A Family at Last

Chris was impressed. “What a great idea. I’m surprised Mae Anne never mentioned it.”

“She’s got other things on her mind,” Karen said. “Serving on the town council is practically a full-time job.”

Chris supposed so. On his visits with her, he’d heard quite a bit about the controversy regarding the construction of a shopping center, which, after months of hearings, had won approval the past December.

There’d also been some discussion of opening a satellite medical office to serve the new businesses and homes, she’d told him; when he’d inquired about the possibility of building a local hospital, she’d regretfully informed him there was none yet. The doctors would have to continue admitting their patients and delivering babies in Mill Valley, a dozen miles away.

On the far side of Home Boulevard, he and Karen reached the one-story white brick nursing home. After entering through a rear door, they followed a short hallway to the kitchen.

Staff members whisked away the cake, freeing them to repair to the recreation room. He admired the way silver and blue garlands and shimmering tablecloths carried out the wintry theme.

At one side, a group of seniors were holding a snowball competition, tossing foam balls into buckets. In the center, residents at a crafts table applied glitter to white mittens, while several women appeared to be crocheting small squares.

“We make comforters and mittens for any residents who need them. Old people tend to chill easily,” Karen explained. “If there are extras, we give them to the poor.” Catching a signal from one of the aides, she excused herself to go help.

A little apart from the bustle, Chris spotted his grandmother sitting in her wheelchair. While others played, he saw, she was reading what appeared to be some kind of report. Probably council business, he thought.

He sneaked up to plant a kiss on her cheek. Chuckling, she responded with a hug. “I saw you come in,” Mae Anne said. “Getting along better with Karen?”

“We’ve sort of struck a truce,” he admitted. “Besides, I figured if I helped carry the ice-cream cakes, I might get to eat some.”

“I’m delighted you’re here. I mean here to live, not just to visit.” After she questioned him about his apartment, they made plans to attend church together the following day. At last, regretfully, his grandmother rattled the report. “Afraid I’ve got work to do. Go make yourself useful.”

“Glad to,” Chris said.

Karen had vanished. He hoped the staff was going to set up for dessert, because he couldn’t wait to sample it.

In the meantime, Chris used his cell-phone camera to take pictures of the residents. From each, he requested the e-mail address of a friend or relative. “I’m sure they’ll enjoy seeing what you’re up to,” he told them.

Most supplied their own e-mail address, as well, which they could access from the half-dozen computers along one wall. “I’d like a copy of all the photos to put in a collage,” one woman requested.

“I’ll burn them onto a CD for you. And I’ll e-mail the other photos as soon as I get my computer set up at my apartment,” he promised.

In Nashville, Chris had learned from the teen moms that many had never sent out pictures of their children. After he’d assisted them in doing so, the gratifying result had been to help to bridge gaps. Several had reunited with their estranged families, and one girl, abandoned by the baby’s father, had received unexpected support from his parents.

As he tucked the cell phone into his pocket, Chris realized another woman in a wheelchair was watching him. When he started to take out the camera again, she waved it away politely.

With a start, he identified the thin, graying lady as Renée Lowell—Barry and Karen’s mother. He remembered her as a vital, active woman, but obviously the traffic accident had taken a cruel toll. Still, it hadn’t dimmed her alert expression.

As he was debating whether to approach her, a staffer began serving the cake. He decided to leave Mrs. Lowell to enjoy hers in peace. At least she hadn’t reacted angrily to his presence, which he took as a good sign.

As for what was going to happen when, inevitably, he ran across Barry, he tried not to worry about it. He had so many fond memories of their younger years that he held out hope of becoming friends again.

Now, he reflected ruefully, he’d be lucky if they didn’t come to blows.

HAD IT NOT BEEN FOR her mother’s accident, Karen might still be focused on a career handling the dry details of business administration. Even after returning to school to earn a master’s degree in public health and landing the job running the nursing home, she’d believed she was best suited to dealing with budgets and personnel matters.

Gradually, however, she’d discovered the satisfaction of getting close to older folks. Becoming directly involved in their care had enriched her life.

