A Family Practice. Gayle Kasper

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СКАЧАТЬ few miles ahead she made a turn, the truck creaking and groaning as if it were an old woman getting out of a rocker after a long afternoon nap.

      She passed Una’s small frame-and-stucco house. Her own was just past it, not much larger size-wise, but with a wide porch that Mariah loved. She often sat out there at the end of her day, listening to the night sounds, enjoying the solitude—and thinking of the day to come.

      “Here we are,” she said, as she pulled into the long driveway and parked a short distance from the house.

      Luke surveyed his surroundings. The house was small, but it exuded a warmth that was very much Mariah. Maybe it was the big front porch, or perhaps the soft, fluttery white curtains at the windows or the well-tended garden at the side, but he liked it. Liked its soft cream color, its peace and simplicity.

      He opened the truck door and swung his injured leg out. If it hadn’t been for his little mishap back on the road, he’d have been halfway to Phoenix by now. Not that he was on any schedule.

      Not since he’d left his life fifteen-hundred miles behind.

      “Mommy! Mommy!”

      Luke glanced up to see a little girl of about six, maybe seven, tripping toward them. The first thing he noticed was her beauty—dark silken hair, like her mother’s, and the same vibrant green eyes.

      The brightness in her face, her smile, eclipsed the other thing he noticed—sturdy braces on her thin, coltish legs, braces that at the moment weren’t impeding her progress much.

      Mariah came around the side of the truck and swept the child up in her arms. “Callie, this is Luke Phillips,” she said.

      “Hi, Luke Phillips,” she answered, using his whole name, much the same way her mother had earlier.

      Luke liked the sound of it. He also liked the smile on Mariah’s face, the one that matched her daughter’s.

      Friendliness was a way of life out here, it seemed, and it was Luke’s good fortune that it was. Otherwise he’d be sitting back there along the road with nothing but cactus for company.

      The little girl was like a bright ray of sunshine after a long, dark day, he thought, and stuck out his hand. She accepted it shyly, her grasp light, innocent, her hand tiny in his.

      Luke recognized instantly that this was a child who’d experienced pain, but there was no sign of it in her sweet smile, or the confident raise of her chin—as if she, like her mother, wasn’t afraid to take on the world at large.

      “Hi, Callie,” he returned.

      She glanced down at the shirt tied around his thigh, then at the scrapes and bruises on his shoulder and jaw. “You got hurt,” she said. “Is my mommy gonna fix you up?”

      He swept his gaze from Callie to Mariah. Luke wasn’t exactly used to being on the receiving end of medicine, but he suspected Mariah knew how to dispense treatment, along with a little peace, a peace a man could get used to—if he allowed it.

      “I am,” Mariah answered her daughter. “Luke had a little…accident. He had to swerve to miss an armadillo with his motorcycle.”

      That made the little girl giggle. At the moment Luke didn’t see much humor in the incident—but he allowed a hint of a smile to break through anyway.

      “Come on inside and meet Una,” Mariah urged as she set her daughter down, cautious until Callie was steady on her braces.

      “Who is Una?” he asked.

      “My neighbor. And friend. She watches Callie for me when I need her. And if I know Una, she has a pot of her Southwest stew simmering on the stove.”

      “No, Mommy—she made chili,” Callie told her. “Do you like chili?” she asked Luke.

      “It so happens I love chili,” he answered the little girl.

      She smiled.

      “First we clean your war wounds,” Mariah announced.

      Luke’s leg was beginning to stiffen up on him. And it hurt like the devil. But he didn’t intend to admit that to Mariah. “I’m okay,” he said.

      She gave him a look that said she didn’t believe that for a moment, then started toward the house. Callie bounded ahead of them, somehow managing gracefully on her braces.

      “She’s a beautiful child,” Luke said.

      Mariah smiled. Mother-pride shone in her eyes—but it didn’t quite hide that small shadow of sadness Luke caught in their sea-green depths.

      “Callie’s a delight,” she said. “My bright joy. I—I just wish things could be…different for her,” she said softly.

      Luke knew she meant the stiff braces Callie wore. His professional guess would be that the child had a form of juvenile rheumatoid arthritis.

      He’d seen the disease in its cruel form during his pediatric work in med school. He knew its effects. But he didn’t know how to offer comfort any more than he knew how to find it for himself.

      They found Una in the kitchen. Callie had already informed her they were having a guest for supper tonight.

      “Help me set another place at the table,” Una told the child, then she turned and gave Luke a once-over. “Father Sky above! You look like you got skinned by a bear.”

      Luke grimaced. “I’m afraid it wasn’t anything quite that fierce, ma’am.”

      Mariah hid a grin, but she didn’t elaborate on his scrapes and bruises—or how he’d come by them.

      “A little sunflower and a sprinkle of ground willow bark—that ought to fix him up.” Una gave her prescriptive advice with a brisk nod to Mariah.

      It was exactly what Mariah had in mind for her patient—providing the man would sit still for it.

      She wasn’t sure he would.

      “Why don’t you boil some water,” she told Una, “while I get this man stripped.”

      Luke’s eyes widened in surprise for a quick moment, then a very male frown took its place on his face. “It’s only a few scratches. I can look after them myself.”

      “The injury to your thigh needs treatment—and so does your shoulder. If you have a problem with that, you can complain about it later.” She motioned him toward a small room off the kitchen. Finding a large blue towel in the cabinet, she pulled it down and handed it to him. “I’ll go help Una with that hot water. You get out of those jeans,” she told him.

      Luke grumbled under his breath as she left the room, but he undid the shirt he’d tied around his leg as a makeshift compress. Beneath it the gash didn’t look too bad, he decided. It wasn’t deep enough to need suturing. Just bothersome enough to make riding out of here uncomfortable. That was, if he could even find someplace to repair his cycle.

      Luke knew one armadillo with a price on its head.

      He’d just СКАЧАТЬ