Courting the Doctor's Daughter (8 page)

He hadn’t realized how much she’d endured. He’d never do anything to give her one moment of heartache.

Nor would anyone else hurt her. Not as long as he breathed. He stiffened as a weight heavy as a boulder thudded in his gut. To ensure her protection, he’d have to stay, get involved. Something he could not do.

Saturday morning, the sound of footsteps raised Mary’s head from her father’s bookkeeping. She looked into sober hazel eyes under creased brows, like the man carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. He removed his hat, revealing an unruly shock of dark brown hair. “I’m Dr. Rodney Brooks, Miss. Dr. Lawrence is expecting me. I’m early for our appointment.”

“Oh, yes, Dr. Brooks. He’s busy at the moment, but I’ll tell him you’re here.”

He gave a gentle smile. “While I wait, if you don’t mind, I’d like to look at his accounts. Get a sense of the size of the practice.”

Mary hesitated. Her father wouldn’t want anyone looking at his books. Still, Dr. Brooks had a right to know what he could expect if he joined the practice. “The information you’re seeking is in this ledger.”

She traded places with him and headed for the backroom, leaving Dr. Brooks at her desk with his nose buried in the tome like a terrier in a mole run.

Her father and Luke sat at the table, poring over a book
of herbal concoctions while Luke crushed a mixture with a pestle and mortar.

“It’s amazing how plants aid in our healing. Makes a man appreciate God knew what He was doing when He created them,” her father said.

Luke smiled. “The human body’s ability to heal is more evidence of God’s wisdom.”

Warmth spread through Mary. Luke loved God. She smiled at him and then turned to her father. “Dr. Brooks is here.”

Glancing at his watch, Henry’s brow furrowed. “He’s early.”

“No rush. He doesn’t appear to be in a hurry.” Mary couldn’t have spoken more truthful words.

“Take a look at this, daughter.” Her father pushed the book across the table. Luke had instilled in him a renewed interest in herbal medicine. Fascinated by the potential that could grow right outside his door, Henry spent long hours reading and experimenting with remedies his older patients touted. By the time Mary read the list of ingredients for the medicine they worked on, and their hopes for it, fifteen minutes had passed.

She hurried back to the outer office, relieved to see Dr. Brooks sat across the room, glancing through a magazine. “I’m sorry for the delay. Right this way,” she said, and led him to the backroom.

Henry shook hands with the applicant. “Dr. Brooks, this is Dr. Jacobs.”

“I didn’t realize the practice supported two doctors.”

Luke shook his hand. “I’m only helping out until Dr. Lawrence finds a colleague.”

As the applicant’s grades and behavior met her father’s stiff requirements, Mary watched his face go from mild interest to full attention.

Please, God. Let this be the one.

Then Luke Jacobs could leave.

The prospect of never seeing Luke again twisted in her belly. Well, his leaving might hurt, but if he stayed, he’d cause her more pain.

Her father settled back in his chair. “Do you have any questions for me?”

“Your daughter allowed me to look at your accounts, Dr. Lawrence. I believe I can get the practice on solid financial footing by instituting a policy requiring cash at the time of service.”

Mary stiffened. Many people in this town didn’t have the money to pay. Her gaze darted across the table to her father.

His jaw jutted like an anvil. “How do you propose to do that, young man?”

“It won’t be pleasant at first, but once your patients understand they have to pay up front or be turned away, they’ll—”

“Turned away?” Her father straightened in his chair. “As in refusing treatment?” He met Mary’s gaze, and his censor for her latest attempt to ease his workload banged against her heart.

Luke rose and came around the table toward the applicant. “This town isn’t inhabited by a bunch of freeloaders, as you seem to think. Good, hardworking people live here.”

Her father slapped the table. “And when those people need treatment, I don’t ask to see their bank account. I’m not about to turn over my patients to a doctor who puts money ahead of people.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t practice medicine out of the goodness of my heart. I have debts of my own. How do you handle so many unpaid bills?”

“I don’t do this for the money, Dr. Brooks. I see it as a calling from God.”

“As do I, but it’s also a business. If people knew they had to pay their bills in a timely fashion, they’d find a way. I’m sure of it.”

“I’m too old to change my ways, young man. Too bad medical school don’t teach compassion.”

Dr. Brooks rose. “I won’t waste your time any longer.”

