Lightning Strikes. Mary Lynn Baxter
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she didn’t love him like he loved her, a fact she hadn’t kept a secret because she was unwilling to be anything other than up-front, she nevertheless wanted to take that leap of faith and marry him.
She was scared, admitting that Noah’s cavalier desertion of her had left deep scars. Gordon, however, was as different from Noah as daylight from dark. She knew she could trust Gordon beyond all doubt. And that trust did not come easy. It hadn’t then and didn’t now. Her tumultuous upbringing had seen to that.
Amanda sighed, hating the fact that she continued to beat up on herself, asking instead why she didn’t rush back to the ER where her mind and emotions would be focused on her patients and their needs.
Nothing doing. She didn’t move. The past held her down, insisting on resurrecting itself. Instead of Noah and that cold, foreign look in his eyes, she saw her mother’s empty, angry ones. Tears gathered in Amanda’s eyes, almost blinding her.
Funny, she didn’t realize she had any more tears to cry.
When it came to her childhood, she guessed there would always be tears along with baggage that she couldn’t drop. Even as much as she’d loved Noah, there had been moments when her mother’s brutal words still haunted her.
“That son of a bitch is gone,” her mother had told her five minutes before she was to catch the school bus.
Her six-year-old mind had grappled to understand what Mary Jennings had meant. “You mean Daddy?”
“Yes, ‘Daddy,’” she mimicked with a sneer.
“Where…where’s he gone to?” Amanda stammered, her eyes wide and innocent.
“How the hell should I know?” Her mother’s features twisted into an ugly frown. “What I do know is that he’s not gittin’ back in this house.”
“Oh, Mama, no,” Amanda cried, clutching her satchel against her chest. “Daddy has to come back. He just has to.”
“You stop that whining, you hear me, or I’ll take a belt to your backside.”
“Mama!”
“He’s gone! He ain’t never coming back. He’s a no-good drunk who told me this morning he didn’t want you or me.”
“But he loves me!”
Mary made an unladylike snort. “He don’t love you. He don’t love either one of us, never has, never will.”
Amanda choked back her sobs.
“Hush that up. You might as well learn right now that you can’t trust men. They’re a sorry lot, and they want women for only one thing.”
“But, Mama—”
The school bus arrived at that moment, and the driver honked the horn, ruthlessly ending that conversation. But Mary Jennings was right—Amanda’s daddy never returned home.
Though her mother continued to harp on the untrustworthiness of men, she couldn’t seem to stay away from them. During the remaining years of Amanda’s childhood, both parents married numerous times. She had several brothers and sisters—some were half siblings, the others were step—and the brunt of raising three of them had fallen to her.
Amanda shuddered, recalling the years that had followed, years that had exposed her to unnecessary heartache and made her grow up much faster than she should have.
She’d had no one to depend on but herself. Only through working night and day, along with the help of scholarships, had she been able to reach her dream of becoming a doctor.
And despite her dysfunctional family life and the emotional distrust of men, she was a damn good doctor. She would put her skills up against anyone and come out just fine.
As to her birth parents—they were no longer a burden. They were both dead, having died within a year of each other—her mother from cancer and her daddy from a cerebral hemorrhage. She had been in medical school, away from them and her extended family, whom she now saw only on special occasions as they all lived in various states.
Virtually, she was alone. No, Amanda corrected herself mentally. She wasn’t alone. She had Gordon. Suddenly assured that hearing his voice would get her mind back on track, she grabbed her cell phone on her desk and dialed his number.
“Yo,” she said.
“Yo, yourself,” Gordon countered with a chuckle.
In her mind’s eye, she could see him sitting at his desk, his appearance as disorganized as the papers surrounding him. Although dedicated to his job, he was not a workaholic as she was, which was good. In the event she gave in and married him, they would make a compatible team.
Marrying another doctor would’ve been a mistake.
“Hey, you still there?” Gordon asked.
“Sorry. I just had a free minute and wanted to hear your voice.”
“That’s nice, but are you sure everything’s okay? You sound sort of down.”
“It’s the weather,” she lied, then felt bad. “Actually, I’ve been taking a trip down memory lane. As you well know, that’s taboo.”
“What you need is some time away from that hospital. I hate you being there during this horrible weather. In fact, we shouldn’t even be talking on the phone.”
“Does that even apply to cell phones?”
He chuckled. “Who knows. Maybe you could leave now. You promised to cook me some of your lasagna the first chance you get.”
That had also been Noah’s favorite. She clutched the phone in a deathlike grip. It was in that moment that the loudest boom of thunder yet rocked the entire building, then plunged it into complete darkness.
Jeez Louise! That was all they needed—to lose power. But she knew it was a fact when she heard the whine of the emergency generator crank to life.
“Gordon, got to go. Power’s out.”
Hanging up, she fled the lounge and headed toward ER, knowing all hell was about to break loose.
* * *
“Damn!”
Noah’s phone was going crazy, but then so was his mother. They were facing each other at the back of the dark chapel like adversaries who were out for blood instead of blood-related.
His cell phone rang again, seemingly louder than ever, though he was surprised he could hear it above the pandemonium inside the chapel caused by both his announcement and the now-evident power failure, and the horrendous weather outside.
“Turn that thing off!” Melissa demanded, her blue eyes as cold as slivers of ice.
Noah controlled his temper, though just barely. At any given moment, it could erupt. If anyone knew how to push his buttons, it was his mother, who was as mad as she was upset.
“Look, I have to go.”
“Go?” Melissa’s voice had reached screeching level. “What do you mean, go? You can’t just walk off and leave me alone to clean up your sister’s mess.” She turned to look at the wedding crowd. “What about all those people?”
“They’ll go home.”
“How can you be so…so cavalier?”
“I’m not.”
She sniffed. “Yes, you are.”
“Dammit, Mother, I don’t have any choice. I’m on call at the hospital, and people’s lives depend on me.”
“What about your sister’s?”
His mouth turned down. “Come on, Mother. I doubt her life’s at stake.”
“Get someone else to cover for you.” Melissa’s tone was as haughty as her posture.
“I