The Doctor She Always Dreamed Of

CHAPTER FOUR

“WHERE’S YOUR FRIEND?” Dad asked when Derrick entered the kitchen.

He looked old and worn-out in his standard at-home summer attire, a dingy white tank undershirt, his navy blue heavy-duty mechanic uniform pants cut off at the knee—because why waste money on shorts when you could cut up old pants?—and his black, steel toe work shoes with white socks.

“She freshening up,” Derrick answered, pulling out a chair and sitting down at one of the spots Dad had set at the kitchen table. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.” Mom’s sunny yellow tablecloth with matching placemats and napkins dressed up the usually bare round wooden table. And he’d put out the floral glasses Mom saved for company—because heaven forbid her rambunctious sons should break them.

“This is the first girl you’ve brought home since high school. It’s a big deal.”

Kira Peniglatt was hardly a girl. She was a full grown, much too appealing woman. “She’s just a friend,” he lied. Hopefully she could remain civil through breakfast and until they left. He’d have to figure out a way to break it to his mom and dad that he wouldn’t be staying through Sunday as planned.

Derrick eyed the offerings on the table. Fresh croissants and Danish. Butter and a jar of Mom’s homemade raspberry preserves. A fruit bowl filled with fresh peaches, plums and bananas. Dad set a casserole dish on a trivet in the center of the table. It contained scrambled eggs and bacon he’d taken from the oven where apparently he’d been keeping it hot. “Pop. You went all out. When did you have time—?”

“I asked Mrs. Holmes to run out to the store for me this morning,” Dad said. Their neighbor of more than forty years was also Mom’s best friend. “If your mama could, she would have done it. But she can’t.” Dad turned away to put the oven mitts on the counter and grab a serving spoon.

The sadness in his dad’s voice squeezed Derrick’s heart. His first instinct was to say something like, “She’ll be back to shopping on her own in no time.” But it was too early in her recovery to know that for sure. Derrick didn’t want to give his dad false hope.

“Well hello, there,” Dad said, surprisingly cheerful all of a sudden.

“Good morning, Mr. Limone,” Derrick heard Kira say.

He stiffened. Things this morning had gone much better than he’d hoped. But how would she act toward his father? Would she keep her identity and how she’d wound up here secret?

“Thank you so much for having me on such short notice,” she said, her pleasant almost friendly tone a surprise.

He relaxed then turned in his chair. She’d changed into skin tight leggings that stopped at her knees and a clingy pale pink tank top with straps too skinny to cover those from her purple bra. When she saw him looking she shrugged as if to say, “It’s all I had with me. Deal with it.” From the heterosexual male point of view she looked fantastic. Plus now he wouldn’t have to explain why she didn’t have a change of clothes with her. A win-win.

She’d washed off the mascara that’d smudged around her eyes in the night, so pretty, even without makeup. Her hair was set in a loose braid draped over her right shoulder. She looked so much softer and more approachable than her ultra-serious professional business portrait on the website. Who was the real Kira?

“Come,” Dad said, motioning to the table with a spatula. “Sit down and eat before it gets cold.”

“Wow.” Kira took the chair across from him. “This looks delicious.”

“I was hoping you weren’t one of those ‘just coffee for breakfast’ types.” Dad sat down between them. “Dig in.” He handed the spatula to Kira. “Don’t be shy.”

Derrick watched as she served herself a small helping of eggs and one strip of bacon, wondering if she was one of those ‘just coffee for breakfast’ types. Speaking of which. “Can I pour you a cup of coffee? From the pot both my dad and I are drinking out of?” He added that last part because it was obvious she didn’t trust him. Really, why should she?

“I’d love a cup.” She offered him a sweet albeit fake smile. “With a splash of milk from the same container you and your father are using,” she added, giving it right back to him. He kind of liked that.

“Well, I gotta hand it to you, boy,” Dad said. “Whatever you said to that evil Peniglatt woman at the insurance company, really worked.”

Derrick swung around and cautioned, “Dad. Kira doesn’t want to hear about your problems with the insurance company.”

The topic of discussion, who sat ramrod straight at the moment, placed her napkin in her lap somewhat stiffly. “On the contrary,” she said, looking straight at him in challenge. “I’d like to hear whatever your dad has to say.”

Why had he traveled down to the city yesterday? Why had he brought Kira home with him? Why? Why? Why? Derrick hurried back to the table, determined to change the subject.

“My wife, Daisy, had a stroke, you see,” Dad said as he loaded his plate with eggs and bacon.

“How is Mom doing this morning,” Derrick asked. “Last I checked she was sleeping.”

“I walked her to the bathroom earlier.” Dad looked at Kira. “She’s weak and gets real tired real easy. So she went back to sleep after. Which reminds me.” He turned his head to Derrick. “We’re getting a shipment of medical equipment this morning. So eat up quick. We may have to move some furniture around.”

