Chapter 4 Legendary Southern Hospitality
Donna Moss nestled into the crisp softness of the half-canopied bed that was a far cry more comforting than the hotel bed in which she'd slept-when she'd actually slept-for the duration of her most recent hospital vigil. A slight breeze stirred the netting that draped the canopy and she heard a step on the entry-way tile followed by light footfalls on the wide-planked hardwood floors. She grabbed her robe and, after frowning at her reflection in the float-glass mirror of the rose-carved changing table, followed the sound to the kitchen, where she found her hostess, steaming coffee cup already on the snowy linen table cloth.
"Oh, I'm sorry; I didn't mean to disturb you!" Blue-hazel eyes widened in surprise.
"No," Donna blushed slightly, "I was just enjoying the nice, soft bed."
The surgeon smiled. "There's nothing quite like a feather tick, is there?"
"Tick?" Donna's voice rose. "A bug?"
"No, a feather pad over the mattress." The doctor's face crinkled warmly as she loaded the refrigerator with covered bowls of vegetables and what looked like a pot roast. "Cool in the summer, warm in the winter, soft every other day." She nodded to the table. "Don't let your coffee get cold."
"Dr. Taylor . . ."
"Evan," the doctor corrected, arranging bananas, apples and oranges in a large bowl on the table. "Call me Evan."
"Doctor," Donna blushed again, "Evan, it's enough that you're letting us live here . . ."
"G'morning," Josh panted, leaning against the doorframe to the master bedroom, flannel-shirted arms folded across his knitting breastbone.
"Hey," Donna popped to her feet, but remained by her seat when Josh waved her off with a single hand.
He plodded from the door to the table-favoring his fleece-clad right leg, then lowered himself, gingerly, into the chair Donna had pulled out while their hostess poured another cup of coffee from the carafe on the counter. Bypassing the delicate handle, he wrapped his left hand around the china cup and sipped while his right hand lay in his lap. "Thanks," he said quietly-not meeting the doctor's predatory stare.
"How long have you had this weakness on your right side?"
"Since Rosslyn," he explained to the wild flowers on the coffee cup. "Some mornings . . . and when I'm tired."
While he spoke, the doctor had moved to kneel in front of him. He returned the squeeze when she gripped his hand; pressed down when she lifted his right foot; he knew the procedure only too well.
"Headaches?" He shook his head while she peered at both his pupils. "Shortness of breath?"
"No," he puffed, then grinned sheepishly. "No more than usual."
She patted his hand and nodded, moving toward the wide front door, blonde hair backlit by the fanlight over the door. "If you need anything, the phone number for the house is on a pad by the phone." She continued in the sweep of the half-opened door. "I have late rounds but I'll check on you before I go to town. Jack is flying and the kids are in school, but Muddear will be home." And with a snick of the door latch, she was gone.
Donna disappeared into her room, returning with a handful of amber vials. She glanced at the label of each before extracting the appropriate dosage and depositing it in his outstretched hand. She drew a glass of water from the faucet and he downed each medication with only a little difficulty swallowing.
"Hungry?" the sun from the window made her hair glow.
He pushed the cup handle around like a carousel. "Maybe later."
"Josh . . ."
"Donna . . ." he nearly begged and she nodded acquiescence. He tugged at the flannel shirt, pulling its weight away from the healing wound. An ancient clocked ticked away the seconds while a bird cooed somewhere outside. "Alone at last," he said ruefully.
"Alone at last," she smiled warmly and he returned the expression, albeit a bit more wanly. The clock wound up and tolled eight times.
She slipped her hand into his, reveling in its warmth. "Josh?"
"Hum?"
"There's something I need to know."
He straightened with a wince. They hadn't discussed his proposal at all while he was hospitalized. "What?"
She smiled. "What's a mud ear?"