First Comes Marriage

by Sophia Sasson

  “Hello, everyone, I’m Meera Malhotra.” Her voice was soft.

  Silent stares greeted her. Jake started to say something when she gave them a disarming smile.

  “If you couldn’t tell, I’m not from around here. I’m from London. I’m a doctor, here to do a one-month medical rotation with Dr. Harper.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  Jake smacked Billy John on the back of his head. Meera’s eyes widened.

  Jake quickly interjected. “Now, listen up, I’ve asked Dr. Mal...” He frowned at Meera.

  “Malhotra, but please call me Meera.”

  “I’ve asked Dr. M. to give you all physicals—” there was a chorus of groans and protests “—which will be mandatory if you want to work here. So shut it. Last one to get their checkup will have to clean the entire house top to bottom.” More groans followed. “And I do mean the whole house.”

  “Please don’t worry. I’ll make it as quick and painless as possible,” Meera said soothingly.

  The protests and general grumbling continued as everyone rinsed their dishes and filed out. Meera stood in the corner watching the whole process, her brows creased, eyes dark.

  “Don’t worry—they’ll come around.”

  “I’m not worried about them.” She hesitated. “No more so than the rest of the town, anyway. I still don’t know what I did yesterday to make everyone so cross.”

  Jake smiled. She’s in for a surprise. I bet she’ll be packing her bags this afternoon.

  “Why come here all the way from London?”

  She shrugged. “I was required to do a one-month rotation and thought it might be fun to do it in a small town.”

  “But why here? Why not someplace closer to home?”

  “I’ve never been anywhere outside the UK on my own. Or India—that’s where my parents and I are from originally. I’ve always wanted to visit America, and this seemed like a good opportunity. Besides, it will be good for me to learn how medicine is practiced in rural areas like this one.” She sounded rehearsed. There was definitely more to the story; it was written all over her face.

  “That sounds like a mighty boring reason to be here all month.”

  She began twisting the watch on her wrist. Jake sensed she wanted to say more, but she didn’t continue. What aren’t you telling me, Meera?

  “Well, you might get more than you bargained for, but I’m sure you’ll make the best of it.” She bit her lip, and Jake found himself staring at the way her mouth moved.

  “Won’t you give me a hint of what to expect when I go into town today?” she pleaded.

  He laughed and shook his head. “There’s no way to explain it. You’ll have to experience it for yourself.”

  “Any words of advice?”

  He grinned. “Yeah, give ’em hell!”

  She laughed. It was a pleasant, tinkling sound, and for some reason he wanted to make her do it again.

  “Well, thank you for giving me a room—the cottage is just what I need for the month.” She got a faraway look in her eye. “Do you own this ranch?” she asked suddenly.

  “My father does. It’s been in my family for a long time, passed down four generations now.”

  “So you grew up here, then?”

  He nodded. “I was born right upstairs and spent my whole life here.”

  “Must be nice to have roots.” Her voice had a sad longing in it.

  “It’s what makes this my home.” Jake was surprised to hear his own voice catch. Home...this ranch is so much more than home.

  “Is your father still alive?”

  Jake shifted on his feet; Meera was too nosy. He didn’t like answering questions about his family. “Yes.”

  “Does he live here?”

  “No, he’s suffering from Alzheimer’s. He’s in a nursing home.”

  “What about your mother?”

  He focused on the cattle grazing in the fields outside the window. His mother was a topic he didn’t discuss, not even with himself.

  “She doesn’t live here,” he said sharply, then turned away from her.

  Meera stepped back. “I’m sorry—I was just trying to get to know you.”

  “You’re renting a room at my ranch. We don’t need to be friends.”

  She muttered something under her breath.

  “What’s that, now?”

  “Nothing. Do you have any tea?”

  He pointed to the pot. “Try coffee—packs more of a punch.”

  “It’s okay, I’ll pick some up in town today.”

  “Good luck with that.” Mr. Cregg owned the only store in Hell’s Bells, and he was about to lose a major bet thanks to Meera.

  She leaned against the counter, pressing a hand to her head, as if massaging a headache.

  He sighed. She was all alone in a new place. The least he could do was to be nice and stop giving her a hard time about everything.

  “I left you a plate of bacon, sausage and eggs.” He motioned toward the heaping plate on the counter.

  She swallowed, and her nose twitched.

  What now?

  “Do you have any toast?”

  He pointed to the bread box.

  “I’ll just have that.”

  He bristled. “I’m a pretty decent cook, you know, and the bacon and sausage are fresh from the ranch.”

  “When you say ‘from the ranch’...what exactly do you mean?”

  He looked at her quizzically. “I mean we raise the animals here.”

  “And then slaughter them?”

  “That’s what ranchers do.”

  Her lips curved downward. “Well, that’s something to think about.”

  Now she was rubbing her temples with both hands. He studied her carefully. “Out with it.”

  “Out with what?”

  “With whatever’s making you look like someone’s drilling your brain.”

