What Matters Most (20 page)

They talked for nearly an hour. At last, he said, “Kiss me, Melanie. This is going to be one long month.”

“I know. Very long.” She made the sound of a kiss and he responded in kind. “Good night, love,” they said simultaneously.

The month dragged by, and on the twenty-fourth of September, Melanie stepped into the terminal at BWI Airport. If her carry-on bag hadn’t weighed thirty pounds, she would have run to the baggage-claim area where she knew Jack awaited her. She didn’t see him but, swept up into arms that she recognized, she looped her arms around his neck and knew once more the feel of his lips firm and sweet upon her own.

He set her on her feet. “You lost weight,” were his first words to her. “I sure hope you didn’t lose it in any important places.”

“Not to worry,” she said. “I only lost it in my brain. Thanks for meeting me.”

“What else would I do? I can’t begin to tell you how much I missed you.”

“I’m glad to hear it, because I missed you, too.”

He stared down at her until her nerves began to rearrange themselves throughout her body. “We’re going to do something about this. I don’t like loose ends in my life.”

She wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. Pressure from any source was not to her liking. “Am I a loose end?” she asked him, sounding frostier than she intended.

“You’d like to be, but I’m having no more of that.”

Chapter 9

M
elanie had been back to work as Jack’s registered nurse for two weeks when the day of the clinic’s ground-breaking finally arrived. She had splurged on an elegant burnt-orange suit of lightweight wool and brown leather accessories, the first time she’d ever bought a complete outfit for any occasion. It wouldn’t hurt to wear her hair down, she reasoned. The bigwigs would be there—nothing like getting their picture in the paper at an event aimed to uplift the poor—and she meant to hold her own.

“You remember Ms. Sparks, don’t you, Dad?” Jack said to his father as they approached the reserved seats facing the temporary podium holding each other’s hands.

“Yes, of course. How do you do?” Montague said, his grudge as obvious as the nose on his face.

“Good morning, sir,” she replied, giving him some of his own. Jack’s arm eased around her waist and moved her closer to him. She looked up at him and smiled when she saw in his eyes the message that, for his affection for her, he apologized to no man.

“You look so beautiful,” he told her as if his father were unable to hear his words. “I haven’t seen you in this color. It suits you perfectly.”

“Thank you,” she said, and then, looking directly at Montague Ferguson, “Aren’t there copies of the program somewhere?”

Forced to reply directly to her, Montague said, “Probably,” and passed the task to Jack. “Have you seen any, Jack?”

Jack’s shrug surprised her, and when his arm tightened around her, she realized that Montague Ferguson had wanted to get rid of Jack long enough to say something to her, and Jack had foiled his attempt. When Jack waved at someone, she looked around and saw Tommy, who joined them.

“See if you can find some copies of the program, Tommy.”

“Yes, sir. How many do you want?”

‘I think four will suffice.” Tommy ran off to find the programs and Jack said to her, “Let’s sit here.”

“How often do you spar with your father, Jack?”

“With increasing frequency. But it doesn’t bother me much—when it concerns my affairs, I usually win.”

“But you maintain a good relationship with him, I hope.”

“We’re on very good terms. He won’t stop trying to make me follow in his footsteps, and I won’t stop resisting. We still hug each other.”

She could feel her eyes widening. “Not today, you didn’t. He froze the minute he saw me.”

“He’s thawed before, and he’ll thaw again. I don’t let it worry me. The fact that he’s behind this clinic and here today for the ground-breaking is proof that he supports what we’re trying to accomplish.”

Tommy returned with the programs. “Here they are, Dr. Ferguson.”

“Thanks, Tommy.” He gave a program to his father, who sat two seats away, one to Melanie, one to Tommy and kept one for himself. “Sit over here beside me, son.”

“Yes, sir,” said the proud boy, smiling at Jack.

“Dad, this is Tommy Pickett. Tommy, this is my father, Dr. Montague Ferguson.”

Tommy jumped up, walked around and shook hands with Montague. “How are you, sir? I heard a lot about you. My friend said you patched him up when Dr. Ferguson was away. He thinks the world of you. I sure am glad to meet you.”

