The Baby Doctor's Bride

by Jessica Matthews

  “Two more days?” David sat upright. “But…but I’ll miss my baseball game.”

  Ethan pretended to be suitably apologetic. “I’m sorry to hear that, but I just can’t risk letting you go home.”

  David’s eyes turned red, and he blinked rapidly as he crumpled the top sheet in a two-fisted grip. “I hate this diabetes,” he burst out. “I hate it! I can’t do anything I want to do!”

  Ethan pulled a chair close to the bed, turned it around, then straddled it. “What can’t you do?” he asked calmly.

  “I can’t eat with my friends whenever I want, or eat whatever they do. I can’t play sports. I can’t do anything on the spur of the moment because I have to live by a schedule. I’m not normal like everyone else!” David’s chest heaved and he swiped at his nose. “It’s not fair!”

  “No, it’s not,” Ethan said. “You’re one of the few kids who’s learning that lesson early in life.” As David brushed at his eyes, Ethan pretended not to notice. “But let’s attack the things you mentioned one at a time. You claim you’re not ‘normal’, like everyone else. Trust me when I say that everyone has a different idea of normal. As for being like everyone else, you never were and never will be—because you’re you. You’re David Grayson, a star student and an outstanding guitar player.”

  David frowned. “How do you know that?”

  “I have my sources,” he said, not mentioning how he’d pumped David’s parents for information. “You can also play sports. I hear you’re an excellent basketball player and a tough shortstop.”

  He shook his head. “Not anymore.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I always have to stop and check my blood sugar, or give myself a shot in the middle of a game, because my age bracket usually plays during the supper hour. It’s embarrassing. And I can’t eat with the team afterward because I have to count carbs and all that junk. Do you know how many carbs are in a piece of pepperoni pizza? Everyone else is pigging out, and I’m stuck eating celery sticks!”

  “I know it’s tough, when everyone is eating slice upon slice and you’re limited, but you can have pizza. You just need to adjust your dose of insulin a bit.”

  “That’s what the diabetic counselor told me, but it’s not working.”

  “You’ll learn these things as time goes on. Don’t expect to be an expert overnight. As for not being able to eat with your friends, you can. You just have to make the right choices. Sugar-free cherry pie looks like regular cherry pie. So does sugar-free ice-cream and jello.”

  “They don’t taste the same,” David grumbled. “And I don’t want to make the right choices! I don’t want to have to choose at all!”

  “David,” Ethan said gently, “no one does. No one asks to get diabetes, especially at your age, but fighting it won’t make it disappear. The only thing you can do is control the situation so it doesn’t control you, like it did yesterday.”

  David fell silent, as if weighing what Ethan had told him.

  “Knowledge is power, son,” Ethan said kindly. “The only way you’re going to stay on top of this is to learn everything you can. The Internet has all sorts of Web sites that pertain to diabetes. Did you know there are a lot of Olympic athletes who have the same problem?”

  David’s eyes widened. “There are?”

  “Absolutely. Again, go to the Internet and check it out.”

  The teen fell silent. “I’ve been skipping my shots,” he admitted in a low voice.

  “It’s very adult of you to confess. I thought maybe you were.”

  “How?” the boy asked, clearly surprised as he met Ethan’s gaze.

  “My brother was diagnosed when he was about your age. He went through the same mental struggle you are. It’s a tough break, but you’re a tough kid. You can handle this.”

  Ethan almost saw the boy’s spine stiffen and his shoulders straighten. “You think so?”

  “Anyone who can admit their failures can do anything.”

  “I didn’t want the guys to think I was doing drugs when they saw me with needles.”

  “Tell them the situation,” Ethan advised. “I’ll bet none of them will bat an eye. A few probably have relatives who take injections, too. And who knows? If you should ever get into trouble by accident, your friends can help you.”

  David slowly nodded. “OK. I’ll take my stuff with me and I won’t skip my shots.”

  “Promise?”

  “Yeah.”

