Dr. Forget-Me-Not (Matchmaking Mamas)

by Marie Ferrarella

  Now he had really aroused her curiosity. “Want to talk about it?”

  “No.” His voice was flat, allowing no room for persuasion.

  “Okay.”

  Her response, given so readily, surprised Mitch. It seemed somehow out of character for Melanie. “Just like that?”

  “You deserve your privacy. Everyone does,” she told him. “When you’re ready to talk about it—if you’re ready to talk about it—you will. And if you want me to be the one you talk to, I’m not that hard to find.”

  He paused for a moment, making notations into April’s chart. The notations in turn would be transcribed to the hospital’s software system by April’s nurse, but he didn’t have time to do the necessary typing right now. He hadn’t really ever gotten comfortable with the system.

  When he returned the chart to the metal hook at the foot of the bed, he just began to talk. “He was my best friend in medical school—my only friend in medical school,” he underscored. “It was winter break and we had a couple of drinks at the local pub before splitting up and going our separate ways. He was heading back home to Iowa until after the first of the year. He never even made it to his car.”

  “What happened?” she asked in a hushed voice, watching his face closely so as not to overstep. She was acutely aware of how sensitive feelings in this case could be.

  “A drunk driver peeling out of the parking lot hit him. Apparently never even knew it, or so he claimed when the police caught up with him. My friend—Jake, Jake Garner,” he said, realizing that he had omitted Jake’s name from the narrative, “died on the way to the hospital,” he concluded quietly.

  Her eyes filled with tears for the friend he had lost. “Mitch, I’m so sorry,” she told him, her voice scarcely above a whisper. Without realizing it, she’d put her hand on his forearm in a gesture of shared sympathy.

  “Yeah, me, too.” He shrugged, as if to push the memory of that night back. “It was a long time ago.”

  “But not long enough to stop hurting,” she pointed out. “It never is.” Taking a breath, she changed the subject—for both their sakes. “Have they found the driver who did this to April and her family?”

  He shook his head. “Not as far as I know,” he answered. “Sometimes, these people get away with it.”

  Melanie felt anger building up inside of her. “It doesn’t seem fair.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” he agreed. And then he looked at her. She seemed tired. As tired as he felt. “So, can I talk you into going home now?” he asked.

  Melanie shook her head, her mouth curving slightly. “April hasn’t woken up yet.”

  “She might not wake up for days,” Mitch pointed out patiently.

  Chances were that she would, but he was also aware that there were statistics about trauma patients slipping into comas that lasted for months, sometimes even for years. And then there were the ones who never woke up. He refrained from mentioning them, or even thinking about them himself.

  “You have a cafeteria here, I’ll find someone to bring me something,” she told him.

  He shook his head as an exasperated sigh escaped his lips. “You have got to be the most stubborn woman I have ever met.”

  To which she responded, “Some people think that’s my greatest asset.”

  “Some people like Brussels sprouts, but I don’t,” he informed her pointedly.

  Feeling better just talking to him, Melanie played along.

  “Really? Because I have a great recipe for Brussels sprouts,” she told him. When he grimaced, she went on to describe it. “It involves bread crumbs and melted margarine. You take the Brussels sprouts—”

  “I don’t like Brussels sprouts.”

  Both Mitch and Melanie swung around to look at the small occupant in the hospital bed a few feet away. April’s eyes were still closed, but she had made a face, the kind children made when confronted with a vegetable they just can’t abide, no matter how healthy it was supposed to be for them.

  Melanie instantly gravitated to the side of April’s bed. “Did you say something, April?” she asked, barely containing her excitement.

  There was no response to her question.

  “You heard her, right?” she asked Mitch, looking at him. “I wasn’t just imagining that, was I?”

  Before he could reassure her that he had heard April weakly proclaim her dislike of Brussels sprouts, April spoke again.

  Each word was a struggle for her. “Mama says... I don’t...hafta...eat them if... I don’t...wanna.”

  Melanie took the little girl’s hand, holding on to it tightly as if anything less might cause April to break away and slip back into unconsciousness.

  “April, honey, open your eyes. Open your eyes and look at me,” Melanie pleaded. “Please, baby.”

  Disoriented, the little girl struggled to raise her eyelids.

  As he watched her, it was obvious to Mitch that April had lapsed into that sleep-awake state where she was having a great deal of difficulty opening her eyes because they each felt as if they weighed a ton.

  “Open your eyes, April,” he said, coaxing her as he buffered her other side. “You can do it. I know that they feel heavy but you can open them if you really try hard enough.”

  For her part, Melanie squeezed the little girl’s hand, as if silently adding her voice to Mitch’s. She didn’t want to confuse April with too many voices coming at her at once, but it was very hard for her to keep quiet.

  And then, finally, the small eyelids opened and April looked around. Seeing Melanie and the doctor, she smiled weakly at them.

  The next moment, she asked Melanie the question the latter had been dreading.

  “Where’s Mama?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  This was why she’d insisted on staying in April’s room, keeping vigil over her. Specifically to field this very question.