  “Oh, it’s just that...I’m a vegetarian.”

  “What?”

  “A vegetarian. I don’t eat meat or any product that requires killing a living—”

  “I know what a vegetarian is. Look at you, all bones, it’s no wonder.”

  “Please tell me you don’t raise cows here, to be killed.”

  He looked at her in disbelief. “It’s a cattle ranch!” He motioned at the grazing cattle outside.

  She grabbed the back of a seat. Her caffe-latte skin paled. He pulled a seat out, encouraging her to sit down, and she slumped into the chair. The last thing he needed was for the doctor to require medical attention. She muttered to herself.

  “What is it?”

  She began to say something, then closed her mouth.

  “Oh, come on.”

  “Well...just that... I was raised as a Hindu. We believe the cow is a sacred animal and hurting one, or being anywhere near where one is being tortured, may bring bad karma for an entire lifetime...and possibly the next several lives.”

  You’ve got to be kidding me.

  “You’re a doctor, right? You went to medical school? Where they teach you about the brain and science and how the universe works?”

  She glared at him. “This isn’t about science. Even if you don’t believe in reincarnation, you’re raising a living organism for the sole purpose of killing it.”

  “The animal provides us with food.”

  “There is plenty of plant-based food for us to eat. We don’t need to live at the expense of another being.”

  “The animals only exist because I bring them into the world for food.”

  “And it’s wrong to create something just to destroy it. In my culture, the cow is sacred because it gives us milk...it gives us life. We call it gai mata, mother cow. For generations
she has fed us, and the karma of killing her—”

  “Cows are considered sacred because your ancestors used them to plough the fields and didn’t want people to kill them for meat in times of famine. It was a practical decision, not a spiritual one.”

  She raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

  “I would ask that you not mock my beliefs. I’m not asking you to stop cattle ranching, just explaining my reservations. I’ll see about finding some other accommodations in town today.”

  “Yeah, good luck with that.”

  She blew out a sigh of frustration and buried her head in her hands.

  Jake suppressed a smile. Why am I enjoying this? He studied the small hands cradling her head. She looked so fragile.

  Wait... He went to the pantry and rummaged around. He knew he’d seen this. He handed her a box, and she looked at him gratefully. She opened it and took out a tea bag, reading the label. “Fertility tea?” she asked with amusement.

  He swore under his breath. No good deed goes unpunished.

  He shrugged. “It probably belongs to one of the ranch hands. I don’t ask questions,” he said quickly. It was Jolene’s tea. Why was Jolene drinking fertility tea?

  “Well, I’ve got to get going,” he said. “There’s work to do.”

  She nodded and stood up. “May I rummage in your cupboards for a cup and kettle?”

  “Yeah, good luck with that.”

  He didn’t miss her pursing her lips as she turned around, moving about his kitchen, opening cabinets. He absently noted that she was wearing flat-footed sandals with a strap that went up her delicate ankle and ended in a bow in the middle of her calf. Did all women wear shoes like that?

  He rubbed the back of his neck. I should talk Marty into giving her a room at the inn. I don’t need trouble.

  CHAPTER TWO

  IT WAS A minor miracle she made it to town without crashing the car. She’d almost forgotten which side of the road to drive on. Meera pulled down the visor and studied her reflection, checking that her makeup was perfect. She adjusted the collar of her suit dress. She’d paired it with her favorite Jimmy Choo heels and a string of pearls. Her mother always said that dressing like a princess would make her feel like she could conquer the world. And Meera already had a plan to fix her situation. She would talk to Dr. Harper about how to handle the townspeople and convince Marty to give her a room. She couldn’t stay at a cattle ranch. And I don’t need to tolerate that rude cowboy.

  She stepped out of the car and took in her surroundings. There was a barbershop with the quintessential blue-and-red-striped pole, a general grocer’s displaying a table of fruits and vegetables, the silver-walled Betsy’s Diner and a post office proudly displaying the American flag. The brick sidewalks were lined with pretty trees and flowering bushes. The air was slightly dewy and smelled of fresh-cut grass. A picture-perfect small town.

  Meera lifted her face to let the sun shine on it. She liked warm weather; England was always too cold and India was too hot. If one dressed properly, this weather was just perfect. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to spend the month here. She would much prefer New York, but it wasn’t that far away and she still had the month to herself. She would pack a lifetime of freedom into the next four weeks. Then she could go home fully content and lead the life that had been planned for her.

  She walked up the steps to Dr. Harper’s office but paused at the door, hand on the knob. I can do this. She turned the handle and stepped in. Chimes announced her presence.

  “Ah, Rose, how nice to see you again.” Meera smiled warmly at the receptionist. She had only met Rose for a moment the day before, but she seemed to be a kind older lady. Rose was wearing a flowered dress, her white hair neatly pinned in a bun. Meera could picture her serving tea and biscuits like a British grandmother.

  “We don’t need you here. Please go away.” The harsh tone was so out of line with the smiling, friendly face that it took Meera a moment to process the words. Her stomach dropped.