  “In that case,” Ethan rose off his chair, “I’ll discharge you in the morning. But—” David immediately whooped, and Ethan smiled as his ears rang from the noise. “But,” he emphasized, “I’ll expect to see you in my office on Monday.”

  “I’ll be there, Dr. Ethan,” David promised.

  As Ethan stepped out of David’s room, he ran into Ivy. “Everything OK?” she asked. “We heard the shouts, and I didn’t know if he was murdering you or vice versa.”

  “Murder? You have a very suspicious mind, Doctor.”

  “Only because I don’t want to lose my partner after the first day. Spare doctors don’t grow on trees, you know.”

  “Then you’re in luck. I’m still in one piece. Slightly deaf—” he rubbed one ear “—but everything else is working.”

  She grinned. “Perfect.”

  As she threaded one arm through his, he realized that certain body parts were working far better than he’d expected after a long celibate existence. He told himself as she hung on to his arm and chattered away that he’d respond the same if he felt any other woman’s softness and smelled any other woman’s spicy orange scent.

  He was lying. Only Ivy could do this to him. Only Ivy could bring enough sunshine to chase his mental demons into the darkness, where they belonged. Only Ivy could instill hope and make him feel like a whole man instead of a wreck.

  Tell her, a little voice commanded.

  He should, but the risk of Ivy turning away from him as Tiffany had was too great. For now, right or wrong, he wanted to let things ride and enjoy these precious moments—because who knew how long they would last?

  CHAPTER SIX

  “DAD, you can’t do this by yourself,” Ivy protested as soon as she arrived at the diner and saw her father trying to take care of the counter, act as cashier, and wait on the tables that Janine wasn’t able to cover.

  Her father scoffed. “I’ve done it before. I can do it again.”

  “But, Dad. This is ridiculous. If you need more help, you should hire some.”

  “I don’t need more help. Millie called in sick. It happens. We’ll get by. Wednesday nights usually aren’t that busy.”

  “But you shouldn’t just ‘get by’. You should—”

  “Ivy,” he warned, “we’ll have a much more enjoyable dinner hour if you aren’t hounding me.”

  “You’re right. I won’t hound you. I’m going to help.” She strode into the kitchen, grabbed a clean apron from a hook near the door, and returned wearing it.

  “For heaven’s sake, girl,” he sputtered. “I didn’t send you to medical school so you could wait tables.”

  “And I didn’t go to med school to watch my father die from exhaustion or a heart attack.” She dug in a drawer underneath the cash register and pulled out an order pad. “I’ll help as long as I can, but I’m on call.”

  “Been on your feet all day, and now you’re going to wait tables,” her father groused. “It isn’t right. It just isn’t right. Your mother, God rest her soul, would—”

  “Do the same thing,” she said firmly. “I remember the long hours she put in, so don’t argue.”

  He sighed. “How was your first day with a partner?”

  She grinned. “Can’t you tell? I’m here, and it’s barely five-thirty.”

  “Slow day at the office?”

  “Are you kidding? It was business as usual, but we were able to see twice as many kids in nearly half the time.”

  “That’s great, Ivy. But it doesn’t mean I want you moonlighting in
my diner.”

  “I’m not moonlighting, Dad. I’m helping you out for a few hours. You’d do the same for me if you could.”

  “That I would,” he agreed. Then, as the door opened and six people walked in, he added, “If you’re going to work, you’d better get started.”

  In no time at all Ivy fell into the rhythm she’d developed when waiting tables as a youngster. Although Janine had expanded her section, which made Ivy’s the smaller of the two, Ivy still felt as if she needed an extra pair of hands.

  When Ethan slid into one of her booths nearly an hour later, she greeted him with a coffeepot. “It isn’t gourmet, but it’s strong and hot,” she told him cheerfully.

  He eyed her. “Taking up a second career so soon?”

  “Not hardly. Dad’s waitress called in sick, so I’m helping out for the dinner rush. What can I get you?”

  “A double cheeseburger, French fries, and a piece of the pie. To go,” he tacked on.