Once the outer door thumped shut after him, her father turned to Mary, his face full of disapproval.

How long would it take to find a decent doctor?

How long could she postpone her dream?

How long could she abide Luke Jacobs’s disturbing presence?

M
ary rose early Sunday morning to fry chicken and prepare coleslaw and green beans with ham for the church potluck. Outside her window, the sun peaked over the horizon, streaking the cloudless sky with pink. She thanked God for Ben’s return to health and for a perfect day for the church fellowship picnic after the service. The elders had canceled Sunday school classes for the occasion. She’d give this week’s lesson next week. One less thing to do.

Humming “Amazing Grace” under her breath, Mary packed the food in her woven picnic basket, setting the cake she’d made last night on top. The song died on her lips. Her father had invited Luke to church. Could he bring heartache to all of them? If so, why did she see those dark eyes and that dimple in her dreams?

She must not forget a handsome face and glib tongue could bring a passel of heartache.

The man’s presence in the office had disturbed her serenity, and she couldn’t restore it no matter how hard she tried. The struggle left her weary.

On edge.

And feeling more alive than she had in years.

A knot formed in her belly. She’d keep her distance, not easy to do working side by side. Surely if Luke came to church today, he wouldn’t share in the meal. But if he did, with everyone milling around, she’d find it difficult to limit his contact with Ben. She sighed. Was she overreacting as Charles had said? Since buying Ben the ball, Luke hadn’t paid unusual attention to her son, but she couldn’t shake the feeling—call it woman’s intuition—that Luke Jacobs had more than a passing interest in Ben.

The clock chimed. Mary gasped then rushed in to wake the boys. Last night, knowing they didn’t have to rise early for Sunday school, Mary had let them stay up past their bedtime playing checkers and eating popcorn. Now they’d overslept. Normally as punctual as her father’s timepiece, they’d be late today.

She hustled all three boys through breakfast and into their go-to-meeting clothes. By the time she led them out the door, her heart thumped in her chest.

Could her reaction be more from the prospect of seeing Luke in services than from her efforts to hurry the children along? Nonsense. He might be a doctor and his remedy might be real medicine, but Luke Jacobs remained a mystery. She’d best remember that.

Alone, the short trek to church wouldn’t take long, but Ben liked to loiter over every bird and insect. Considering the lateness of the hour, she asked Michael to fetch the wagon from the shed. He pulled it up to the front stoop, and Mary tucked Ben and her basket inside.

Philip made a grab for the handle. “I wanna pull the wagon, Mom.”

Michael held it tight. “I’m the oldest. It’s my job.”

“You both can. Now hurry up. We’re late.” Mary waved a hand, then knowing her energetic sons, she added, “Hold on tight, Ben.”

The wagon clattered over the brick, and Ben bounced along, squealing in delight. But inside Mary, tension mounted. She dreaded seeing Luke. Not that the man didn’t have the right to attend church, but was his desire to worship genuine?

Oh, my.
She’d just judged someone’s faith. The realization thudded to the bottom of her stomach. Why would she do such a thing? The answer: Luke Jacobs unnerved her in a way she didn’t understand. At the core of her concern lay her inability to trust another man. She’d had confidence in Sam and paid for her naïveté.

Yet in the past few days, working alongside Luke in the office, she’d found herself slipping into a pattern of camaraderie…almost. For a few moments, she forgot her concern about Ben. How easily she could be duped. By compelling charm. A fine-looking face. A stunning smile.

No, never again.

Through the open windows of First Christian Church, voices rose in song. Glancing at the watch on her lapel, Mary released a breath. Only the first song. Near the steps, the boys stopped and Ben crawled out, taking Michael’s hand while Philip parked the wagon.

Leaning close, Mary lifted a silencing finger to her lips, and all three boys, eyes solemn, nodded. Her heart overflowed with love for their innocent faces and sweet natures. She prayed God would take care of her precious children all the days of their lives.

Inside, sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows, bathing the worshippers and walls in a soft, ethereal light. Mary steered the little group toward the back pew. A few rows up, her father turned around and motioned them forward.

When they reached his pew, Luke Jacobs sat on the other side of her father. Her pulse quickened. Even expect
ing to see him this morning hadn’t prepared her for his welcoming smile.

