Judy Duarte: Under The Mistletoe With John Doe

“Yes, but just leave those things right there. You’re getting those dark circles under your eyes again and you need to get some rest. I’ll take care of that for you.”

“All right.” She lifted the lid to the washer and dropped the slacks inside. Then she leaned forward, went up on tiptoe and brushed a kiss on Doc’s wrinkled cheek. “What would I do without you?”

“Run yourself into the ground, I suspect.”

She smiled and gave him a hug. “Thanks, Doc. Then I’ll just take this other stuff into the spare bedroom and lay them out for him. After that, I’ll go home, take a hot shower and fix a cup of chamomile tea. I’ll probably be asleep before you know it.”

She gathered the Wal-Mart bags, and as she headed for the guest room, Doc tagged along behind her.

“I wish you wouldn’t have spent your hard-earned money on that fellow,” her friend said. “He’s probably going to leave town within the next couple of days and take all the new things with him.”

Doc had a point, but this was the holiday season, a time of goodwill and glad tidings. “The expense won’t break me. Besides, you remember what the Good Book says, ‘It’s more blessed to give than receive.’”

As she laid out the shaving gear and toiletries she’d purchased, Doc left the room and returned with a stack of clothes. “These pants used to fit me before I had that gall-bladder surgery last spring. If they’re too big around the waist, he can use a belt to cinch ’em up. And he can cuff them if they’re too long.”

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate the gesture.”

At least, she hoped he would. There was so much about the man she didn’t know…

“This is just a temporary fix,” Doc said. “I’m sure his memory will eventually return, and when it does, he’ll head back to wherever he came from.”

That was true. John Doe was just passing through her life-here today and gone tomorrow.

And whether she’d be happy about that or not was left to be seen.

Dr. Kelso discharged John on Friday, which worked out well since Betsy was off that day and could drive out to the hospital to pick him up.

When she entered his room, she found him dressed in the outfit he’d been wearing when he’d arrived at the Stagecoach Inn last Wednesday night, the one that Doc had laundered and she’d pressed for him. Black slacks, a white shirt and expensive leather shoes.

“It looks like you’re ready to go,” she said.

“I’m waiting for someone to bring a wheelchair, which seems crazy to me. I can walk.”

“It’s hospital policy.”

“That’s what the nurse said.”

For an awkward moment, silence stretched between them, and while she probably ought to make small talk to break the tension, she sketched a gaze over him.

Just as she’d suspected, he stood over six feet tall, with dark hair that curled up at his collar and eyes that could soften the hardest of hearts. He looked sharp and stylish, and she could easily imagine the impression he’d left on the rednecks and cowboys who’d been at the honky-tonk last Wednesday night.

Witnesses had said that he’d left the bar alone. And if that were the case, then he’d done so by choice. Any woman on the prowl-married or single-would have jumped at the chance to go home with him.

Maybe he hadn’t been interested in romance.

And if not, she wondered why. Was he already committed to someone?

The moment the question crossed her mind, she realized she was trying too hard to read into things. His memory would eventually return, and when it did, she’d have the answers she needed.

Or, at least, he would.

Shrugging off her curiosity the best she could, she said, “I’m sure the wheelchair is on its way.”

“I hope so. I’m also going to have to stop by the accounting office, but that won’t take long.”

She supposed it wouldn’t because he didn’t have the means to pay the bill. But neither of them broached that fact.

“Maybe they can put me on some kind of payment plan,” he said. “It’s also possible that I have health insurance and the details will come to me later. Either way, I’ll make it right.”

She hoped he meant that for several reasons. First of all, the hospital was already struggling to make ends meet, and they didn’t need one more financial burden. And second, she wanted to believe that integrity came natural to him.

He certainly seemed convincing, but that was left to be seen. So far, the only things Betsy knew about John were guesswork and hunches.

And given her track record, who knew how accurate those would prove to be?

“Tell you what,” she said. “I’ll get my car and pull it up to the curb in front of the hospital. You can find me when you’re done in the office.”

He nodded, and she left his room, eager to escape all the what-ifs that seemed to crop up whenever she was around him.

Minutes later, she sat in her idling car outside the lobby entrance to the medical center, waiting for someone to bring John out to the curb. But she didn’t have to wait long. The automatic door soon swung open, and Stan Thompson, one of the hospital volunteers, pushed John’s wheelchair outside.

Betsy waved, letting the men know that she was in the white Civic. And when John smiled in return, her heart spun in her chest.

She hoped it wasn’t a big mistake to take him to Doc’s ranch. But the plan had already been set in motion, and there wasn’t much she could do about it now.

As John climbed from the chair and slid into the passenger seat of her car, they both thanked Stan, and then they were on their way.

“It was nice of Dr. Graham to let me stay with him,” John said, breaking the silence.

“He’s a great guy. And he’s got a heart as big as they make them.”

“Apparently so.” John peered out the passenger window at the passing scenery, the cattle in the fields, the pale green water tower with the name Brighton Valley painted across it in bold black letters.

She’d studied the same sights when she’d first come to town, and she wondered if he liked what he saw, if he felt as though he’d come home, too.

“It’s peaceful out here,” he finally said.

“I think so.” It was one reason she liked living outside of town and didn’t mind the extra time it took to drive to work.

“How far is the ranch from here?” he asked.

“About twenty minutes.”

“Is it a bad commute?”

There it went again-another hunch based upon something as simple as a word choice. Did John live in a large city? One in which people talked about their commutes to work?

Rather than continue to make those kinds of leaps, she answered his question. “No, it’s not bad. Although I do wish I lived a little closer to town. My parents live at the Shady Glen Retirement Home, so it would mean a lot less driving time.”

“Are your parents elderly?” he asked.

She nodded. “My mom and dad were married for twenty years before they adopted me.”

“Are you an only child?”

“Yes.”

John stared out the windshield, watching the road ahead. He seemed to ponder her statement for a while, then he turned to her and added, “They must be very proud of you.”

“They are.” She thought about her mom and dad, about how they’d cheered each of her successes, how they’d shared all they had with her. A warm smile stretched across her face. “I’m proud of them, too.”

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because they fell in love and made a lifetime commitment to each other. A lot of people aren’t that lucky-or that dedicated to each other. I certainly wasn’t.”

“So you’re divorced?”

She hadn’t meant to share any personal details with him, especially about Doug and their split, but it was a little late to backpedal now. John had already picked up on it. “Yes, I was married right after I got out of med school. But it didn’t work out.”