Leave a Candle Burning (33 page)

For a moment Dannan understood why some doctors only studied treatments. Interruptions at times like this could be frustrating. But the little boy—less than five years old—who had almost severed a finger—got Dannan’s mind back on track. He would never want to leave his life of helping people who needed his skills as a physician.

“You look tired,” Conner commented to Dannan when he arrived for dinner. He’d been tempted to go to the Petersons’ but didn’t follow his heart.

“I am a little.”

“Busy schedule or busy thoughts?”

Dannan looked up into Conner’s knowing eyes. “Both, I think.”

Conner didn’t comment, but he’d certainly been praying for the other man. He still remembered Reese’s reaction to the news and knew that her face mirrored his own response when Dannan had shared with him.

“Eli told Dannan he was the one for Scottie?” Reese clarified, her mouth open a bit. “He said those very words?”

“Yes. Dannan thought he’d misunderstood, but Eli brought it up again before he died.”

“Poor Dannan.” Reese’s face was filled with compassion. “It must have been dreadfully awkward.”

“Yes, and I assume Eli was desperate. Here came Dannan on the scene, perfect in Eli’s eyes, and at a time when he felt like he was slipping away.”

“And he was,” Reese whispered, looking distressed.

Conner wished he’d kept his mouth shut.

“We’ll pray for him,” Conner encouraged. “He’s thinking well about it, and who knows, when all is said and done, maybe Scottie will agree with Eli.”

Reese nodded in agreement, liking this idea, her face showing her thoughts.

“What are you thinking?” Conner asked.

“Just that they would be perfect for each other,” Reese admitted.

“Reese Kingsley.” Conner tried to sound stern with his whisper. “We are not going to get involved.”

Reese tried to look innocent, but she liked the idea so much—Dannan and Scottie—that it was hard to pretend she felt otherwise.

“I have to get some sleep,” she told her husband as she began to brush out her hair.

Conner would have pushed the point, if only to tease her, but he knew she wouldn’t do anything rash. At least he hoped she wouldn’t.

“Are you coming in?” Reese was suddenly in the hall, looking for her husband and Dannan. “Dinner is on the table.”

“We’re coming right now,” Conner assured her, only just realizing that he’d been standing there in deep thought, Dannan staring at him.

“You’ll have to tell me what that look was about,” Dannan remarked to his host as they moved to the dining room.

Conner nodded, knowing it was only fair. “Just as soon as I get a chance,” the banker promised, and the men went in to dinner.

“Come in,” Douglas called quietly to whoever was knocking on his study door, his handkerchief in his fist.

“Papa?” 14-year-old Joshua ventured as he opened the door.

“Hi, Josh,” Douglas said thickly, and the young man came all the way inside and shut the door. He walked until he stood opposite his father’s desk.

“You look like you’ve been crying,” Joshua said quietly.

“I have been,” Douglas admitted.

“Mr. Peterson?” the pastor’s son guessed.

Douglas nodded, his heart squeezing some. He had not been prepared to lose Eli, and although they usually had only one visit a week, it was a precious time for Douglas. His week now felt incomplete without it.

“It was so fast,” Joshua reflected.

“I think so too. I wish I had stayed a little longer that night. He didn’t wake up, but I would have wanted to be there had I realized how swiftly he was going downhill.”

“Do you think about him in heaven?”

“A little. I can’t picture heaven, so that’s hard to get my mind around, but I’m thinking of him standing before he kneels at Christ’s feet.” Douglas smiled a little. “That makes me envy him.”

Joshua laughed a little, and Douglas asked if he needed something.

“Mama wants to know if you’re hungry. She said you didn’t eat much dinner.”

“I am a little, but I’ll wait for tea. Thanks, Josh.”

“I’ll go tell her and come back.”

“Why will you do that?” Douglas asked.

“Because you need someone with you right now,” the young man said simply.

Douglas could only nod, needing his handkerchief again.

Dannan found Corina on the sofa next to Scottie. Scottie was reading to her. It was a scene that was bittersweet to his heart. He had come to the kitchen door and into the house that way, thanking Iris and telling her he would see himself out.

“Hello,” Dannan said quietly when Scottie came to the end of the page. “This looks fun.”

“It is,” Scottie said, closing the book and smiling down at Corina.

To the adults’ surprise, that little girl frowned up at her.

“Corina.” Dannan’s voice was firm. “I want you to thank Scottie.”

A mutinous expression crossed her face, and Dannan’s brows rose in warning, a warning Corina didn’t heed. Corina climbed from the sofa, frowning first at Scottie and then at Dannan.

“I apologize,” Dannan told his hostess. “Clearly Corina and I have something to discuss when we get home.”

“It’s all right,” Scottie said swiftly, coming to her feet. “I think she’s tired.”

“If that’s the reason, it’s not all right at all,” Dannan countered quietly.

Scottie blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Only that fatigue is not an excuse for treating someone poorly.”

Scottie stared at him, not sure what to say.

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Dannan said, not really taking in Scottie’s reaction in his need to get Corina out the door and home. This was not acceptable behavior from her, and he was already trying to figure out just how he would explain that.

“You were not thankful to Scottie,” Dannan said, wasting no time but starting the conversation the moment they were in their kitchen. “You were cross with her.” From his kneeling position on the floor, Dannan stopped and studied the child’s face. “Do you know what I’m talking about?”

Her lip was beginning to quiver, but she still said, “Sottie read boos.”

“Do not cry,” Dannan said firmly, and even though tears clung to Corina’s lower lids, she did not weep. “Yes, Scottie does read books to you, and when I asked you to say thank you, you would not do it.”

Corina’s eyes could have swallowed her face as she looked into Dannan’s disapproving countenance.

“I want you to be thankful. Do you understand?”

Corina nodded.

“So the next time I ask you to thank Scottie, what are you going to say?”

“San you.”

“That’s right. You will not act like that again.”

The eyes were almost more than Dannan could take, but he remembered Grant and didn’t soften.

“Why are we thankful, Corina?” Dannan asked, his voice losing some of its firm edge.

Corina didn’t answer.

“We have such a great God.” Dannan told her, knowing it would be some time before she knew that for herself. “We need to be thankful to Him all the time and also to those He puts in our lives. Like Scottie.”

“Sottie read boos,” Corina repeated, and Dannan looked at her lost little face and wondered if he’d made any ground at all.

“Come here,” Dannan sat down on the floor, and Corina wasted no time climbing into his lap. Dannan hated having to scold her, and he wished he knew why she’d reacted the way she did, but he couldn’t wait to address the issue until he figured that out.

“Are you hungry?” Dannan asked after pressing a kiss to her small, round cheek.

The little head bobbed against him, and Dannan realized he was proud of her. She hadn’t burst into tears, and even when she hadn’t answered his question, she hadn’t done it with a rebellious look on her face. He didn’t know how much had actually gotten through, but he hoped they were off to a good start.

Corina was asleep before Dannan remembered the letters he’d picked up from Doyle. He settled in the parlor, shifting the candle close so he could read, and settled back to hear from his family. He started with the one from his mother.

Do you have any idea how much I pray for you? I think that you and Corina are on my heart constantly. Do you remember those first years of poor health? I fought against God for a time, so sure He would want me up and around and then so angry to learn that He had another plan. I still wish I could do my own laundry and paint the house, but in truth my schedule leaves much more time for thought, and you just about fill mine.