The Doctor's Devotion (Love Inspired) (10 page)

Mitch resisted the urge to rub the knots out of her neck. He was physically and mentally drained, and this room was quite secluded and dimly lit. Recipe for disaster. “Ready to go?”

She nodded and gave him back his stethoscope. Which made him frown. And made her laugh. “You need it more than I do.”

At least she didn’t say she’d never need it again.

Progress, right?

“Thanks for giving me rides home, Mitch,” Lauren said as he helped her into the truck.

Mitch smiled because she’d said
home
. Every time before, she’d referred to it as
Lem’s.
Maybe her heart’s roots were deepening for Southern Illinois? That would be fine by him. Maybe by her, too, because the closer they got to Mitch dropping her off, the more she fidgeted and seemed to want to say something.

Likewise, Mitch wished to draw out their time together.

“Do you want to—?”

“How about we—?”

They both laughed at their simultaneous questions. Lauren tucked her hair behind her ear. “Want to go for coffee and feed the geese at Refuge Park?”

Mitch smiled and headed to the bread store. “That sounds fun.” Right now—the way she and her sparkly eyes and gorgeous grin made him feel—she’d make a trip to the dentist for a root canal fun.

They got coffee to go from the bread store, then parked near a cluster of geese. When Mitch got out of the truck with the bread bag, he was mobbed by winged critters.

“Haven’t you fed them before?” Lauren asked, giggling, after rescuing him and the empty bag.

He led her to a picnic table, laughing, despite having been pecked. “No. Here’s your coffee.”

She took a sip and grimaced. “Gross. How can you drink this stuff? It’s pure sludge.”

“I hadn’t noticed.” He peered into his half-empty cup, realizing she was right. He looked back up at her and scooted closer than a friend would. “All I noticed is how lucky I am to be in the company of someone so beautiful and brave.”

“You mean, the geese?” Her cheeks tinged as she smiled and lowered her gaze.

Mitch raised her face because he needed to look into her eyes to say this. “No. I mean the fearless knockout who rescued me from them.”

Chapter Eleven

“W
hat gives?” Lem handed Lauren a cup of caramel mocha coffee one morning the next week after they came home from another early morning fishing excursion. “You’re all dolled up.”

“Oh, nothin’.” She cleared her throat and eyed the window.

“You wanted to don your war paint before Mitch got here.”

Lauren glared at her grandfather, but kept silent.

“Don’t worry. His smile will be worth it.” Lem chuckled. “Admit it. You think he’s cute.”

Lauren sighed. “I can’t pull any kind of wool over your eyes, can I?”

Grandpa chuckled. “Not in this lifetime.”

“Speaking of lifetime, Grandpa, you look healthy enough to hit a hundred.”
Please, God, let it be so.

“I do feel smidgens better now that you’re here.”

“Good.” What could she say? She wasn’t here to stay. Would he worsen after she left? Thankfully Mitch’s truck rumbled up, sparing her from guilt.

Mitch stood at the door with a riveted expression. “Wow.”

Lauren fumbled verbally, but no words would emerge.

Mitch stepped in, canvassing her. “Glossy hair. Movie-star makeup. Outfit too dressy for a cornfield. What’s the occasion?”

Grandpa grinned. “Just you, Mitch. Just you.”

Heat blasted Lauren’s face. “Grandpa!” Was nothing sacred in this house? She shook her head at him.

Lem’s eyes twinkled as he headed to man the stove.

Mitch watched the two of them and didn’t crack a smile.

She could just die of embarrassment. Thankfully Mitch spared her by picking up a drill and going to work on the deck. As soon as he was out of sight, Lauren trudged toward Grandpa. “I wish you’d cut the matchmaking already.”

Grandpa chuckled over ham he seared in a pan for tonight’s beans. “Looks like he could use a hand. It’s supposed to rain today, so I’d appreciate it if you’d go help him.”

“I’d appreciate it if you’d let me
really
help him by handing me a tranquilizer dart.”

Lem poked a spatula at her nose. “That, young lady, was uncalled for. Now
git
yourself out there and lend him a hand.”

Whoa. Grandpa never used
git
or any other Southern slang words unless he was perturbed.

Well, he could join the club. Lauren’s teeth gritted until she saw through the window how much work the deck still needed. She eyed Grandpa. He peered out his side of the kitchen window at clouds, then at Mitch with a worrisome gnaw to his jaw.

“Quit eatin’ your tongue, Grandpa. I’m going.” She grabbed her work gloves and headed out, knowing that this time, Grandpa was merely looking out for Mitch and not trying to be a matchmaker.

“Hey,” she greeted Mitch on approach. “How can I help?”

He peered up, then to his work area. “Let’s cut these before the weather unleashes on us. I want to get this electrical stuff inside before it starts.” He nodded at vicious-looking saws.

Mitch and Lauren worked together until Lem peeked his head out the deck door a while later. “Lunch is ready. Come on in.”

Mitch eyed the darkening clouds, then Lauren, then the deck. She read his concern. “I’m not hungry yet,” she fibbed. “You?”

