Then He Kissed Me Page 6

  “Let me take a look at it,” Nate said. He put on a pair of gloves and unwrapped the towel from her father’s hand. His gaze quickly shot to Lauren’s, then back to Daddy again. Lauren felt an instant alarm. There was something in Nate’s gaze that implied the cut was worse than they’d originally thought. Should she have taken Daddy to the ER in Panama City, instead?

  Nate began to gently probe the skin around the cut. Daddy winced, but he didn’t make a peep. Lauren began to relax a little. Nate might be…verbally challenged, but he seemed competent enough. “This is going to require some stitches. I’ll numb it first with Xylocaine. You’re not allergic to anything, are you?”

  “Just windows,” Daddy said.

  Lauren waited for Nate to chuckle. But he didn’t. So she filled in the awkward gap with an even more awkward sounding attempt at laughter. Doc Morrison would have appreciated the little one liner. He would have also engaged Daddy in conversation—nothing big, but they would have talked about the weather or how the Jacquards were doing in the NFL this season. Anything that would have put Daddy at ease. But Nate Miller appeared to be all business. Lauren knew she shouldn’t compare both men, but it was hard not to.

  Bianca walked into the exam room and handed Nate a disposable suture kit. “Would you like me to stay to help?” she asked him.

  “Not necessary,” he said, already opening up the kit.

  “All right,” she said uncertainly. “But if you need me, I’ll just be down the hall.” She smiled at Daddy, then closed the door.

  Nate injected a needle into the skin around the cut, causing Daddy to flinch. “Sorry, should have warned you it would sting,” he said. He waited another minute or two and then began to methodically sew up the cut with neat, tiny stitches.

  “Dr. Miller,” Momma said, “I’m sorry if we seemed a bit…taken aback by you initially, it’s just that Doc Morrison is the only physician we’ve ever used. Unless we needed a specialist, of course.”

  Nate nodded, like he’d heard this before. Now that Daddy seemed to be cooperating, Momma began being Momma again. “How are you enjoying your new career?” she asked pleasantly.

  There was silence for a few seconds, then Nate looked up from his sewing. “Are you talking to me?”

  “Well, of course I am! You know, when we heard that Doc Morrison had hired a new physician to come work with him we were all skeptical. There had been those other two who, for whatever reason, just didn’t stick. Poor Doc,” Momma said. Then she lowered her voice to a near whisper. “I heard one of them got a big job in Dallas. How’s Doc supposed to compete with that? But he got smart this time and got himself a local boy.” Momma stopped, as if something had just occurred to her. She glanced between Lauren and Nate, and her eyes widened. “The two of you went to high school together! I knew that, of course, but I’d totally forgotten.” She reached over and lightly slapped Lauren on her knee. “Lauren! Where are your manners? You forgot to remind me that you and Nate are old friends!”

  Nate stared at her mother as if she’d grown two heads. Welcome to my world. “Momma,” Lauren said, “Nate and I…um, we really didn’t hang out that much in high school.”

  “Why not?” Momma patted her bobbed hair. “A handsome, smart, nice young man like you? I bet all the girls were crazy about you.”

  Nate’s face colored. Please stop talking, Lauren prayed, but, of course, she didn’t.

  “You know, Dr. Miller, my beautiful daughter here is single now. And she’s a successful businesswoman. Don’t break my heart and tell me you’re not available.”

  “Momma!” Lauren stood and went to stand by Daddy. “I think Dr. Miller is all done here, right?” She gave Nate a beseeching look. He nodded, mumbled something under his breath, then scooped up the disposable suture tray.

  Daddy flexed his hand, moving it from side to side. “Feels okay,” he said.

  Nate went back to his computer screen and began typing. “Your tetanus shot is up to date, Mr. Handy, so we’re good there.” He searched the screen some more, then frowned. “It says here you’re on blood pressure medication, as well as—”

  “His special vitamin,” Momma said. She winked at Nate. Thankfully, Daddy didn’t seem to notice.

