What The Doctor Ordered

“Really?” Rachel asked, excitement burgeoning to life.

Morgan shrugged. “She majored in languages and ministers to the deaf on Saturdays. I thought Lindsay would probably love that.”

“She probably would.”

Rachel suddenly realized she’d been tricked. Scowling at Morgan, she said, “I only want what’s best for my daughter. So if you do see me there, it’s because of her.”

Morgan’s smile turned tender. “I understand, Rachel.” He reached out and took her hand, but instead of shaking it, to her utter disbelief, he lifted it to his lips and kissed it lightly. His gaze lifted to hers. “I really do.” She stared, watching him walk down the stairs and to his car. And for some reason, she really believed that he did understand. She wasn’t sure why, but it was in his eyes. The truth. He really did know what she was going through.

Gripping the door, she wondered if maybe, just maybe, God really did take a personal interest, after all.

Chapter Five

She should have known.

He was a doctor.

A pediatrician.

Of all the low-down tricks. She was striding across the green, but she didn’t make it to her destination, which was the church day care and her mother. Oh, no. She found someone else to take her frustration out on.

Smiling with grim anticipation, she steered toward the left and the man sitting at a small table under a tree. “Ah, good morning, Morgan,” she said lightly.

His features changed and lit with a welcoming smile. “Not morning really. I’m on an afternoon lunch break.” Standing, he smiled, and that smile nearly melted Rachel’s anger.

Nearly.

“How are you today? Will you join me?”

So smooth and gentlemanly. It was that kiss on the hand last night that distracted her, made her look at the way his hand waved her to a seat. She found herself moving forward to do just that—when she suddenly jumped back.

“Rachel?” he asked, confused.

“Don’t you take that tone with me. I found out.” She dropped that bombshell and waited to see him flinch or at least flush guiltily.

He did none of these. He continued to stare at her, looking curious as well as confused. “Found out what? I’m sorry, Rachel, but I don’t understand. Please, take a seat. We can talk.”

Rachel shook her head, her agitation obvious as she clasped her hands. “Mom put you up to it, didn’t she? I just know she did. That’s Mom.”

Concern replaced his confusion, and he stepped forward.

She raised a hand to halt him. “No. Just tell me the truth.” Silly, but she was near tears. “She did, didn’t she?”

“Rachel, I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about,” Morgan said, and she could tell he meant for her to believe that.

“But…you’re a doctor. Mom wouldn’t have just invited you over.”

“You didn’t know I was a doctor?” Morgan asked, surprise spreading across his features. “Oh, Rachel,” he whispered, and despite the fact she tried to put up a hand again, he ignored it and pulled her into a gentle embrace. “I just thought your mom had told you something about me since I was a guest there so much.”

The strong arms felt nice, encouraging her to lean against him. The chest was wide enough to hold her as she leaned against him. The warm, deep voice invited her to trust him. It was the last that, after only a moment of comfort, made her push back.

“She didn’t tell me,” Rachel whispered. “You were there to examine my daughter, weren’t you?”

He hesitated.

“Don’t lie to me,” she said.

With a nod, he said, “Your mother wanted me to see Lindsay, but just friend to friend. She knows you didn’t want her to go into an office and see a doctor officially.”

“She doesn’t need a doctor,” Rachel argued. “She’s fine. We’re fine. We’re both fine.”

Lifting his hands, he said gently, “It’s okay, Rachel. I wasn’t there to play inquisitor. Believe it or not, I do go over to your mom’s house two or three times a week. Sometimes I bring dinner, and sometimes she fixes it.”

“And you sure jumped on it when she asked you to look at my daughter,” she said bitterly, feeling raw with betrayal.

“It’s not like that. Your mom is worried about both you and your daughter. She loves you, Rachel, and wanted to help. Please don’t be angry at her.”

Rachel’s shoulders slumped. “I’m not. I’m just—hurt,” she finally whispered. And scared, though she didn’t add that aloud. She didn’t want anyone around her daughter. Lindsay was vulnerable. Rachel was, too. She couldn’t take hearing someone else tell her that her daughter was imperfect and should be shut away somewhere.

“Rachel, listen,” he began, but the beeper on his belt went off. Looking down, he sighed. “That’s the hospital. I have to take the call. Please, wait on this and think about it. Allow your hurt to ease before you say anything else. We’ll talk later. Okay?”

Rachel shrugged. She didn’t care what he said. How could her mother have confided in him when she knew Rachel didn’t want Lindsay exposed to another doctor?

“Later,” he reiterated and then jogged across the lawn toward one of the telephones.

Miserable, Rachel continued across the green to the church, planning to talk to her mother. She hurried up the stairs and into the building.

Before she got very far, Miss Emma stopped her. “Miss White! Oh, Miss White!”

She came bustling toward her, her face wreathed in smiles. “I’m so glad I found you. Can you come in the office a moment? I was filing some church papers and I found some of Lindsay’s papers in there. You can take them to your mom for me, if you will.”

Rachel sighed at getting waylaid but nodded. “Of course.”

Rachel had to admit this woman was certainly a character. She waved her hands and sighed dramatically. “I just don’t know how all this paperwork ended up in my office. Papers. Such a mess. Nevertheless, they’re much better than putting all that information in those little boxes. I don’t trust them. The pastor keeps saying he wants to put one in my office but I tell him, I say, Pastor, you just can’t trust them. You put the information in, but what happens if it gets lost in there or what happens if you need it a year later. How do you know what you typed is still in there and didn’t get eaten up?”

“Computers?”

“Yes. They’re just awful. Such a mess. I keep telling him not to plug in that newfangled instrument but he just can’t understand my concerns.”

In her office, Emma moved around her cluttered desk and sat down. “Mind you, now, the pastor is such a good sport. Just single.”

She frowned and started digging through her papers. “Our four-year-old teacher is single, too,” she informed Rachel.

Rachel smiled politely. “Yes, ma’am. Julianne. I’ve met her.”

“Of course, you have.” The woman paused and looked at Rachel, confusion clouding her eyes. “Now what was I looking for?”

“Something about Lindsay to take to my mom.”