“I can wait, too.” He pulled his cheek, the way Grandpa tended to. “So which one of us is gonna tell Gramps?”

Lauren laughed. “I’ll do that piece of dirty work.”

An hour later, and Grandpa’s seventh trip to tell them food was getting cold, Mitch stood. “We can finish this another day. I’ll drag the saws into his garage if you wanna bring board remnants and the nailer.”

They packed up the work area, and Lem stepped out onto the deck. “Wow. You two work fast. You nearly have it done.”

Mitch nodded to Lauren. “Thanks to her help. She’s a hard worker. Good with power tools, too.” His proud grin sent zip lines through her tummy that left her exhilarated and lighthearted.

On the way to the table, Mitch slipped her a fistful of flowers in passing. “Peace offering.”

“Awww. Thanks!” He must’ve had them hidden. Wait… “Did you steal these from Grandpa’s yard?”

“Yes, ma’am. Learned from the best. Shhh,” he said with whispered breath and a finger to his mouth, which drew her attention there. What was meant as a kidding gesture captivated her.

And aggravated her to no end.

“Thanks. I think.” She groaned inwardly. “I can’t believe I’ve influenced you to lift bounty from his prized flower beds.”

Mitch smiled. “I confess it’s not the first time I have. He has plenty and gets a kick out of me snitching them.”

“I hear you’re still adept at getting corn by a five-finger-discount, as well,” she teased in reference to Grandpa’s Mitch stories this week. He’d recited them nightly, with great animation, after Mitch went home or to the trauma center.

The departure always plagued Lauren with guilt. But he needed to secure permanent staff and get used to the idea that her help was only temporary.

Lauren enjoyed Grandpa’s renditions of good times with Mitch. She’d also realized how much Mitch did for Grandpa.

Mitch flashed a handsome grin her way.

Her traitorous pulse went aflutter like a rebellious butterfly.

She lifted the flowers and thought about whopping him with them. Instead, the floral scents of lavender and rose beckoned. She inhaled deeply. Unfortunately she also caught whiffs of his cologne. Hints of sandalwood and the outdoors made her slightly dizzy. “He also said you help plant the corn when you’re not deployed.”

Mitch handed her a vase. “He told you that?”

“Yep.” When she went to push flowers into the vase, some stems didn’t make it in. Mitch came to the rescue by wrapping his fingers around the flowers.

They both drastically slowed their motions. Drawing the tender moment out.

She was enjoying immensely the warm contact of their hands meshing together to mend a barely living thing. Like in surgery.
Like we are meant to be.

Caught completely off guard by the out-of-nowhere thought, Lauren looked up to find Mitch watching. Had he read her mind?

Perhaps they were fueled by the romantic childhood storybooks that Lem still kept in her room and had read to her every summer. Reading and fishing with him were two of her favorite pastimes.

Placing the flowers as the centerpiece, Lauren helped Mitch set the table. Something suddenly hit her. “Mitch, if I spent summers with Grandpa and you grew up here, how come we never met before?”

“Probably because I was shipped away for summers.”

“And I spent every off-summer season at relatives’ houses.”

Mitch leaned in. “Lauren, you should know that Lem once told me he agonized over discovering how unhappy you were by moving around. Had he known at the time, he would have sued for full custody.” For some reason, Mitch’s own words stiffened him.

“What’s wrong?” Lauren asked.

“Ian’s facing a painful custody battle. His marital problems began during deployment. Which cements my assumption that distance only mangles a marriage.”

“Kate said they had problems beforehand.”

“Still, I’m convinced absence does
not
grow hearts fonder.” His expression sobered.

“Sounds like you know from personal experience.”

He shrugged and dragged a sip of coffee from his cup. Then averted his gaze. After an introspective moment, he tipped his forehead toward Lem as he returned. “Your grandpa and that cornfield were the best things to ever happen to me. It’s when I learned about choice and consequence.”

“About sowing and reaping,” Lem added as he sat.

Mitch eyed Lem with fondness and respect. “Took me under his wing. Taught me faith in Jesus and how to make a mean pot of chili. Became like a second dad. A spiritual father.”

Lem patted Mitch’s forearm. “And I consider you my son. I don’t know what I would have done all these years without you. Even when you weren’t here, you made sure I was taken care of.”

Mitch laughed. “So you know about all the people I had checking in on you and doing things for you?”

“Wasn’t tough to figure out. They came like clockwork. You must’ve formulated a schedule of revolving folks or something.”

Mitch smiled. “I’ll never tell.”

Mitch’s doting over Grandpa like a son pressed Lauren’s blood pressure to dangerous limits because her face flamed hotter by the second. Anger at herself, too, for not seeing to it that Grandpa was looked after. For not even considering that he might need to be. Her self-absorption made her as mad as Mitch’s intruding into what should be her second chance with Grandpa.