  His special vitamin. Oh, lord. It was the term Momma used for Daddy’s Alzheimer drug, something that was supposed to lessen the symptoms of memory loss and confusion.

  Nate cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I’m going to prescribe an antibiotic, just to be on the safe side.” He begin typing something into the screen. “Normally, I’d prescribe something for pain as well, but if you can handle the discomfort with something like Tylenol, that might be best. If it becomes a problem, then come back and see me and we can discuss it.”

  “Sure,” Daddy said. “I’m not one to take too many pills.”

  “Glad to hear that.” Nate stood. “Bianca’s going to put a dressing on those stitches. She’ll give you instructions about how to take care of them and when to come back to get those taken out.” He glanced between Momma and Lauren for a few seconds, as if he was trying to figure something out, then his gaze finally settled on Lauren. “May I speak to you for a moment? In private?”

  Momma practically pushed Lauren out the door. “You two young people go off now and reminisce. I’ll just stay with your Daddy and listen to what the nurse has to say.”

  *~*~*

  Nate led Lauren to his office, a small but nicely decorated room with a big oak desk and a couple of comfy chairs. He sat behind the desk and motioned for her to be seated as well. She made herself comfortable and looked up at the wall where his diplomas were displayed. His medical school diploma was one of those big fancy affairs with Florida State University embellished on the top. Nathanial Richard Miller. Lauren didn’t think she’d ever heard his middle name before.

  He opened up his laptop (did he always have that with him?) and studied the screen for a couple of minutes, then looked at her.

  “You’re making me nervous here,” she joked.

  He didn’t smile. But then, did Nate Miller ever smile? “Is your father being properly supervised at home?” he asked.

  What? “I don’t understand what you mean,” Lauren said.

  “The wound your father sustained is suspiciously close enough to his wrist area that I have to wonder if perhaps this window accident, wasn’t an accident at all. I’ve read your father’s records. He was an accountant. Owned his own firm in Panama City. He was a very successful businessman and now he’s—”

  “And now he’s retired,” Lauren snapped. “What are you trying to say?”

  “Please don’t be offended, I’m only trying to do what’s in your father’s best interests. It must be difficult to go from being in total control of your life to having absolutely no control at all.”

  “I—he’s managing. We all are.”

  “He’s been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. According to our records your father has seen several specialists in Pensacola. You’re an intelligent woman. You have to know there’s no cure for this disease. So does he.”

  “But there’s lots of research going on, and he hasn’t…progressed so badly that it couldn’t be reversed. I mean, every day you hear about someone who wasn’t expected to walk again and now they’re running marathons!”

  “Agreed. Hope is a powerful thing to hold onto. But you also have to be realistic. I think your father needs to be on an anti-depressant. Maybe your mother does, too. Her reaction to the situation is a little odd, to be honest. Clearly, your father is still in the early stages. He should be included in his plan of care, not coddled like some child.”

  Lauren stilled. They’d discussed anti-depressants before with Doc Morrison, and Lauren knew that eventually Daddy would need one. But he’d insisted he didn’t need “any more dang drugs.” And as for Momma? Ha! Good luck with anyone telling Momma what she needed. “Are you serious?”

  He frowned. “Did you think I wasn’t? Frankly, I’m surprised Dr. Morrison hasn’t alrea
dy suggested it.” He looked at her behind those designer glasses of his. Lauren had a sudden urge to snatch them off his nose and grind them to the ground. But that was childish. Nate Miller’s bedside manner left a lot to be desired, but he was just looking out for Daddy’s best interests.

  She folded her hands in her lap and tried for a pleasant expression. “Thank you for taking good care of my father today. My mother and I appreciate it. But I think we’ll wait and let Doc Morrison handle this.”

  “That’s your prerogative, of course, but I’d like to go on record as saying that I’m deeply concerned. If that cut had been just a tad lower, a towel wouldn’t have been able to stop the bleeding.”

  Lauren felt the color drain from her face. “You’re not suggesting my father…tried to slit his wrist?”

  “I’m not suggesting anything. I’m merely looking at the facts.”

