LITMIR.BIZ

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okay at home?” Mercy asked.

      Tedi grimaced, still looking out the window.

      Mercy repressed the urge to demand what that puny excuse for a father had been doing to make Tedi so unhappy. Just watching her daughter made her want to choke Theodore.

      “So I guess you’re pretty busy,” Tedi said at last.

      Mercy quirked a brow at her. “Busy? Do you have something in mind? You know I’m never too busy for you, Theadra Zimmerman.”

      Tedi made a face at the sound of her full name. “Oh, I don’t know…maybe we could go to Springfield some weekend. You know, like to the zoo and to a movie or something.”

      “Sounds great. And maybe we could go to Bass Pro Shop and eat at Hemingway’s.”

      “Yeah, and hike at the nature center and watch the deer and squirrels and birds eat. And maybe we could even take a whole week and drive down to the Boston Mountains in Arkansas.”

      “We could camp out,” Mercy said, playing the little game they had always played, with their dreams and wishes getting bigger and bigger and more unreachable. “And maybe we could take a whole month and go to the Grand Canyon.” She had forgotten how heartbreaking this little game could become as she named the things she most wanted to do with her daughter.

      “And no one could find us, except we would know where we were,” Tedi added. “And maybe you could set up practice in Arizona, and we could call Grandma, and she could come and join us, but no one else would know.”

      “Maybe we could, honey.” Mercy leaned closer and kissed her daughter’s forehead. “First we’ll concentrate on getting to Springfield. Do you want to talk about it?”

      Tedi turned and looked seriously into Mercy’s eyes. The all-too-grown-up expression made Mercy’s throat choke with tears.

      “Would you, Mom? Would you do it for me?”

      Mercy’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Why wouldn’t I want to spend time with the person I love more than anyone on earth?”

      Tedi shrugged. “I don’t know…I guess I thought you might be too busy.”

      “Where did you get that—” Mercy paused, and a flash of fresh anger accosted her. She reached out and touched her daughter’s shining dark brown hair. “Tedi, don’t ever let anyone tell you that I don’t have time for you or that I don’t love you.” The anger grew. The day’s grief and the past weeks of struggle with Grandma’s cancer had taken their toll. Mercy struggled for a moment with tears; then she gave up and let them fall.

      Tedi watched Mercy for a moment, her own eyes growing larger. She reached a hand up and caught a tear and held her mother’s gaze. “Don’t cry, Mom. Really. It’s going to be okay.”

      Mercy pulled a Kleenex tissue out of her purse and blew her nose. Her own daughter shouldn’t be having to comfort her.

      To Mercy’s surprise, Tedi’s spirits seemed to lift after that. She smiled when her grandmother and Jarvis teased her, and the smile was real. It was as if Mercy had reassured her of something vital. The mood relaxed until they reached the cemetery.

      As the limousine driver held the door for Ivy, she clutched her chest and stumbled.

      Mercy scrambled forward. “Mom!”

      “Grandma!” Tedi cried.

      Ivy caught herself against the seat as her face grew pale. Jarvis eased her back.

      “Relax, it’s okay,” she said. “I just got a little dizzy.” She breathed deeply through her nose, then exhaled through her mouth. “It’s okay.”

      “You grabbed your chest, Mom. I saw you grab you chest. Does it hurt? What’s wrong?” Mercy demanded.

      Jarvis leaned toward Ivy. “You weren’t feeling well yesterday, were you? You mentioned chest congestion. Are you still feeling ill?”

      “Apparently so,” Ivy snapped.

      “Mother, why haven’t you seen a doctor?” Mercy asked.

      “Very funny. I’ve seen more doctors in the past two days—”

      “That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” Mercy’s voice carried more volume than she’d intended, and other arrivals at the cemetery turned to look through the open limousine door with concern. She lowered her voice. “How long has this been going on?”

      “For pete’s sake, don’t lecture me like a—”

      “Stop it!” came a ten-year-old voice.

      All three adults turned in time to see Tedi’s eyes fill with tears. Her lower lip quivered. “Grandma, you’re scaring me.”

      Mercy quickly wrapped her arms around her daughter. “It’s okay, honey. You know how stubborn your grandma can be sometimes.” She cast a reproachful look at her mother, who did not hold her gaze. Good. She felt guilty. “Now that we know she’s sick, we’ll take care of her. I know she doesn’t want you to worry. Do you, Grandma?”

      “No.”

      Tedi sniffed and smeared tears over her face with the back of her hand. “But what’s wrong, Grandma?”

      The color had already begun to return to Ivy’s cheeks. She eased herself back more comfortably on the velour seat. “Nothing serious, I’m sure, Tedi. Sometimes I just get the hiccups, but it isn’t in my throat. It’s deeper in my chest.”

      “Do you think it’s your heart?” Fresh tears formed in Tedi’s eyes. She’d heard her mom talk too many times about heart attacks and the dangers of heart disease. Mercy wished she’d never discussed the subject in front of her.

      “I don’t know, honey,” Ivy said.

      “We’ll know soon enough,” Mercy said. “Mom, we’re going straight to my office as soon as we leave here.”

      “No, we aren’t. I don’t feel it’s ethical for a daughter to treat her own mother.”

      “Then we’ll go to my office,” Jarvis said. “You’re not getting out of this, Ivy Richmond.”

      “And you’re not getting your stethoscope on me, either, Jarvis George. I’ll go to an unbiased doctor who doesn’t know me and doesn’t have preconceived ideas about the care I should receive. The two of you would have me trussed up like a full backpack and never let me out of the house again.” Her color continued to improve, and Mercy relaxed. Tedi’s tears had done more than any amount of browbeating could have done, and whatever was wrong with Mom, she was recovering for now.

       Chapter Seven

       A t eight o’clock Friday evening, Lukas completed his patient charts and sat back with a sigh. As usual, the evening rush hour had hit with a vengeance, making up for a midafternoon lull. He’d seen twenty patients today, several with high acuities—two chest pains, one asthma, a surgical abdomen, and a broken leg. Not bad for a day’s work when you also took into account the numerous flu, strep, pneumonia, sprain and workmen’s compensation patients he’d also seen. He’d had to fly one heart attack out via chopper to the trauma center at Cox South in Springfield. There was just so much this small, class-four facility dared to handle without sending some patients to a place with more specialized equipment and medical expertise.

      Lukas decided not to wait until he got home to call his father, but opened his cell phone as he changed from his scrubs to his street clothes. He smiled when Dad answered in the middle of the first ring, then frowned at the sight of his rumpled clothes in the mirror. He had to start using hangers.

      “Hey, Dad,” he said after the preliminary greetings, “I’m off this whole weekend. What do you think about that?”

      “I don’t believe it,” came his father’s musical

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