Sacred Trust (10 page)

Mercy sucked in her breath in a sigh of irritated frustration. That again. This Christian business was just going too far, and Ivy never wasted a moment in her attempts to try to indoctrinate Tedi into every aspect of it.

As they turned to greet the first of the funeral attendees, Mercy had no time to comment.

This part of the funeral procession was the most trying to Mercy, as it had been five years ago at Dad's funeral. As with Dad, it looked as if the whole town had shown up to pay their “respects.” Mercy had learned long ago not to trust what people said to your face. At times like this, they were all high on emotionalism. Try them later, when you were fighting for custody of your child and needed a friend, or you lost your practice and needed patients.

She saw Dr. Bower coming toward them, walking beside Lauren McCaffrey. He probably didn't realize it, but his expressive face showed his discomfort clearly. So
why was he here? He didn't even know Grandma. And he didn't seem like the politicking type.

He took Mercy's hand gently. “Again, Dr. Richmond, I'm sorry.” He seemed sincere, his clear blue eyes steady and earnest as he spoke. When he reached Ivy he hesitated.

To Mercy's surprise, Mom took his hand. “Thank you so much for taking the time out of your busy schedule to attend Mother's funeral.”

If he caught the sarcasm in her voice, he didn't show it.

Then Jarvis spotted him. “Hello, Dr. Bower. Who's watching the shop?”

“Dr. Camp agreed to spell me for a couple of hours. Today's his day off.”

“You might consider going through me next time.”

Jarvis's tone held no rancor, but Mercy tensed. She would not allow Jarvis to reprimand one of his staff right here at her own grandma's funeral.

“Sorry, Dr. George,” Dr. Bower said quietly. “I tried to contact you.”

“No harm done. Camp's a good doc.”

To Mercy's surprise, Jarvis shook the younger man's hand and even smiled, though it looked more like a grimace.

Later, as the four of them rode in the limousine to the cemetery, Mercy overheard her mother speaking to Jarvis quietly under cover of the soft gospel music that floated over them.

“What's up between you and Dr. Bower?” Ivy asked. “You waiting for him to hang himself?”

Jarvis tugged at the collar of his starched white shirt—probably the only starched shirt he had. “He's too smart for that. Do you know he ranked third in his class when he graduated from Kirksville?”

“You checked his personnel file?”

“Yes, and I called Cunningham today to find out more about the little contretemps Sal mentioned to us yesterday. I have an old friend who works there. Nurse. Great gal.”

“And she told you about Dr. Bower?” Ivy asked.

“She told me what she knew, which wasn't much, except that about the rank, and the fact that Bower never dated, had very little social life at all, and spent most of his spare time—which was rare—at the hospital working and learning. She liked him. I mean, she really liked him.”

Mercy suppressed a smile at the hint of frustration in Jarvis's voice. Ivy's brows rose in surprise. “So isn't that good news?”

“Of course it is,” he said just a little too brightly.

“Are you still going to check him out?”

“June will call me when she has more info. She said something about a lawsuit, but no explanation.” Jarvis reached over and patted Ivy's hand. “We'll get this thing figured out.”

“Mom?” Tedi said softly, just loud enough for Mercy to hear.

Mercy leaned sideways and put an arm over her daughter's shoulders. “Yeah?”

“How's…the practice going?”

“Great, honey. Just great.”

“You still doing some E.R. shifts to fill in on your days off?”

“Some. Not as many since the new full-time doctor joined us.”

“Oh.” Tedi frowned and glanced out the window for a moment.

Mercy watched her daughter, whose dark eyes were even darker than usual. Mercy hadn't forgotten the
slammed car door and the squeal of tires on blacktop when Theo dropped Tedi off at the church before the funeral.

“Everything okay at home?” Mercy asked.

Tedi grimaced, still looking out the window.

Mercy repressed the urge to demand what that puny excuse for a father had been doing to make Tedi so unhappy. Just watching her daughter made her want to choke Theodore.

“So I guess you're pretty busy,” Tedi said at last.