Her father stepped into the aisle to let them pass, and Luke slid down the pew. Ben scooted in beside Luke, the grin broad on his young face. Philip and Michael plopped down, one on each side of where their grandfather would sit, forcing Mary to take a seat next to Ben, inches away from the height and breadth of Luke’s shoulders, looming above Ben’s head.

“Good morning,” he whispered.

Nodding a greeting, Mary’s eyes met Luke’s. His dark regard rippled through her. The scent of his shaving cream and soap permeated the space between them. Her breath stuttered in her chest. She lowered her eyes, taking in Luke’s boots planted firmly on the floorboards, and then traveled to his knees, jutting within inches of the pew in front of him. With trembling hands, she plucked the songbook from the rack and tried to join in, but the words lodged in her throat.

The power this man had over her evoked the attraction she’d felt for Sam. Tears stung the back of her eyes. Attraction meant nothing.

The song service ended, and Elder Atkins rose to read scripture. “Open your Bibles to the seventh verse of 1 Corinthians 13.” The shuffling of pages and the soft babbling of a baby filled the silence. “Love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”

Mary’s heart plunged, weighed down by shame. When she’d married Sam, she had loved him with every part of her being, but that love had not persevered. If it had, she wouldn’t have lost hope the last years of their marriage. Her trust in her husband shriveled and then died. In truth, the last of her ability to trust died with him. Inside her gloves, Mary’s hands went cold. She’d read these scrip
tures countless times, but today the pain of how much she’d failed Sam tore at her, condemned her.

As if possessing a will of its own, her gaze sought Luke’s and held. He appeared to see inside her, to know her love for her husband had been tested and failed. She had the strongest feeling he understood, perhaps even shared a similar struggle.

No, she must be mistaken. This rogue might, at this very moment, be plotting to rip Ben out of her arms.

With every ounce of resolve she possessed, Mary looked away, turning her attention to Pastor Foley, who made his way to the pulpit. Mary’s thoughts drifted in and out of the sermon.

She struggled to concentrate on what the preacher said. “As Christians, God calls us to service. We’re not to shirk our responsibilities to our church, to our employers, to our spouses, to our children.”

Beside her, Luke shifted in his seat. She glanced furtively at him, her eyes meeting his. In their chocolate depths, she saw profound sadness and something else. Shame? Her breath caught in her throat. Gone was the confident, take-charge peddler. In his place, a man filled with regret.

“It’s only when we do our duty, living in obedience, that we please God. And find peace,” Pastor Foley continued, then removed his spectacles and smiled, his gaze resting on Luke. “Before services, I had the privilege of meeting Luke Jacobs, the new doctor in town. He says he’s not staying long, but I hope we’ll change his mind. For however long he’s here, he’ll be worshipping with us.”

The news churned in Mary’s stomach. He’d join in. Become a bigger part of the town’s life, her life and Ben’s. Parishioners swiveled in Luke’s direction, smiling and eager, as if they couldn’t wait for the privilege of greeting him.

The moment the congregation sang the last note of the
closing hymn Mary sprang to her feet. She’d come to church to worship God, to find peace and strength for the week ahead. Instead Luke had destroyed her concentration and composure. His strange reaction earlier only added to her suspicions. Who was this man?

Mary took her son’s hand, but he refused to budge from Luke’s side. Mary had never seen a wider grin on Luke’s face. Did he have a tie to Ben?

Why didn’t she gather her courage and ask him?

What if the answer was one she couldn’t bear to hear?

She shivered. Before she could gather her young charge, members of the congregation swamped their pew, forcing Mary to look on while her father introduced Luke. Her neighbors greeted him warmly. Some praised his medicine. Charles, Laura and all her friends appeared taken by the man.

The feathers on Addie’s hat bobbed back into Mary’s view. “This is fellowship Sunday, Dr. Jacobs. We’re having a carry-in dinner.” Mary shot her a warning, but evidently her sister-in-law didn’t receive the message. “I hope you’ll stay. There’s always plenty of food.”

Luke grinned. “Thank you. Sounds good.”

Geraldine Whitehall rushed over. Her husband trailed behind. “Can’t say we like Doc snatching you away from us,” Geraldine said to Luke. “At least you still take your meals at the café.”