  Now that it was here, Melanie felt her stomach tightening in a hard, unmanageable knot. She was at a loss as to how to answer April, how to put what was undoubtedly the most horrible news the little girl would ever hear into words.

  How did she go about telling a five-year-old that her mother was gone, that she was never coming back because she had died?

  The inside of Melanie’s mouth had gone bone-dry, but she knew she had to tell April, had to find a way to tell her the truth, but to soften it in some way. Right now, she was all that April had.

  Melanie lightly skimmed her fingers along the little girl’s forehead. “Did your mama ever tell you about heaven, April?”

  April tried to nod, but the motion seemed to hurt too much.

  “Yes,” she whispered. Her cadence was slow and labored. A sadness seeped into her voice as she continued, as if she somehow sensed what was waiting for her at the end of the conversation. “She said it was a pretty place. That’s where Daddy is. Heaven.”

  Tears gathered in Melanie’s eyes as she broke the news. “Well honey, your mama and Jimmy went to be with your daddy.” It was getting really difficult to talk. The very words felt unwieldy, as if they were getting stuck in her throat.

  A tear slid down April’s cheek. “Without me?”

  Oh Lord, Melanie thought, April sounded so lost, so crushed.

  “It wasn’t your time to go yet, honey.” That sounded so terrible and so stilted. She raised her eyes helplessly to Mitch. What had made her think that she’d be any good at this?

  Before Mitch could find anything reassuring to say, April asked in a small, lost voice, “What’s going to happen to me?”

  “We’re going to take care of you, honey. Make sure you get all better,” Melanie promised her. “Dr. Mitch saved your life.”

  “Why couldn’t he save Mama’s?” April cried.

  “Because she had already gone to heaven before he got there,” Melanie said, sparing Mitch from having to answer the little girl.

  Rather than say anything, Mitch took the little girl’s hand in his and squeezed it, silently conveying a great many things tha
t couldn’t be put into words. Telling her that she was safe.

  “And when Dr. Mitch says you can go home,” Melanie told her, “you can come home with me.”

  Mitch glanced at her sharply, but Melanie focused her attention on the frightened, battered little girl in the hospital bed. She was trying her best to reassure her and give her a feeling of being safe.

  “Okay,” April whispered. The next moment, her green eyes had shut and she’d fallen asleep.

  Mitch frowned. “And just how are you going to manage to pull that off?” he asked.

  Melanie shrugged, moving away from the bed. “I’ll find a way.”

  He stared at her in disbelief. “You’re serious.” It was more of a stunned statement than a question.

  Melanie never wavered. “Very.”

  Taking her by the arm, he drew her aside, not wanting anything he had to say to possibly be overheard by the little girl. Mitch shook his head.

  “You can’t just walk off with a kid anytime you feel like it,” he pointed out.

  “I’m not planning on ‘walking off with her,’” Melanie protested heatedly. “I’m going to apply to be her foster mother. And then, when the time’s right, I’m going to adopt her.”

  For a moment, he was at a loss for words. He had no idea where to begin to take apart this fantasy Melanie had constructed in her head.

  “You’re letting your emotions run away with you,” he accused.

  She wasn’t about to argue that part with him. “Maybe. But the more I think about it, the more it just feels right.” She could see he totally disagreed with her. She didn’t need his permission, but getting his backing would help her. “Look, the social services system is overloaded right now and April is going to need to be taken care of until she makes a full recovery.”

  Melanie could get him exasperated faster than anyone he’d ever dealt with. “Yes, I know that, but that still doesn’t change the fact that—”

  She cut him off, needing to get him on her side. “If no one notifies Social Services, they won’t know about her situation. Let me take care of her for a while,” she implored him. “One step at a time, Mitch. First, she needs to get well.”

  Mitch dragged a hand through his hair. What she was proposing was insane, even though he knew why she was doing it.

  “This is crazy, you know that, don’t you?”

  “It can be done,” she insisted.

  “All right, just how do you intend to provide for her?” he asked. April moaned. Afraid that his voice might be waking her up, he lowered it. “You’re at the shelter everyday.”

  She’d already worked that out while sitting here, waiting for April to regain consciousness. “I can get my old job back. The principal at the school left the door open for me, told me I could come back anytime I wanted to. April gives me a reason to come back.” She caught hold of his wrist, as if to anchor him in place until she could convince him to see things her way. “Please, Mitch. This little girl just lost everything. She and I have made a connection. Let me help her.”

  She was relentless, he’d give her that, Mitch thought with a weary sigh. Still, he gave talking her out of it one more try.

  “Melanie, you’ve got a good heart,” he began, “nobody’s disputing that. But there are rules we’re supposed to follow.”

  Melanie pressed her lips together, debating telling him something—and making him an accessory after the fact. After a moment, she decided to risk it, praying that he wouldn’t give her away and that he would take her side.

  “While I was sitting here, one of the hospital administrators came in with some paperwork for April that needed to be filled out. I put myself down as her next of kin.”

  He stared at her, stunned. “You did what?”

  “I said I was her late mother’s cousin.” It was a vague enough connection, she thought. “All you have to do is not saying anything.”

  “So what you’re telling me now isn’t just a spur of the moment thing,” he concluded.