Mercy quirked a brow at her. “Busy? Do you have something in mind? You know I'm never too busy for you, Theadra Zimmerman.”

Tedi made a face at the sound of her full name. “Oh, I don't know…maybe we could go to Springfield some weekend. You know, like to the zoo and to a movie or something.”

“Sounds great. And maybe we could go to Bass Pro Shop and eat at Hemingway's.”

“Yeah, and hike at the nature center and watch the deer and squirrels and birds eat. And maybe we could even take a whole week and drive down to the Boston Mountains in Arkansas.”

“We could camp out,” Mercy said, playing the little game they had always played, with their dreams and wishes getting bigger and bigger and more unreachable. “And maybe we could take a whole month and go to the Grand Canyon.” She had forgotten how heartbreaking this little game could become as she named the things she most wanted to do with her daughter.

“And no one could find us, except we would know where we were,” Tedi added. “And maybe you could set up practice in Arizona, and we could call Grandma, and she could come and join us, but no one else would know.”

“Maybe we could, honey.” Mercy leaned closer and kissed her daughter's forehead. “First we'll concentrate on getting to Springfield. Do you want to talk about it?”

Tedi turned and looked seriously into Mercy's eyes. The all-too-grown-up expression made Mercy's throat choke with tears.

“Would you, Mom? Would you do it for me?”

Mercy's eyebrows rose in surprise. “Why wouldn't I want to spend time with the person I love more than anyone on earth?”

Tedi shrugged. “I don't know…I guess I thought you might be too busy.”

“Where did you get that—” Mercy paused, and a flash of fresh anger accosted her. She reached out and touched her daughter's shining dark brown hair. “Tedi, don't ever let anyone tell you that I don't have time for you or that I don't love you.” The anger grew. The day's grief and the past weeks of struggle with Grandma's cancer had taken their toll. Mercy struggled for a moment with tears; then she gave up and let them fall.

Tedi watched Mercy for a moment, her own eyes growing larger. She reached a hand up and caught a tear and held her mother's gaze. “Don't cry, Mom. Really. It's going to be okay.”

Mercy pulled a Kleenex tissue out of her purse and blew her nose. Her own daughter shouldn't be having to comfort her.

To Mercy's surprise, Tedi's spirits seemed to lift after that. She smiled when her grandmother and Jarvis teased her, and the smile was real. It was as if Mercy had reassured her of something vital. The mood relaxed until they reached the cemetery.

As the limousine driver held the door for Ivy, she clutched her chest and stumbled.

Mercy scrambled forward. “Mom!”

“Grandma!” Tedi cried.

Ivy caught herself against the seat as her face grew pale. Jarvis eased her back.

“Relax, it's okay,” she said. “I just got a little dizzy.” She breathed deeply through her nose, then exhaled through her mouth. “It's okay.”

“You grabbed your chest, Mom. I saw you grab you chest. Does it hurt? What's wrong?” Mercy demanded.

Jarvis leaned toward Ivy. “You weren't feeling well yesterday, were you? You mentioned chest congestion. Are you still feeling ill?”

“Apparently so,” Ivy snapped.

“Mother, why haven't you seen a doctor?” Mercy asked.

“Very funny. I've seen more doctors in the past two days—”

“That's not what I mean, and you know it.” Mercy's voice carried more volume than she'd intended, and other arrivals at the cemetery turned to look through the open limousine door with concern. She lowered her voice. “How long has this been going on?”

“For pete's sake, don't lecture me like a—”

“Stop it!” came a ten-year-old voice.

All three adults turned in time to see Tedi's eyes fill with tears. Her lower lip quivered. “Grandma, you're scaring me.”

Mercy quickly wrapped her arms around her daughter. “It's okay, honey. You know how stubborn your grandma can be sometimes.” She cast a reproachful look at her mother, who did not hold her gaze. Good. She felt guilty.
“Now that we know she's sick, we'll take care of her. I know she doesn't want you to worry. Do you, Grandma?”

“No.”

Tedi sniffed and smeared tears over her face with the back of her hand. “But what's wrong, Grandma?”

