Free Under the Mistletoe with John Doe by JUDY DUARTE

faded before he could wrap his mind around it, leaving him grasping for mental straws.
    What did it mean? Was his life coming back to him?
    God, he sure hoped so.
    As if he could hurry it along, he kicked off his shoes and climbed on top of the bed, which was covered with a calico quilt. The old-fashioned box springs squeaked from his weight as he settled into the comfort of the mattress.
    He closed his eyes and tried to recall the disjointed recollection—the sight, the scents and the sounds that had disappeared as quickly as they’d formed. But the vague memory was lost to him, along with his past.
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    The clock on the dresser ticktocked, lulling him to sleep. He awoke hours later to the sound of a knock at his door and the aroma of chicken baking in the oven.
    â€œDinner’s ready,” Doc said.
    â€œI’ll be right there.” John climbed out of bed, straightened the quilt he’d been laying on and the pillow he’dbeen using. Then he went into the bathroom and washed his face and hands.
    When he finished, he joined Doc at the kitchen table. “It sure smells good.”
    â€œDoesn’t it? It’s a chicken-and-rice casserole. Betsy came by earlier and put it in the oven for us.”
    â€œDoes she cook for you often?”
    â€œWhenever she gets the chance. She thinks I need someone to fuss over me.”
    â€œAnd you don’t agree?”
    â€œWho doesn’t like a little TLC?” the old man said with a wink.
    John agreed, especially if Betsy was the one providing it. “Is she going to eat with us?”
    â€œNo, not this evening.”
    John wondered why, but he didn’t ask. There wasn’t any need for Dr. Graham to think he was hoping for a little tender loving care himself. Or for him to think John was crushing on the pretty redhead who lived only a few footsteps away.
    While they ate, Doc chatted about his life as the only physician in the valley, about some of the miracles and mishaps he’d been a witness to.
    John found the man and his stories more than a little interesting, and each time Doc grew quiet, John asked him a question, just as he’d done with Betsy earlier. He’d spent too many lonely days in the hospital with only the television to keep him company. And because he had nothing to offer in terms of his own past, he enjoyed getting to know the new people in his life.
    Of course, the one he wanted to know the most about was Betsy.
    â€œWhy doesn’t she work days? Is she a night owl by nature?”
    â€œActually, she’s a real team player and steps in whenever the hospital is shorthanded. And that means she’s got the worst of both worlds. Sometimes she works nights, then she’s back on days. And changing shifts like that is really tough.”
    â€œSounds like she’s a good employee.”
    â€œAnd loyal to a fault,” Doc said as he stood and began to gather the empty plates.
    John scooted his chair back and got to his feet. “Let me help.”
    â€œNope,” Doc said, “not tonight. You need to take it easy for the next day or two. And then, at that point, I’ll let you start doing some of the easier chores. We’ll slowly build up from there.”
    John wouldn’t argue with the man because this was his first day out of the hospital. But he wasn’t ready for bed, either. So he asked, “Do you mind if I sit out on the porch for a while?”
    â€œNot at all,” the old man said. “It’s not too cold tonight, but you might want a jacket. I’ve got one hanging on the coat tree in the living room. Help yourself.”
    â€œThanks.”
    John made his way to the front of the house. Then he took the black corduroy jacket from the hook, slipped it on and went out on the porch where two wicker rockers sat.
    Once outside in the winter evening, he couldn’t help wishing that the crisp air would clear his mind. He’d been disappointed that no