The Prodigal M.D. Returns Read online

  Ben paused, studying the face of the woman before him. She was so devoid of conceit, she took his breath away. He hadn't returned to Hades to pick up any threads, to relive any past liaisons. He'd returned to make amends with Shayne and to try to find himself, to find the person he'd once been and perhaps even the one he was meant to be.

  But none of that had anything to do with resuming a relationship. And then he'd seen Heather.

  Her choice of words intrigued him. "Your 'place' in the scheme of things?" he repeated, mystified. "There's no caste system in Hades, Heather. Frozen or not, this is still the United States. Places here are interchangeable." He grinned. "It's guaranteed under the constitution, or the Declaration of Independence, or maybe by the Cookie Monster, I don't know. All I know is that life is fluid and there is no such thing as—" The stark, bright beams from the headlights of an approaching car interrupted his train of thought.

  Noticing the disappointment that burrowed deeply in her chest, Heather turned to see who was coming over at this hour.

  Shading her eyes, she recognized the SUV as being the same one that had been parked in her driveway several hours earlier when she and the girls had made their escape, avoiding any more of her mother's recriminations.

  What was Ursula doing back here again?

  Curious, Heather came down the three steps and approached the vehicle just as Ursula got out of the rear passenger seat.

  "Is there anything wrong, Ursula?"

  The door on the other side opened at the same time. A tall, stately looking man with a full head of white hair, very lively blue eyes and an infectious smile got out. Except for the white hair, he appeared almost boyish. Even with the vehicle separating them, it was easy to see that he towered over Ursula. The stranger hurried around the rear of the vehicle, shouting something to the driver in a language Heather couldn't make out. The next moment the rear door popped open.

  As Heather watched, the stranger took a wheelchair out, lifting it as if it weighed nothing. At the same time, Ursula was opening the front passenger door.

  "That's my mother's wheelchair," Heather said to Ben. Her eyes widened further as she saw the passenger in the front seat. "And that's my mother."

  Heather's mouth dropped open. Was she dreaming? Had all of this, the evening, the kiss and now seeing her mother somewhere other than in the house, all been just a dream? "Mother?"

  Struggling not to look as if she was holding on to Ursula's strong forearms, Martha grumbled as she unsteadily gained her feet for the transfer from car to wheelchair. Her angry glare swept over Ursula and her daughter alike. "Damn woman and her friends kidnapped me."

  By now the man had set her wheelchair on the ground and rolled it over to her side of the vehicle. With a polite smile, he edged Ursula out of the way then easily guided Martha into the chair.

  "Doing fine, Mar-ta." The heavily accented, encouraging words were uttered much like a rallying cheer at a baseball game.

  Ursula beamed in Heather's direction, patting the young woman's hand. There was a very pleased note in her voice as she assured Heather, "She had a wonderful time."

  Martha was quick to contradict the statement. "I'm going to press charges."

  Ben grinned, easily placing his hands on Heather's shoulders as he stood directly behind her. "Might not be all that easy to do," he warned Martha. "Don't forget, Max is her grandson."

  Confused by her mother's sudden, unexpected appearance, Heather still couldn't help reacting to the fact that Ben was behaving as if they were a couple. She struggled to hold on to the moment. Did friends kiss friends the way he had kissed her?

  Martha glared at the postmistress. "You had no business taking me out."

  Ursula was cheerful, waving a hand at the accusation. "Nonsense, everyone needs to get out. To have a little fun. You're not dead yet, Martha. No reason to fold your hands on your chest and act as if you were." Shifting, Ursula raised her eyes away from the woman in the wheelchair to Heather. "No reason at all," she emphasized softly.

  Tiny nerves danced through Heather. No, she was far from dead. Very far from dead. Her reaction to Ben's kiss had just proven that. She prayed that the darkening skies would hide the color she felt creeping into her face again.

  She did her best to divert attention from herself. "Where did you take her?"

  "They took me to that filthy saloon that no-account runs," Martha grumbled.

  "He's not a 'no-account.' Ike owns several businesses in Hades along with his cousin, Mother." Embarrassment fluttered through her.

  "Doesn't change what he is," Martha snorted.