The color had already begun to return to Ivy's cheeks. She eased herself back more comfortably on the velour seat. “Nothing serious, I'm sure, Tedi. Sometimes I just get the hiccups, but it isn't in my throat. It's deeper in my chest.”

“Do you think it's your heart?” Fresh tears formed in Tedi's eyes. She'd heard her mom talk too many times about heart attacks and the dangers of heart disease. Mercy wished she'd never discussed the subject in front of her.

“I don't know, honey,” Ivy said.

“We'll know soon enough,” Mercy said. “Mom, we're going straight to my office as soon as we leave here.”

“No, we aren't. I don't feel it's ethical for a daughter to treat her own mother.”

“Then we'll go to my office,” Jarvis said. “You're not getting out of this, Ivy Richmond.”

“And you're not getting your stethoscope on me, either, Jarvis George. I'll go to an unbiased doctor who doesn't know me and doesn't have preconceived ideas about the care I should receive. The two of you would have me trussed up like a full backpack and never let me out of the house again.” Her color continued to improve, and Mercy relaxed. Tedi's tears had done more than any amount of browbeating could have done, and whatever was wrong with Mom, she was recovering for now.

A
t eight o'clock Friday evening, Lukas completed his patient charts and sat back with a sigh. As usual, the evening rush hour had hit with a vengeance, making up for a midafternoon lull. He'd seen twenty patients today, several with high acuities—two chest pains, one asthma, a surgical abdomen, and a broken leg. Not bad for a day's work when you also took into account the numerous flu, strep, pneumonia, sprain and workmen's compensation patients he'd also seen. He'd had to fly one heart attack out via chopper to the trauma center at Cox South in Springfield. There was just so much this small, class-four facility dared to handle without sending some patients to a place with more specialized equipment and medical expertise.

Lukas decided not to wait until he got home to call his father, but opened his cell phone as he changed from his scrubs to his street clothes. He smiled when Dad answered in the middle of the first ring, then frowned at the sight of his rumpled clothes in the mirror. He had to start using hangers.

“Hey, Dad,” he said after the preliminary greetings, “I'm off this whole weekend. What do you think about that?”

“I don't believe it,” came his father's musical baritone voice. “It's been months since you had a Saturday and Sunday off in a row. How'd you manage that your first week there?”

“I'm the only full-time physician working at Knolls Community E.R. Since most of the other docs practice family medicine during the weekdays, that's when I work. Mrs. Pinkley warned me that once she wins her battle with the number crunchers, she'll be hiring more full-time doctors in the E.R. and then I'll have to share my cushy hours.”

“What did you tell her about your problems in Kansas City?”

“The truth. I told her that I had personality differences with my trainer during my residency, and—”

“Did you also tell her you weren't the only one who had trouble with him? Did you tell her that he and a nurse lied on the witness stand about your actions?”

“No, I just showed her the court papers where my name was cleared and the hospital was forced to stop blocking my license. She checked my references and told me that was good enough. She also said that it was her opinion that docs were worse about professional jealousy than attorneys. I guess she was satisfied, because she hired me. She's quite a lady.”

“Is she married?”

Lukas sighed and rolled his eyes. “Yes, Dad, she's married, and she's retirement age.”

“Doesn't hurt to ask. Found a church yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Just think, you might even have time to join the choir and actually be there every Sunday for a change.”

Lukas shook his head. Dad had never come to grips with the fact that his youngest son could not carry a tune. “What are you doing this weekend? I thought I might drive up. It's only about a two and a half hour trip to Mount Vernon from here.”

“We won't be home tomorrow. We're driving to Roaring River with the Goennigs for some fishing.”

Lukas stifled his disappointment. There was plenty to do this weekend. “Still feeling like a newlywed?”

“I still
am
a newlywed. It's only been a year.”

“How's Beth?”

“Busy as ever.” Besides being the church librarian, Lukas's new stepmom, Elizabeth, was on the kitchen committee at church, and she helped out at the senior citizen center and delivered food for Meals on Wheels. She'd been good friends with Mom and Dad before Mom got sick, and she was there for them throughout the chemotherapy and radiation. After Mom died, Beth had been there for Dad as a friend. She, too, had lost a spouse five years earlier, and Lukas had always been glad of her friendship. She'd fit perfectly into the family, and she was good for Dad.

