Dr. Wonderful Read online

  And Jimmy Dickens, although he’d require more operations before his scars were less evident, had gained confidence from the improvement in his appearance—and the fact that he received weekly letters from Dr. Matt, the hero who’d saved Lucy Ledbetter’s life.

  Jimmy and Lizzie were the most obvious examples of Matt’s successes, but the mountain was filled with others. When Matt had risked his life for Lucy, the community had embraced him as one of their own. Lloyd Pennington swore he felt twenty years younger since Matt had provided him with free medication for his rheumatoid arthritis, and the Habersham sisters took great pride in telling everyone that Dr. Tyler had pronounced them “fit as fiddles.”

  Becca leaned against the doorjamb. Matt had cured everyone but her. He’d left her with a hole in her heart she could never fill. Almost ten months ago, he’d promised he’d come back for her, but she hadn’t heard a word.

  Not a phone call. Not even a letter.

  “You look so down in the mouth, honey. Did somebody die?”

  Delilah stood in front of her. Becca had been so lost in thought, she hadn’t seen or heard her aunt trudge up the hill to the school.

  Becca shook her head and forced a smile. “What brings you here?”

  “Do I need a reason to visit my favorite niece?”

  “Reason? No. More like an ulterior motive.”

  Delilah pretended to look insulted. “Guess you’re not interested in the latest news, then?”

  Becca really wasn’t. In fact, she hadn’t had much interest in anything since Matt had gone away. As much as she’d tried to convince herself he’d been no more than a summer romance, his leaving had taken the sunshine from her life. For Delilah’s sake, however, Becca tried to look interested.

  “What kind of news?”

  “The Jamison farm is sold.”

  Becca nodded, unimpressed. Old Mr. Jamison had died in the nursing home last August. He had no surviving family, so the sale of his estate came as no surprise.

  “Mountain Outreach Corporation bought it,” Delilah said.

  “Never heard of them.”

  “That’s just the thing.” Her aunt’s eyes glimmered with curiosity. “Nobody else has either. And not only that, bulldozers have already started clearing the south pasture, getting ready for some kind of construction. Bigger than just a house.”

  “If it’s an industry, it’ll mean new jobs,” Becca said. “New jobs will keep more of our young people from moving away.”

  “And bring traffic, pollution and who knows what else,” Delilah said with a grumble. “We need a committee to look into this.”

  “Count me out,” Becca said.

  Delilah cocked her head and studied her. “You still pining away for that good-looking doctor?”

  “I’m exhausted from dealing with a roomful of overactive children all day.”

  “You ever hear from him?”

  “Susie Ledbetter will probably help with your committee,” Becca said, ignoring her aunt’s question. “After all, her land’s closest to the old Jamison property.”

  “Let him go, child,” Delilah said, refusing to let her off the hook. “He’s back in California where he belongs. He did us all a heap of good while he was here, but I doubt we’ll ever see him again.”

  “Thanks for bringing the news, Aunt ’lilah. I’ll tell Susie you want to talk to her.”

  Delilah gave her a hug, pecked her on the cheek and stalked back down the hill, apparently ready to do battle with the mysterious Mountain Outreach Corporation. Becca, glad to escape her aunt’s astute scrutiny, returned to her classroom.

  After erasing the blackboards, straightening rows of desks and watering the pot of tulips blooming on the windowsill, she was stuffing the night’s paperwork into her briefcase to carry home, when a noise sounded at the front door.

  A tall man stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the late-afternoon sun, his face in shadows.

  Becca felt a tremor of uneasiness. She was alone, miles from anyone, with a man she didn’t know, one who definitely wasn’t related to any of her students.

  “May I help you?” she asked.

  “You don’t recognize me?”

  She recognized his voice instantly—and the disappointment in it, even before he stepped into the light where she could view his face. He looked even more handsome than she’d remembered, but leaner, with a difference she couldn’t put her finger on.

  “Matt!”

  For a moment, she feared she would faint from surprise. Taking a deep breath, she eased herself into the chair behind her desk.

  “What are you doing here?” She was pleased that her voice carried none of the turmoil tumbling inside her.

  His brown eyes burrowed into hers, held her fast, and her breath caught in her throat. “I told you I’d come back for you.”

  Anger flashed through her at his words. Nothing had changed. She wasn’t going to California. All his presence accomplished was to reopen a wound that had never really healed. “We’ve been through all that. We’re at the same impasse. Always will be.”

  He walked toward her, rounded the desk and sat with his hip propped on the edge. “Always is a long time.”

  She refused to be dragged into this emotional quagmire. “Have you seen Lizzie? And Jimmy? They’re doing wonderfully.”

  “I plan to visit both of them. And everyone else I treated last year.”

  “Early vacation?” she asked.

  “Dwight and I have closed our practice.”

  His announcement hit her as if a wall had fallen in on her. “You’ve given up medicine?”

  He leaned toward her, took her hands that were clasped in a white-knuckled grip atop her desk. “I’ve decided to practice real medicine, thanks to you.”

  “I don’t understand.” She was drowning, her head swimming, overcome with desire at the proximity of him, the warmth of his hands, the scent of him, the love shining in his eyes.

  “Years ago, I decided to study medicine because I watched my mother die a slow, agonizing death, unable to afford the proper care that might have saved her. Somewhere along the line, I lost sight of my purpose. I let money and fame and excitement derail me. But last summer, working with people who really needed my care, I rediscovered what I’d known at the beginning. I want to be a healer.”

  Becca frowned. “That’s why you gave up your practice?”

  “So Dwight and I can open a new one.” He stood and pulled her to her feet. “We bought the Jamison property.”

  “You’re Mountain Outreach Corporation?” She couldn’t tell whether his startling news or his closeness was causing her dizziness, her sense of unreality.

  “We’re building a hospital. We plan to fly in children from all over the country—all over the world—who need reconstructive surgery. We’ll provide the service at no cost. And our hospital will also contain the emergency clinic you’ve always wanted.”

  He was building her clinic.

  Granny’s clinic.

  Her legs sagged, and she would have fallen if he hadn’t caught her. “But that will cost a fortune.”

  “Dwight and I have file drawers full of names of grateful clients with more money than they know what to do with. We’ve formed a foundation. It’s already funded. All we’re waiting for is the completion of the building.”

  The meaning of his words suddenly hit her. “You’ll be living here?”

  “For the rest of my life.”

  “But you never called, never wrote. I thought you’d—”

  “Forgotten you?” His palms caressed her cheeks. “Not a chance. I wanted to make certain everything was in place before I told you. Things just took longer than I’d hoped.”

  She still couldn’t believe what was happening, that Matt was really here, really staying. “How could you leave California?”

  “Oh, Becca, loving you, how could I not? Will you marry me now?”

  “If you don’t mind living in an old log mountain house.”

 
“I’d live in a cave if I could be with you.”

  He kissed her then, lifting her off her feet.

  You’ll do, young man, Granny’s voice sounded in Becca’s mind. You’ll do just fine.

  Matt pulled back suddenly and stared at her wide-eyed. “Did you hear someone?”

  “A ghost,” Becca said with a grin, her heart overflowing with happiness. “A very friendly ghost. But don’t pay any attention to her. Just kiss me again.”

  She didn’t have to ask twice.

  ISBN: 978-1-4603-6888-6

  DR. WONDERFUL

  Copyright © 2003 by Charlotte H. Douglas.

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  *Identity Swap