The Doctor's Perfect Match

by Arlene James

  “I tried to call the number that he gave me,” Lois Hollis, a little wren of a woman, said, “but it had been disconnected. Ricky claimed they’d been having trouble paying the bill.”

  Eva looked at Ricky, who had bowed his head. “You gave them our old number, didn’t you?” He nodded, and Eva sighed. “Mrs. Hollis, I’m so sorry. Ricky didn’t want to live with his father and stepmother any longer and was impatient for me to come and get him. That’s all this was. I can’t tell you how frantic we’ve been or how grateful I am to you for looking out for him.”

  “Well, he did seem to be unsupervised a great deal.”

  “So I’ve been told.” She looked at Ricky and said, “But that has come to an end.”

  “I was especially worried because he was too sick to attend school,” the woman said.

  Eva lifted her eyebrows and looked to Brooks, who was still grinning. “I’ll get my bag.”

  “Dr. Leland will take care of him,” she said, as Brooks disappeared into the hallway, “if there’s anything wrong with him, that is.”

  Ricky turned red all the way to his shaggy dark hairline.

  “We need to go if we’re not going to be late for church,” Mr. Hollis said.

  “I cannot thank you enough,” Eva told him, getting to her feet and walking them to the door. Impulsively, she hugged Mrs. Hollis. “God bless you both.”

  The woman smiled and nodded as they left.

  Eva turned to her son, giddy with relief. “You,” she said, shaking her finger at him, “should thank God that I’m so happy to see you I’m not hanging you by your toes.”

  “Mom,” he began defensively, “you have no idea how bad it was at Dad’s.”

  “Yes, I do, and that’s no excuse. You should have waited until I could come.”

  “If you couldn’t come, then how come you’re here?” he argued.

  “You’ve no idea what you’re saying,” Brooks said, carrying his physician’s bag to the coffee table.

  Ricky rounded on him. “What business is it of yours?”

  “I’m her doctor,” Brooks answered, reaching into his bag. “It’s every bit my business when you put her very fragile health in further jeopardy. Open your mouth.”

  “Wha—” Ricky began, at which point Brooks shoved a tongue depressor into his mouth and looked down his throat. “...are you talking about?” Ricky gasped when the little wood paddle was removed.

  “Your mother,” Brooks said, turning Ricky’s head to peer into his ear with a lighted scope, “has a cyst in her brain.”

  “Huh?”

  He turned Ricky’s head and checked his other ear. “She was misdiagnosed by a doctor here who thought she had a brain tumor.” He stowed the scope and brought out a digital fever thermometer, which he raked across Ricky’s forehead and down his cheek. “She thought she was dying when she left you with your father, and she wasn’t wrong. She might be dead now if we hadn’t figured out the real issue.”

  Ricky gasped. “Mom!” He threw his arms around Eva.

  “He’s fine,” Brooks told her. Then he dropped a hand onto Ricky’s shoulder. “She’s going to be fine, too. We’re going to take her home to Texas and give her an operation, and she’s going to get well. Okay?”

  Ricky shuddered and looked up at him. “Are you sure?”

  “As sure as I can be.”

  “But what if she’s not?” he wailed.

  Brooks squeezed his shoulder. “You’ll still be okay.” He smiled. “I like ten-year-old boys, and I have these cool friends. Some of them are old, but they’re cool. You’ll like them.” And Eva fell in love with him all over again. He had as much as offered to adopt her son just then, and she had every intention of letting him do so, should anything happen to her. Maybe this was what the whole thing had been about. Maybe this was the point of it all.

  “I guess we should get on the road,” she said, stroking Ricky’s dark hair. She realized that he could pass for her and Brooks’s son in a heartbeat.

  “What about my stuff?” Ricky asked.

  “It’s in the trunk of my car,” Brooks told him.

  “We packed it up yesterday,” Eva said.

  “Think you could delay long enough to attend early service with me?” Donna asked uncertainly.

  Eva glanced at her aunt in surprise, then looked to Brooks. He shrugged.

  “I like church.”

  “I don’t have many clothes with me,” Eva warned.

  “It’s casual,” Donna said, “but we’d have to get a move on.”

  Eva smiled. “What are we waiting for?”

  She had more than enough time to worship a God so loving that He would provide such a man for her son.

  * * *

  They took their time on the trip back to Texas. Ricky talked a mile a minute for the first several hours. Eva let him gab, basking in the sound of his voice. The two of them had always spent a lot of time talking, and she had missed that like crazy. She hadn’t realized that he didn’t have that same kind of communication with his dad. Apparently Rick remained a workaholic and thought their son ought to be happy with a shared video game now and again. With Ricky living in the house, his dad had felt free to take his twice monthly weekends away with adult friends, so instead of having more of his dad, by moving in with him, Ricky had actually had less. It seemed not to have occurred to Tiffany that if she kept to her own schedule, Ricky would be home alone. If not for Donita, he’d have been completely without adult supervision most of the time.

