Free What Matters Most by Gwynne Forster Page B

confusion.
    “You can’t possibly know how sensual you are. Right now, I want you badly enough to steal you.” She sat up, clearly stunned. “Don’t worry, Melanie. I’ve been properly brought up.’
    “What good will that do?” she asked him as she removed the cups. “You were, but I was shortchanged.”
    His lower jaw hung. “What’re you saying?”
    “That it takes two to tango. Wish me luck.”

Chapter 4
    J ack pushed thoughts of Melanie from his mind. He looked down his little patient’s throat, didn’t see any evidence of a problem, confirmed that she should see a dentist and was about to tell the twelve-year-old as much when, to his amazement, she smiled and winked at him. He could see that she’d reached puberty, but he wouldn’t have thought that she was already flirting with older men.
    “What was that about?” he asked her.
    “I just wanted to see if you’d notice.”
    “Really? What do you think your mother would say if I told her how fresh you are?”
    “Please don’t do that. She might tell my dad, and he’d kill me.”
    He adopted his most serious expression. “In that case, I’ll mention it directly to your father. I dislike young women who tease men, and I may decide not to treat you again.”
    “Oh, please, Dr. Ferguson. Please don’t do that. You don’t know my father.”
    “Well, since you know him, behave yourself and act your age. That’s all for tonight.”
    It hadn’t occurred to him that girls that young knew how to entice men. Just one more reason why children should be cared for by pediatricians. One day, he’d find one willing to share his office. For the time being, however, he’d do his best, and he refused to let anyone or anything—including a fresh, pubescent girl—disrupt his contentment and his sense of satisfaction with his work.
    Toward the end of his evening office hours, Melanie rushed into his examining room. “Doctor, I’m sorry to disturb you, but I have an emergency. The patient is in the next examining room.”
    “Who is it?”
    “Alma, and it’s more than her asthma. It doesn’t look good.”
    While they hurried to the other examining room, he pulled on a new pair of rubber gloves, nodded to the child’s father and examined her chest. “How long has she been sick?”
    “Since Sunday, Doctor, but I thought she’d get better. We gave her aspirin and tea with honey and vinegar, but she didn’t get any better.”
    Jacked turned to Melanie. “Get an ambulance. She’s got pneumonia.” He called the child. “Alma, this is Dr. Ferguson, your favorite doctor. How do you feel?” He tried several times, but she didn’t respond.
    A boy knocked on the door of the examining room. “The ambulance is here, Dr. Ferguson.”
    Jack went into the waiting room where two people waited to see him. “I have to take this patient to the hospital. Do you feel that you can’t wait to see me until Thursday? If you can wait till then, you’ll be first.”
    “I just need some more medicine, Doctor,” one man said. “I don’t have any more pills.” He handed the empty bottle to Jack.
    “The nurse will give them to you.” He looked at the woman who sat across the room reading the newspaper. “I’m fine, Doctor. I just came tonight to read the paper. At least I get to read one twice a week.”
    He patted her shoulder, and handed the empty pill bottle to Melanie. “Get four samples and give them to Mr. Bond, please. I’d better hurry. Call the taxi when you’re ready to leave and lock up, will you?” He beckoned to Alma’s father. “We’re going to General.”
    Jack knew that with chronic asthma, pneumonia in both lungs and a temperature at one hundred and four degrees, the child was in grave danger. He also suspected that she’d lapsed into a coma. He put on his professional face, the impassive expression he donned when a patient wasn’t doing well. The worst part of being a doctor was pretending that you didn’t want to scream and shake