Sacred Trust (13 page)

“We spend very little time together outside office hours, and we always talk shop.”

“I think he would like more.”

“I don't give—” She hesitated. “Mom, there's no relationship there. It would be a waste of my time and his. The only relationships I want are those with my daughter and my mother. Thanks to that maggot of an ex-husband, Tedi is more confused at ten than most sixteen-year-olds. She's certainty more worldly-wise.”

“Get her back.”

Mercy rolled her eyes and leaned back in her chair. “Fat chance. You know what happened the last time Theodore dragged me through the court system. It hurt Tedi too much. How do you think she felt about seeing her mother being involuntarily committed to a psych ward?” Mercy had been suffering from a great deal of depression during the divorce and her father's death, so much that she'd taken a couple of extra Valium one night just to blunt the pain. It hadn't helped, so she'd tried to check herself into the mental heath center voluntarily. A friend of Theo's, who just happened to be on duty that
night, had called the police and forced a ninety-six-hour stay. Theo used it to his advantage in divorce court and won custody of Tedi.

“I can't put Tedi through another court battle,” Mercy said quietly. She looked up and held Ivy's gaze. Tedi was five at the time, and when allowed in the courtroom, she'd listened solemnly to every word. Ivy had paid for the child's counseling for three years while Mercy struggled to build up a ruined practice and pay Theo's bills.

“She's not happy living with her father,” Ivy said.

“Who would be? There's nothing I can do. It would just dredge up old pain for all of us, and I would lose the case again. I can't risk it, not with Tedi.”

“Don't let Theo pull another bluff on you, honey. You know how good he is at that.”

Mercy held her mom's silent gaze for a moment. What would it be like to have Tedi back with her all the time, after five years? Dare she hope?

“The man is an abuser, Mercy. How do you know he's not playing the same mind games on Tedi he played on you?”

“He loves his daughter.”

“He doesn't know how to love.”

“Loving a daughter is different from loving a wife. Who wouldn't love Tedi?”

“Your father loved you.” Ivy's voice held the pain of too many memories. “I know you haven't forgotten. Theo drinks, too.”

“You're saying that Theo might be treating Tedi the way Dad—”

“I don't know what Theo might be doing,” Ivy said.

“But remember that you had some protection because I was home with you most of the time.”

“And I'm not home with Tedi.” Mercy's jaw jutted out. “That's not my fault, Mom.”

“It doesn't matter whose fault it is. Try to get Tedi back.”

“We could lose a lot, Tedi and I.”

“You won't lose Tedi's love. She needs you.”

Mercy swallowed the rest of her milk and wiped her lips with a napkin. “Okay, I'll think about it.”

“Wouldn't hurt to pray about it.”

Mercy shot her mother a scowl. “Wouldn't help, either. How about a deal? I won't hassle you about your friendship with Doc Heagerty if you'll lay off the Jesus stuff. And I'll even shut up about Colorado if you'll listen to the cardiologist. But if he tells you not to go to Colorado, forget the trip, okay?”

“Never hurts to listen.”

“And do what he says.”

“You act as if I have a death wish. I'm not what you docs call a ‘noncompliant' patient, but I'm not going to panic and curtail all my activities. You're being overprotective.”

Mercy grinned and picked up an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter. “Now, where did I learn that?”

“Speaking of docs, how has the new one been working out lately?” Ivy didn't quite keep the thread of antagonism from her voice.

Mercy shot her a suspicious glance as she chewed her apple. “He's good, even if he is an uncertified osteopath. He's had some experience, obviously. And he's smart, a really good diagnostician. He's called me on a couple of my patients, and I've been impressed. So have his patients and the E.R. staff. Hate to disappoint you.”

“So you get along well with him?”

“I'm not sure ‘get along' is a fitting term, and I'm still not convinced we need him. His presence has cut my moonlighting hours and rearranged my schedule to the point that I have to choose between working two extra shifts a month and keeping Tedi for my regular visitation, so my income is down. But you can't fight administration.”

“You can if you are administration.”

“No, Mom. Don't use your contributions as a source of blackmail just because you're mad at someone. I thought Christians were supposed to be above that stuff.”

“I'm not using blackmail when it's my money in the first place, and I control the distribution. I can just as easily donate to Cox South in Springfield.”

“Okay, then, call it bribery. Same thing.”

“Not when I feel I'm following my conscience. Jarvis is still trying to find out why Dr. Bower was kicked out of his residency program in KC.” Ivy bent to peer through the oven door.

“I doubt it had anything to do with clinical skills. He's going to be popular with the patients. He takes too much time with each one, but in their opinion, that's good.”

Ivy glanced up at Mercy from her bent-over position. “So you like him?”

“I didn't say that.”

Ivy sighed and straightened. “If this were a female doc, would it make a difference?”

“That's not fair.”

“It's not fair to judge someone by gender.”

“Why should you care? You want to get rid of him because you think he killed Grandma.”

“No, I don't!” Ivy's words came with extra velocity.

Mercy heard the force of continued grief. Maybe Mom did need to get away. But to Colorado?

Mercy chewed and swallowed a third bite. “Yes, I would like him if he weren't a man. He's not as obnoxious as some. If Jarvis George has his way, though, Dr. Bower will be out by the time the next schedule goes up. And speaking of Jarvis, have you ever known him to drink?”

“Drink? You mean, alcohol?”

“No, Mom, I'm talking cream soda.” Mercy made a face. “Of course, alcohol. He sounded drunk to me when I called him tonight. I've never heard him talk like that. He was insulting and rude, to boot. I don't know what's gotten into him.”

