Judy Duarte: Under The Mistletoe With John Doe

She was sure that he did. But his other life had been temporarily denied him.

“That may be a good sign,” she said.

“Me wanting to get out of here? Or feeling like I’ve dropped the ball?”

“Both. Your injuries are healing, and you’re a healthy man. Lying around all day has got to be boring.” She entered his room and took a seat at the edge of his bed. “You had a life prior to the accident. There must be a lot of things that need doing. And if you feel pressed about something, then one day soon it will all come back to you.”

“I hope you’re right.”

She nodded at the built-in wardrobe where patients could keep their personal property. “Do you mind if I take a look in there?”

“Why?”

“Because the clothes you were wearing the other night are in there. And because they’re dirty and bloody. I thought I’d wash them for you so you don’t have to wear a hospital gown home-not that it doesn’t look dashing.”

He glanced down at his chest, then tugged at the cotton fabric. “I guess this isn’t what all the ranch hands are wearing this year.”

“No, I’m afraid you’d get a couple of laughs. Especially if you add a pair of cowboy boots to round out your ensemble.”

A grin tugged at the side of his mouth, and his eyes glimmered. “Now that’s a lousy visual.”

“On you? I’d have to see it,” she began, then reeled in her thoughts. What in the world was she doing? Flirting with him?

As much as she’d hoped to avoid John Doe for the rest of his stay in Brighton Valley, she had to face the facts. He’d been invited to stay at Doc’s ranch, and he’d accepted.

He also had nowhere else to go.

So she crossed the room to the little closet and pulled open the door. A white plastic bag in which one of the nurses had packed the dirty clothes he’d been wearing sat next to a dusty pair of expensive Italian shoes.

Again, she was reminded that he hadn’t been dressed like any of the men who called Brighton Valley home. He was going to need something suitable to wear on the ranch-jeans and boots for a starter.

Leaving the loafers behind, she removed the bag and shut the closet door.

“Can I look at those before you take them?” he asked.

“Of course.” She carried the bag to him, then waited as he peered inside.

“Do they look familiar?” she asked.

He slowly shook his head and handed them back to her. “I wish they did.”

Her heart went out to him, even though she wished it hadn’t. And she felt herself being drawn closer to him, more involved.

“Then if it’s all right with you,” she said, “I’ll take these home with me, wash them and bring them back this evening when I come to work.”

“I hate to have you go to the trouble.”

She offered him a smile. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll be carrying your own weight before you know it.”

“You can count on that. ”

He’d said it as if he meant it, and she believed him.

Or did she just want to believe that he was conscientious and responsible?

She lifted her wrist and checked her watch, even though there really wasn’t any reason to. The motion had become a signal she used to make her excuses and leave, to let people know that she had a schedule to keep-whether she did or not.

“Well,” she said, “I’d better go. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Thanks,” he said. “I really appreciate all you’ve done. You’ve gone above and beyond for me, and you don’t have to.”

No, she didn’t. And she probably shouldn’t. But every time she gazed into his eyes, every time she spotted his vulnerability and sensed how lost he was, she couldn’t seem to leave well enough alone.

“Just pay it forward,” she said, letting him know there weren’t any strings attached, that she was just doing a good deed.

Then she left his room, took the elevator down to the lobby and headed to the parking lot. After climbing into her Honda Civic, she started the twenty-minute drive back to the ranch.

She had to give the poor guy credit. He’d been dealt a bad hand and was taking each day as it came. But for the time being, he didn’t have anything but the clothes he’d been wearing on Wednesday night.

As she spotted a Wal-Mart sign up ahead, it dawned on her that John was going to need more than a single outfit and shoes. And without giving it much thought, she pulled into the driveway and parked near the front door.

Then she took a quick peek into the bag of dirty clothing. The pants, a top-designer brand, had a thirty-four-inch waist, and the shirt and jacket were both size large.

She had a feeling John wasn’t the type to shop for clothes at a discount store, but this was the best she could do, the best she was willing to do. Her time was limited today, and she wasn’t going to hang around town until one of the nicer clothing stores opened. She really needed to go home and get some rest before her next shift started.

Twenty minutes later, she returned to her car carrying several bags filled with things John would need-shaving cream, razors, a popular aftershave, a toothbrush and toothpaste. She also picked up socks, boxer shorts and Wranglers, as well as a couple of shirts and a rugged pair of boots that were on sale, something suitable for walking around the ranch.

Okay, so her credit card had taken a direct hit, but he couldn’t very well get by without a change of clothes or toiletries.

By the time she arrived at the ranch, Doc was out in the yard waiting for her. But that didn’t surprise her. The two had grown close over the years, and he thought of her as a daughter.

“You’re late,” he said, as he approached her car, clearly worried. “I was just getting ready to call and see what was keeping you. I was afraid you might have fallen asleep on the way home and run into a ditch.”

“I’m all right, Doc.”

A crisp morning breeze kicked up a hank of his white hair, and he crossed his arms. “You can tell everyone else that you’re holding up just fine, but I know you’ve been burning the candle at both ends.”

At one time, Dr. Graham had been the only physician in the valley, and Betsy wasn’t doing anything he hadn’t done every day of his fifty-year practice.

“The night shifts are tough,” she admitted, as she pulled the blue plastic bags from her car. “But I’ve got a day off tomorrow. I can catch up on my sleep then.”

“What’d you do?” he asked, nodding to the bags she held. “Go shopping on the way home?”

“I picked up a few things for John Doe. All he has are the clothes he was wearing.”

Her friend and mentor grimaced. “You didn’t need to spend any money. I’ve got plenty of old clothes he can wear. In fact, I’ve already gathered them together and have them ready for him.”

“But they might not be the right size.” And even if John could make do with an elderly man’s hand-me-downs, she doubted that the younger man would like wearing them. Doc may have been dapper in his day, but his sense of style was probably a little old-fashioned or bucolic for a man like John.

A man like John.

And just what kind of man was that? The irony struck her hard, and she let out a weary sigh.

Still, she carried her purchases, as well as John’s laundry, into Doc’s house.

“Do you mind if I use your washing machine?” she asked.

“Of course not.” He followed her to the service porch, where he kept his washer and dryer.

He watched as she set aside her purchases, then opened the white plastic bag and dumped out the dirty clothing onto the worktable next to the appliances.

As she separated the dark slacks from the white shirt, shorts and socks, she asked, “Do you have any colors I can put in with his pants?”