What Matters Most (2 page)

“I’d never given serious thought to poverty or what it did to people. I’d always supported organizations that helped those less fortunate, but I had considered my success, talent and station in life as my due.”

His eyes glistened with the excitement of a man who had just made a great discovery. She leaned forward, enraptured by his enthusiasm and his apparent eagerness to share his thoughts with her.

“What happened to change you? Something did.”

He picked up a gold pen. “My father gave me this twenty-two-carat-gold pen when I graduated from medical school,” he said under his breath, and began tapping it on his desk blotter. “Yeah. Something changed me, all right. Plenty. After the woman who gave me those ties left me that day, a cloud of guilt hung over me, and I couldn’t shake it. It stayed with me through the night. I couldn’t sleep. The woman was in her late sixties at the least, and she walked as if she carried the world on her shoulders. But she’d found a way to thank me. And I knew it was the widow’s mite. The next day I got into my Porsche and drove through the neighborhood where she lived. I was born in Baltimore, but I’d never seen it.

“That was in March. I drove through the Morrell section of South Baltimore and saw areas where it seemed that most houses were boarded up. Broken glass was strewn around the streets. Children played near piles of garbage. The stench was mingled with the odor of frying fish and men drank openly from bottles on the corner. People sat on stoops and in chairs in front of their houses, as if they couldn’t bear to be inside.

“I drove back to Franklin and on out Bolton Hill Avenue to the park, pulled over and stopped, overwhelmed by the tragedy. Nowhere in the neighborhood did I see a doctor’s office or even a pharmacy. I had been vaguely aware of the conditions that existed right here in Baltimore but had never seen them.

“It kept me awake in bed that night. Over and over in my mind’s eye, I remembered the lines from the last letter my mother wrote me. ‘You’re blessed with an exceptional mind, son: skill, wealth, the best education, advantages and opportunities that few people have. You are my pride and joy. Don’t ever forget your less fortunate brothers and sisters.’ The next morning, I pulled out the letter and read it in its entirety. I remembered her so vividly then.”

He shook his head slowly and, Melanie thought, sadly. “I miss her sweet, gentle ways. She would want me to do this.”

He abruptly halted his reminiscence and looked at her. “When can you start?” He had knocked the wind out of her with his private revelation, and now he was all business. Yet all that he had said only reassured her that she would be lucky to work for him.

“Today’s Tuesday,” Melanie said, “so I’ll be there at five. Thank you for confiding in me. I won’t let you down.”

“I know. I’m a very good judge of people.” He walked with her to the door. “See you at five.”

“Dr. Ferguson, your eleven o’clock is here.”

“Thanks, Marnie. Show her to room A. I’ll be there in five or ten minutes.”

John Hewitt “Jack” Ferguson closed his office door, went back to his desk and flopped down in the chair. Whew! The woman had thrown him for a loop. And it wasn’t just the way she looked, it was everything. Lord, a man could drown himself in those eyes and love every second of that sweet death.

He shook his head. That Melanie Sparks appealed to him didn’t surprise him. Besides her looks, she had a shapely body and a soft, sweet voice. Just the type of woman he liked. And she possessed a quiet strength that came across when she challenged him. He wasn’t used to challenges from women, or men for that matter. Normally, he didn’t like it. But she wasn’t strident, and he hadn’t minded at all.

What he couldn’t understand was his confiding in her personal things about himself, things that he had wanted to tell his father, but hadn’t because he didn’t expect his father would approve. But as he’d talked, she leaned forward, her magnificent brown eyes sparking with excitement, and he wanted to open up to her. He’d found a kindred soul, a person like himself, and he hadn’t sensed that kind of bond since his mother died.

He’d surprised her by asking when she could start work, because her dreamy eyes widened. Almost immediately her long lashes half hid them, sending a jolt through his body. He had to be careful with Melanie Sparks. She’d shaken him up. But he’d deal with it. He washed his hands and headed for examining room A.