  There was something so cold blooded about the way he said that. Dan Handy might be just a “fact” to him, but he was a live warm-blooded human being. He was funny and smart and caring. And deep down, he was…scared. They all were. Couldn’t Nate Miller see that?

  “You can quote the facts all you want, Mr. Spock, but the truth is you don’t know my daddy at all. He’s the last person on earth who would ever hurt himself. Or anyone else for that matter.”

  “There’s no need to raise your voice. I understand you’re upset—”

  “What? You think I need an anti-depressant, too?”

  He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a pamphlet and handed it to her. “That might not be necessary. Here’s some information on support groups. Unfortunately, there isn’t a group that meets in this area, but there’s a hotline number you can call as well as a website where you can get more information. Being a caregiver is stressful. Your mother and you are both at risk for developing depression and other stress related diseases.”

  She tossed the pamphlet back on his desk. “I have about a dozen of these, thanks.” She stood up to leave. “Are we done here?”

  He closed his laptop and rose. “Absolutely.”

  “Great. Then, have a good life,” she said and stomped off down the hallway. The nerve of him to suggest Daddy might have tried to hurt himself! If Doc Morrison knew… She should report him. How could Doc think Nate Miller was capable of taking over his practice? She actually hoped now that Jessica succeeded in her little plot to get him down to Miami. The sooner he hightailed it down south, the better for everyone.

  Her parents were waiting for her in the reception area. Daddy was talking to Ralph Humphries, one of his old golf partners. “Sweet Tea! Look who’s here today.”

  “She’s still prettier than a June bug, Dan,” Ralph said, giving Lauren a hug. He was only a couple of inches taller than Lauren and had a full belly and a short white beard. When she was little, Lauren used to think he was Santa Claus.

  “I hope you’re not too sick,” she said. Her heart was still pounding from that awful encounter in the office. She tried to shake it off before Daddy could see that she was upset.

  “Nah, just getting my diabetes checked,” Ralph said. She almost told him he might want to wait and come back tomorrow, when a real doctor would be here to see him, but she kept her mouth shut.

  “We got the prescription for the antibiotic,” Momma said. She looped her arm through Lauren’s and took her off to the side where Daddy and Ralph couldn’t hear her. “What did Dr. Miller want to talk to you about?” she asked in an excited voice. “Did he ask you out?”

  “Please! As if…” Momma looked taken aback. Lauren swallowed hard. She needed to act normal or Momma would want to know what Nate Miller had said to get her all riled up. “He just wanted to make sure that Daddy was being properly supervised.” She paused. “Were you there when the accident happened?”

  “Well, of course I was. Felicia was, too.” Momma frowned. “Why?”

  “Oh, nothing.” Seeing Momma’s face and hearing her version back up Felicia’s, allowed Lauren to breathe easier.

  “Back to Dr. Miller,” Momma said. “I can’t believe our good luck. You know, Paula from over at the country club knows his sister, Melanie. I’ve been a busy bee while you were in there flirting! I made a couple of phone calls and I think I could get her to help fix you up.”

  “Fix me up what?”

  “With Nate Miller, silly! I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before. It just makes so much sense.”

  “Oh, no, Momma. Absolutely not.”

  “But you said you’d let me fix you up again, and I realize now that Ted was completely wrong for you. Much too old and stuffy.” Her mother paused. “Is there a reason you don’t like him? Did he say something in there to put you…off?”

  If Lauren told her mother what Nate said back in the office, she’d lay an egg. Plus, it would hurt Momma’s feelings terribly. Momma wasn’t good at hiding her emotions. If she was upset, then Daddy would know it. And the last thing Lauren wanted was to upset Daddy.

  “No, no reason. But…there’s no chemistry. I just don’t find him attractive at all.”

  Her mother started laughing. “Oh, that! Well, I happen to find him very attractive. Not the same way Tom is,” her mother said, referring to Lauren’s ex, “but in a different way. A quieter way. Just give it one date. And if there’s still no chemistry, then you can’t say we didn’t try!”

