Stress Test (41 page)
“Dr. Newman, so good to see you.” Elaine came out from behind her desk and enveloped Matt in a warm hug.
Matt noticed the ring on Elaine’s left hand, the white gold band in stark contrast with her caramel skin, the sparkle of the diamond matched by the sparkle in the woman’s eyes. “I see that congratulations are in order. Do I know the lucky man?”
“I believe you met him yesterday. It’s Charlie Greaver, the assistant DA.”
“Wonderful. Let me wish you both the best.”
Elaine leaned close and whispered in Matt’s ear. “It’s lonely without someone to share your life. Remember that.”
He whispered back, “Funny you should say so. That’s the reason I’m here today.”
Elaine’s smile vanished, replaced by a look best described as dead serious. “I guess Sandra Murray’s the closest thing I have to a daughter,” she said, “so I hope you’ll forgive me for asking this. But she’s been hurt before, and I don’t want that to happen. What are your intentions?”
Matt considered the question for a moment. “I want to get to know Sandra better. Let her get acquainted with me—not as a client, not as a doctor, but as a person. Like you said, she’s been hurt before. I don’t want to add to that. But I think we both need someone in our lives. Doesn’t the Bible say something about it not being good to be alone? I want to fix that—for her and for me.”
“You know, you may be just the right man for the job.” Elaine smiled and gestured toward Sandra’s office. “Go right in.”
Matt hadn’t been this nervous since his junior year in medical school, just before the internal medicine exam. He stopped in the doorway to watch Sandra at her desk, bent over an open law book, her finger tracing the line she was reading.
A curl of red hair kept dropping forward into her eyes, and rather than stopping to push it into place, Sandra puffed out her lower lip and blew the strands away. She repeated this a second and third time before she looked up and saw Matt.
“If there’s something that bothers you that much, you really should take care of it,” Matt said.
Sandra got up and moved around the desk. “Sounds like a good rule.” She reached up and repositioned her hair clip. “Is that better?”
Matt took a step toward her. “I think so.” His eyes moved from her red hair to sparkling green eyes to full lips shaded by just a touch of lipstick. His gaze lingered there for a moment before he went on. “There’s something else that needs fixing—your lips.”
Sandra edged closer to him. “What’s wrong with them?”
“Let me show you.” He closed the distance between them and reached out toward her.
She held up her hand. “You’d better do one thing first.”
Matt frowned. “What’s that?”
“Close the door.”
He turned away and said over his shoulder, “You’ll stay right here, Counselor?”
“Doctor, you couldn’t move me.”
In a moment they embraced and their lips met. After a few seconds, she leaned back, looked in Matt’s eyes, and said, “Yes, I think that’s what’s been missing.”
For the first time in weeks, Matt allowed himself to relax. “Thank you.”
“Did you say something?” Sandra asked.
“Yes . . . but not to you.”
1. What was Matt’s relationship to the Lord at the start of the novel? At the end? What factors affected the change? Were there outward signs that signaled it?
2. Although we never meet Matt’s brother, Joe, face to face, we see him reflected in e-mails and things he’s said before to Matt. What’s your impression of Joe? Why do you say that?
3. Sandra justifies her refusal to be engaged to Ken Gordon using the Scripture that counsels avoiding being linked with unbelievers. How do you interpret that Scripture? Does it apply to marriage? Friendship? Business relations? Do you think God can use a Christian, linked in some way to an unbeliever, to change that person’s relationship with God?
4. Sandra freely admits that she left a promising position to strike out on her own in order not to stifle her Christian witness. Does this resonate with you? Have you or someone you know ever done, or even contemplated doing, something like this? Does it always work out well?
5. We have no direct information about Elaine, Sandra’s secretary, so far as whether she is or is not a Christian. What do you think is her status in that regard? Why? Short of asking a direct question, what might help you determine someone’s relationship with God?
6. When Rick tells Matt he wants to become active in church to show his commitment to his new faith, Matt ponders the meaning of such an action. Do you think church membership is the badge of a true Christian? What actions and attitudes mark a Christian? How are they demonstrated?
7. What was your impression of Mrs. Penland, the mother of the man whose life Matt saved? Have there been instances in your life when a prior action, taken with no thought of reward, paid off for you?
8. Do you think the Christian element of the novel detracted from or added to its value to readers?
The average reader may picture an author sitting alone at a computer, tapping out prose that goes directly to the printer, but that’s not the case. It requires a cooperative effort among many people to take a story from inspiration to publication,
It started with my wonderful agent, Rachelle Gardner, who believed in me when it seemed that few did. She’s been with me every step of the journey and remains a great advocate, a trusted sounding board, and a true friend.
My close friend, golf partner, and attorney (in that order), Jerry Gilmore, read the first draft of this work and made a few suggestions. It’s evolved since then, and if there are legal errors, they’re mine, not his, but I appreciate Jerry’s participation.
Stress Test
went through a number of edits, and I want to thank Lisa Bergren for exercising her talents to assist me with them.
From there, the manuscript goes to the publisher. I’m fortunate enough to work with one of the best teams around, the folks at the Thomas Nelson imprint of Harper Collins Christian Fiction, under
the very capable direction of Daisy Hutton. My editor, Amanda Bostic, deserves and gets my undying gratitude for all her work. Managing editor Becky Monds and her colleagues did a great job shepherding the work from galleys to printed book, following which the creative and energetic Katie Bond and her team made sure others heard about it. To everyone involved, my sincere thanks.
As I sought to master the craft of writing, so many authors have become not just colleagues and mentors, but true friends. You know who you are, and I appreciate it more than you can know.