If he’d had a choice, he probably wouldn’t have hired her. Oh, hell! Why should he kid himself? She was a beautiful woman without the cosmetic enhancements of the women he treated and usually dated. She was the real thing, and he’d bet that svelte body was God-given, that she’d never been near a dermatologist, never had her body nipped and tucked or her breasts augmented. He told himself to snap out of it and to keep his mind off her. He reminded himself that a man shouldn’t hit on women who worked for him. Still, five o’clock couldn’t come fast enough.

By the time Melanie became fully aware of herself, she had walked from Jack Ferguson’s Bolton Hill office almost to Liberty Heights. Four long blocks. Nothing she had experienced in her thirty-one years had prepared her for Jack Ferguson. He was more than six feet, four inches tall, muscular and the epitome of masculinity, and when she stepped into his office and looked at him, she was mesmerized. The man was the definition of sex itself, and sex wasn’t something she spent a lot of time thinking about. But looking at him, there it was—in your face, blatant masculinity. And oh, those eyes. Large, long-lashed brown eyes that sent a bolt straight to her feminine core. Lord, the man had half smiled, and she caught herself moving toward him. She’d never seen quicksand, but after being near him, she knew what it was like.

She sat down on the steps of the nearest row houses and enjoyed a good laugh. Nobody in that neighborhood ever sat on the stoop. She opened the envelope Ferguson had given her and counted out seventy-five dollars. The taxi to his office had cost thirty-five dollars with tip, but she’d told him thirty, because it had seemed a bit high.

I wonder if it’s a mistake to work for that man. I think he’s nice, but he’s so handsome. When I looked at him, I thought my heart was going to jump out of my chest. If I had any sense, I’d call him and tell him I don’t want to take the job, but I need the money. I just pray that he doesn’t get next to me.

She got home shortly before noon, changed her clothes and got to work at her computer. She had never studied juvenile crime, but she knew more about it than the graduate student who had written the paper she typed. She knew the seeds that gave rise to it, something to which this master’s degree candidate had paid only passing attention. She’d almost finished when she realized she’d better start her father’s dinner. If he didn’t smell food when he walked into the house, she’d never get to Ferguson’s office on time, and she didn’t want to be late for her new job.

She smothered four pork chops in gravy, stewed turnip greens in the pressure cooker and prepared some candied sweet potatoes, baking the potatoes first in the microwave oven to save time. She took the leftover apple pie out of the refrigerator and placed it on the counter, set the table and dashed up to her bedroom to put on her uniform.

“Where do you think you’re going in that?” her father asked when she came down stairs.

She was accustomed to his rudeness. “Hi, Daddy. I got a job in a doctor’s office Tuesday and Thursday evenings, and it’s not too far from here.”

“Any doctor with a chicken-shit office anyplace near here ain’t worth crap, so don’t hand me that.”

She knew better than to object if she wanted to leave anytime soon. The more he talked, the angrier he became and the more likely he was to start storming around and acting out. “Did you like the pork chops, Daddy? Mr. Muggings had some pretty nice ones for a change.”

“They were all right. Next time, put a little more salt on them turnip greens.”

“Yes, I will. See you when I get back.” She left the house before her father could pick on something else that would delay her departure.

It had been nearly a decade since her mother had finally given up after battling years of fragile health and bouts of depression. She had promised her mother that she would stay with her father at least until she finished school. But she had exhausted her patience with his behavior, and especially his manners. It was too much to ask of her. When she got her RN, she intended to move.

She reached Jack’s office shortly before five o’clock. “You going to work with the new doctor?” a boy of about seventeen asked her.

“Why, yes, I am. This will be my first evening on the job. Who are these people?” she asked about the fifteen or more sitting on nearby stoops.

“Looks like they’re waiting for the doctor. My mama said she’s been living here for thirty-nine years, and there’s never been a doctor’s office anyplace near here. These people gon’ work you to death, lady.”

She patted the boy’s shoulder. “We’re here because Dr. Ferguson saw a need and decided to do something about it.” She decided to make friends with the teen. In this neighborhood, you couldn’t have enough of them. “I’m Nurse Sparks. What’s your name?”

“Terry Jordan. If I bring my kid sister here, you think the doc will look at her? She’s been sick for weeks, but we can’t afford to see no doctors.”

