Sacred Trust

“Oh? Don’t tell me you actually have furniture now. That tiny apartment of yours barely had room for a bed and a couch.”

“I had a small kitchen table, too.”

“Does your new house have a kitchen?”

“Of course.”

“Have you found your way into it? I bet your refrigerator isn’t even hooked up yet.”

“I don’t have a fridge here.”

“It figures.”

“I haven’t had a chance to get one. I’ve only been here a week and I’ve been working. I’ll probably pick one up tomorrow somewhere.”

“Do you have a stove?”

“The house came with one, yes.”

“Let me guess. You don’t even know if it’s gas or electric, do you?”

“I specifically remember the gas flames when they showed me the house.”

Dad sighed. “Do you have any new kitchen utensils? Last time I checked, all you had was that skillet and spatula Beth gave you for Christmas last year.”

“I eat out a lot. I used to keep cereal and milk when I had that little fridge in KC, but most of the time the milk got old before I had a chance to drink it.”

Dad clicked his tongue. “You’ve been a bachelor too long, Lukas. You need a wife.”

“I haven’t had any volunteers.”

“Any possibilities? Any dates lately?”

“No actual dates…”

“But…?”

“But nothing. One of the nurses invited me to eat with some of the staff, but I was late and everyone else had left. She’s been nice so far, but I just don’t—”

“Son, you have to get over what happened in KC. You can’t let one woman’s actions hurt your own growth.”

“Dad, that woman’s testimony in court almost destroyed my career. All she had to do was cry sexual harassment when I wouldn’t go out with her, and seduction when she turned up pregnant, and they listened! If it hadn’t been for that DNA test—”

“But you’re not in jail, and your career has not been destroyed. God is faithful.”

“I know, but people aren’t. There are some pretty vindictive people in this world.”

“That’s why you always count on God, not people. You’re a good doctor, Lukas. Don’t forget that. And you’re a wonderful person. You deserve a loving woman, someone who shares your ethical standards—someone who shares your faith. Don’t give that one misguided nurse the power to color all of your relationships with all other women for the rest of your life.”

Lukas hesitated, glancing at his watch. “I guess I should go get some dinner before everything closes. Have a good time tomorrow, Dad, and tell Beth I sent my love.”

There was a loud sigh over the phone line. “I’ll tell her. Take care. Our prayers are with you every day. And, Lukas? One little date with a nice Christian lady wouldn’t kill you.”

After Lukas hung up he pulled on his jacket, grabbed his bag and walked out to the car. Sometimes he wished he’d kept his mouth shut about the Kansas City court case, but Lukas had never been able to keep secrets from his father. Besides, being fired from the hospital and kicked out of the residency program had left Lukas without an income for several months, until his permanent medical license had come through. During that time, not long after Mom’s death, Lukas had gone home to stay with Dad and work as a respiratory tech at St. John’s in Joplin.

Enough wallowing. Though he was disappointed about his immediate plans falling through, the weekend still beckoned ahead like a long holiday. There were hiking trails to explore and a river nearby. He’d heard one of the EMTs—Buck, the guy brave enough to try to feed Cowboy’s lion—talk about how he liked to fish. Fishing didn’t measure up to hiking, but the company would be nice. Of course, Lukas hadn’t been invited.

Ten minutes after leaving work he parked on the town square by the courthouse, took a picture textbook out of his bag to study while he ate and walked down the street to the only place on the square still open this late, Little Mary’s Barbecue. He liked this café, not only because they served his favorite food, barbecued ribs, but also because of the homey atmosphere and the fact that they pitched their homemade dinner rolls to you from across the room, just like at Lambert’s up near Springfield. Lukas carried his book with him over to a corner table, ordered a plate of ribs and proceeded to read about dermatological medicine, his latest in a series of subjects he wanted to know better. His two-week dermatology rotation had bored him to death, but sometimes a case would crop up in the E.R. He wanted to hone his knowledge.

He smelled the sharp, smoky aroma of ribs as the server set the platter on the table. Then he heard a quick intake of breath, but by the time he glanced up from his reading, the server was stalking away—and “stalking” was the word for it. She shot him a glance over her shoulder as she neared the kitchen, and he could have sworn he saw offended animosity in the look. What was wrong with her?