  His expression was dark. She had no idea if she’d just made a mistake. Would he give her away? “Like I said, I’ve had a while to think about it,” she told him.

  Mitch blew out a ragged breath as he glanced back at April for a moment, then back at Melanie. He could see that there was no talking her out of what she intended to do. If he tried to stand in her way, she’d probably find a way around it.

  And, at bottom was the fact that she was right. Once in the system, April would be lost in it. He’d heard enough secondhand horror stories about the way children were treated to know he didn’t want that happening to anyone, least of all a little girl whose crayon drawing resided on his refrigerator.

  Looking at Melanie, he shook his head. “Like I said, you are the stubbornest woman I’ve ever met.”

  And then he looked back at April. “Looks like the sedative I gave her earlier has kicked in.”

  “You gave her a sedative?” Melanie questioned.

  He nodded. “When I first came in. She needs to sleep in order to heal. I’m surprised she woke up just now. Looks like you and she are cut out of the same cloth,” he commented. “She’s going to be asleep until at least the morning. I’m going home,” he told Melanie. “Why don’t I drop you off at your place? No offense, but you look like hell.”

  She laughed softly. “You do know how to flatter a girl.”

  “Yes, I do,” he said. “But this isn’t one of those times. Now, if you want me to back up your story, you’re going to have to do as I say.”

  Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him uncertainly. “Are you blackmailing me?”

  Mitch never hesitated in his response. “As a matter of fact, yes I am.”

  For a moment, he didn’t know whether or not to expect an argument from her. And then he saw her smile. “Then I guess I don’t have a choice.”

  “No, you don’t,” he agreed.

  Melanie hesitated as she paused for a moment longer to look at April. “I don’t want her waking up and finding herself alone.”

  That was no problem. “I can have a nurse posted here with her. Anything else?”

  She shook her head, suddenly incredibly weary. Yesterday’s events were finally catching up to her. “No, you seem to have covered all the bases.”

  “Good. Then let’s go.”

  Mitch stopped at the nurse’s station long enough to request that a nurse remain with April, saying he was worried that her fever might spike. If it did, he left instructions to be called immediately, regardless of the time.

  That done, he took Melanie’s arm and directed her toward the elevator. Pressing the down button, he asked in a low voice, “Satisfied?”

  “Satisfied,” she replied.

  * * *

  “I’m not biting off more than I can chew, you know,” Melanie said in her own defense, breaking the silence in the car fifteen minutes after they had left the hospital parking lot.

  They were almost at her door. She had debated saying nothing and just thanking him for the ride once he pulled up at the curb, but since Mitch was going along with her request to, in effect, become April’s guardian, she felt as if she did owe him some sort of assurance about what she was doing.

  Lost in his own thoughts about April and the woman he was, by virtue of his silence, agreeing to lie for, he didn’t hear what Melanie had just said.

  “What?”

  “I know that’s what you’re thinking,” she told him. “That I’m biting off more than I can chew, but I’m not,” she said emphatically. “I’ve always wanted to have children.”

  “There is a more traditional route to that end, you know,” he pointed out.

  She knew he meant getting married. “I wanted to, but it didn’t work out,” she said, her tone indicating that she wanted to leave it at that.

  He knew Melanie was referring to her late fiancé and out of deference to her, he didn’t pursue the matter. It was none of his business anyway, he reminded himself. If she wanted to take on the resp
onsibility of taking care of the little girl, maybe it was for the best for both of them. He’d done his part. He’d put April back together. Melanie could supply the love that was needed.

  But as he pulled up at the curb before Melanie’s house, he saw that she was trembling.

  Turning off the engine, he shifted to look at her. “Are you all right?”

  “It’s just been a hard eighteen hours,” she replied. “And I’m tired.” The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was falling apart. It was bad enough that she felt as if she was. She’d get this under control, she promised herself. To her surprise, Mitch got out of the car, came around to her side and opened her door. She looked down at the hand he held out for her. “I can get out on my own power.”

  “Maybe,” he allowed. “But I’m still walking you to your house.”

  This whole thing with April being at the brink of death and then being revived had brought back memories. Memories that made her feel vulnerable. She didn’t think that having him walk her to her home was a particularly good idea.

  She needed to put distance between them now, while she still could.

  “You don’t have to. Really. I’ll be all right.”

  He leaned into the vehicle, his hand still out. “Humor me.”

  She could see that he wasn’t about to be talked out of it. All she needed to do was keep it together a little while longer, Melanie told herself, and then she’d be home free.

  Resigned, Melanie got out of his car and then walked ahead of him to her front door. Turning around to face him, she gestured at it.

  “Well, here it is, the door.”

  “Unlock it,” he told her.

  He was really making this hard for her. “You said you want to walk me to my door and you did. Chivalrous obligation met.”

  “No, I said that I was walking you to your house. That means I want you to open the door and go inside,” he told her sternly. “I don’t want to hear a story on the local morning news about the heart-of-gold volunteer who passed out in front of her front door.”

  “What are you talking about?” she demanded.

  He pointed out the obvious. “You’re still trembling.”