  Lauren grit her teeth. If this connection of Momma’s was even legit, and if she could manage to set it up, there was every chance that Nate would nip the whole thing in the bud. He had no more reason to want to go out with her than she did with him. Especially not after that little scene in his office. Plus, he might still get back with Jessica.

  “Okay, whatever you say. Sure, set me up with Nate Miller.” Like that was ever going to happen! But it would give Momma something to do.

  She thought briefly back to what Nate said about the family counseling. If he’d suggested it with a little more tact (and hadn’t said all those other awful things as well) she probably wouldn’t have reacted so vehemently. But there was no use bringing it up. Momma always said that people who couldn’t handle their own problems were weak. Counseling wasn’t a bad idea, but Momma would never go for it.

  The residents of Whispering Bay had an unofficial, but well known way to refer to the two areas of town where most of the population lived. There was NBTB, which stood for Not By The Beach, and BTB, its opposite. Nate grew up in a modest three bedroom brick home in the NBTB section of town. His dad had been a foreman at a nearby lumber mill and his mom stayed home to take care of him and his younger sister, Melanie.

  As far as childhoods went, Nate’s had been perfectly normal. He played video games and excelled at math and science and dreamed of being an astronaut when he grew up. Sports weren’t his thing, but he did like to toss an occasional basketball. He was taller than most boys his age, and although not very coordinated, his height gave him somewhat of an advantage. But he was never good enough to make a team (at least, he assumed he wasn’t, because he never tried out for any). Melanie was the athletic one in the family. She played volleyball and girls’ basketball and just about every sport she could try out for.

  They’d gone on family vacations to Disney World, had camped in the national parks nearby, and had gone on a more elaborate family road trip to the Grand Canyon (shades of Chevy Chase and Family Vacation and Walley World). Nate had been a boy scout and he’d even helped his dad build the wooden deck they added on to the house.

  He’d been happy as a kid. Or as happy as any kid could be. It had never been easy for him to make friends, but his skill at video games had ensured that there was always be someone who wanted to hang out with him. Teachers liked him because he was quiet and smart. Girls petrified him, so he steered clear of them, and he never messed with the bullies at school, so they steered clear of him.

  Then one day, everything changed. His dad died of a heart attack when Nate was thirteen. The life insurance hadn’t been enough to do mo
re than pay off the rest of the mortgage on their modest home. His mother, Connie, had only a year of college and couldn’t find anything in the area that paid much more than minimum wage. So at age thirty-eight, she went back to nursing school full time. Nights, she worked part-time as a medical assistant at a retirement home in Panama City. It had been up to Nate and Lanie to help around the house, cooking and cleaning and getting themselves ready for school. They were a team, Mom had said, and teams fought together till the end.

  After Mom graduated nursing school, she got a job at the hospital in Panama City and things got better. They weren’t rich, but she was able to keep food on the table and pay all the bills and there was even money to replace their old car. Her hard work had paid off and Nate was proud of her, but when it came time to go away to college, he was hesitant to move too far away. So, he picked the closest one to home that would give him a free ride—Florida State University, just two hours down the road. And when it came time to apply to medical schools, he decided to stay put and continue on at FSU. Doc Morrison offered to pay for all the expenses not covered under his scholarship and in exchange, Nate promised to come back home to practice.

  It hadn’t been hard to keep that promise. Despite the allure of more glamorous medical subspecialties, he’d been pleasantly surprised to find that family practice genuinely appealed to him. He liked solving puzzles. Taking a vague set of symptoms and figuring out what was wrong with someone. His colleagues had teased him. He’d graduated top of his med school class and could have gotten just about any residency he’d wanted. Dermatology and plastic surgery at big teaching hospitals like Emory or John Hopkins were considered cream of the crop. Instead, he’d chosen the family practice residency program at Tallahassee Memorial.

  Doc Morrison hadn’t made him sign a contract. They’d given each other a good old-fashioned handshake to seal the deal, but in Nate’s eyes, that was just as binding as any legal document. If Jessica knew, she’d have his balls in a vise. No matter. He wasn’t breaking his word to Doc Morrison. Jessica or no Jessica.