So Many Men...

April straightened in her seat, though she remained closed off, her arms folded across her chest. “Why can’t your group arrange this ball on its own?”

“You ladies are known for your fund-raising abilities. We could make an effort, but all of us have careers in addition to our volunteering with the project. We simply don’t have the resources or connections you do. The gala is guaranteed success if the Dade County Women’s Club is associated with it.”

Silence reigned over the room. April uncrossed her arms and sat forward. “I don’t see how we would have the time to help you. We have several other projects we’re currently tied up with and our own gala event not far around the corner.”

Disbelief flashed through Dr. Davies’s eyes. “But that’s nearly nine months away. Surely you’d have time to handle this event.”

April rose, her eyes narrowed. “I don’t think so. There’s a lot that goes into planning any event as you so clearly point out, but I can’t speak for the entire group.” She gestured to the tables around her. “What do you think? Can we help Dr. Davies with his project?”

Tess stiffened at the note of warning in her voice. She held her breath as not a soul offered an opinion. How could these women just sit there? Did April swing so much clout that she could cow everyone into not helping?

Fisting her hands in her lap, Tess fought the urge to offer her services. She didn’t even know these women. Why would they listen to her? Acting against April would most likely cost Tess any chance at making friends. And so much for service work with the group.

She glanced up to find his gaze on her and froze.

His dark eyes beseeched her. What could she do? Surely one of the other women would say something.

“I see.” The defeat in his voice cut deep. “Then I won’t be taking any more of your time.”

Tess took another deep breath as he exited, but it did little to ease the knot of regret forming in her stomach. She stared at the empty doorway. The man had left. There wasn’t anything she could do about it now. Besides, chances were another group would come to his aid. If he was a doctor, he must have all kinds of connections.

The women’s club seemed to have other charities it was involved in. Surely she’d find another project she’d feel good about helping with. And there was the added bonus of making women friends. She’d come here to get away from men. She sipped her water and tried to relax. With the good doctor gone, now maybe she could get on with building some kind of relationship with her own kind.

2

SHE WASN’T THEIR KIND. Everything about the redhead at the women’s club told Mason Davies that she was cut from a different cloth. He closed his eyes against the image of the memorable woman who’d captured his attention. Though she’d sat in their midst, she was as different from those women as he was.

He’d seen the emotion shining in her blue eyes when he talked about the project. She’d understood the need—the fact that this event was worthwhile. Somehow, he had felt her dismay at the lack of support.

Yet, she’d sat silently as he’d left in defeat. He couldn’t believe she was so like them. Something about her—maybe her bearing—seemed to say she’d made up her own mind about things, even though she’d held her tongue.

He shook his head. He needed to forget the redhead and focus on a new plan. She certainly wasn’t giving his project—or him—any second thoughts.

Plastering a smile on his face, he continued down the hospital corridor to his next patient’s room. Vases of flowers topped the dresser and nightstand. Peggy Williams was fortunate. Her husband had barely left her side since her arrival yesterday and it looked as though more family members had arrived today.

She smiled at him, only half her mouth lifting. He moved to the side of the bed. “Good morning, Peggy. How are you?”

She nodded slightly. “Um…ah…” She shook her head, frowning in frustration.

He glanced over her chart. “I see you ate better today. No problem swallowing?”

“Ah…um…no.”

“Good.” He paused to take her pulse.

“She ate a good bit of her lunch, though she had some trouble with the soup. Her hand was a little shaky and she kept spilling. I wanted to help her, but the nurse said that it was best to let her try on her own,” Brad Williams explained.

“Soup?” Mason glanced at the lunch tray that had been pushed to one side. “That’s great.”

“This is our daughter, Paige, and her two girls, Leslie and Sarah.” Brad gestured to the worried-looking brunette standing next to him and the two youngsters clinging to her sides.

“It’s a pleasure.” Mason smiled at the girls. A vibrancy and innocence that he saw in far too few children these days radiated from them. “I think it’s helped your grandmother’s spirits to have her family near. It’s wonderful she has you to cheer her up.”

He straightened and addressed both Brad and Paige. “The nurses were quite concerned yesterday that she seemed depressed. That can be tough on recovery. Having this kind of support can make all the difference to a patient.”

“So what can you tell us, Doc? Will she recover?” Paige smoothed her daughter’s hair.

“It’s difficult to say. I don’t want to give you any false hope, but the stroke was mild and it helped that your father brought her in right away. She’s weak and recovery will take time. I’m referring her to a physical therapist as well as a speech therapist for her aphasia.”

“Aphasia,” Mr. Williams repeated. “That’s her difficulty with her speech?”

“Yes.”

“Is that why she can’t tell us stories?” The smaller of the girls stared at him, wide-eyed.

“The language center of her brain was damaged, which isn’t unusual in these cases. Your grandmother is as smart as she ever was, but it may take a little time before her brain rewires itself and she can tell you stories again.”

“She has to learn to speak all over again?” Mr. Williams squeezed his wife’s hand.

“Yes, more or less. The brain is a remarkable tool, though.”

“She said ‘hi’ when we came in,” the older girl said.

Her mother smiled at her, then turned to Mason. “When can we take her home?”

Mason glanced at his watch. Much of the day had already passed. “Let me see if I can get the speech and physical therapists in to check her out. We also need the social worker to see her and talk to all of you.”

Mr. Williams glanced up. “Social worker?”

“It’s standard. We need to be sure Peggy has all the support she’ll require while she recuperates. We have to determine what kind of in-home care we need to supply. Once she’s home she’ll have a nurse checking on her—we’ll decide how often and for how long. It’s good that Peggy is eating without any difficulty.”

Her husband nodded. “Can we take her home today? I know she’ll sleep better in her own bed.”

“We definitely want to get her home as soon as possible.” Mason made a few notes, then returned the chart to its holder. “Let me see what I can do.”

“Thank you, Dr. Davies.”

As he headed to the nurses’ station, Mason couldn’t help but compare this family to the ones he met at the free clinic downtown. They were a world apart.

Regret flooded him. If only he’d been able to convince the women’s club to help Project Mentor. Obviously, April was holding a grudge and she held all the clout with that group.

It was a damn shame.

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?” Nikki McClellan asked Tess Tuesday afternoon, as they strolled through the mall, shopping bags in hand.

Tess inhaled a deep breath. Why had she even mentioned Mason Davies to Nikki? Tess should have known her sister would react this way. Talk about ruining their time together.

“I’m sure he’ll find someone else to help him. It is a worthwhile project,” Tess said. “I’m not denying that, but it isn’t as though he doesn’t have resources of his own. He’s got a whole organization with who knows how many volunteers. I don’t see why he needed the DCWC anyway.”