She rubbed her chest but the sudden tightness would not go away. Anxiety? The invisible claw that Lem’s obvious care for Mitch clenched her shoulders with wouldn’t release her. Neither would the jealous envy she struggled against.

She should have that closeness with Grandpa. Not Mitch.

She used to. Why was Grandpa letting Mitch replace her? Did loneliness make him desperate enough to do something so drastic?

Her appetite fled so she methodically stabbed her food as if it were the cause of her emotional quandary.

Lem didn’t even notice. Rather, he beamed at Mitch’s tender words and seemed to stand taller. Then tapped an ice tong atop Lauren’s shoulder as if knighting her. “It’s good to have someone looking out for me. Then Lauren can go about her life.”

His statement devastated her.

“Ain’t that right, carrottop?” Lem rustled her hair then whistled his way back to the stove. But looked back when she didn’t answer. To Mitch’s credit, he looked apologetic.

Lauren nodded to be polite because what else could she do with that influx of information? She’d process it later. For now, she’d try to fight the hurt and bitterness inside her heart. “I’m glad you’ve been there for him.” She tried to mean it. Maybe if she said it often enough, it would be true. “You’ve obviously been a bright spot in his life.”

He laughed. “Yeah, like a bad sunburn at times, I’m sure.”

That gave Lauren an unexpected laugh. While he annoyed her, she enjoyed his unexpected transparency and well-placed humor.

Lem left the stove and joined them. “He was quite a handful in his youth.” He squeezed Mitch’s shoulder. “But he turned out all right.” Lem let them carry the serving dishes to the table.

Mitch maneuvered Lauren’s chair then draped a linen napkin over her, which sparked an extra twinkle in Grandpa’s owlish eyes. “We’re glad you joined us today without getting paged away.” Lem elbowed Lauren when she didn’t answer. “Aren’t we?”

Lauren gave Grandpa a wry smirk. “Of
course
we are,” she said through a clenched jaw.

She forced herself to curtsy, then sat. “You must be giving the debonair fellow chivalry lessons, Grandpa. If so, your prince of a pupil deserves an A-plus.”

“Then you, my princess, should attend my library event with him.”

The shock on Mitch’s face would have made the world’s most hilarious social-network profile photo.

“Grandpa, may I remind you I’ll be gone at summer’s end or earlier.”

“And the event is six months away,” Mitch added coolly.

Yet as Lauren relaxed at Lem’s table, she couldn’t get past feeling like a front-row observer at the heart of an epic rebirth. Of new memories being made. Of faith. And of a God-woven, willfully reconstructed family.

What was up with
that?

Mitch cast concernedly cryptic looks her way before dipping his head toward her plate. “Better eat. We have a long day.”

“We?”

He nodded. “I need you to run some errands with me.”

Lem aimed a butter knife at Mitch. “He’s up to something sneaky. Won’t tell me what, though.”

Lauren pivoted to study Mitch. “What errands?”

“You’ll see.” Expression purposely vague, he winked at her then ate another bite of the food Lem piled on his plate.

Suspicion rose like the lemonade he refilled in her cup.

* * *

“This doesn’t constitute an errand,” Lauren said an hour later as Mitch pulled into the trauma center lot.

Mitch parked his truck near the entrance but kept the engine running. “I didn’t say you had to go in.” He grinned.

She refused to let it melt her. “Good. Because I’m not.”

She had to set boundaries; otherwise he’d finagle her into helping full-time. Arms folded, she turned to admire a floral explosion of color lining the parking lot, courtesy of ornamental shrubs.

“Suit yourself.”

“I plan to.”

He looked about to say some snarky phrase, but his mouth flattened into a determined line instead. Which made her wonder like mad what he was thinking.

She’d probably be better off not knowing.

And she’d
for sure
be better off not to notice the fluid way his muscles moved when he walked. Nor should she be remotely intrigued by how intent his expression became whenever he shifted into trauma work mode. Yet she was.

With more difficulty than she wanted to admit, she forced her gaze and musings away from him.

She studied hummingbirds flitting in feeders next to a garden area. They held her attention for only so long.

After a conflicted moment, she stared at the entrance.

Looked away.

“I’m
not
going in.” Her eyes veered toward the front doors again. “I mean it.” Tearing her gaze away proved tougher this time. She studied the beauty of the building…only to catch glimpses of staff scurrying about inside.

They looked busy. Lauren looked away.

Her thoughts stayed. How were the in-house patients? She fought wonder. Her eyes strayed to room 24, Mara’s, the texting teen’s.

How was she today? Still comatose? Lauren shouldn’t speculate. Especially since she had no intention of going back in there and involving herself in Mara’s care. Images of the girl became too vivid to fight. Lauren found herself twisting to get any glimpse of movement inside room 24. Nothing.

Lauren’s heart began to thud. Had Mara perished in the night like Kate had feared and Ian had said she deserved? What painful part of Ian’s life caused him to say such a heartless thing?

Sweet Mara, such a mess you’ve made.
One choice. So much chaos. And she may never know. Her family hadn’t come. Why? How horrible was it to die utterly alone?