“Why, thank you, Tommy,” Montague said. “I’m glad to meet you, too.”

“Did Dr. Ferguson tell you he saved my life?”

“No, he didn’t, but I’m certainly glad he did,” Montague said.

“Tommy’s very special, Dad.”

I could love this man,
Melanie acknowledged to herself.
I could really love him.

The mayor opened the proceedings, took as much credit to himself as he could manage and then introduced Montague.

“I wouldn’t be standing here if it weren’t for my son, Dr. Jack Ferguson, the noted cardiologist,” Montague said. “He had an epiphany one day and decided to open an office down here. It’s right across the street.” He pointed to the building. “I thought he’d lost his mind. But one night when he was out of town and there wasn’t a reliable substitute, his nurse called me to look at a patient in Jack’s office. I went, spent the next five hours there tending the patients—there must have been over twenty of them—and I decided that the area needs a first-class clinic. It’s getting one.

“I and the other partners won’t have anything to do with the clinic except to raise funds and keep the politicians in line. My son, Jack, will run the clinic, and he has decided to have the laboratory right where his office now stands. It’s a good day for the people of this area. Jack, why don’t you tell us your plans?”

“Thanks, Dad. I’ve engaged the Harrington Brothers, architects, engineers and builders, and I have a medical engineer on board to help in the selection and placement of equipment. We’ll have a state-of-the-art facility, and we’re getting physicians who are experts in specific fields to give us three free hours weekly. If patients have insurance, we’ll gladly take that, but if they don’t and cannot pay, we’ll care for them anyway, as we do now, and we will not treat them as if they’re receiving charity.

“I’ve learned a lot of things since I’ve had that office across the street, the most important of which are to be thankful for what I have, that I’m blessed and that, but for the grace of God, I could be sick with no means of getting the care I need. I’ve learned that most people do not want charity, but that they sometimes need it to survive. If you contribute to the Alicia Todd Ferguson Memorial Clinic and Laboratory, you will be supporting a truly worthwhile establishment. Thank you.”

Melanie could see that Jack’s words touched his father, for the man’s eyes clouded with tears. “I didn’t know you planned to name it for your mother,” Montague said to Jack after he sat down. “Alicia would have been proud, and she would have been right down here working with you. She would have found a way to help.”

“I know,” Jack said, “but it was Melanie’s idea. I asked her to suggest a name. I’m glad you’re pleased.”

To Melanie’s amazement, Montague Ferguson looked at her and nodded. “Thank you.” Maybe he’d get around to thawing, but she wouldn’t count on it.

Jack asked the mayor to remove a shovelful of dirt, he did and after a long and resounding applause, the mayor ended the ceremony, and the group dispersed.

“I should think you’d be happy,” Montague said to Jack as they walked across the street to Jack’s office. “Not many men get to see a dream take off like this so quickly. What’s wrong?”

At the door of his office, Jack took the keys from his pocket, put his arm around Melanie and, without opening the door, said to his father, “I’m happy about the ground-breaking and the fact that the Harringtons are ready to begin digging for the foundation, but it saddened me that only one of the people for whom this is intended to help came to the service. Fortunately, Tommy is the one who came, for he is the reason why I have an office down here.”

“Son, you have to realize that up and down cannot meet. It’s impossible. The downs know it, and so do the ups.”

Melanie tensed, and her sudden rigidity was at once obvious to both men. She pushed open the door. “If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do. I’m one of the downs, remember?”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Jack said, restraining her with a firm grip on her arm. “I’m having none of that. If my father prefers to live in the dark ages, there’s no reason why you should join him there. You’re not going to hold me in your arms and then act as if I’m not good enough for you.”

“I never did that,” she shot back, “and I’ve never held you in my arms.”

“Liar! You haven’t held me inside your body, but you’ve certainly held me and loved me until I was nearly out of my senses. If you deny it, I never want to see you again.”

She hurt, and she didn’t know what to do about it, but she didn’t want to mislead Jack’s father. “I misunderstood you, Jack. Yes, I’ve held you in my arms, and you’ve held me in yours, and it was the sweetest thing I’ve ever experienced.”

