Free A Perfect Fit by Lynne Gentry Page A

scuffing his shoes on her welcome mat. “I really can’t go. I need to finish my homework,” she explained, part of her envious of his freedom, the other part of her determined to please her father.
    “Homework? It’s Friday.” His smile cut a bright sideways comma in his olive complexion. “All the other girls will be there.”
    “Maybe after I finish a few more chemistry problems.”
    Disappointment narrowed his eyes. “Why would a girl need to be so smart anyway?”
    She’d slammed the door in his face. Two days later, when she and Father were walking home from the library with a stack of anatomy books, they ran into Jabir in the park. His black hair was wet with sweat. He was twirling his soccer ball and talking to Badra, a girl with long, flowing hair. She cut her moon-shaped eyes at Magdalena, then boldly placed her hand in Jabir’s to signal her claim on this trophy.
    Magdalena’s father had put his arm around her and said, “Infatuation is not love. When I married your mother, I thought her beautiful enough on the outside, but it was what was inside that eventually caught my heart.” He lightly tapped her chest where her heart was. “You have something special inside: a compassion that seeks to bring relief to those who are hurting and the growing know-how to do something about it. True love will appreciate this treasure.”
    His words had been a salve to her wound and a reminder that Father considered her best interests in all things.
    “Magdalena?” Father’s tug on her elbow pulled her into the present. “You’re not on call tonight, right?”
    “No. Why?”
    “I’ve invited Mutfi Zaman for dinner.”
    “The proctologist with the lazy eye?” Something wasn’t right about the sheepish expression on her father’s face. “Why Dr. Zaman?”
    “We’re having merguez . I hear the good doctor loves a fine sausage.” He pinched her cheek, proud of his joking reference to intestines. “Wear something nice, eh?” His sensible shoes squeaked along the shiny linoleum. “It will be fun.”
    Fun? In the absence of her mother, it was Father who’d held her through the night when infected tonsils sent her temperature into the stratosphere. It was Father who had planned her birthday parties. Low-key, quiet affairs. Classical music. Dinner at her favorite seaside restaurant. Just the two of them. It was Father who’d always been there for her, never once blaming Magdalena for her mother’s death from childbirth complications. After inflicting such a great sadness upon him, the least she could have done was to have been born the son he deserved.
    She owed him. More than she could ever repay. No matter how much her dedication to be just like him cost her. While girls like Kaifah went on boat rides with rug salesmen, Magdalena kept her nose in the medical books. Friends and fun were the luxuries of those destined for a different path. And yet she couldn’t seem to dismiss the uneasy irritation churning in her gut. Why would her father think it fun to entertain a man who smelled of Preparation H and bowel resections? Surely he didn’t think it time for her to marry.
    “We need a doctor!” An Irishman’s brogue boomed through the ER, and the nurses scattered.
    Magdalena glanced toward the door, where two men waited. The bear-sized man shouting orders had the arm of a lanky fellow dusted in limestone draped around his neck.
    “Quick, lass. Don’t stand there gawkin’ like a leprechaun.” The Irishman dragged his friend toward her. “Do something before he bleeds to death.” A blood trail snaked behind the man, whose head was hanging down.
    Magdalena raced around the counter. “What happened?” she asked in her best English.
    The injured man waved her off. “Just got the wind knocked out of me.” His deep voice resonated through her, an American accent that reminded her of the elderly couple from Texas who’d suffered a bad case of food poisoning aboard one of the cruise ships that