I’m grateful for the support of my family, and especially want to thank my granddaughters, Cassie and Kate, for letting me occasionally turn off the videos of Little Bear they were watching on my computer so I could get back to writing.
My wife, Kay, remains my partner in story development, my first reader, my most demanding critic, and my biggest fan. Most important of all, she taught me how to smile again. Thanks, dear.
I spent ten years as a professor at Southwestern Medical Center in Dallas, where I was privileged to work with faculty, residents, medical students, and staff. For twenty-six years before that, I engaged in the private practice of medicine. Some settings in this book are real, others are fictionalized, but none of the characters represent real people. But to all my colleagues and friends in the medical field, thanks for thirty-six great years.
My loyal readers merit a special thanks. Without your interest, my novels would still be rattling around in my head.
Last, but certainly not least, let me echo the words of Bach and Handel who signed their works thusly:
Soli Deo gloria—
to God alone be glory. That is indeed my earnest desire.
—Richard Mabry
AN EXCERPT FROM
HEART FAILURE
A
VAILABLE
O
CTOBER
2013
Adam Davidson and Dr. Carrie Markham strolled out the doors of the Starplex Cinema into the warm darkness of the springtime evening. As they made their way through the few cars left on the parking lot, Adam’s right hand found Carrie’s left. She took it and squeezed, and his heart seemed to skip a beat. His fingers explored until they felt the outline of the diamond ring he’d placed there just a week ago.
She leaned in to briefly rest her head on his shoulder. “I never thought I could be this happy.”
“Me either.” And if he had his way, this is how it would be for the rest of their lives. Two people in love, enjoying their small town lives, their only worry what movie to see on their regular Saturday night date.
A loud noise in the distance made them both stop. Then Adam saw a shower of color on the horizon, about where the ballpark would be. “Fireworks show. The Titans must have won.”
Get a grip, Adam. Stop jumping
at every noise. You’re safe
.
When Adam first met Carrie eight months ago, she was fragile and hurting, as skittish as a baby deer, obviously still bearing the scars from the death of her husband almost two years earlier. Her only interest seemed to be her medical practice. Otherwise, she went through life without apparent
enjoyment or direction. But, little by little, he’d seen her start to smile, to laugh, and eventually to love.
Carrie had restored the smile to Adam’s life as well. He still had his own problems, even though he hadn’t revealed them to her (and hoped he never had to), but having her in his life made him certain that the life he now lived, so long as he lived it with her, would be all he ever wanted.
These things were supposed to take time, but in just a few short months each of them had decided that the other was the person needed to fill the hole in their life. The culmination had come with Adam’s proposal and Carrie’s acceptance last week. They hadn’t set a wedding date yet, but for now Adam was content to watch Carrie plan and bask in the glow of their shared happiness.
The couple reached Adam’s car and climbed in, but had not yet fastened their seat belts. Carrie was talking about where to go for ice cream when Adam saw the dark SUV approach from his right, moving at a snail’s pace. When the vehicle was directly in front of Adam’s Subaru, its side window came down to reveal the glint of light on metal as the driver’s hand extended outward.
Adam’s next action was reflexive. If he was wrong, he could apologize. But if he was right—He was already moving when he heard the shots.
“I think a chocolate . . . no, make that a hot fudge sundae.” Carrie leaned back in the passenger seat of Adam’s Forester. “That would—.”
The impact of Adam’s arm across her shoulder pushed her down until her head was below the level of the car’s dashboard. Then Carrie heard it—a flat crack, followed by two more in rapid succession. Muffled thuds sounded above her, and she pictured bullets boring into the headrests at the place where her head and Adam’s had rested just seconds ago. Carrie cringed against an expected shower of glass, but only a few tiny pieces sprinkled down on her.
The faint ringing in her ears after the shots didn’t mask the screech of tires and roar of an engine. When the noise subsided, all that remained was the rapid thud of her heartbeat echoing in her ears.
Carrie huddled with her head down, her breath cut off as much by fear as the pressure of Adam’s body atop hers, a human shield. She felt his soft breath in her ear as he whispered, “Are you all right?”
“I . . . I think so. How about you?”
“I’m okay.” The pressure holding her down lessened. “Stay down until I tell you it’s safe.” Carrie turned her head to catch a glimpse of Adam peering cautiously over the dashboard.
Her heart threatened to jump out of her chest while her mind wrestled with what just happened. After a seeming eternity, Adam bent down and said in hushed tones, “I think they’ve gone. You can sit up.”
Carrie raised her head just enough to peer through the damaged windshield. When nothing moved in her field of vision, she eased upward to perch on the edge of her seat. A few cars were still on the lot of the theatre after the last Saturday night show, probably the vehicles of employees closing down for the night. There hadn’t been many people in the last showing, and judging from the parking lot, most had left before Carrie and Adam.
“Are you sure you’re not hurt?” Adam’s voice, full of concern, brought Carrie back to the moment. He brushed a bit of glass from her seat, then tossed the handkerchief he’d used onto the floor of the car.
Carrie unfolded from her crouch and eased onto the seat. “Just scared is all,” she said. “You?”
“Not a scratch.”
He reached across to hug her, and she turned to find shelter in his arms. They stayed that way for a long moment, and the trembling inside her slowly eased. “What . . . what was that about?”
“Nothing for you to worry about.” Adam’s voice and manner were calm, and Carrie felt comforted by his very presence. Then, as suddenly as the turn of a page, he released her and swung around to face forward in the driver’s seat. His next words were terse, clipped. “We have to get out of here.” He reached for the ignition, key in hand.
