What Matters Most (15 page)

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry. I have never been unkind to her, but I was honest.”

She noticed that he nodded to the woman when they passed near her on their way back to their seats for the second half of the concert. She enjoyed the concert, and marveled at the difference between recorded and live classical music.

When she mentioned it to him, he said, “You’re right. It’s like the difference between seeing the Roman Coliseum in a movie and looking at it from a vantage point of fifty feet or less. We have some time before dinner. Would you like to stroll through the Baltimore Museum Sculpture Garden? It isn’t too far from here.”

She was with Jack, and nothing else seemed to matter. After they left the garden, they went to a restaurant not far from the Inner Harbor, because both wanted seafood. As they left later, a limousine stopped at what looked to her like a night club a few doors away.

“Say, that’s my dad’s car,” Jack said and with his hand at her elbow rushed to stop his father and his companion before they entered the building. “Hi, Dad,” he said and embraced his father. “You remember Ms. Sparks?”

Montague’s lips didn’t curl up, but she’d have sworn that they flattened out. “How do you do, Ms. Sparks,” he said, turning to the woman with him and saying, “Helena, you’ve met my son, Doctor Jack Ferguson?”

“No,” the woman said, “I don’t believe I have, although I’ve certainly heard of him.”

“Yes,” Montague Ferguson said, “Jack is well-known. Jack, this is Helena Smith.”

The woman nodded. “How do you do?”

If she’s a jerk, I certainly won’t be,
Melanie said to herself.
Nobody snubs me.
Although she knew it was the place of the older woman to do so, she extended her hand. “How do you do, Ms. Smith? And you, Doctor Ferguson? How nice to see you again.”

She wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard Jack snicker. One thing was certain: the arm that slid around her waist and tightened belonged to Jack Ferguson. He was making a statement, and she hoped he wouldn’t regret it. On the drive home, neither of them mentioned the incident, and she didn’t know whether his dark mood reflected an attitude toward her or his father. At her apartment, he held out his hand for her key, took it, opened the door and walked in with her.

“I’m sorry that this evening wasn’t as happy a time for us as it could have been, and I’m asking you, Melanie, don’t let what you’ve observed come between us. Nobody makes up my mind for me but me.” He tipped up her chin with his right index finger and stared into her eyes. “I’m asking you to give me a chance. Will you?”

“I…Jack, this is hard. He’s your father, and you love him. I can—”

He sucked the unspoken words from her parted lips, as he gripped her to him and plunged his tongue into her. Sampling the sweetness of every crevice, every centimeter of her mouth, plunging in and out, letting her know what he planned to do to her, squeezing and caressing her breast, possessing, sending frissons of heat through her body until she could stand it no longer and slumped against him.

“I asked if you were seeing any other man, and you said no. I don’t want you with another guy. You understand?”

She knew he was possessive. Everything about him said that he would guard jealously all that he owned and all that he cared about. But if he could lay claim, so could she. “And I don’t want you with any other women,” she said, looking directly into his eyes, “including the one I saw gazing at you during intermission in Symphony Hall today. Do
you
understand?” Six months earlier, she wouldn’t have said that to any man, but she knew who she was now, and she’d learned that, with men, all things had better be equal.

His smile nearly unraveled her. “Fine with me. I haven’t noticed another one since the first time I saw you. I’ll call you tomorrow after my office hours. Thanks for being with me today.”

“I enjoyed it. Oh, Jack…What did you think of my perfume? She couldn’t help grinning. She wanted to know if he liked it on her.

“It’s perfect for you. I wanted to say so, but I thought it would seem as if I was complimenting myself. It’s wonderful on you, and I’m delighted that you like it.”

She reached up, kissed him quickly on the lips and walked with him to the door. “Good night.”

He stared at her. “First, you couldn’t call me by my first name. Now you can do that, but you can’t use an expression of endearment.”

“If I do that, I may slip up and do that in the office, and it would be out of place.”

“All right. Point taken. But this once?”

“You can be so much like a child sometimes. Good night, darling.”

His faced bloomed into a smile. “Good night, love.”

