.
Neither of them spoke right away. They just stared at the lights on the tree that sat near the fireplace.
“Nice tree,” Blake said at last. “Did you help decorate it?”
“No. It was already here.”
“Seems like you've just been missing out.”
She just shrugged and sipped her coffee. Blake watched her. He'd wanted to take her for a ride to show her the outskirts of town, the farm country, where he had grown up and his parents still lived. But, again, her job came first. He didn't really understand why she couldn't come out with him. Doc Prescott was here.
“You sure you don't want to go for a drive or something? You've been cooped up in here most of the day.”
“I'm afraid I slept most of the afternoon. I should stay and give my uncle a break.”
“I'm sure he wouldn't mind. He's used to going it alone here.”
“But I want to help. He's getting older. The long nights have to be getting harder for him.”
Couldn't argue that point. He settled back into his corner of the couch. It would appear she wasn't in a talkative mood. How could he get her tongue moving? He closed his eyes and grinned. Bad analogy. That had him thinking about kissing her. Again.
The other night, she'd complained about him asking her a lot of questions, but not giving her the same opportunity. Maybe if he took that angle. “When we were having dinner at my house, you said something about me asking all kinds of personal questions and not giving you the opportunity to ask any of your own. So here's you chance. Ask me anything you want.” That earned him a slight smile. He'd take it.
“Anything?”
“Anything.”
She paused, considering. “Have you lived in Angel Ridge all your life?”
“No. I was born in Austin, Texas. We moved here when I was a teenager. That's when Dad opened the diner.”
“Did you have family in town?”
“No. Dad had an old army buddy who used to live here. He and mom visited him once and fell in love with the town.”
“So, you just picked up and moved?”
He nodded. “Pretty much.”
She sipped her coffee. “Must have been hard, leaving all your friends behind and moving to a strange place.”
She had no idea. Oh, well. He'd opened this can of worms. Might as well expect them to squirm all over the floor. “I guess you could say I had a little trouble adjusting.”
“Sounds like there's a story behind that.”
He rubbed his jaw, wondering how he should put this. “I was angry about the move, angry that no one seemed to care that I was angry, and by the time it was over, I was just angry.”
She laughed. “You? I can't imagine it. You're about the most laid back person I've ever known.”
“No. It's true. My brothers and my sister loved it here. They fit in. Had friends. Especially my brother, Cory. He was the most popular guy in school.”
“I got the feeling there was some bad blood between you two.”
Blake set his mouth in a hard line. “He made it his mission to antagonize me back then. Not much has changed.”
“Why would he do that?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “It's what makes him a good lawyer. He sniffs out his opponent's weakness and goes for the kill.”
“What was your weakness?”
He shrugged. “I guess I wanted to fit in.”
“Did you try? To fit in?”
“Naw. I sat around, sulked . . . and got into trouble.” Shaking his head, he gave a wry laugh. “I sure had everyone's attention then. Mom and Dad were constantly on my back. They tried to put me in counseling. Nothing helped.”
“Apparently something did. You're not that way now.”
He smiled. “I have good days and bad days.”
Her eyes widened.
“Now I've shocked you. Don't worry. Nowadays I take my frustrations out on nails and wood. Back then, I got in a lot of fights.”
She glanced down at his injured knuckles.
He flexed his hand. “Let's just say I wound up on the wrong end of a disagreement with some sheetrock.”
She raised an arched brow, but didn't probe further. Instead, she leaned forward and squeezed his hand. “It's admirable that you were able to turn your life around. What made you want to change?”
He turned his hand over and laced his fingers with hers. “When I was sixteen, my parents sent me away to Louisiana to work with a preacher who dealt with kids. I helped him build and repair homes for single moms and the elderly when he wasn't counseling me. What really made me want to get control of the anger was the day I left. When it was time to go to the airport, I found out my brother was driving me instead of my parents.” He looked away from her then. This particular memory was still hard for him.
She just waited, and after a moment had passed, he continued. “I thought they didn't care about me. That they just wanted to be rid of me. As we were driving away, I saw my mom and dad outside in the garden. They were crying in each oth
er's arms.”
He stood and walked over to the fireplace. Leaning a forearm against the mantle, he added, “Mom wrote me everyday. I must've come home with a hundred letters.” He turned back and faced her then.
“Your family loves you.” She lowered her eyes before adding, “That's a wonderful gift.”
“One I had forgotten I had. It made me want to control the rage. I didn't want to hurt them anymore.”
She shook her head. “I just can't imagine you as the kind of person who loses control.”
She should have seen him yesterday in town, or the other night when he slammed his fist into the wall. “I have my moments.”
He rejoined her on the couch. Now was as good a time as any to probe. Weighing his words carefully, he stretched his arm out along the back of the loveseat. Cupping the back of her head in his palm and pulling her forward for a kiss would be so easy . . . .
He shook his head. Talk. They needed to talk. There was no question about the attraction between them. He needed to know if he should pursue anything beyond that with her. He clenched his fist to keep from touching her.
“So, why'd you decide to become a doctor?”
That brought a hint of a smile. “There were a lot of reasons, but at base, I guess I was being rebellious.”
She had his attention. “You mind explaining that?”
“My mother is an extremely domineering woman. Her plan for my life was pretty straightforward. I should be educated in the finest schools, then marry someone fabulously wealthy and high-profile.”
“Like mother like daughter?”
“So you've heard.”
“Bits and pieces.”
She set her coffee cup on the table in front of them. “I was determined to be nothing like my mother. I didn't want to be the kind of woman whose sole purpose in life was looking beautiful on her husband's arm, while spending the rest of her time seeing that the home is lavishly decorated, traveling, and shopping.”
“And that the child is safely away in school.”
“And out of the way,” she finished flatly.
He took her hand in his then. He couldn't help it. She quickly pulled away.
A Home for Christmas Page 11
