“I should think you’d rather visit with my beautiful daughter,” Lillian guilelessly replied.
Lord, a hole, please. Underneath this chair, just big enough for me to disappear.
“I’ll see you both on your next visit,” J.C. replied without missing a beat.
Rumpled, crumpled and thoroughly embarrassed, Maddie rose, ready to end their consultation.
But the doctor wasn’t. This time he spoke directly to her. “My nurse will set up the tests.” He held out a paper. “Just give this to her.” He scribbled on a second sheet of paper. “And I want to adjust your mother’s medications.”
“Thank …” Maddie cleared the embarrassing croaking in her voice. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
She sincerely doubted that, but smiled. “Mom, should we go home? Have that cup of tea?”
“Maddie makes the best tea in the world,” Lillian announced, this time her voice not as strong. She weakened quickly these days.
J.C. opened the exam room door, allowing them to precede him. Maddie wasn’t sure how she knew, but she was almost certain that J.C. continued watching as they left. She had a wild impulse to look back, to see. But there wasn’t any point. Her social life had ended when her mother’s dementia had begun. And mooning over a handsome doctor would only make her long for what wasn’t in her destiny.
“Maddie?”
“Yes, Mom.”
“I have a yen for some tea. What do you think?”
That she needed to put longings out of her head. This was her reality. “Sounds good.”
Lillian patted her hand, having completely forgotten Maddie’s words only minutes before. J.C. wouldn’t be part of her own future, but Maddie was fiercely glad he was in her mother’s. At the rate she was deteriorating, otherwise, Lillian might lose her grip on even the distant past.
Chilled by the possibility, Maddie gently squeezed her mother’s delicate fingers. They were the last remaining members of their family. It didn’t bear thinking how dreadful it would be should that tiny number be halved.
J.C. stared after his departing patient. Well, her daughter, actually. Not that he’d forgotten a detail about Lillian.
Or Maddie. Refreshing. The one word summed her up completely. From the sprinkle of freckles on her smooth skin to the strawberry-blond wisps of hair that escaped from her bouncy ponytail. His gut reaction to her had come out of nowhere. That door had been closed since his ex-wife’s betrayal. Now with everything else in his life …
The intercom in his office buzzed. “Dr. M?”
“I’m here, Didi.”
“School’s on the phone.”
He sighed. His nine-year-old niece, Chrissy, wasn’t adjusting well after the deaths of her parents. It had been a blow out of the blue. His sister, Fran, and brother-in-law, Jay, had been asleep when carbon monoxide had leaked out of the furnace. Chrissy, their only child, had been at a friend’s pajama party for the night.
“Dr. M?” Didi called again.
“Yeah, I’ll get it.” Reluctantly he picked up the phone.
“Doctor Mueller?”
J.C. readily recognized the principal’s voice. They’d spoken often since the tragedy. “Yes, David?”
“You need to pick up Chrissy.”
Frowning, he checked his watch. It was only eleven in the morning. “Now?”
“There’s been another … incident.”
Chrissy, once a model child and student, had been acting out. “Surely she doesn’t need to come home this early in the day.”
“Afraid so, J.C.” The principal dropped the formalities. “She started a fight with two other girls. One is in tears, the other had to go home because we couldn’t calm her down. J.C., you’re going to have to figure out how to get Chrissy back under control.”
J.C. rubbed his forehead, feeling the onset of now near-constant pain. He’d easily diagnosed himself. Stress-induced migraines. Losing his only sibling had been a devastating blow. He and his older sister had always been close. She’d been the one always looking out for him, the one who had comforted him when they’d lost first their father, then not long afterward their mother. And she’d kept him propped up during his divorce. Without her …
Fran had been his pillar. Illogically, he wanted to speak to her, so she could tell him how to deal with Chrissy.
Opening the day’s schedule on his laptop, J.C. saw that he could steal an hour by switching one consultation. After asking Didi to make the arrangements, he drove quickly to the nearby school.
Chrissy sat in one of the chairs in the office, her arms crossed, her expression mute. But her posture and body spoke for her. Sulky. From the top of her head to the tips of her crossed feet.
She didn’t meet his gaze while he talked with the secretary and checked Chrissy out of school. But once in the hallway, her footsteps dragged.
J.C. couldn’t be mad. Under her rebellious expression was a hurt little girl overwhelmed by pain and loss. He placed one hand on her shoulder as they walked side-by-side, both silent as they approached the car.
Chrissy pulled off her backpack and flung it on the floor. Along with the clicking of seat belts being fastened in place, they were the only sounds until he turned the key in the ignition. J.C. drove out of the school parking lot before he spoke. “You’ll have to spend the afternoon at the office.”
Chrissy stared out the window. “I’m old enough to stay by myself.”
Thinking how vulnerable she was, he kept his tone light. “I’m not sure I’m old enough to stay on my own. At any rate, you’ll have more space to spread out your books in Mrs. Cook’s office.”
Chrissy snorted.
J.C. glanced over at his niece. She still stared out the window. The only time she reacted positively was when they passed Wagner Hill House, the building on Main Street that had contained her father’s business. It had sat undisturbed since Jay’s death.
Thinking it might help Chrissy, J.C. decided to drive by his sister’s house. Although he kept putting it off, he needed to sort through the house, make it livable again. Maybe Chrissy would settle down if she could live in her home again. He didn’t mind giving up his tiny apartment; it was just a place to sleep really.
Turning on Magnolia Avenue, he saw Chrissy straighten up.
Pleased she was finally showing interest in something, he pulled into the driveway.
As soon as he turned off the vehicle, Chrissy began shrieking.
“No! I won’t go in! No! No!” Sobs erupted and tears flooded her cheeks. “You can’t make me!”
Horrified, J.C. tried to calm her. “What is it, Chrissy?”
“The house killed them!” She blurted out between staggered sobs.
Her distress was so intense J.C. didn’t try to reason with her. Instead, he quickly backed out of the driveway, then sped from the neighborhood. Once past the familiar streets, he pulled into a space in front of the park. Unhooking his own seat belt and then Chrissy’s, he gently guided her from the car to a bench beneath a large oak.
Still shaking from the remaining gulps of tears, she allowed him to drape an arm over her shoulders. When she was tiny, he would have popped her in his lap, pulled a dozen silly faces and made her giggle. He felt completely ill-equipped to comfort her now.
Patting her arm, he waited until the last of her hiccupping