  “Rose, I’m sorry, have I offended you? I don’t understand.”

  Rose wagged her finger. “We don’t need your kind of doctoring here.”

  “But Dr. Harper...”

  “Dr. Harper is an old coot who—”

  “That’s enough, Rose.”

  Meera turned to see Dr. Harper emerge from his office. She blew out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. He was a small man with bright blue eyes, a shock of white hair and a booming voice. She had seen him only briefly yesterday when he’d shown her around the clinic, then he’d left her to see patients on her own. She hadn’t expected to start work her very first day in Bellhaven, but there had been an emergency with Mrs. Harper, who was suffering from lung cancer. Dr. Harper had asked Meera to tend to his patients. He’d been rushed and distracted, but affable enough, which made sense since he was a friend of her British supervisor.

  “Dr. Harper...”

  He held up his hand to silence Rose. “Now, I won’t have you giving Meera a hard time. She did what was right.”

  Meera stepped forward. “Dr. Harper, I don’t understand what the fuss is about.”

  Rose scoffed, glaring at her with open hostility. “Derek Jenkins!”

  Meera blinked. “The boy who had a concussion?” She didn’t understand. It was a simple case, and she had treated it with textbook perfection.

  Dr. Harper sighed. “Meera, let’s go to my office to talk.”

  Meera followed him and sat down in the chair opposite his desk. He took a seat beside her in the second guest chair. He was obviously trying to make her comfortable.

  Did I miss something? She went over the details of the case in her head and ran through the treatment plan. She specialized in cardiology but had graduated at the top of her medical program and completed her consultancy training with commendations. She knew how to take care of a concussion.

  “Was there a problem with Derek Jenkins?” She scanned his desk to see if he had pulled up the teen’s chart.

  Dr. Harper shook his head wearily. “Meera, you provided appropriate medical treatment.”

  Meera relaxed a fraction.

  “But you didn’t necessarily do the right thing.”

  Her heart stopped. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Derek is the quarterback for the regional high school football team, and the first game of the season is this week. It’s against our biggest rival in the next county.”

  Meera reminded herself that American football was not soccer. She had initially thought Derek’s injury was related to heading a soccer ball, but then he told her he’d been tackled during practice and hit his head on the ground.

  She stared at Dr. Harper.

  He tapped a finger on the table. “This might be hard for you to understand, not being from around here, but football is like a religion in Hell’s Bells, and Fallton is our arch rival. It’s the most anticipated game of the season.”

  Meera furrowed her brows. “I know he was disappointed he couldn’t play, but the treatment for concussion is pretty clear.”

  “You and I understand that, but the town doesn’t. Derek wants to play.”

  “It’s a school game! Compared to the lifetime risk of exacerbating the head injury—”

  “To you it’s just a school game, but as I said, to the town, it’s...”

  “Worth more than Derek’s life?”

  Dr. Harper took a breath. “They don’t see it that way.”

  Her mouth fell open. He couldn’t possibly be serious. If she allowed Derek to play, he could make his concussion worse, and there was even a risk of death.

  “Dr. Harper, surely...”

  “Meera, I’m not arguing with you on medical grounds—I am telling you why the town is angry with you.”

  Meera changed tactics. “Wh
at would you have done if you were here instead of me?”

  “I would have done the exact thing you did. The risk to his life is greater than the importance of the game.”

  Meera spread her hands, her eyes wide.

  “But I would have handled the communication differently.”

  He leaned forward and patted Meera’s shoulder in a fatherly gesture. “You should have walked Derek home and then talked to his father. Marty was a football star—he’s put a lot of pressure on Derek, but he’s not heartless. If you’d gone over there to explain things, he’d understand why Derek has to sit out a game or two.”

  “Walk Derek home?” That was unheard of. If Meera did that with every patient, she would have no time left. She knew she was used to a different pace than Dr. Harper’s practice. She’d seen only three patients yesterday, when back in her father’s London practice, she would have evaluated five or six patients an hour.

  “Meera, Dr. Thurm called me before you arrived.”

  At the mention of her supervisor, Meera stiffened. Dr. Thurm had added this month-long rotation as a condition of approving the final dissertation for her research degree. It was an unexpected blemish on her otherwise stellar academic performance. None of the other students in the class were required to do this rotation. He had personally set it up with Dr. Harper after he disapproved the one her father set up in New York.

  “He told me you’re the brightest student he has ever worked with. Your medical knowledge is outstanding.”

  Meera smiled and blushed. Dr. Thurm was very hard on her, as he was on all his students. Coming from him, the statement was high praise indeed.

  “However...he said that while you know medical science, you need to learn the art and practice of medicine.”

  “I’m sorry... I don’t understand what you mean.”

  Dr. Harper opened a drawer and pulled out a stapled document. He handed it to Meera.

  She glanced at it, the title familiar. “This is the publication from my research study—I won an award for this work.”

  “But your brilliant research will never benefit patients.”