Healing The Doctor's Heart. Shirley Hailstock

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      THE MAIL ARRIVED at the same time every morning. Lauren collected it and separated the circulars and advertisements from the letters. Jake didn’t get any personal mail. Correspondence like that probably came through email. She could almost see him hitting the delete key without responding to anything. The letters that arrived were mostly invitations to medical, hospital or corporate functions. He refused them all. If he did open any of the envelopes, their contents often ended up in the trash. If a bill slipped into the pile, he had her send it to his accountant.

      When she finished the mail, she found Jake sitting in the great room. He had a book lying open on his knees. Lauren had the feeling it was a prop, there for show only. He was using it to avoid having to speak to her. After two weeks, she was learning his moods and his self-protective instincts. She challenged them at every turn.

      “Reading anything interesting?” she asked.

      “You wouldn’t like it,” he said.

      He looked at her, but since he’d come down to breakfast and found her wearing a nineteenth century British nanny’s outfit, carpetbag at her side, he’d said nothing about her attire. Lauren didn’t mention it either. She knew it was eating at him to know why she was dressed that way. She’d let him stew over it until curiosity forced him to ask.

      “You have no way of knowing what I like to read. My tastes cover a variety of subjects.”

      “Anything above a first-grade level?” he mocked.

      “Only when absolutely necessary,” she joked. She was sure he got her meaning, although his face showed the static emotion of nonchalance. Lauren told herself that he was getting used to her, even if he wouldn’t admit it to himself. She guessed he spent most of his time alone except for the people who worked for him. She hadn’t seen him talk to anyone since she’d been here. While he treated her with disdain at times, she figured he truly wanted her around.

      She’d tested that theory two days ago, by steering clear of him. She stayed in her room or remained in the office for hours. He’d find an excuse to come and see what she was doing. A smile curled her lips when he did this because, whether he wanted it or not, he needed human contact.

      “Do you have any friends?” Lauren asked.

      Jake’s head came up quickly and he looked at her. “Of course I have friends.”

      “Why don’t they come by or call?” She glanced at his cell phone lying on the coffee table. “Why don’t you call them? The only people I’ve seen or heard are here to bring something, clean something or take care of you.”

      “You don’t know that I haven’t called my friends.”

      Lauren gave him her brightest I-know-something-you-don’t smile. “You have a lovely voice,” she said. “It’s deep and thunderous at times. I imagine you could accompany yourself with one hand on that beautiful piano.” She glanced at the gleaming yet silent instrument. “But I’ve never heard you talking on the phone or speaking to anyone when I’m not in the room.”

      “You listen?” he accused.

      “Yes,” she said. “Part of my job is to make sure you’re all right. If I did hear anything unusual, I’d have to check it out. So farnothing.”

      “The truth is most of my friends are doctors and they have very few hours to gab on the phone, much less visit.”

      Lauren knew that wasn’t true, but she held back any comment. Jake was making excuses.

      “Will they be at any of those functions you get invitations for? One is a fund-raising ball. You could go there—”

      He put up a hand to stop her. “I will not go.”

      His voice held finality. To punctuate his words, he grabbed his phone as he passed the table and headed out of the room.

      Lauren watched him go. His spine was straight and his shoulders back, his steps so stiff she thought he might break.

      Anger was an emotion and it was hissing from a crack in Jake’s armor.

      Lauren smiled.