Solemn Oath (10 page)

Mercy groaned. “Oh, Lukas, not again. If you don't hire more doctors, you're going to work yourself to death. Can't you get a replacement?”

“Nobody wanted to come in.”

“You coddle them, Lukas. Why don't I come in and relieve you for a few hours, at least, so you can get some sleep.”

Lukas smiled to himself. Mercy to the rescue on her day off. No wonder he cared so much about her. She was so giving, but he refused to exploit their deepening friendship. “I got a few hours last night, and I have two meetings this morning, so I might as well stick around. Why don't you go check on Clarence and Darlene this afternoon.”

“I was planning to do that anyway. Darlene's breathing didn't sound good last week, and I suspect she's hoarding
her medication again, afraid to use it unless she thinks she's dying.”

Clarence and Darlene were pro bono cases Mercy had picked up a few months ago when Clarence's extreme obesity threatened his life. His sister, Darlene, suffered from bad asthma, and her worry over Clarence exacerbated the situation. Since then, Lukas and Mercy checked them regularly and administered medication—sometimes paid for from their own pockets—during frequent home visits. Lukas admired the brother and sister, who had fought their way out of a family of welfare abusers. It was a painful day when Clarence was forced to ask for state aid so that he wouldn't be such a dangerous burden on his sister. His goal was to be self-supporting again. Literally.

“How's Clarence's weight?” Lukas asked.

“He hasn't lost any more, but he's still about two pounds below five hundred. I know he's discouraged, but with his heart condition, I don't want him to start exercising any more strenuously without closer supervision. I'd promised he could start walking more when his weight dropped to four seventy-five. I'll fill you in on all the details when I see you tonight.” She paused. “I
will
see you tonight, won't I?”

“Yes.” But Lukas wanted to see just Mercy, not a large crowd of small-talking people. “I don't suppose we could just relax and have a casual meal at your house or something. I'd even spring for pizza.”

“We'll have casual food at Jarvis's party, Lukas.” Her voice had that familiar “this is for your own good” tone. “I'm sure they'll have some punch somewhere, and those little barbecued weenies you love so much. How could it get any better than that?”

“We could be lost in the Grand Canyon without water.” He knew he should appreciate her attempts to heal the breach between him and Jarvis George. “We could be canoeing down Elk River in a hurricane.” Maybe Jarvis
really wasn't a vicious man when he didn't have tuberculosis teeming through his brain. “We could be dining on king crab in a den of rattlesna—”

“Lukas.”

“Sorry. I can't get over this inner conviction that Jarvis will find a way to turn
me
into little barbecued weenies when he sees me tonight.”

“Don't worry. I'll stop him before he takes his first bite.”

“I may be late. You know how busy it always seems to get at shift change.”

“Especially for you. I'll see you when you get here, and wear something besides your scrubs.”

“I'll see if I have any clean clothes in the dryer.” He hesitated, then said gently, “Mercy, I just got some bad news. Alma Collins lost her leg.”

There was a quick intake of breath, and then a sigh. “Oh no. Oh, Lukas.”

“Arthur called this morning to tell us he appreciated our help.”

“But his wife lost her leg!”

“He especially mentioned you and me.”

Another sigh. “Sometimes I wonder if it's worth it.”

“It is, Mercy.” He just wished he could find the perfect way to convince her that God was the One who made it all worthwhile. “I'll see you tonight.”

 

Mercy glanced at the clock and thought again about Arthur Collins and his willingness to stay and interpret for the very man who had caused Alma to lose her leg. Mercy had no doubt that he would have done the same even if he'd already known the worst. It was the kind of man he was…like Lukas.

Did the spiritual belief of these men have something to do with their soul-deep kindness, or were they believers because of the kind of people they were to begin with?
Lukas must have been as earnest and forthright at five years of age as he was now at thirty-five.

Chronologically, Lukas was almost five years younger than Mercy. Experientially, the gap was probably more like ten years. Here she was, divorced with an eleven-year-old child, and Lukas had never even had a serious relationship with a woman. It showed. Even though they had gone hiking together several times over the summer, and had gone on picnics with Tedi, and out to dinner, even though he'd been to her house several times, and had even helped her move, he did not engage in open displays of affection. He'd hugged her and patted her on the back a couple of times when she bowled a good game at the lanes. It seemed as if he was always physically drawn to her, always touching her on the arm to emphasize a point.

He'd taken her hand and held it once when they were walking in the park, almost without thinking, and then when he realized what he was doing he let go. E.R. staff teased her about the time she and Lukas spent together, and some of them had already jumped to entirely erroneous conclusions.

What was the future of their friendship? He displayed how much he seemed to care for her in every glance, in the inflections of his voice when he talked with her, and the amount of time he wanted to spend with her. But he'd never even kissed her, and never acted as if he intended to.

At first that was a refreshing relief. She hated men who thought a first date granted permission to paw her—not that she'd had many dates in her life besides Theo. But there were times, now, when she found herself wondering if Lukas found her physically unappealing. Were they really just good buddies, after all?

The brief thought about Theo reminded her of Monday. She picked up the phone again and speed-dialed her
mother's number. She couldn't waste her day sitting here dreaming about a man, even one as special as Lukas.

Ivy answered on the fifth ring, her breath coming in hard puffs that sounded like wind across the telephone line.

“Hi, Mom, did I catch you exercising?”