She didn’t know the answer, but she’d find out what Dr. Ferguson was made of. “Terry, I learned this early in life—if you don’t try, you can’t win. Go get your sister.”

He hopped off the ledge. “Yes, ma’am.”

When the Town Car drove up a few minutes later, a small boy ran to move the two orange traffic cones, and the people who sat on the nearby stoops stood and formed an orderly line. It relieved her to see that Terry and his sister, who looked to be about five, were third in line. Like ants following sugar, the line increased to about forty people within minutes.

Jack Ferguson jumped out of his car, waved to those who waited for him and, to her amazement, they all waved back. His smile, when he saw her standing there, would have weakened the strongest woman. He unlocked the door, stepped aside and ushered her to precede him inside.

“I’m not usually late,” he said. “If I’m lax about my office hours, people will think I don’t care. But I had to get a couple of extra keys made.” Jack handed Melanie one. “Now, you won’t have to wait outside.”

“How’re you going to handle this crowd in three hours?” she asked him.

“I’ll stay till I’ve seen everyone. This is only my third evening, and there are a lot of people with health problems here.” That devastating grin again. “You don’t know how happy I am to see you. Last Thursday night, I almost went nuts.”

“That may happen yet,” she said under her breath.

“I heard that,” he said. “Trouble is you’re right.”

“When should I let patients in?” she asked.

“Give me a minute to get ready.” He finished washing his hands and looked off in the distance. “These people define the word
patient.
It makes a man humble.”

She stared at him, but when he looked at her, she quickly turned away. She didn’t know what her facial expression might reveal. “Should I ask them to come in now, sir?”

“Absolutely, and please don’t call me sir. I’m only thirty-four.”

She went to the door, opened it and let in the patients, who soon filled the waiting room.

“There’s a young boy out there with his little sister, Dr. Ferguson. He said she’s been sick for weeks, and they can’t afford a doctor.”

“That’s no problem. If they have insurance, I take it. If they don’t, I still do the best I can for them. I knew when I opened this place that most of the people wouldn’t be able to pay. I don’t mind.”

He went out to the waiting room. “Thank all of you for being so patient. This is a lot for one doctor and a nurse to take care of in one evening. But I’ll see every one of you before I leave here. I hope you don’t mind if I take the children first. Ms. Sparks will ask you to fill out a form, because if I’m going to be your doctor, I need your medical history. Is that straight with everybody?” They all said yes in unison.

Is this man for real?
thought Melanie. He had a posh office in Bolton Hill for wealthy patients, and could devote his afternoons to playing golf, tennis or just loafing around. But instead he chose to spend his free time helping people who had no health care. Melanie looked at the faces of the patients who sat in the waiting area looking as if Jack Ferguson was their savior. Not even the children seemed to mind waiting. She didn’t know whether to attribute it to their need or to Jack’s friendly manner.

Seven children lined up at her desk with their parents or guardians. She or the adult filled out the medical form. “Do you want me to fill in your sister’s form, Terry?” she asked the boy.

“I don’t know whether she’s had all her shots. I can take it to my mama and be back in about fifteen minutes. Is the doctor still going to treat her?”

“He’s going to see everybody in this room whether or not they have insurance or money. Now, run and take this to your mother.”

“Yes, ma’am, Miss Sparks.” He brought his sister over to sit beside Melanie and dashed out of the office. She filled out the forms after realizing that many of the patients didn’t understand the questions and had to be asked in a different way or were unable to read. And she nearly cried when a four-year-old girl told her, “My mommy always kisses it and makes it better, but this didn’t get better.” She pointed to a spot under her armpit. “It hurts all the time.”

As promised, Terry returned within fifteen minutes and gave her the form. No one had to tell Melanie that the boy’s sister had been sick most of her life. She thanked him. “Do you have other sisters or brothers?” she asked Terry, wondering why his mother hadn’t come with him.

“I have two little brothers. The baby one has a bad cold, and my mama didn’t want to bring him out.”

“We’re open Thursday night, so you can stay with your brother and sister and let your mother bring your baby brother. Okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Do you go to school?”