  Ricky hadn’t minded his new school, and his grades hadn’t suffered significantly because he was one of those kids who liked school, not that his dad had noticed, apparently. During her visit there, Eva had let the school know that she intended to enroll him in an out-of-state system soon, and the administration had promised to have his records ready for electronic transfer. Ricky seemed a little nervous about the coming change—another school in a short period of time—but Brooks assured him that Buffalo Creek boasted a number of good schools, both public and private, all the way through college.

  “We’ll find a good fit for you,” Brooks promised. “I know a lot of the administrators and teachers.”

  Surprisingly, Ricky had a good many questions for Brooks. Many of them had to do with Eva’s condition and upcoming surgery, but he asked even more about the practice of medicine and then some embarrassingly personal ones.

  “You got any kids?”

  “Nope.”

  “How come?”

  “My wife died before we could have any.”

  “Then, how do you know you like ’em?”

  “I’ve met a lot of kids over the years. Can’t remember any I didn’t like.”

  “But you haven’t lived with any, have you?” Ricky pressed.

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “So how do you know you’d like living with a kid?”

  “I never lived with a woman before I got married—other than my mother, that is—but I knew I’d like living with my wife, and I did.”

  Ricky screwed up his face. “I’m confused. Does that mean you like living with my mom?”

  Brooks shot a glance across the front seat to Eva, who snapped, “Ricky! We’re not living together.”

  “But Dad said you were most likely shacked up with some guy and—”

  Eva gasped and twisted in her seat to look at him over her shoulder. “Have you ever known me to ‘shack up’ with anyone?”

  “N-no, but—”

  “I’ve barely dated since the divorce, Ricky.”

  “That’s ’cause I was around,” he said softly.

  “You thought you were in my way?” she asked, horrified. “No! That’s not why I left.”

  “Ricky, your mother is not sleeping with me,” Brooks s
tated bluntly. “You insult us both by assuming she is. That’s not behavior in which moral, Christian people engage outside of marriage. She tried to do a very selfless thing. Her leaving hurt you, but she was trying to spare you a greater pain. She didn’t want you to watch her die. She thought you enjoyed being with your father and that you’d be happy with him. Thankfully, her prognosis was wrong, and she has a very good chance of beating this so the two of you can be together.”

  “Then, you’re, like, just her doctor?” Ricky asked, sounding disappointed.

  Brooks shifted in his seat. “Not exactly.”

  “I work for Dr. Leland,” Eva put in quickly. “We’re friends. Good friends.”

  Brooks sent her an unreadable look. Finally he said, “Your mother is very dear to me, for several reasons, so by extension, you’re dear to me, too.”

  “What’s that mean?” Ricky asked suspiciously.

  “It means that I’m ready to like you just because you’re her son, but I hope you and I will like each other apart from her, that we’ll have our own friendship.”

  “Oh.”

  The boy fell quiet after that, until he got hungry, and they stopped for dinner. He seemed uncertain how to behave around Brooks still, and Eva told herself that it would take time for him to get to know the good doctor the way she did. She prayed that when that day came, she would be there to see it.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Eva spent the remainder of the trip trying to prepare Ricky for Chatam House. The idea of elderly triplets tickled him, but he couldn’t wrap his mind around living anywhere with a cook, a maid and a houseman.

  “They are not servants,” Eva instructed him. “They are staff, and if you don’t treat them with the utmost respect, I will confine you to our room until I can find us someplace else to go. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  “A word of advice,” Brooks said. “The Chatams are old-fashioned dears. You’d do well to address everyone in that house as sir and ma’am. Think you can remember that?”

  “Yes...sir.”

  Brooks grinned into the rearview mirror. “I knew you were a smart boy. One more thing. Miss Hypatia has been very ill and is recovering from major surgery. Chatam House is big, but you’ll need to keep the noise down, especially when you’re on the stairs or in the dining room.”

  Ricky nodded soberly, as if committing this all to memory.

  “Oh, say,” Brooks went on, “you don’t like hockey by any chance, do you?”

  “Sure!” He launched into a recitation of his favorite team’s players and their stats.

  “What do you think of Stephen Gallow?” Brooks asked.

  Ricky frowned. “Man, that dude is bad news. He completely ruined our chances in the play-offs last year. I hate that guy!”

  “You don’t want to meet him then?”

  Ricky’s eyes got huge. “You know him?”

  “He’s married to a Chatam niece and lives in Buffalo Creek, but if you don’t want to meet him...”

  “No! I—I mean, yes! Steve Gallow? He’s one of the best goalies in the league!”

  “Okay,” Brooks said nonchalantly, winking at Eva, who bit her lips to keep from laughing. “We’ll set up something.”

  “Steve Gallow,” Ricky exclaimed, clapping his hands to his head in amazement.

  “Score one for the doctor,” Eva whispered, and Brooks chuckled.

  Thanks to the hockey star reference, Ricky seemed appropriately awed by the time they reached Chatam House. Eva gave her wholehearted permission for Carol and Chester to move her things into the East Suite, so she and Ricky could have separate bedrooms. Chester met them in the foyer, and everyone else but Hypatia, Carol and Hilda awaited them in the front parlor.

