Tom had admired the paintings hanging in her office. When he’d learned she was the artist, he’d asked her if she’d be willing to do some sketches for a story he’d been working on. It was set during World War II, between two childhood friends whose countries were fighting on opposing sides. The subject appealed to her and she’d said yes. She’d started working closely with Tom, but despite his obvious interest, she had no desire for any sort of romantic relationship with him.
She knew he wanted to get married again, but in truth, the thought of marrying again herself filled her with dread.
Melissa had been young and in love when she’d married exciting, handsome Russell Dalton. But her dreams of living happily ever after were shattered when she realized she’d married an abuser.
Their seven-month marriage had come to an abrupt end the day he got home from his last college class. She was studying for finals at the kitchen table when he walked in, wanting to make love. Melissa had told him she needed to keep on studying, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He’d jerked her out of the chair like a rag doll.
Shocked, she’d tried to push him away, and he’d responded by slapping her in the face so hard she fell to the floor. That blow had changed her life.
Though he was remorseful and swore it would never happen again, she’d grabbed her keys and run from the apartment and their life together. Divorce had followed.
Intellectually, she knew there were good men out in the universe who would make fine husbands. Over the past six years she’d dated quite a few of them. But the thought of taking the critical step into another marriage left her apprehensive.
To make her feelings clear to Tom, she never went out with him in the evening, or worked with him when his two children were on visitation. She shied away from any attachments. It wasn’t fair to his kids, when there could be no future. He should have gotten the point long before now.
Since her divorce, Melissa had reached a restful place where she was in control. She wanted to stay there. When Tom’s book was finished to his specifications, she’d decided, it would be the only project she’d do with him. After that, there wouldn’t be a reason to get together again, and they could part with no hard feelings.
After parking in her usual spot, she headed for the clinic doors. She was almost there when she heard her name being called. Melissa turned to see Casey Stillman walking carefully away from a blue car toward her. He was dressed in shorts and a white T-shirt. His father followed, carrying the crutches.
She felt a burst of pleasure at the boy’s taking up the challenge. When Casey was about halfway to her, he hesitated. “Keep coming, Casey!” she called. “You’re doing great!”
The boy got a determined look on his face and picked up his speed. Once he reached her, she gave him a quick hug. “I’m very proud of you.”
He looked up at her and smiled. Children smiled at her every day, but for some reason she didn’t understand, Casey’s expression tugged at her emotions. “It doesn’t hurt that much.”
“That’s because you’re so tough!” She let go of his shoulders. “Come into my office. You’ve earned a gift of your choice. Do you need your crutches to get inside?”
Casey stared at her. “Will you hold my hand?”
“Of course.” She took his hand and they walked through the main doors to her suite. She made sure they didn’t go too fast. He was still favoring his leg, but not nearly as much as the day before.
Melissa walked him over to the treasure chest and opened it. “Take all the time you want picking out your prize. If you get tired, here’s a little stool to sit on while you look.”
He propped himself on the edge of the chest and started going through the presents. While he was occupied, she moved to her desk across the room and sat behind it. Casey’s hard-muscled father, in jeans and a dark green sport shirt, took a chair opposite her and placed the crutches on the floor next to him.
“Mr. Stillman,” she began quietly, “the doctor suggested your son’s problem was psychological, so that’s why I threw him in at the deep end of the pool yesterday. It’s clear his leg has healed and he’s able to walk just fine. Do you know any reason why his problem may have been so easily resolved? I don’t. I know I’m close to being the perfect therapist, but an overnight recovery is astonishing.”
The man’s lips quirked at her joke, but she got the impression there was something about her he didn’t like. She saw it in his wintry eyes. An odd chill went through her.
“I’ve discovered there’s a very good reason,” he answered, in a low voice so deep it resonated through her body. “But I would prefer to tell you out of his hearing.” Casey’s dad looked at her with such solemnity she took a quick breath.
“Understood. Since I’d like one more session with him, tomorrow morning, could you call me this afternoon? Say, around one? That’s when I take my lunch break, and we can talk.”
“I’ll see that Casey is otherwise occupied, then phone you.”
“Melissa?” his son called. “Can I have this Captain America toy?”
“Sure. It’s one of my favorites. The gizmo shoots little disks.”
“Awesome!”
“Did you know there’s something else I’d like you to do for me?”
“What?”
“Just use one crutch on your way out to your father’s car. Think you can do that?”
“Yes,” he said. But he was so absorbed with his new toy she doubted he’d really listened. In a few long strides, his dad, carrying both crutches, reached Casey. He fitted one under his son’s arm, then took the gift from him.
Melissa stood up. “I have one more favor to ask you, Casey.” He finally lifted his head. “Will you come to my office tomorrow without your crutches? Just leave them at home. If you do that, I’ve got another surprise for you.”
“Is it in the pirate chest?”
“I had something else in mind, but if there’s another toy you’d like in there, that’s fine.”
She could almost hear his brain working. “Will I like it a lot?”
Kids. She loved them.
“I can guarantee it.”
His eyes lit up. “Okay.”
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye, Casey.”
“Can you thank her for being so generous?” his father prodded.
“Thanks, Melissa.”
“You’re welcome.” She closed the door behind them to get ready for her next patient.
The morning seemed to pass much slower than usual. Melissa knew why. She was waiting for lunch, when Casey’s father was supposed to phone. Not once in three years had she been given a case where it was over almost before it had begun. Mr. Stillman had indicated he knew the reason for his son’s capitulation. She was eager for him to