“Medical equipment?” Derrick asked Kira.

But Dad answered. “Like I was saying, after you let that insurance company witch have it, she got right on the ball and sent out a new nurse from a different agency to visit your mama late yesterday afternoon. A real good one. Stayed for over an hour.”

Derrick looked at Kira.

“You must have given it to her but good,” she said, staring straight at Derrick as she leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest.

“It’s him being a doctor,” Dad said around a mouthful of eggs. “Them insurance company types stand up and listen when a doctor starts talking.”

“That must have been it.” Kira shifted in her seat, reaching for her glass to take a sip of orange juice. “She couldn’t possibly have investigated the situation, identified a problem and fixed it.” She leaned in Derrick’s direction. “You’re a hero.” Her words dripped with sarcasm...which apparently his dad missed.

“Yes he is,” Dad said proudly. “Took on that heartless beast and won.”

Derrick wanted to crawl under the table and become one with the floorboards.

If a stare could actually burn a hole in someone’s head, Derrick would have one right between the eyes, courtesy of Miss Kira Peniglatt.

“Dad—” Derrick started, prepared to explain everything.

“Don’t you ‘Dad’ me.” Dad turned to Kira. “He is a hero. He saves lives. Lots of ’em. He’s a good man who knows how to treat a woman right. Taught him how myself, I did.” Dad actually puffed out his chest. Then he pointed at Kira with his fork. “He’s a good catch. Any woman would be lucky to have him.”

“So lucky,” Kira repeated with a smirk.

Derrick lost his appetite. “Stop it, Dad. I don’t need a matchmaker.” All he needed was to survive this morning without Dad finding out Kira’s true identity, tolerate her long enough to get her home safely, and then get back to his normal, uneventful life, where he was in control of things...at least where he used to be in control of things.

When someone knocked on the door, Derrick jumped up to answer, happy beyond belief to escape the breakfast table.

The next two hours flew by in a whirl of activity as two deliverymen from the durable medical equipment company showed up. Kira took control, ordering around four grown men with the effectiveness of a five star general. No one dared question her.

The woman was a sight to behold, in her element, knowledgeable, efficient and concise. Damn he needed someone like her in his office someone to take charge and get things running smoothly.

“She’s really something,” Dad said, blotting his brow with his ever present cotton handkerchief.

“Yes she is.” Derrick watched her take on a man who outweighed her by at least two hundred pounds, refusing to accept a wheelchair because one of the wheel brakes didn’t work to her satisfaction. “We need a replacement before the end of the day,” she said.

“Sure thing, Kira,” the man said, respect evident in his tone.

“I’ll be calling Al on Monday to let him know how hard you both worked today and how accommodating you were.” With a twenty dollar incentive for each of them, the deliverymen helped Derrick move the couches, a bed, a TV stand plus TV, and an old shelving unit packed with knickknacks so his father didn’t have to do any heavy lifting. And Kira had gotten right in there to help, boxing up papers, sweeping up dust from the old wood floors after the furniture was moved, and making up the big hospital bed now sitting in the living room.

“Who’s Al?” Dad asked.

“I have no idea.”

“You didn’t tell me she was a nurse.”

A damn good one at that, an amazing one, actually. When Dad balked about them putting the hospital bed in the living room rather than in an upstairs bedroom, Kira spoke calmly and convincingly, warning him of the safety hazard of having Mom in an upstairs bedroom when she couldn’t walk or manage stairs on her own. How would he get her out of the house if there was a fire? She pointed out having Mom on the main level of the house would mean less trips up and down the stairs to alleviate Dad’s knee and hip discomfort. Derrick didn’t even know Dad was having knee and hip discomfort.

When Dad groused about him and Mom having to sleep in separate beds in separate rooms Kira reminded him that it wasn’t forever, then she demonstrated the benefits of raising and lowering an electronic bed to help alleviate the strain on Dad’s back when he cared for Mom. She pointed out the positives of a more stimulating environment where Mom could watch television, visit with friends, and be with Dad while he performed his daily activities rather than being hidden away in a lonely bedroom for hours at a time. And she suggested moving one of the twin beds from upstairs down to the living room so Mom and Dad could sleep together, in the same room at least.

Dad balked at a wheelchair. He wanted his wife up and walking around so she could get stronger. Kira told him to only use the wheelchair when he could tell Mom was tired. To help her get to the small bathroom off the kitchen or out to the porch for some fresh air.

The woman was a master.

“I got an aide coming on Monday,” Dad said. “Three hours a day, five days a week. She’s mostly to help with exercises and therapy stuff, but the home care nurse said while she’s here the aide can help your mom learn to bathe and dress herself.”

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this yesterday?” It would have saved Derrick a lot of time and effort.

“Didn’t want to bother you at work, I figured I’d tell you when you got here.”

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