Ivy shook her head. “I haven't spoken with him for a few days, but I've never known him to drink. Remember how he used to disapprove of your father's drinking? Did you wake him?”

“If that's all it was, he'd better not take night call anymore. He acted really weird. He even hung up on me.” Mercy took another bite of apple, got up and hugged Ivy, and went into the living room for her coat. “Thanks for dinner. It's the best I've had in a while, but now it's past my bedtime and I'm tired. See you later.”

“What? No dessert? I've baked some apples with honey and oats. They're delicious.”

“Thanks, but I had a stale doughnut tonight while I was doing dictation. I'm stuf—” She gasped, glanced at her watch, and groaned. “Oh, no.”

“What? Did you forget a chart?”

Mercy jerked on her jacket with sudden irritability. “Of course not. Just a man. See ya!”

She almost didn't stop at Robert Simeon's on the way home, but at the last moment she felt guilty. The
guilt fostered a growing irritation. Robert had been trying to convince her to go out on a real date with him for the past several weeks, and she'd turned him down. Tonight had not been her idea. She'd only agreed to dinner to get him off the phone. She should probably be just as irritated with herself for allowing him to talk her into it.

This friendship had become a little too confining.

She knocked on the door hard enough to hurt her knuckles, then spied a lighted button to the right of the door. She rang it. She'd only been here once before, and that was to bring Robert home when his car had broken down three months ago. His new Porsche Carrera would prevent future episodes. Robert enjoyed many of the finer things money could buy. He enjoyed them a little too much for Mercy's taste, and lately when she was with him, she had become aware of the basic differences in their thought processes. He was a little too involved in himself. But then, maybe she was, too.

Mercy could tell the moment Robert opened the door that he was disappointed, even a little upset, about her extreme tardiness.

He smiled at her, a tight smile that did not reach his eyes.

“I'm sorry, Robert, I blew it.”

He shrugged and turned to walk back toward what Mercy supposed was the dining room. The decor of the rooms was exquisite, all polished wood and brass and crystal, as she would have expected. He wore a burgundy silk shirt and tie. He looked meticulous. Mercy felt scruffy in comparison.

“You had a busy day,” he said. “I know how that can be.”

She followed him and saw the formal dining table set
with fine china, silver and crystal wineglasses filled with amber liquid. Fresh-cut purple orchids graced a glass dish and ivory candles had burned halfway down before being extinguished. This was no casual dinner invitation.

“I waited for your call for the first hour,” he said. “I'm not used to being stood up. Most women would come early for
duck à l' orange.
” He helped her with her coat and laid it on the back of a dining-room chair.

“I'm sorry,” she said again. “We had a disaster drill and I forgot.”

He stared at her for a moment. “You forgot?”

“I went to talk to my mother about her trip to Colorado.”

He picked up a green crystal goblet and sipped at it. “Well, now you must be starving.”

“I ate at Mom's.”

He put the goblet down harder than necessary. “You already ate? So I kept everything hot for nothing? Dessert? Wine?”

“Sorry, Robert, I don't drink. What kind of dessert?”

“Bread pudding with rum sauce. It's an old family recipe, and there surely won't be enough rum to affect you. Religious beliefs? Your mother's influence? I didn't think you bought into that mind-set.”

“‘Bought into'?” Mercy snapped. “Actually, Robert, it's none of your business why I don't drink, but just for the record, my mother's personal beliefs have nothing to do with it.” She pulled out a chair and sat down at one of the place settings. “I know firsthand what too much alcohol can do to the human body. You know,” she said drily, “things like alcoholism, cirrhosis. My father was an alcoholic and I don't want to chance a hereditary resemblance.”

Robert went into the kitchen and came back with two
delicate china dishes of bread pudding. “Believe it or not, I kept these warm in the oven, too.” He set them on the table with a flourish and took his seat. “You missed a good meal.” He patted his stomach. “So did I.”

She scowled at him. “You could have eaten. I said I was sorry, okay?”

He poured rum sauce from a small ceramic jug and coated both servings of the dessert with it. “You don't sound sorry. You sound defensive.”

“I didn't come here for a romantic tête-à-tête. I came to discuss my mother.”

Even in the candlelight, she could see a flush creep up his neck and face, and she instantly cursed her predilection for speaking before she engaged her brain, especially when she was irritable already.

“I'm sorry, that was unkind,” she said quietly. “As I said, I just came from Mom's, and I'm in argument mode. I went by to debate the issue of Colorado, and she took the wind out of my sails by leaving the decision up to the cardiologist. It seemed fair enough.”

He shrugged and picked up his fork. “Works for me.”

Mercy stared at him for a moment while he ate. “That's it? That's all you have to say?”

He stopped chewing and looked at her for a moment, then swallowed. “What do you want me to say, Mercy? She's at least willing to listen to the cardiologist. He's a specialist in electrophysiology. Why should I bust my rear with it when a specialist will do it for me?”

“I don't know.” Mercy's voice was clipped. She knew that her temper, always on edge lately, was slipping past control. “It sounded acceptable when you suggested over the phone tonight that we should get together to discuss
Mom's case. Maybe I really thought you meant it, not just as a ruse to show off your cooking skills, but because you cared about a patient of yours who just happens to be my mother. Why on earth I should take your word at face value is beyond me. Esoteric ideas like integrity and human compassion shouldn't enter into the discussion where dating and prospective sex partners are concerned.” She shouldn't have come. She'd been spoiling for a fight all day.