What The Doctor Ordered

Morgan followed her into the dining room and watched as she strapped her daughter into a child’s seat before grabbing a sipper cup and setting it in front of her daughter. “Yes, your mom has adopted me.”

Betty, who was coming in with the chicken, nodded. “I sure did. He’s my local son, since both of you kids never come visit your mama.”

Morgan went over and took the platter from her. “Let me get that, Betty.”

“Thanks, Morgan.” She turned to go into the kitchen, talking over her shoulder. “Sit down, get aquainted. I’ll be right back.”

Morgan hesitated then nodded. Looking at Rachel, he said, “Very self-reliant, isn’t she?”

Rachel chuckled. “Understatement.” She got up, got the napkins and silverware and finished setting the table.

“You know sign language well.”

Rachel glanced at him in surprise. “My daughter is hearing impaired,” she replied simply.

“How much does she understand?” he queried.

Rachel frowned. “Enough.”

He heard it in her voice. Back off. So he did, turning his attention to Lindsay instead.

She was sipping, staring at him over the rim as she drank her juice.

Morgan grinned at her and signed, “Hi. I’m Morgan. You like juice?”

The little girl stared at him suspiciously over the cup before she tossed it at him and signed, “Share!”

Morgan caught it in midair. It was pure luck. He hadn’t expected her to throw her cup at him.

“Lindsay!” Rachel said and hurried toward her daughter.

Morgan looked at Lindsay.

She giggled.

He tried to cover a smile. “Thank you,” he signed, and acted as if he were taking a drink before handing it back to her.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Morgan—”

“Just Morgan.”

“Okay, just Morgan,” Rachel said, exasperated. “Will you stop grinning at her? She’s going to think it’s okay to throw her cup at you all the time.”

“She was only sharing,” he said innocently.

Rachel, who’d had her back turned during the entire incident, paused and looked from one to the other. “She normally doesn’t talk to strangers.”

“She knows me,” he said, signing with his words.

Rachel’s jaw dropped. “You know sign language?”

“Yes, Rachel, I do. We were talking while you were digging for the coasters. I asked her if she liked her juice, and she shared it with me. I take that to mean either she likes me and decided to be my friend or she hates her juice.”

Rachel studied him again before her gaze went to her daughter, who was sipping her juice. Then she laughed. “I guess she decided you’re a friend.”

Betty chose that moment to come in with bread and vegetables. “Rachel, honey, will you get the salad and pitcher for me?”

“I can do that, Betty,” Morgan said, but Rachel shook her head.

“I’ll get it. I have to get her bib anyway.”

She left and Morgan took the dishes from Betty and set them on the table.

“There we go, my baby. I made corn for you tonight. And carrots. Your favorite,” Betty said to her granddaughter.

Lindsay smiled beatifically at her grandmother and then yelled loudly. He had to give Betty credit. For not being around the child much, she did well not to flinch when Lindsay shouted her pleasure.

Rachel returned and set the salad and pitcher on the table before slipping the bib on. When she sat down, Betty turned to Morgan. “Will you say the prayer, dear?”

Morgan didn’t miss the uncomfortable shift Rachel made. He bowed his head. “Heavenly Father, thank You for the food You’ve blessed us with and thank You for the company and the special precious gift You gave us in Lindsay. Bless this food, in Jesus’s name, amen.”

When he opened his eyes, Rachel was staring at him blankly. He returned the stare with one of warmth. Her gaze wobbled with tenderness and surprise before she glanced away. “Lindsay is certainly my precious gift,” she said, then proceeded to dish up a plate of food for her child.

After handing Lindsay her silverware, Rachel cut her daughter’s chicken and broke up the bread, then started filling her own plate.

Morgan filled his quietly. “I found a new fishing hole, Betty.”

“Oh? Where this time?”

Morgan passed Betty the platter of meat as he said, “Outside of town. The mile road. You go down it and it’s off west about a mile.”

“The old Henderson place. They had a creek running back there.”

“I’m planning to go soon. Joe Pierceson told me about it.”

“He’d know. That man loves to fish.”

“Have you ever fished, Rachel?” Morgan asked politely before taking a bite of chicken.

Startled, she glanced from her daughter, her mouth filled with food. She swallowed, took a sip of tea then replied, “I haven’t been in four, maybe five years.” Her gaze unfocused briefly. “I used to go with Dad all the time before I went off….”

She glowed with good memories. Morgan was enchanted as he watched her.

“I remember some of the things you brought home, young lady, and it wasn’t just fish. Turtles, frogs, tadpoles and even a snake. Land sakes, I’m glad that thing wasn’t poisonous,” Betty said.

Rachel grinned at her mother. “Daddy was, too.”

Both burst out laughing, and Betty turned to Morgan to explain. “She was upset because she hadn’t caught anything and her brother had. So she was walking back to the car and found this snake. A king snake, mind you, and she stuffed it into her plastic wading pants, planning to sneak it into the room and put it in her brother’s bed.”