  "Your mother holds her drinks like a farm girl." The testimony, delivered with admiration, came from the tall stranger who still had a hand on her mother's wheelchair. It was obvious by his tone that he held farm girls in very high regard.

  The next moment, a shy smile curved the generous mouth beneath the white mustache. "I am sorry. Where are my manners? I am Janek, Yuri's…" He paused a moment, searching for the word that eluded him. And then he beamed. "Cousine."

  "Cousin," Ursula corrected with a smile. Looking at Heather, she explained, although by no means with any sort of apologetic note, "English isn't Jan's first language."

  Martha snorted disparagingly. "It's not exactly his second, either." Her expression remained sour as she wrapped her arms around herself.

  "Jan speaks five languages," Ursula informed Ben and Heather proudly. "Just like my Yuri." She glanced over toward the man who was sitting behind the wheel of the vehicle they had just vacated. In response, Yuri waved at them. He appeared perfectly content to remain where he was until Ursula was ready to leave.

  The windows were partially down. Enough for Heather to see the adoring look on the old miner's face. It occurred to her that the couple, well into their seventh decade, were acting like a pair of teenagers warmly wrapped in their first crush.

  She envied them.

  "Well, what are you waiting for?" Martha demanded hotly. "Winter?" She twisted around in her seat, looking over her shoulder at Jan. She gestured toward the ramp that her late son-in-law had built for her. "Push my wheelchair up the ramp." It was an order, not a request.

  Heather winced. She wouldn't have blamed Yuri's cousin for leaving her mother right where she was and walking away.

  "I have better idea. Ursula, would you please to hold the chair?" Jan asked.

  "Hold the chair?" Martha repeated. "Why should she hold the chair? I said push, not stand still. Can't you hear, either?"

  "I hear," Jan told her. "I hear very good." But instead of doing what she'd demanded, Jan leaned over and picked Martha up in his arms.

  Panic stamped its mark on her mother's face and in her voice. Unsteady without the chair beneath her, she clutched Jan's neck. "What are you doing?"

  "Taking you up the stairs the way a lady should be taken," Jan replied simply, as Ursula drew the wheelchair back out of his way.

  About to voice her own protest, Heather felt Ben give her shoulder a light squeeze, as if to tell her to hold off for a moment. She didn't know which action surprised her more, Ben's or Jan's.

  "You're too old," Martha protested, holding on to his neck for dear life. "Put me back! You'll get a heart attack."

  "You are light, like feather," Jan told her. "My heart will not be attacking." He came to a stop before the front door. Behind him, Ursula had brought the wheelchair up the ramp and locked it into position. Jan easily deposited the woman in his arms onto the chair, then unlocked the wheels. "And I am not so old as you think, Mar-ta," he added, bringing his face down close to hers, his eyes twinkling.

  It was the first time Heather had ever seen her mother at a loss for words. And the first time she had seen her mother blush. But there it was, illuminated by the front porch light. A pink hue claimed both cheeks. Heather turned her face toward Ursula, lowering her voice so that her mother couldn't hear. "You're a miracle worker, Ursula."

  The postmistress shrugged. "Like I told your mother, I'm ju
st a student of human nature, Heather." Her smile widened, and she turned her attention to Ben. "Now, boy, are you going to need a ride to your brother's house or are you planning on spending the night here with Heather?"

  He pretended not to see the nervous, dismayed look on Heather's face. "I'd appreciate a ride back if it's not taking you out of your way."

  "Not a problem, Doc. Hop in. There's plenty of room in the back."

  Walking down the steps, she crossed to the vehicle, beckoning Jan to follow. He said something in his native tongue to Martha, then hurried down the steps. Leaving Martha looking bewildered and frustrated.

  Ursula made the necessary introduction. "Jan, Yuri, this is Doc Shayne's younger brother. Doc Ben. He's going to be staying around for a while, right, Doc?" She turned her face up to Ben.

  He merely laughed. "You know everything better than I do, Ursula."

  "Comes from paying close attention," the woman informed him with a hearty chuckle. She glanced over her shoulder just before slipping into the car and assuming the shotgun position. "See you soon, Martha."

