What Matters Most by Gwynne Forster Page A

curls and only then did he look at her. “I can’t decide whether to throttle you or kiss you.”
    “Want some coffee?” she asked him.
    He slumped in the chair and roared with laughter. “You’re priceless, and in more ways than one.”
    As usual, the waiting room filled up almost as soon as Melanie unlocked the door. “What’s wrong with your shoulder?” Jack asked her, when she couldn’t lift a two-year-old girl.
    “It’s…it’s bruised, I guess. Nothing, really.”
    He looked at her strangely, as if he knew she hadn’t leveled with him. But he didn’t say more about it. After they tended to the last patient around a quarter of nine, he walked up behind her and placed his hand heavily on her shoulder.
    “Oh!” she exclaimed, wincing visibly.
    With both hands, he turned her around to face him. “Now, what happened to your shoulder after you left here Tuesday night? Something did. What was it?”
    “You don’t want to know.”
    “Oh, but I do, and you’re going to tell me. Unbutton this and let me look at it.”
    “But—”
    “You don’t want me to do that for you. Do you?” He didn’t smile. Indeed, she’d rarely seen him so serious. She tried to unbutton the dress with her right hand, but pain shot through her right shoulder, and she had to use her left hand.
    “I’ll do it,” he said. “Did you fall?” When she shook her head, a frown clouded his face. “Don’t tell me somebody hit you.”
    Tears pooled in her eyes, and she tried to turn her back to him, because she didn’t want him to see her fall apart, but he wouldn’t allow it. “Talk to me, Melanie. I care about you.” He slipped the uniform off her shoulder.
    “My God! Who did this to you?” He examined the bruises on her shoulder and upper arm, careful not to cause her pain. “I don’t know whether there’s a fracture. If it hurts tomorrow, I want you to get a CT scan. All right?”
    She could no longer restrain the tears, and sobs wracked her body. His hands reached out to her, but then he stepped back. “Who was it, Melanie? This is criminal.”
    “My…my father bumped into me, and I fell.”
    “Your father? Good Lord!” His arms enveloped her, and she couldn’t stop the tears. He picked her up, carried her to one of the leather chairs and sat with her in his lap.
    “Tell me about it.” She did, beginning with the day her mother died. He soothed her as best he could, but they both knew she wasn’t sitting on Jack Ferguson’s lap because of what her father did.
    “Why do you stay with him?”
    “Because my mother begged me not to leave him until I finished school, and because he gave me a home, such as it was, even though he expects me to pay for it.”
    “I want you to get your own apartment. If you continue to stay with him, one day he may endanger your life, even kill you. You don’t owe him a damn thing. Do you want me to go home with you tonight?”
    “Oh, no! That would really set him off. He’ll be furious when I get there, but he’ll see a different Melanie. I’ve always been respectful, but not tonight. I’ll give him as good as he gives me.”
    “If you’re sure, but I’m here if you need me. He’s a bully, but he won’t take me on. Please don’t provoke him.”
    She stood, looked down at him and wondered why she wasn’t in his arms. Without thinking of the implications of what she did, she reached down and stroked his cheek. “You’re such a good man, a wonderful human being. A prince.”
    His eyes darkened as his gaze locked on her, and she knew at once that she’d done and said the wrong thing. He bounded out of the chair. “You think I’m a prince, do you?” His stare challenged her to lie.
    She’d never stammered before, so why couldn’t her words come out. “You kn-know…wh-what I mean.”
    “No, I don’t.” He brought her to him so quickly that she didn’t know how it happened.
    “Jack…I—”
    He tightened his hold on her. “You knew it had to happen. You