“I wouldn’t miss your cooking, Mrs. Whitehall,” Luke said, then shook her husband’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

Judge and Viola Willowby stopped to give Ben a hug, then greeted Luke. “Sorry we won’t be at the picnic. My wife insists such a long day would tucker me out,” Judge Willowby said. “Glad to have you worshipping with us, Doctor.”

Viola turned to Ben and gave him a kiss. “See you
Monday morning, sweetheart.” She took her husband’s arm, and they joined those flowing out of the church.

The aisle cleared enough for Mary to slip out, leaving Ben with Luke. For now. Ahead of her, the boys held their grandfather’s hands, tugging him down the aisle toward the door, eager to get into the sunshine.

“Mary, what’s your hurry?”

She whirled toward Addie’s voice.

“Charles told me he’d had a talk with the new doctor.” Addie’s gaze slid to Luke and Ben still talking near the pew. “But he failed to mention how handsome Dr. Jacobs is.”

“Handsome is as handsome does.”

Adelaide sobered. “You’re suspicious of him just because he gave Ben a ball?”

Mary’s belly twisted. “Yes.”

“Charles is a good judge of character. He takes Luke at his word, though the news the man is a doctor surprised him.”

“Why would he hide that, especially when he’s selling a remedy?”

“Once people get wind someone’s a doctor, they start listing their symptoms and never give the poor man a moment’s peace.”

“I’m afraid there’s more to it than that.”

She and Addie reached the door. Once again, Addie glanced behind her. “Looks like the young ladies of the church are giving Dr. Jacobs a warm welcome.”

Mary turned back. A gaggle of single young women surrounded Luke with Ben still plastered to his side. The girls giggled and batted their lashes like they had kindling stuck in their eyes. Luke’s dimple twinkled. Obviously, he’d charmed them all. Well, they could have him.

“Good,” she said.

Addie laughed. “Your face says otherwise, Mary Lynn Graves.”

While she watched, Luke disentangled Ben and himself from the group of admirers and strolled toward the back of the church. His gaze locked with hers. Something passed between them, something warm and personal, connecting them, almost as if they were alone. Mary looked away.

At the door, Luke shook Pastor Foley’s hand.

“Hope you’re staying for the picnic,” the minister said.

Luke smiled. “I can’t pass up home cooking.”

“You don’t want to miss my daughter’s chocolate sheet cake,” her father said, coming up behind Luke and thumping him on the back. “She’s one of the best cooks in these parts.”

Heat climbed Mary’s neck and flooded into her cheeks. Mercy, she felt like she and her basket were up for auction and her father wheedled to raise the bid.

Taking Ben and the boys along, her father headed toward the men setting up tables on the lawn. Mary strode to the wagon, eager to put distance between her and Luke. But even without looking back, she sensed he followed her.

“Here, let me get that.” He reached around her and lifted the heavy basket with ease.

For a moment his thoughtful gesture softened the wall around her heart, and she smiled but then steeled herself. Luke Jacobs might behave like a gentleman, but he was nothing of the sort. He was overbearing, brash and secretive. A gentleman didn’t hide his profession. What else did he hide?

“First Christian makes an outsider feel right at home,” Luke said.

“Especially the young ladies.” Why had she said that? As if she cared what the man did.

A smile spread across his face. “Jealous?”

“Hardly. This church is made up of decent people, too gullible if you ask me,” she rushed on, determined to cover her mistake.

Luke raised a brow. “Are you saying I’m not to be trusted?”

Trust him? A man with rugged features, a wide stance, power exuding from every pore, the kind that sent her pulse skittering. Why, he was the image of a man her better sense told her to shun. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

He stepped closer until she could see the length of his dark lashes, catch the scent of him, watch his chest rise and fall with each breath. Everything within her reacted, going from flustered to something more.

Her breath caught. What would it be like to be courted by Luke Jacobs? Would he cherish a woman? Make her feel special? Share his thoughts with her?

“Is it this congregation who shouldn’t trust me, or is it you?” he asked, his gaze locking with hers.

Refusing to get lost in the man’s mesmerizing eyes, Mary stepped back. “Well, I…I don’t trust you, either,” she stammered, her heart racing at his audacity and her own unwelcome feelings.

A shadow passed over his features and he turned away. Thinking about Luke Jacobs in the same breath as courting made about as much sense as dumping a cup of salt into a batch of sugar cookies. Both were recipes for disaster.