“How did you guess?” Ivy asked dryly. “Did I tell you about my new treadmill?” She huffed a couple of times. “It measures everything, including calories expended, heart rate, practically my metabolic rate. The guys from the sports equipment shop delivered it last Saturday, and I've already put twenty miles on it.” Her words were clipped and quick, as they always were, especially when she was excited.

Mercy smiled. At sixty-six years of age, Ivy Richmond was in excellent shape and worked hard at it, especially after developing some cardiac problems in the past few months.

She continued to breathe heavily, and the soft whine of a motor filled the background. “What's up? You don't usually call this early in the morning.”

Mercy didn't hesitate. “Theo's out of detox and he wants to see Tedi.” She waited for the motor to shut off and Mom to scream, but nothing changed. She continued. “He came to see me Monday.” She paused again. Still no discernible reaction. “Mom, are you listening to me?”

“Of course. What're you going to do about it?”

“Good question. What if he tries to get Tedi back? He's already gone to the school to seduce Tedi into seeing him again.”

“That's not the way I heard it.”

Mercy bit her lip and suppressed a sharp retort. She should have known. “When did Tedi tell you?”

“She didn't.”

“Then who—”

“Have you considered the possibility that Theodore might have had a change of heart while he was sitting in that
cell with nothing to fill his time but memories about what he'd done to his daughter?”

Mercy couldn't believe it. “Mom, you talked to Theo!”

“He came to me Tuesday. He told me everything, including his trip to the school and to your office.” There was a slight pause. “I heard you weren't too friendly.”

“And you were?”

“No, I wasn't, but I didn't kick him out. I listened to what he had to say, and I believe he is truly sorry.”

“I believe he is, too.” Mercy couldn't keep the exasperation from her voice. “He's been sorry before, Mom, but that didn't precipitate any character changes. Are you actually saying you think I should let him see Tedi?”

“No, but I think you should talk to him again. He was encouraged by the fact that you used equity in the house and car to settle his accounts.”

“And I explained to him very clearly that I did that for Tedi's sake, not for his.”

“He told me that impressed him.”

“Careful, Mom, he's playing you just right. You know how he operates.”

Ivy was silent for a moment, and the whine of the machine diminished. “Talk to him, Mercy. The bitterness is building up in you like a volcano, and if you don't find a way to forgive him, it will hurt you and Tedi and everyone else who loves you. Don't let the past do this to you. Besides,” she said, breathing deeply as she stopped her exercise, “sooner or later he can get legal visitation rights reestablished. If you can control the situation instead of the court, it'll only be better for Tedi. Like it or not, he's her father.”

 

Lukas liked Dr. Cherra Garcias, a slender woman with shoulder-length, curly black hair and laughing eyes. She, too, was a Doctor of Osteopathy, about the same age as
Lukas, and she had been in family practice in Arkansas for six years. She had moonlighted in a small E.R. near Little Rock. As Lukas had earlier ascertained, she possessed excellent references and a license to practice in Missouri, and her husband and three children were ready to move as soon as possible.

Unfortunately, she laughed when Lukas hinted about the possibility of her taking the E.R. directorship. “I have three active children and a husband who works at home so one of us can always be with the kids. I can barely manage them.”

Oh well, one can always dream,
Lukas thought.

Her laughter died and she grew serious, her dark, almost black eyes sober. “When I first went to work where I am now, I had a lot of trouble with prejudice because I'm Hispanic. This is a small town a lot like ours, and there's no reason for me to expect anything different here.” She held Lukas's gaze. “I can deal with it if I know what to expect.”

He appreciated her openness and wondered if she might have run into Bobbie Jo White out in the hallway somewhere. “Knolls has a growing population of Hispanics, drawn to the area by quickly advancing industry. Some of the native locals are nervous, but we haven't really had any serious racial difficulties.”

She watched him closely. “Yet?”

“Hopefully never, although it's hard for any outsider to penetrate the small-town social shell. I haven't managed to do so. In this region of the country, a person usually has to be around for twenty years before they're considered a citizen. I'm surprised I'm allowed to vote.”

“How much impact will my Mexican heritage have on your decision to hire me?”

Lukas thought about the question for a moment. He probably wasn't even supposed to be addressing this subject with her. “The fact that you're bilingual will be a great help.”
There, that sidestepped the issue nicely. It was also the truth. “I need another doctor—in fact, more than one—and you come with good qualifications.” He knew if he hired this doctor, Mrs. Pinkley would back him up. “Do you want the job?”

Cherra smiled and stood from the overstuffed chair where she sat. She reached out and shook his hand with a firm grip. “I'm ready when you are.”

Some of the tension of the morning eased for Lukas. “How does Monday sound?”

She cocked her head sideways, eyebrows raised. “You must really be desperate.”

“I'm on my second twenty-four-hour shift this week.”

“Monday is fine.”

He returned to the E.R. to see Beverly, the tall, slender RN who had scrambled for the whole summer, sometimes unsuccessfully, to keep her schedule from coinciding with his.

“Good morning, Beverly.”

She blinked at him in surprise. “Hi, Dr. Bower. I thought Dr. Landon was on duty today.”

“So did I until about an hour ago. Sorry, you're stuck with me.” He heard the sharpness in his own voice, and he didn't care.

Beverly's freckled face suffused with color, and she looked away.

“How's Cowboy doing?” he asked as he reached over to check a chart on the desk.

“Better.” She glanced at her own work area, as if to keep from making any unnecessary eye contact with Lukas. “He's still upset about Leonardo, of course. He's glad they locked up Berring, but now we've heard that Berring is trying to get out on bail. He may do it, too.”