The Doctor's Devotion. Cheryl Wyatt
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Both men grinned. Lauren’s faded.
Grandpa called Mitch “son.” Dismay and fear disarmed her. Her heart thumped as though it wanted to be let out of her chest. Her stomach clenched and unclenched like a raw-knuckled fist.
Mitch and Grandpa were closer than she ever imagined.
What bothered her most was that she envied Grandpa this morning almost as much as she envied Mitch. Almost.
Thankfully her emotions came quickly to their senses.
Jealousy, she could contend with. Feelings for Mitch? No way. That would be the second stupidest thing she could do. Entertaining the annoying attraction had been her first.
The three ate in introspective silence. Lem looked from one to the other. His eyes circled Lauren’s face.
The last thing she wanted to do was worry Grandpa. So how to wrestle her jealousy under a rug and remedy this? She needed to try to compromise. Be more understanding. Easier said than done, though. One solution was to strive to spend time with Grandpa when Mitch wasn’t here. That meant rising before the crack of dawn and staying up late, like Grandpa-the-night-owl liked to, but so be it.
Whatever it took to regain the bond and have more time to cherish with him, like old times. Before Mitch.
“What’s today’s agenda?” Lauren asked politely to break the tension, ease Mitch’s embarrassment and Grandpa’s concern.
Mitch wiped his mouth. “I’m driving to the trauma center to check on last night’s patients. Then returning to knock out some stuff on Lem’s summer to-do list.”
“For which I’m glad.” Lem’s arm draped over Mitch’s chair.
Just great. More Mitch and less Grandpa.
She clenched her teeth until her jaw hurt.
Mitch stood. His height always took her by surprise. He carried plates to the sink. Grandpa nudged Lauren. She rose to help Mitch with dishes, even though she wanted to be nowhere near him.
Grandpa also tried to help. Mitch waved him back. “You cook, I clean, remember? That’s the deal.” Mitch grinned and shooed Lem to the living room.
It galled her all the more. Why hadn’t she thought of giving Grandpa a break?
Lauren found herself glaring at Mitch before she could stop. Thankfully her back was to Grandpa. She peeked to be sure.
Lem eyed the television and didn’t offer a clue that he’d picked up on Lauren’s struggle. In fact, he looked overjoyed at the prospect of retreating without an ounce of argument.
Highly unusual for Grandpa, whose work ethic wouldn’t let him see someone else working without stepping in to help.
Rather, he grinned all the way to his easy chair and appeared perfectly content to leave the two of them alone.
Keyword: alone.
His suddenly sturdy countenance depicted an inner well-being that left Lauren with a distinct impression. Perhaps Lem’s fear of perishing at seventy had more to do with worry over her than himself? That made sense. Especially in light of Grandpa’s grounded faith and trademark talk of the hope of heaven.
Dread gave way to a sick feeling inside Lauren. Did Grandpa hope she and Mitch had a future together? And did that hope seem to invigorate and enliven Grandpa?
She studied Mitch and dearly hoped Grandpa’s trust hadn’t been sorely misplaced.
Chapter Five
What was she thinking?
Mitch would really like to know. He watched Lauren with magnified interest for the third chore day in a row after breakfast at Lem’s.
“We got a lot done yesterday. Thanks for your help.”
She shrugged. “No reason for me not to.”
He eyed her attire and grinned. “Not many women can rock a vintage pair of farmer’s ratty denim overalls. But you do.”
Cheeks tinged, she quickly spooned scraps into the trash. Mitch was glad to know she became embarrassed as easily as him. Or maybe her skin was rosy because she was riled. He’d been here so much, chipping away at Lem’s chore list before the trauma center got too busy for him to manage both.
Also for Lem’s sake, he needed to keep peace with Lauren. She obviously had a problem with his friendship with Lem. Humor might defuse the situation. At least the immediate tension.
Wordlessly, she joined him at the sink. Her bracelet jangled as she slid it off and set it on the windowsill. Sunlight swept through the panes and painted a golden shine to her hair, woven in a loose, classy braid coiled over one shoulder. She batted and blew at flyaways curling into her face.
He turned on the water. “For the record, I like your hair even when it’s misbehaving.”
She paused while setting a dish in his soapy water. Met his gaze and smiled in a drawn-out way that made Mitch see a sharp resemblance to one of Lem’s ornery impending grins.
“You don’t expect me or my hair to stop misbehaving just because you’re here this week, do you?”
Mitch chuckled and began scrubbing dishes. Fresh citrus scents permeated the air. “Hardly.”
Something unsettling oozed out of him, like suds from the sponge he squeezed over a dish. She’d said “this week.”
She must not realize his eating with Lem was an every-morning ritual, even when they didn’t have a mile-long chore list. She was liable to go from zero to mad and stay there the second she found out. And she’d find out soon enough.
Days before Lauren told Lem she was coming, Lem had given Mitch the summer to-do list. Much-needed home-improvement projects, knowing Mitch had limited time before the trauma center took off full force in the fall. Mitch wasn’t about to neglect Lem’s requests, because in addition to worrying about Lauren, Lem fretted over things breaking down in and around his house.
Mitch regretted that her warmth would cool and her smile dim when she learned how tightly his life was twined with Lem’s, but it seemed inevitable. Jealousy was the only reasonable explanation why her beautiful eyes radiated anger every time he interacted with Lem.
Didn’t she know she didn’t have to always live like the outsider or waste one more breath believing she didn’t belong? How sad was that?
Mitch studied her as she dried the dishes he set in the drain. Water glistened off her hands as she rescued a spoon he missed in the rinse water before the disposal gobbled it.
She hit a switch and the noise faded. Citrusy clean scents permeated the kitchen. Horses clomped and pistols pop-popped from Lem’s favorite vintage Western show on a TV Mitch had set up in Lem’s living room.
She peered over her shoulder at Lem and smiled. It plied his heart like putty and softened it to clay.
Out of respect for Lem’s care concerning Lauren, how could Mitch reach out and pull her in? Pulling away from Lem wasn’t the answer, even though that’s probably what Lauren would prefer Mitch do. Loneliness plagued Lem enough, and Mitch wasn’t about to abandon him on purpose.
On the spurs of the rowdy Western show came a comedy, as evidenced by Lem’s whooping laughter. The sound made Lauren’s face beam like a thousand moons at midnight. Her iridescent eyes and effervescent expression mirrored happiness he felt inside.
Their gazes connected then darted to the floor.
She poured Lem a fresh cup of coffee. Mitch resisted the urge to tell her Lem preferred the red chipped cup. She’d learn.
Mitch’s penchant for being helpful put him in trouble at times. Lauren obviously knew how particular Lem was about certain things. She stacked plates and organized dishes exactly how Lem liked