At Odds With The Midwife. Patricia Forsythe
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The mayor floundered. His gaze darted around the room as if he was looking for support, but he must not have found it if his increasingly worried look was any indication.
“But we want to know now,” Cole responded. His gaze swept the room, as well. It was obvious he was loving his role, playing to his audience.
Nathan stood and placed his hand on the mayor’s arm. “It’s okay, Harley. I’ll tell everyone what I know.”
Mayor Morton appeared to swallow a huge lump as he nodded and stepped back.
Nathan took the microphone with one hand and smoothed his tie with the other. Gemma felt a spark of pride when she saw that his hands were steady.
“My briefcase contains cost projections and spreadsheets for the reopening of the hospital—”
“Do they equal the same as what ole George stole?” Cole asked, his lip curled into a sneer.
“I don’t know,” Nathan answered in a grim tone. “I know in general terms how much it was, as all of you do, but I never heard an exact figure of how much my father took.” He glanced at Brantley Clegg, who straightened in his seat and raised his voice to state a figure that had the entire room gasping. Even Cole seemed momentarily taken aback.
Nathan nodded at the banker then turned again to the audience. “I don’t know where my father is. I haven’t heard from him since he disappeared—”
“A likely story,” Cole began, but when he looked around this time, he could see that he was losing his audience. People were so shocked by the full scope of George Smith’s treachery that they had lost interest in Cole. Gemma saw someone reach up and tug Cole back into his seat. He sat but crossed his arms over his chest and glared straight ahead.
Nathan waited a few seconds until the crowd settled before he went on. “I’m profoundly sorry for what my father did. I promise you I knew nothing about it. However, I think it’s reasonable to assume that some of that money went to pay my medical school fees. I had partial scholarships, but there are always more fees that need to be paid.”
He looked down into the audience and Gemma sat up so he would look at her. She clenched her hands in her lap, wishing her strength could flow into him. In spite of the animosity that simmered between them, she wanted him to know she wasn’t against him.
Nathan’s gaze fixed on her for a second, then he took a breath and said, “I worked at a hospital in Oklahoma City for a few years, but I decided I had to come back here and try to make some kind of restitution. Setting up a family practice where there isn’t one, reopening the hospital, getting the necessary funding, providing quality health care for the people of this county—that’s how I’ll pay you back. Also, I’m selling my family home. That money will go into the hospital fund, as well.”
“Maybe that won’t be good enough.” Cole spoke again, obviously trying to regain the upper hand.
Fed up, Gemma bounced to her feet. Her red hair whipped around her shoulders as she spun on her heel. She clapped her hands onto her hips. “Cole, none of that money came out of your pocket. Why don’t you just be quiet? Nathan didn’t have to come back here and try to make amends, but that’s what he’s doing. Reopening the hospital will benefit everyone.”
Cole glared at her as a murmur of agreement rustled through the room. She turned and sat down, avoiding Nathan’s eyes.
Tom Sanderson stood and approached the podium. A big, strong man in his fifties, he didn’t suffer fools gladly. With a nod to Nathan, he took the microphone in his tough rancher’s hand and said, “Gemma is right, Cole. Frances and I have provided a large share of the funds to get the hospital going again. We’ll have a much better accounting system in place, one that will be harder to defraud. If we’re not worried about it, you shouldn’t be, either.” He replaced the microphone in its stand, then clapped Nathan on the shoulder. Nathan sent the older man a grateful look as they both took their seats.
The momentary lull gave the mayor the chance to hurry back to the podium and say, “Yes, well, all this can be discussed at length, um, later on. Right now, let’s see the slides we’ve prepared.” He nodded at the kid who’d fixed the sound system. “Owen, go ahead.”
As a large screen lowered from the ceiling and the people on the stage turned their chairs to see, the young man competently checked his computer and projector. Within a couple of minutes, the presentation began and the audience settled down.
* * *
GEMMA WATCHED THE presentation and tried to make sense of the storm of emotions that buffeted her. She felt disappointed in the people, although she supposed their reaction was natural. George Smith’s treachery and the subsequent closing of the hospital had affected everyone. It was the depth of their anger, the way they hadn’t moved past it, that was troubling. Or maybe they had moved past it but felt they were being dragged backward once again.
And there was Nate. He was definitely being pulled back while attempting to forge ahead, trying to rebuild a vital part of the community while being resented by many of the locals. It didn’t help that he was about as approachable as a daddy snake in a nest of vipers.
Her heart ached for him. In spite of his opposition to her birthing center, she felt protective toward him. She knew it made no sense, but when she looked at him, she still saw the boy he’d been, the one she knew. At the same time, she saw the man he’d become, whom she knew not at all.
* * *
NATHAN WATCHED THE SCREEN, but his mind wasn’t on the presentation, which he’d seen a dozen times already. This was turning out to be even harder than he’d thought it would be. He’d hoped people wouldn’t blame him for what his father had done. It appeared some of them didn’t. That was a start.
While slides clicked by, interspersed with video interviews with county officials and citizen-on-the-street chats about the hospital, Nathan replayed the scene in Gemma’s backyard with her digging, listening to music and singing along.
Somehow, the scene changed and became a sunny afternoon in that same backyard, but it had been different, full of pens and cages.
He and Gemma had been about ten years old. She had gushed about the baby raccoon she’d found abandoned and taken home. He wanted to see it. His mother never allowed any pets, not even a goldfish.
At the Whitmires’, he’d been astounded by the variety of animals in her personal menagerie. Her father, Wolfchild—Nathan recalled snickering whenever he heard that name—had built all the pens and cages. He had glowed with pride as Gemma had shown the animals. There had been several puppies and dogs, abandoned on the road outside the campground, and cats and kittens left behind. The citizens of Reston County had quickly figured out that the Whitmire family were pushovers when it came to unwanted animals. It was public knowledge that Gemma would find good homes for all of them.
There had also been a fawn wounded by an arrow, several birds with broken wings or legs, along with the baby raccoon, who had been darned cute. They’d all needed rescuing and Gemma had...
Nathan sat up so suddenly, many people in the audience stared at him.
Did Gemma think he needed rescuing like some wounded animal? His gaze went straight to her and she met his eyes with a questioning look.
Sitting back, he crossed his arms over his chest. She was wrong, and he would make that clear the first chance he got. But right now, he had to deal with the rest of the town.
He understood why the people of Reston were mad at his father. He was, too. He had tried to find George, tried to figure out where he’d disappeared to along with the money. What he’d told the audience at this meeting was true. He’d never known the exact amount because he didn’t want to know how great a larceny his father had committed. He’d never known that George had a gambling problem that had gotten completely out of hand when Mandy, and then Nate’s mother, died. Nate admitted, to his shame, that he hadn’t known what his father was capable of because he hadn’t really known his father. All he’d known