She had to get away from them, but she knew Jack wouldn’t let her leave. She looked at him and saw his pain. “Oh, J-Jack,” she stammered. “Oh, darling.”

He pulled her to him with such force that her handbag fell to the floor. “This is between us, and nobody else, Melanie. I don’t have to ask anybody’s permission to be with you. I answer only to God. To him, there are no up people and down people. I’m pretty damn sure of that.”

Still holding her as tightly as he could without hurting her, he looked at his father. “Tricks like that only bring us closer, Dad. This isn’t something that you can call off the way you can call a bloodhound off a scent. What we have between us happened the minute we met. Do you want to come in for coffee? Melanie and I make great coffee.”

“I know. I’ve tasted it. I hope you have some of those cranberry scones.”

“We have some, sir,” she said, “but they’re not quite as good. These are from a bakery. The woman who made the others is in Memphis at St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital with her daughter, who has sickle-cell anemia.”

“If you were smart,” Montague said to Jack, “you’d set that woman up in business and take a cut.”

Jack lifted his shoulder in a quick shrug. “She needs some form of steady income, but it’s all I can do right now to take care of my patients and plan for the clinic. Why don’t you do it?”

“Who knows?” Montague said. “I’ll think about it.” He drank the coffee, ate two scones and stood. “With all the crime in this region, you really do leave your Porsche unlocked on the street in this neighborhood?” he asked Jack.

“When you go out, open the front door on the driver’s side and see if I told you the truth. Your Cadillac will be out there, too.”

“Why mine?” Montague asked.

“Because you’re my father, and because you worked down here, helping these people. They do not forget a kindness.”

“Hmm. Thanks for the coffee and scones. See you at lunch day after tomorrow.”

Melanie was working in the supply room and heard their conversation, but she didn’t feel like pretending, so she didn’t go out to tell Montague Ferguson goodbye. He’d be able to figure out the reason, she surmised.

Jack didn’t think for a moment that his father had accepted the idea of his son having a relationship with a nurse. Furthermore, he was about certain that his dad had hired an investigator to look into Melanie’s background. He loved his father, but he knew that Montague Ferguson hadn’t reached the level of prominence that he enjoyed without the toughness with which Jack was so familiar. His father had once advised him, “Never yell uncle, and never lose. If you can’t come out on top, always make the other guy win. Don’t give in.” He assumed that his father would try another tactic, making his moves less obvious.

“Well, what do you think?” Jack asked Melanie after his father left. They sat in Jack’s office with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee permeating the air. “I feel uplifted. Work on the clinic has actually begun, and you and I will see its progress day by day, like Venus rising from the Aegean Sea.”

Her laughter caressed him like a warm blanket in winter. He couldn’t help wondering how he had gotten so lucky. Every nerve in his body responded to her, and he had to resist the urge to hold her.

“What’s funny?” he asked.

“Occasionally, you’re poetic, and I like that. But I can’t see any similarity between a building going up and a Greek goddess rising from the sea. That’s pretty fancy thinking.”

“Why not? I feel fancy right now, but this office is not the place to express it.”

“Right. I have a feeling that your father will want to have a board of directors for the clinic, and he’ll want the members to be his moneyed friends who can boast of their charity work, and who won’t understand or care what we’re trying to do in this community.”

She knew precisely how to change the topic if she didn’t want it to get personal. She also had a keen sense of decorum. He mused over her comment about a board of directors. “I hadn’t given that any thought, but we should have one. We ought to be accountable to a board, not hour by hour and patient by patient, but I mean in respect to our policies and our patient-care standards.”

“Yes, of course, though I can’t imagine that any board member will have standards that are higher or more commendable than yours.”

The woman had a way of making him feel like a giant, as if he could accomplish anything, but he knew she meant it. He sought to lighten the weight of her compliment, to control the urge to love her senseless. “Go ahead and butter me up. See if I care,” he said, though it was far from the way he felt. “You make me feel as if I’m ten feet tall and bulletproof.”

“That’s the way you look to me,” she said, and there was no smile on her face.

He pushed the plate of scones and doughnuts aside and grabbed her wrist. “If you keep talking to me like this, we’ll be making love right on this floor, and you’ll hate me and yourself, too.”