Alone, she looked toward the ceiling and asked aloud, “What am I going to do?” If she continued to work for him, seeing him almost every day, she knew she would go to bed with him as sure as her name was Melanie Sparks. And if she did that once, knowing the thorough man that he was, she’d be a goner. But she loved the job, and…She didn’t let herself finish the thought. She didn’t dare.

When Jack’s phone rang that night, he lifted the receiver with a full-blown attitude. “Ferguson speaking.”

“This is your father, and I presume you know that, because you should have been expecting me to call you. Do you mean to tell me you tossed aside a fine woman like Elaine Jackson to fool around with your nurse?”

He was in no mood to be reprimanded for minding his own business. “Be careful, Dad. You don’t want to build a barrier between us. I disliked your date intensely, but I was gracious to her. She tried to put Melanie Sparks down, following your example, but Melanie gave both of you a lesson in good manners. I was proud of the way she handled that ugly situation.

“You know, Dad, one reason why I’m drawn to Melanie is her respect for people, all people. She doesn’t look down her nose at people. Elaine Jackson and your date, Helena Smith, are cut from the same piece of cloth. You don’t want my advice. I know it’s been a long time, but before you plunge into anything, make yourself remember what it’s like to have a warm, loving and tender woman in your life, and look for one.”

“I thought this call was about you,” Montague said, but Jack detected a strange, almost nostalgic tenor in his father’s voice. “Are you serious about this woman?” his father then asked him.

“Dad, I can’t tell you what I haven’t told her. I want a woman like my mother, not some freeze-dried society clotheshorse who’s incapable of feeling anything except money.”

“I think you’re being too harsh, but I know your mind’s made up, and there’s no use talking to you.”

“Right,” Jack said. “How’s the foundation coming?”

“I’d planned to call you about that tomorrow morning. I’ve got the five we need, and I think you’ll approve of them. Could you meet us at the club for lunch, say, one o’clock, and ask your attorney to come and bring the contracts?”

“If he doesn’t have a previous appointment, we’ll be there. That was fast work.”

“They needed something to think about. Reading the paper and damning the Democrats can consume only so much of a day. They didn’t need persuading.”

“You have no idea how overjoyed I am, Dad.”

“Next, you have to look for a good architect.”

“That’s the least of our problems. I’ll use the Harringtons, three brothers that include an architect, engineer and builder. They’re located near Frederick, but they’ve done a lot of work here and throughout the state. They’re my frat brothers.”

“We’re leaving that up to you. You watch your personal life, though. These fellows lay great store by appearance.”

“I know. And they lead a double life, too. You won’t catch me doing that.”

“You mark my word.”

Chapter 7

M
elanie arrived at work that Tuesday morning, hung her uniform and her cap in the closet, changed into a pair of sneakers and set about taking the monthly inventory. She had streamlined the process and didn’t regard it as a chore. Although comfortable with the job’s requirements, her relationship with her boss made her increasingly uncomfortable. Her feelings for him deepened daily, but his father had made it clear the previous Sunday evening that he disapproved of their socializing, and she didn’t believe a man with Jack’s background would risk his relationship with his father because of her. That clinic meant everything to Jack, and she didn’t think Montague Ferguson would sponsor the clinic if he disapproved of Jack’s social life and particularly of his choice of a woman.

Jack knew the risk, but he’d stand on his own, no matter what. His father had the contacts and had used them well, but he had some of his own, and he would not exchange his rights to a woman of his choice for a clinic or anything else. Besides, he doubted his father would expect that. He laughed at the thought that came to him. In recent months, he’d begun to think and act less and less like the son of Montague Ferguson, physician to the moneyed class and heir to the Ferguson millions, and more and more like his mother, whose values and outlook he’d found in Melanie.

He hated having had a confrontation with his father about Melanie, and it pained him that his father chose to dislike her because she wasn’t a descendant of the so-called Talented Tenth. She was worth a thousand Helena Smiths and Elaine Jacksons, and he hoped his father would one day understand and appreciate that.