  To Heather's surprise, no sarcastic or bitter remark met the other woman's words. Her mother merely snorted and pivoted her wheelchair around so that it faced the front door.

  "Well, open it," she snapped at Heather, who obliged.

  "Your mother, she is a lovely woman," Jan called out to her.

  Depends on your definition of lovely, Heather thought. She turned and waved at the occupants of the departing car before following her mother inside. Jan returned the wave. With a fleeting note of disappointment, she saw Ben was already in the car.

  As she followed her mother inside and locked the door behind them, Heather couldn't help wondering what Ike was putting into his drinks these days. "Lovely woman" indeed.

  "Did you have a nice time, Mother?" Heather heard herself ask. When there was no immediate answer, she decided her mother must still be in the throes of her out-of-body experience, brought about by equal parts shock and amusement. Even before her mother's disease had laid waste to her body, Martha Ryan had never gone out, never mingled with the other people of Hades. She had spent all her free time staring at the walls of bitterness and self-pity, lashing out at anyone who crossed her path.

  Ursula, Yuri and this Jan person had to be the bravest people she'd ever met, Heather thought.

  "Nice time?" Martha echoed, swinging her wheelchair around to face her. "What kind of question is that? The stupid fool can't even say my name right. 'Mar-ta,'" she mimicked the sound of Jan's voice. "Sounds like a damn speech impediment."

  Heather noticed that her mother didn't actually come out and answer her question. Instead she'd created a diversion. Had the woman actually enjoyed herself? Oh God, she hoped so.

  "I read somewhere that Russians and people born in Poland have trouble pronouncing 'th' because the letters don't appear together in their languages."

  Martha's scowl intensified. "Anyone with an ear can hear he has trouble with it."

  For once Heather decided not to back down or drop the subject. She was tired of avoidance being the rule of thumb around her mother.

  "So, beyond the fact that Yuri's cousin mangled your name, did you have a nice time?"

  "What kind of question is that?"

  "A very legitimate one, Mother." She felt the way the girls had earlier this evening, when they'd clapped their hands and jumped up and down. This restored her faith in miracles. "Did you have a nice time?" she repeated, saying each word slowly.

  "I survived," Martha snapped. "Just barely." Her eyes narrowed. "Now, don't bother me with silly questions. I'm tired. It's hours past my bedtime." She maneuvered her wheelchair around Heather and began to make her way toward the back of the house and her room. "Stupid woman. What gives her the right to think she could just barge in here and kidnap me out of my own home like that? I should press charges against her, grandson or no grandson. And if he won't listen to me, I can always call the sheriff's office in Anchorage. I'll show her she can't take advantage of a poor, defenseless woman like that." Martha's voice continued to echo down the hall as she headed to her room.

  "You are many things, Mother," Heather said to herself, a smile playing on her lips as she crossed to the staircase, "but no one will ever accuse you of being defenseless. Not with that mouth."

  Heather slowly made her way up the stairs. Her mother was right, it was time for bed and she might as well go, too. She doubted very much, however, that she would get any sleep tonight.

  Not when her body was tingling this way.

  Chapter Nine

  Klondyke LeBlanc, known to one and all as Ike, tended to fill a room with his presence the moment he entered it. The crowded reception area of the medical clinic was no exception. Crossing to the nurse's desk, a short nine feet from the door, he fielded and returned more than a dozen greetings.

  After nodding to Alison, he looked past her shoulder, scanning the corridor that ran parallel to her desk and fed into three of the examining rooms.

  "Business or pleasure?" Alison asked.

  Ike winked at her. "Pleasure, darlin', always pleasure."

  Spotting the reason for his impromptu appearance at the clinic, Ike didn't stand on ceremony. Instead he went around Alison's desk and down the corridor.

  Holding on to his glib tongue, he placed himself directly in Ben's path and waited until the younger man barely missed walking into him. Ike laughed heartily at the look of surprise on Ben's face. Demonstrative by nature, Ike grasped his hand and gave him a friendly pounding on the back.