  Eva ushered her son into the large fussy room, Brooks at their heels. Ricky goggled at Odelia’s purple-and-yellow striped jumper, matching turban and fist-sized sun disc earrings, but it was Kent’s hot pink vest and red bow tie that made his eyebrows leap. He got through the introductions without embarrassing her, however. Then Magnolia asked if he would like a cup of tea.

  He wrinkled his nose but politely said, “No, thank you. Ma’am.”

  “Some cookies and cakes, then?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Why don’t you sit on the floor?” Eva suggested, and he went to his knees right there next to the table. Magnolia passed him a linen napkin, and after a slightly puzzled pause he spread it across his lap as he began downing cookies.

  Eva sat beside Brooks on an armless chair in front of the fireplace and accepted a cup of tea and a plate of tiny cakes, listening while Brooks caught up on Hypatia’s condition. After emptying his own cup, he set aside his plate and rose, saying, “I’ll just go up and check in on her before I leave.”

  “The nurse is with her,” Magnolia informed him with a nod.

  Eva decided that she and Ricky would go with him. “I don’t want to interrupt her evening more than once. Besides, we’re ready to turn in.”

  Kent volunteered to help Chester with the remaining boxes, so Eva and Ricky climbed the stairs with Brooks. Ricky stared, openmouthed at the marble staircase, ceiling and woodwork. When they reached the landing, Brooks led them to the suite belonging to Hypatia and Magnolia. He knocked and waited until a smiling, middle-aged female nurse with short fading red hair came to let them in and led them across the sitting room to Hypatia’s bedroom. The antique bed had been replaced with a modern hospital one.

  Hypatia looked much better. Brooks smiled at her. She held out both hands. He clasped them and sat down on the edge of her bed to kiss her cheek.

  “I’m glad to see you so improved.”

  “Off to play knight errant, were you?”

  “What’s night errand?” Ricky asked, prompting Hypatia to look around Brooks.

  “Eva, dear.” She nodded at Ricky. “This, I take it, is your son.”

  Eva smiled proudly. “Richard Russell Allenson. We call him Ricky.”

  “How do you do, young man? Richard is a more stately name and will serve you better in a few years, I have no doubt. You’re a handsome rascal.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Ricky rasped, not stumbling at all over the honorific this time. “I won’t run on the stairs, I promise,” he added.

  She smiled. “I appreciate that. Thank you.”

  “We’ll let you rest now,” Brooks told her. “We just wanted to say hello.”

  “Pish posh,” she retorted. “I’ve done little but rest since I got home.”

  He chuckled. “Then, let us rest. It’s been quite a weekend, and we have to enroll this boy in school tomorrow.”

  Hypatia reached out her hands and cupped Brooks’s cheeks, staring into his eyes. Whatever she saw there made them both smile. After a moment, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. Then he got to his feet. Hypatia looked to Ricky.

  “I trust you’ll come and tell me all about your first day of school tomorrow.”

  Ricky glanced at his mom in surprise before answering. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And no more of this running away and scaring everyone half to death. A man stands his ground, Richard. Remember that.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I look forward to it.”

  Brooks smiled at Eva, sliding his arm across her shoulders and turning her back into the sitting room. “That’s just how she got to me,” he whispered. “Soon he’ll put out his eyes before disappointing her.”

  Sure he was right, Eva thought, Finally, I’ve done the right thing for my son.

  Correction: God had brought her to the right place and showed her the right things to do. Beyond grateful, she would not ask for more.

 
* * *

  Brooks advised enrolling Ricky in the Parkhurst School. The Parkhurst school had a slight edge over the other options because the class sizes in Ricky’s grade were slightly smaller. Brooks had occasion to know this, he said, because he happened to live in the Parkhurst neighborhood. That settled the issue for Eva.

  They had Ricky enrolled by 10:00 a.m., with Brooks as the secondary contact after Eva herself. Then, thanks to Magnolia, they met Asher Chatam, the attorney, for lunch at Chatam House. He agreed to draw up papers allowing Brooks to take formal custody of Ricky in the event of Eva’s death or mental incapacity. They anticipated no argument from Rick on the matter.

  “But it won’t come to that,” Brooks insisted.

  “You know the risks,” Eva said, “and they are significant.”

  “We have one of the best surgeons in the country,” he pointed out, “and lots of prayer.”

  She nodded and let it go at that. “What we need now is a barber.”

  “How so?” Asher asked, obviously puzzled.

  Eva flipped a hank of her long hair at him. “Have to whack this off.” She tried not to sound sick about it. “In case they have to shave my head.”

  “She just has too much hair,” Brooks added regretfully, sliding his hand over her head, “but it’ll grow back.”

  “I’ll have Ellie call you,” Asher said. “My wife has a head full of crazy curls. She’ll know the best place to go.”

  “I’d appreciate that very much,” Eva told him. “In fact, I appreciate everything the Chatams have done for me and my son more than I can ever say. Dying in Buffalo Creek is like finding a bonanza.”

  Instead of laughing, Asher looked startled, but Brooks chuckled.

  “Ignore her,” he advised, sliding an arm across the top of her dining chair. “She jokes when she’s scared spitless.”