Bonnie Winn - Family by Design

Catching sight of the technician, she tried to shove the thoughts away and decided it would be easier to tame an infuriated horde of wasps.

J.C. strode down the familiar corridors toward his office. The sandy-beige walls were lined with portraits of the hospital’s founders and patrons. But he wasn’t looking at any of them. He wanted to kick something, preferably himself. Maddie Carter had been on his mind since the day they’d met. He’d sensed an empathetic soul. One who could understand what he was going through.

A tall, slim man in a white coat plopped himself in J.C.’s path. “Someone put cactus needles in your scrubs?”

J.C. immediately recognized the voice. “Adam.”

His colleague and friend Adam Winston tugged at the stethoscope looped around his neck. “I don’t normally drive into tornados, but from the look on your face, I think you might need some help getting out of the storm.”

“Just a mild gale.” J.C. exhaled. “Put too much thought into a nitwit notion.”

“Why don’t I believe that?”

“Don’t you have rounds?”

Adam shrugged. “Not for another hour.” Amiable, persistent, often brilliant, Adam wasn’t going anywhere without an answer.

J.C. summarized his two meetings with Maddie. “That’s it,” he concluded.

Adam’s knowing look was both confusing and annoying. “Uh-huh.”

“Don’t try to make something out of this.”

Whistling, Adam winked, then briefly shook his head. “I don’t need to. You’ve got that covered.”

J.C. clenched his teeth. Realizing he had, he made himself relax.

“Hasn’t it occurred to you that this woman’s under just as much strain as you are?” Adam continued. “When she saw you instead of the tech, she probably thought her mother had suffered another stroke. Wouldn’t be the first time a test triggered one.”

“I’m sure she’s stressed.”

“Are you? Have you checked out the situation? Does anyone help care for the mother? Or is she on her own?”

Remembering that Lillian had said Maddie was an only child, J.C. didn’t reply.

“If she’s the full-time live-in caregiver, you know she could be ready to crack.” Adam twirled the end of his stethoscope.

J.C. hadn’t asked about the details of Lillian Carter’s care. Had he done what he’d despised in others? Judged without knowing the facts? Worse even, judging at all?

J.C. pulled into the semicircle driveway at the front of the Rosewood Community Church school. He was late. Again. Didi had picked up Chrissy a few times for him, but she was busy. Besides, he couldn’t expect his employees and friends to sacrifice any more than they already had.

The school was nearly deserted. Only the teachers’ cars remained in the parking lot and a few kids were kicking a ball on the playground. Chrissy sat on the steps, clutching her backpack, looking lost.

Poor kid. First she felt deserted when her parents died; now she felt just as abandoned by him. Turning off the car, he got out to meet her halfway. Her face was more than sullen; fear and vulnerability were just as apparent.

“Chrissy, I’m sorry. No excuses. I’m late.”

Although she tried to control it, her lips wobbled. “I know.”

“How about a big chocolate shake at the drugstore?” The old-fashioned marble fountain was one of Chrissy’s favorite places.

“Uh-uh,” she replied, shaking her head.

J.C. would have reached for the child’s backpack so he could carry it to the car, but she still clutched it like a lifeline. She’d had the backpack with her at the pajama party, untouched by the poisonous carbon monoxide. Untouched by what had changed her life forever.

J.C. wished he could think of something to distract her, to ease the pain from her face. But fun hadn’t been on the agenda for quite a while now.

Chrissy settled in her seat, scooting forward suddenly, pulling up a bag that was wedged beneath her. “What’s this?”

“Some trial medications for a new patient. I’ve been meaning to drop them off …” But every time he thought about it, he pictured Maddie’s anger.

“Why don’t we go now?”

He stared at his niece. “You want to go?”

She shrugged. “Nothing else to do.”

Except a mountain of dictation, articles, more work than he wanted to think about. “Right.” But the stop would distract Chrissy. “Nothing else to do.”

The Carter home wasn’t far. J.C. had copied their address on the sample bag. Located in one of Rosewood’s oldest neighborhoods, the house was an unimposing Victorian. Neither grand nor tiny, it spoke of the families that had inhabited it over the generations. The yard and flower beds were tidy, the porch and driveway well swept. But he noticed the aging roof and the peeling paint on the second-story fascia and gables.

An aged but inviting swing flanked two well-worn rocking chairs on the wide porch. It was quiet as they climbed the steps, then knocked on the outer screen door.

Within just a few moments the door swung open. Taken aback, Maddie stared at him, then collected her voice. “Dr. Mueller, I wasn’t expecting you.” Her gaze shifted to include Chrissy. “Hello.”

Chrissy ducked just a fraction behind him. J.C. put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “This is my niece, Chrissy.”

“Good to meet you, Chrissy.” Maddie pushed the screen door back. “Come in. I just put the kettle on.”

Chrissy looked up at him in question.

J.C. patted her back. “Actually, we just stopped to drop off samples of a new medication for your mother.”

“Do you have time for tea?” Maddie asked, not a bit of the anger he remembered anywhere in sight.

He glanced down at his niece. She didn’t look averse to the idea. “I guess so. Thanks.”

“Mom’s in the living room,” Maddie explained, leading the way from the small entry hall. She glanced at Chrissy. “In a house this old, they used to call the front room a parlor, but ours isn’t the elegant sort.”

Looking intrigued, Chrissy listened quietly.

“Mom? Dr. Mueller stopped by to have tea.”

Lillian sat in a faded green rocker recliner. Seeing her guests, she brightened. “I love meeting new people!”

“This is Dr. Mueller’s niece, Chrissy,” Maddie began.

Lillian clapped her hands together. “Oh, my! You look an awful lot like my Maddie when she was your age.” She patted the chair next to hers. “Come. Sit.”

Chrissy’s normal reluctance dimmed and she crossed the room. “I thought you knew my uncle James.”

Lillian smiled. “Perhaps I do. You’ll have to tell me all about him.”

Chrissy looked at him, then turned back to Lillian.

“He’s a doctor. And he’s real busy.”

J.C. flinched.

“I imagine you stay busy with school.” Lillian’s gaze landed on the ever-present backpack. “Just like my Maddie, always did her homework straightaway.”

Chrissy stroked the pink bag and halfheartedly shrugged. “Sometimes.”

Lillian’s eyes glinted with mischief. “Sometimes we baked cookies first or built a playhouse.”

“You built a playhouse?” Chrissy asked in wonder as Lillian dug into the purse that was always at her side.

Lillian produced a roll of Life Savers and offered them to Chrissy. “Sure did. My father thought a girl should know how to use a hammer and a saw. He liked to make things with his hands, so he taught me in his workshop.”

Chrissy swallowed. “My dad did, too.”

Lillian patted her knee. “Sounds like we had wonderful fathers.”

Strange. It was as though somehow Lillian sensed Chrissy’s father was gone, as well.

J.C. heard a whistle from the other side of the house. No doubt the teakettle. Considering, he watched his niece, saw that her attention was entirely focused on Lillian. Pivoting, he followed the sound of the fading whistle to the kitchen. A carpet runner covered the oak floor in the long hall; it also muffled the sound of his footsteps.