She wished everyone could recognize the beautiful souls beneath the wrinkled faces. Too often, however, visitors marched through the halls as if wearing blinders. Even worse were the people who abandoned their parents or grandparents altogether.

From time to time, Karen called a neglectful loved one to suggest a holiday visit. Often, she received a response such as, “I can’t bear to see her this way,” or “It’s too depressing.” Or sometimes false reassurances, such as, “Sure, just as soon as I find the time.”

This puzzled her, since the intermediate-care facility took only patients in comparatively good condition. Although many had physical handicaps, they were capable of dressing and feeding themselves with minimal help.

She’d expected Chris to be accepting, of course, given his closeness to Mae Anne and his experience as a physician. But Karen hadn’t expected the sight of him cheerily snapping pictures, talking to the residents and leaving them wreathed in smiles.

He was charming all the ladies in the room and most of the men. Even Chita Hernandez, the solemn nurse who anchored the weekend and evening shifts, ruffled his hair as he scooted past her with plates of cake. Karen hadn’t seen Chita so taken with anyone since…well, ever.

Avoiding him would be hard, considering that he lived and worked within a block of here and had hit it off with the residents. Firmly, Karen reminded herself of what lay beneath that pleasing surface.

He’d betrayed her at the deepest level, in a way she’d never discussed with anyone, not her mother and certainly not Barry. This captivating side of Chris was simply evidence of what a skilled manipulator he could be.

She had to make sure to keep that in mind. But given what she’d seen today, it wouldn’t be easy.

Chapter Three

“You mean nobody told you?” Dr. Jenni Forrest asked. “Don’t worry, it won’t be too bad—I hope.”

Chris nearly groaned out loud. His first day on the job had been busier than expected, and now, halfway through the day, he’d been handed a shocker.

The family practitioner, a forthright blonde to whom he’d taken an immediate liking, planned to leave next Saturday for a belated two-week honeymoon in Europe with her husband of six months, the police chief, Ethan Forrest. Estelle Fellows, the nurse practitioner, would cover nonurgent matters, while regular checkups had been postponed. In addition, a doctor in Mill Valley served as backup.

However, it would fall to Chris and, to a lesser extent, obstetrician Will Rankin to pick up the slack. One of the unusual requirements of working in Downhome was that specialists had to handle some general on-call duties. Chris didn’t mind, but neither had he expected to take over so many nonpediatric functions so soon—including consulting at the Tulip Tree Nursing Home.

“I generally drop by at least two afternoons a week to check on medications and make sure there are no unreported problems,” Jenni explained as they sipped coffee in the lunchroom. “Some of the old folks don’t like to complain, but it’s best to nip problems in the bud, as I’m sure you appreciate.”

“I don’t mind consulting. It’s just that, well, you can see what a zoo it’s been this morning. If this continues, I’m not sure how I’ll find time.”

“It’s not usually this busy,” Jenni assured him. “Mondays are always the worst.”

Maria Wilhelmina hadn’t been the only baby to visit the clinic first thing today. To the amazement of the staff, a line of parents and kids had been waiting outside the building when they’d arrived.

Most of the children weren’t sick. They needed well-child exams and vaccinations, which could easily be conducted in the coming days and weeks. However, most preferred to wait rather than return later.

One mother had told Chris while he examined her daughter’s ears, “I wanted her to get to know you before anything serious happens. Besides, I heard you might have to limit the number of patients you take, and we intend to make sure she’s one of them.”

“Who told you that?” Chris had no such policy. If the workload occasionally proved too heavy, he might have to ask Jenni to assist with routine cases, which she’d been handling before his arrival, anyway. But that would only be a temporary measure.

“Word gets around,” the woman responded.

“Please tell your friends it’s not true,” he’d requested. “I don’t plan to turn anyone away.”

He’d done his best to track down the rumor, asking the nurses and receptionist if they’d heard anything. Winifred Waters, the nurse who worked with Dr. Rankin, admitted she’d advised her daughter to bring in her two grandsons first thing, in case Chris became overbooked.

“I guess she told somebody and the story got bent out of shape,” Winifred said. “Sorry about that. But to make up for it, I’ll do double duty until you find a nurse of your own.”

“That would be great.” The offer more than compensated for any inconvenience the rumor had caused.