The more people involved, the harder it would be to change.
Pastor Brendan Flanagan straightened at his approach, turning off the hose he was running. “Welcome. I’d offer to shake hands, but I’m way too dirty. I’m glad you’re here, Dr. Landsdowne.”
“Jake, please, Pastor.”
“And I’m Brendan to all but the most old-fashioned of my parishioners.” The minister, in cutoff jeans, sneakers and a Phillies T-shirt, didn’t look much like he had at the board meeting.
“Brendan.” Jake glanced around, spotting five or six people working. “What are you up to?”
“We recruited a few people to get the place in shape. Dixon hasn’t used it for anything but storage in a couple of decades.” He nodded toward what appeared to be a pile of broken farm implements. “It’ll be ready soon. Don’t worry about that.”
That wasn’t what he was worried about, but he wasn’t going to confide in the minister. “I’ll have a look inside.”
He stooped a little, stepping through the door. The farmer certainly hadn’t parted with anything of value when he’d donated this space.
“You must be Dr. Landsdowne.” The woman who had been brushing the walls down with a broom stopped, extending her hand to him. “I’m Siobhan Flanagan.”
“Another Flanagan?” He couldn’t help but ask. The woman had dark hair, slightly touched with gray, and deep blue eyes that seemed to contain a smile.
“Another one, I’m afraid. I’m Terry’s mother. Brendan recruited me to lend a hand today.” She gestured around the large, rectangular room, its floors pockmarked and dirty, its few windows grimy. “I know it doesn’t look like much yet, but just wait until we’re done. You won’t know the place.”
He might be able to tell Terry the place was a hovel, but he could hardly say that to the woman who smiled with such enthusiasm. “You must look at the world through rose-colored glasses, Mrs. Flanagan.”
“Isn’t that better than seeing nothing but the thorns, Dr. Landsdowne?”
He held up his hands in surrender. “I’ll take your word for it.” She’d made him smile, and he realized how seldom that happened recently.
Somehow the place didn’t seem quite as dismal as it had a moment ago. It reminded him of the clinic in Somalia. For an instant he heard the wails of malnourished children, felt the oppressive heat smothering him, sensed the comradeship that blossomed among people fighting impossible odds.
He shook off the memories. That was yet another place he’d failed.
Through the open doorway, he spotted the red blaze of Terry’s hair. She was in the process of confronting an elderly man whose fierce glare should have wilted her. It didn’t seem to be having that effect.
He went toward them quickly, in time to catch a few words.
“…now, Mr. Dixon, you can see perfectly well that we’re not harming your shed in any way.”
“Is there a problem?” Jake stopped beside her.
The glare turned on him. “I suppose you’re that new doctor—the one that’s in charge around here. Taking a man’s property and making a mess of it.”
This was Matthew Dixon, obviously. “I’m Dr. Landsdowne, yes. I understood from Pastor Flanagan that you agreed to the use of your building as a clinic. Isn’t that right?” If the old man objected, that would be a perfect reason to close down the project.
“Oh, agree. Well, I suppose I did. When a man’s minister calls on him and starts talking about what the Lord expects of him, he doesn’t have much choice, does he?”
“If you’ve changed your mind—”
“Who says I’ve changed my mind? I just want to be sure things are done right and proper, that’s all. I want to hear that from the man in charge, not from this chit of a girl.”
He glimpsed the color come up in Terry’s cheeks at that, and he had an absurd desire to defend her.
“Ms. Flanagan is a fully certified paramedic, but if you want to hear it from me, you certainly will. I assure you there won’t be any problems here.”
A car pulled up in a swirl of dust. The man who slid out seemed to take the situation in at a glance, and he sent Jake a look of apology. He was lean and rangy like the elder Dixon, with the same craggy features, but a good forty years younger.
“Dad, you’re not supposed to be out here.” He took Dixon’s arm and tried to turn him toward the car. “Terry and the others have work to do.” He winked at Terry, apparently an old friend. “Let’s get you back to the house.”
Dixon shook off his hand. “I’ll get myself to the house when I’m good and ready. A man’s got a right to see what’s happening on his own property.”
“Yes, but I promised you I’d take care of it, remember? You should be resting.” The son eased the older man to the car and helped him get in, talking softly. Once Dixon was settled, he turned to them.
“Sorry about that. I’m afraid once Dad gets an idea in his head, it’s tough to get it out. I’m Andrew Dixon, by the way. You’d be Dr. Landsdowne. And I know Terry, of course.” He put his arm around her shoulders. “She used to be my best girl.”
Terry wiggled free, but the look she turned on the man was open and friendly—a far cry from the way she looked at him. “Back in kindergarten, I think that was. Good to see you, Andy.”
“Listen, if you have any problems, come to me, not the old man. No point in worrying him.”
“There won’t be any problems.” He hoped.
Andrew smiled and walked quickly toward the driver’s side of the car, as if afraid his father would hop back out if he didn’t hurry.
The elder Dixon rolled down his window. “You make sure everything’s done right,” he bellowed. “Anything else, and I’ll shut you down, that’s what I’ll do.”
Shaking his head, Andrew put the car in gear and pulled out, disappearing quickly down the lane, the dust settling behind the car.
Jake looked down at Terry. There were several things he’d like to say to her. He raised an eyebrow. “So, are you still his best girl?”
Her face crinkled with laughter. “Not since he took my yellow crayon.”
He found himself smiling back, just as involuntarily as he had smiled at her mother. Her green eyes softened, the pink in her cheeks seeming to deepen. She had a dimple at the corner of her mouth that only appeared when her face relaxed in a smile.
These Flanagan women had a way of getting under his guard. Without thinking, he took a step closer to her.
And stopped.
I always told you your emotions would get the best of you. His father’s voice seemed to echo in his ears. Now it’s cost you your career.
Not