Shortly after four o’clock that afternoon, Melanie showered and dressed in her new uniform and, for the first time, she put on the cap for which she had struggled so hard and so long. She looked at the red cross at the center of the cap and blinked back the tears. For that evening, at least, she would wear white stockings and shoes to complete the transformation from LPN to RN. To her delight, several patients congratulated her.

“Just this way, Mr. Watson,” she said to a patient, a man of about forty. “The doctor will see you now.” She stood with Jack as he prepared to give the man an injection.

“Roll up your sleeve,” Jack said, causing her to wonder at his gruffness. She scrutinized the patient and saw that he was attempting to establish some contact with her. Watson smiled and winked.

“Ms. Sparks, you’re so pretty. Coming to the doctor is a pleasure. Doc, you’re one lucky man. You can look at her twice a week, at least, for hours. Ouch! Doc, that hurt.”

“Sorry. Try to be still.”

She put a Band-Aid on the man’s arm and watched him leave the examining room rubbing the spot. “You did that deliberately,” she said to Jack. “Shame on you.”

“I told him to be still.”

“Right. After you jabbed him. How could you do such a thing?”

“It was just a prick, and he shouldn’t even have felt it. The guy was trying to get your sympathy. Hell, Melanie, you can smile and soothe the patients, but you’ve hardly spoken to me since I walked in here this afternoon. You could at least have given me a quick kiss.”

“Jack, we have to have some rules for working together.”

“I agree, but right now, I need to know that I’m important to you.”

She gazed up at him. He wasn’t joking. The need reflected in his eyes stunned her. “Oh, Jack. Darling, don’t you know that I care for you?” Her arms went around him, and he seemed to soak up the love and sweetness that went out to him from her—a sponge absorbing life-giving fluid.

“I needed to hear it. I don’t come down here an hour before this office opens because I can’t find anything else to do. I do it because I can’t wait to be with you, to see you.”

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I can’t wait until you get here. I’m going to call the next patient, otherwise we’ll be here all night. Kiss me.”

His lips settled on hers as he stroked her back, electrifying her. But it satisfied neither of them, and she knew that she, at least, wouldn’t be soothed until she exploded all around him while he lay deep within her. She shook herself vigorously, discarding the thought.

“I can’t believe how fortunate I am,” he said. “Bring them on.”

Melanie answered the telephone and buzzed Jack in the examining room. “This is Ferguson.” He listened for a few seconds, sat down and took a deep breath. “I can’t thank you enough, Doctor. This means a lot to me and especially to my patient. I’ll see that she gets there Sunday afternoon. Thank you. I’ll stay in touch.” He finished examining his patient, a boy of eleven, gave him some medicine and bounded out to Melanie’s desk.

“You won’t believe this,” he said, wearing what he knew was a broad grin. “St. Jude will take Midge. She’s due there Sunday afternoon.”

She stared at him. “What are you talking about?” He explained to her his association with one of the research hospital’s doctors. “That was the call that just came in. Thank God they’re taking her. They know how to care for patients with sickle-cell anemia. When she gets back here, she’ll be able to lead a normal life.” He shoved his fingers through the hair at the back of his head. “The problem is that we won’t be getting those cranberry scones every morning.”

“Why? You mean her mother’s going?”

“Absolutely. It’s all set. I’ll get their tickets tomorrow.”

“I’m beyond crying when something good happens, but if I’m not careful…” She blinked back the tears.

“I like you in your new cap,” he said, hoping to change her mood. “The red cross, tiny black stripe, white shoes and stockings are making a statement. You’re giving this joint class.”

She sniffed and winked at him. “This office had class the minute you opened the door.” She sniffed again and called to a patient, “Rodger Gaines, please come with me.”

The next morning during a lull in his Bolton Hill office, Jack called his contact at St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital. “As you know, about half of my patients are children, and I consult with you about some of them with increasing frequency, because our arrangement is working for me. But I think I could serve this community better if my nurse spent about a month at St. Jude talking with nurses, going with doctors on rounds. She’d have a better feel for some of the problems we’ve been facing here. She’s a registered nurse, and a smart one at that. It would be solely at the expense of my office.”