“I wish you'd called sooner,” Dad said. “We just made the date with the Goennigs today.”

“That's okay, Dad. I probably need to stay and settle in, anyway.”

“Oh? Don't tell me you actually have furniture now. That tiny apartment of yours barely had room for a bed and a couch.”

“I had a small kitchen table, too.”

“Does your new house have a kitchen?”

“Of course.”

“Have you found your way into it? I bet your refrigerator isn't even hooked up yet.”

“I don't have a fridge here.”

“It figures.”

“I haven't had a chance to get one. I've only been here a week and I've been working. I'll probably pick one up tomorrow somewhere.”

“Do you have a stove?”

“The house came with one, yes.”

“Let me guess. You don't even know if it's gas or electric, do you?”

“I specifically remember the gas flames when they showed me the house.”

Dad sighed. “Do you have any new kitchen utensils? Last time I checked, all you had was that skillet and spatula Beth gave you for Christmas last year.”

“I eat out a lot. I used to keep cereal and milk when I had that little fridge in KC, but most of the time the milk got old before I had a chance to drink it.”

Dad clicked his tongue. “You've been a bachelor too long, Lukas. You need a wife.”

“I haven't had any volunteers.”

“Any possibilities? Any dates lately?”

“No actual dates…”

“But…?”

“But nothing. One of the nurses invited me to eat with some of the staff, but I was late and everyone else had left. She's been nice so far, but I just don't—”

“Son, you have to get over what happened in KC. You can't let one woman's actions hurt your own growth.”

“Dad, that woman's testimony in court almost destroyed my career. All she had to do was cry sexual ha
rassment when I wouldn't go out with her, and seduction when she turned up pregnant, and they listened! If it hadn't been for that DNA test—”

“But you're not in jail, and your career has not been destroyed. God is faithful.”

“I know, but people aren't. There are some pretty vindictive people in this world.”

“That's why you always count on God, not people. You're a good doctor, Lukas. Don't forget that. And you're a wonderful person. You deserve a loving woman, someone who shares your ethical standards—someone who shares your faith. Don't give that one misguided nurse the power to color all of your relationships with all other women for the rest of your life.”

Lukas hesitated, glancing at his watch. “I guess I should go get some dinner before everything closes. Have a good time tomorrow, Dad, and tell Beth I sent my love.”

There was a loud sigh over the phone line. “I'll tell her. Take care. Our prayers are with you every day. And, Lukas? One little date with a nice Christian lady wouldn't kill you.”

After Lukas hung up he pulled on his jacket, grabbed his bag and walked out to the car. Sometimes he wished he'd kept his mouth shut about the Kansas City court case, but Lukas had never been able to keep secrets from his father. Besides, being fired from the hospital and kicked out of the residency program had left Lukas without an income for several months, until his permanent medical license had come through. During that time, not long after Mom's death, Lukas had gone home to stay with Dad and work as a respiratory tech at St. John's in Joplin.

Enough wallowing. Though he was disappointed about his immediate plans falling through, the weekend still beckoned ahead like a long holiday. There were
hiking trails to explore and a river nearby. He'd heard one of the EMTs—Buck, the guy brave enough to try to feed Cowboy's lion—talk about how he liked to fish. Fishing didn't measure up to hiking, but the company would be nice. Of course, Lukas hadn't been invited.

Ten minutes after leaving work he parked on the town square by the courthouse, took a picture textbook out of his bag to study while he ate and walked down the street to the only place on the square still open this late, Little Mary's Barbecue. He liked this café, not only because they served his favorite food, barbecued ribs, but also because of the homey atmosphere and the fact that they pitched their homemade dinner rolls to you from across the room, just like at Lambert's up near Springfield. Lukas carried his book with him over to a corner table, ordered a plate of ribs and proceeded to read about dermatological medicine, his latest in a series of subjects he wanted to know better. His two-week dermatology rotation had bored him to death, but sometimes a case would crop up in the E.R. He wanted to hone his knowledge.