  “Your fries will be cold by the time you get home.”

  “Won’t be the first time.”

  Ivy scribbled his order in shorthand. “OK. It’ll be about fifteen, twenty minutes.”

  By the time Ethan’s order was ready Ivy’s customers were lingering over dessert, so she carried his meal, as well as hers, to his booth. “I haven’t done that in a long time,” she said as she slid onto the cushioned seat.

  He stared at his plate. “I thought I asked for mine to go.”

  “You did, but if you left I’d have to eat alone. You seem too chivalrous to want that to happen.” She drizzled salad dressing over her lettuce.

  Wearing a half-smile, he drew what seemed like a defeated sigh as he bit into his burger. “Do you always decide what other people should and shouldn’t do?”

  “Not always—which is why I’m asking what you have planned for Saturday instead of telling you.”

  “What’s happening this weekend?”

  “Danton’s Annual Frontier Days Rodeo,” she said importantly. “I’d like you to accompany me.”

  “I’m not a rodeo fan.”

  “You don’t have to be. If you don’t want to watch the bull-riding, calf-roping or other events, there are all sorts of booths to visit, filled with crafts, Western wear and gear, and plenty of good food. In the evening there’s square dancing.” She leaned closer. “As added incentive, period dress isn’t required.” As he hesitated, she pressed on. “Come on. It’ll be fun. After working hard this week, you deserve to see another side of Danton.”

  He wore a long-suffering expression. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

  “Not really. You’re a pillar of the community now. You have to put in an appearance.”

  “A temporary pillar.”

  She waved aside his comment. “Whatever. A pillar is a pillar. So you’ll pick me up about noon?”

  “Noon on Saturday. OK.”

  “Don’t forget.”

  “I don’t think you’ll let me,” he said dryly.

  “Great.” She glanced at the nearby tables; she’d neglected her father’s customers long enough. “I’ll be right back.” She slid out of the booth, poured more coffee and refilled soft drinks for those who wanted them, gave tickets to those who were finished, and began clearing dirty dishes.

  Ethan watched her work as he polished off his meal. From the way people responded to her wide smile and sincere greetings, he didn’t doubt she’d completely change the fabric of their medical establishment to implement all the services she wanted to provide. She was the sort who simply believed she could accomplish miracles and no one had the heart to say no.

  She slid back into the booth as he forked the first bite of blueberry pie into his mouth. “How’s the pie?”

  “Delicious.”

  “Now you know why I don’t cook,” she said. “I can’t compete.”

  “Oh, you can’t tell me you didn’t pick up a few tricks from your dad.”

  “I did, but cooking for one is about as much fun as eating alone. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Yes, but some of us cook out of self-preservation. Cold cereal and frozen dinners get old fast.”

  Don appeared at their table. “How was dinner?”

  “Excellent,” Ethan told him.

  “Good.” He turned to Ivy. “I hate to interrupt, but the family in the corner over there needs your help.”

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “The little one—about two, I’d say—is fussy and looks feverish. And she has a horrible cough. They need a doctor, Ivy, but I can tell they’re down on their luck. Said they’re headed to Oklahoma City, where they have family, but I’m not sure what shape their little one will be in by the time they get there. Would you take a look? Give them a bit of free advice or a few drug samples? It may be nothing, but…”

  “I can’t treat their child if they don’t want me to, Dad,” she said gently.

  “They do,” he insisted. “When I mentioned my daughter was a doctor, and just across the room, I could see the hope in their eyes. But they’re too proud to ask, and they can’t afford a trip to the E.R. If it’s more than a cold, maybe you could see them in your office?”

  Don had phrased it as a question, but Ethan had the sneaking suspicion this wasn’t the first time he’d suggested such an arrangement.

  “All right.” Without any hesitation, Ivy slid out of the booth and headed toward the couple across the room.

  Ethan watched her, conscious of her father doing the same. “Does this happen often?” he asked, seeing her press the back of her hand to the child’s forehead.