  "Ben Kerrigan, as I live and breathe." After releasing his hand, Ike took only half a step back. His keen eyes missed nothing as they swept over his best friend's younger brother. He'd done some growing, Ike thought. More than just a little. "Had to see it for myself. You're really back."

  "Looks that way."

  Ben laughed shortly. He'd always liked his brother's best friend. Always envied Shayne the bond the two had, despite the fact that Shayne was so close-mouthed, and Ike so outgoing.

  Ike shook his head. "Hell, I'd have bet that a meteor would have hit the town square before you'd come back to Hades."

  Ben's patient walked out, a somewhat smitten look on her face. Since he'd returned, Alison said that the patient load had almost doubled. The women of Hades were coming in with all sorts of minor complaints, real and imagined. Shayne commented that it was a waste of their professional time to see "non-patients" who were only there for a view of Ben.

  With a cordial nod toward the young woman, Ben returned his attention to Ike. "I'm afraid you would have lost that bet."

  "Obviously." Ike grinned. "So, you staying?"

  Ben laughed shortly, but for once there was no humor in his eyes even though his mouth curved. "That depends on Shayne."

  "Shayne?" Ike hadn't expected that to be a factor. "He's glad to have you back."

  Because this was Ike, someone he'd known and in a way looked up to ever since he was a boy, Ben allowed his guard to slip just a little. "Certainly doesn't act that way."

  Ike waved away the underlying notion. No way would Shayne have wanted his brother anywhere but here. The man was as family oriented as they came, always had been. "You know Shayne. Hard as nails on the outside—"

  "Hard as nails on the inside," Shayne concluded, interrupting as he joined them. Picking up a folder, he held it out to Ben. "Room one's empty. You can see your next patient there. Unless, of course, you'd like to take off."

  "Room one," Ben repeated stoically, taking the chart from his brother.

  Ike shook his head. "He's trying, Shayne. Cut him some slack."

  Shayne looked at his best friend sharply. He resented the advice. Ordinarily Ike didn't dispense any unless asked. This wasn't the time for the man to start changing his habits.

  "I've been cutting him slack all his life, Ike, and all he's ever done was trip me up with it. Now, if you have some kind of a complaint, I can try to fit you in," Shayne offered. "Otherwise, yo
u're taking up space and you're in the way."

  They'd been friends far too long for Ike to take offense. This was only Shayne's facade. Ike glanced at Ben.

  "I can see why you came back. You missed your brother's winning personality." He saw Shayne open his mouth again and got to the reason for his visit before he was asked to leave again. "I'm just here to invite you to the Salty Dog tonight. You remember the rules, Ben. You're not officially back until we have a party in your honor. Seeing as how you've been here, what?" Life in Hades went by a different clock, a different calendar. Time varied between standing still and racing, although it was usually the former. "Almost three weeks—"

  "A month," Ben corrected. "It's been almost a month." He'd even gotten his own place, even though Sydney and the kids had urged him to remain with them as long as he wanted. He was hoping things between Shayne and him would go better if they weren't together 24/7.

  Ike laughed to himself. "Probably seems a lot longer than that with Shayne riding you." He saw the warning look come into Shayne's eyes. "Okay, tonight." He stepped into the waiting room. "You're all invited," he announced to anyone within hearing range.

  As it was with all of the parties thrown at Ike and Luc's establishment, the whole town was invited. And for the most part, a good portion of the five hundred plus residents turned out for at least a part of the evening. While mining was still Hades's main industry, socializing was the main source of entertainment, the movie theater notwithstanding.

  "That includes you, too, Shayne." Ike's hand was still on the doorknob as he eyed his friend pointedly. "Marta will take it as nothing short of an insult if you don't show up."

  Shayne snorted, picking up a folder of his own. "Marta won't even notice if I'm not there. She's too busy watching you flirt with every female who passes through the Salty's double doors."

  Ike's grin grew wider. His life had taken on a great deal more color since the diminutive school-teacher had come into it.

  "She knows it's all just part of the charm of the place—and me." Crossing back to the reception desk, he lowered his voice a little. "And she also knows that it's harmless. Lord knows, Marta's more than enough woman for me and you can tell Sydney I said so, seeing as how they're still best friends."