He smelled the sharp, smoky aroma of ribs as the server set the platter on the table. Then he heard a quick intake of breath, but by the time he glanced up from his reading, the server was stalking away—and “stalking” was the word for it. She shot him a glance over her shoulder as she neared the kitchen, and he could have sworn he saw offended animosity in the look. What was wrong with her?

After a quick, silent blessing, he reached for a rib and resumed reading, with the book lying flat on the table. He was careful not to get barbecue sauce on any pages. He did, however, become a little concerned when another woman came out through the swinging kitchen doors and
walked toward him. She, too, did not stop, but gave an offended gasp as she rounded his table and returned to the back, where the first waitress stood glaring at him with her arms folded across her chest.

Lukas looked down to see if he had barbecue sauce smeared all over his shirt. Nope, nothing. His clothes were wrinkled, but that shouldn't—He looked down at his reading material and went cold with mortification. The particular case about which he was so innocently and intently reading involved an area of the male anatomy seldom discussed in mixed company outside the medical realm. It included pictures. He shut the book with a snap, smearing red-brown sauce all over the cover. Time to leave.

Maybe he did need to get that refrigerator and stop eating out so often.

 

Sunday morning, Lukas sat in a middle pew halfway over from the aisle at early service at Covenant Baptist Church. Saturday had been almost a bust—he always considered his day a failure when he spent it catching up with laundry and dishes and mail. He'd even worked up his nerve and tried to call a couple of guys from work to see if anyone wanted to go to a movie or something. No one did. Worse, he didn't even get a fridge, because a storm kept him inside. Some wonderful weekend this was turning out to be.

An elderly gentleman in a baggy suit and tie greeted him and shook his hand, as many had done when Lukas first walked through Covenant's front door. It was nice to meet the people like this before services began, but since Lukas rarely arrived anywhere early, he hadn't had much experience with this kind of thing. What he had experienced was that churches invariably singled out new
comers and embarrassed them during welcome time, either by making them stand when everyone else was seated, or remain seated while everyone else stood. On several other occasions when attending a new church, he had purposely arrived late to avoid the “first-time visitor” greeting; then the next time he came, he couldn't be mistaken for a first-timer. Antisocial, maybe, but it made things easier for a shy person. Besides, he wasn't as interested in seeing all the friendly Sunday school faces as he was in watching the nitty-gritty-business-meeting faces. Now
that
was something that could show the character of a church body. He was also interested in seeing how many people attended evening services.

Why he'd come to Covenant Baptist, he didn't know, except that it was close to home and he'd already been here once for Jane Conn's funeral. True, it probably meant that Ivy Richmond might be a member, and that wouldn't be comfortable, but he had to start somewhere.

A familiar voice reached him from the aisle. He jerked around to find Lauren talking with some teenagers beside the pew on which he sat, and he nearly groaned aloud. He hadn't thought of the possibility of running into her here. Before he could turn back around she spotted him, and a huge grin spread across her face. Oh, great.

“So! You decided to come!” She didn't ask permission this time but plopped right down beside him and laid a hand on his shoulder. “I'm so glad.”

“Yeah.” He forced a smile. One did not get up and leave before services even began. “I didn't know you attended here.”

“Of course you did. I told you, remember? At the cantina the other night.”

No, he didn't remember. He was probably too busy
behaving like a paranoid idiot then, too. This was crazy. She was obviously a member of this church and was only being friendly to a newcomer.

“So are you all settled in now? Got your stuff moved?”

“What there was of it.”

“Good. How about a picnic down at the river this afternoon? I've got a couple of fishing poles and some good bait. Moving to a new place must be awfully lonely, and—”

“Actually, Lauren, I don't think so.” He refused to lie and tell her he had something better to do, because he didn't, but why did he feel so guilty for turning her down? Was it the sudden expression of hurt and embarrassment that crossed her face and was gone in an instant? Or was it Dad's warning the other night that it was time to forget the past? “Thanks for the offer, but no.”