  “A couple of times a year,” he said. “I see a lot of kids come through here with their parents, and I can usually spot a sick one a mile away. Usually I tell them what a wonderful hospital we have and they go there, but once in a while we get some who don’t have enough money for a meal, much less an expensive E.R. bill. I know I shouldn’t make more work for my daughter, but she’d be upset with me if I didn’t let her use her gift. Because that’s what her knowledge and skills are,” he said firmly. “A gift.”

  Funny thing, but Ethan hadn’t considered his former and currently temporary profession in that light before. In his case, though, his so-called gift had failed where his own son was concerned. He watched Ivy spin around and take off her apron as she rejoined them.

  “Sorry to bail out on you, Dad, but I have to go.”

  “What’s wrong?” Ethan asked.

  “High fever, sore throat, malaise.”

  The symptoms added up to a diagnosis. “Strep?”

  “Probably. The sooner I give her an antibiotic, the better.” She turned toward her father. “Oh, and Dad? Call the motel and reserve a room for the Schultz family. They don’t know it yet, but they’re spending the night, so I can check on their daughter in the morning before they continue their trip.”

  “I’ll take care of it right away.” Her father headed toward the wall phone behind the cash register at the counter.

  Ethan grabbed her arm, halting her in her tracks. “Ivy?” he began, before words failed him. He wanted to tell her not to care too much and drive herself into the ground, but he sensed she wouldn’t pay attention. She had a heart big enough to want to save the world without counting the cost to herself. From personal experience, he didn’t want her so emotionally tied to her patients that when the unthinkable happened she wouldn’t be able to cope.

  “Yes?” she asked impatiently.

  He opened his mouth to tell her all those things, but he couldn’t. He hadn’t known her very long, but he’d seen enough of her nature to know that asking her not to care would be like asking the sun not to rise or the wind not to blow. Her concern for others was knit into her bones; she didn’t have a choice.

  “Nothing,” he said instead. “You’d better go. They’re waiting for you.”

  This time she paused. “I know what you’d like to say, Ethan, because I can see it in your eyes. You want to tell me to let someone else hand
le them. But there is no one else.”

  “Ivy, I—” he began.

  She continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Oh, I could call Walt’s physician assistant, because she sometimes takes calls for me, but she’s as swamped and as tired as I am.”

  “I—”

  Her voice grew more insistent, almost accusatory as she continued. “You had the luxury of handing your patients to someone else, knowing they would be cared for while you’re gallivanting around the country, but I don’t. I have to do this. If you don’t like it, too bad, because I’m going to—”

  He stopped her the only way he knew how.

  He kissed her.

  What began as a quick, hard meeting of lips soon whetted his appetite for a longer, more lingering variety. As he held a steady grip on her forearms and inhaled her orange-blossom fragrance, the notion of running his fingers down her spine and pressing her against him threatened to overpower him. But a small remnant of his sanity reminded him of their audience.

  He reluctantly stepped back, realizing that, contrary to his earlier belief, one kiss was not enough. Instead of satisfying his curiosity, the kiss that had lasted only a few seconds had made him want more.

  As he watched her stand motionless, knowing he’d momentarily rendered her incapable of speech or action inflated his masculine ego. “Your patient is waiting,” he reminded her gently.

  The glazed-over look in her eyes disappeared, suggesting she’d mentally regrouped. “I have to go,” she said, sounding apologetic.

  “I know. Try not to save the entire world tonight, though,” he advised lightly. “Leave a few patients for me to see tomorrow.”

  She nodded, as if her thoughts were still scattered, then turned on one heel and approached the family waiting near the restaurant door.

  “Follow me to my office,” she told them crisply, as if nothing untoward had happened, “and we’ll see what’s wrong with your daughter.”

  Alone, Ethan suddenly felt at loose ends, but there wasn’t any point in staying. He dug in his back pocket for his wallet and pulled out a credit card as he, too, headed for the cash register.

  “You don’t look too happy,” the older man remarked as he swiped Ethan’s card.